Keith glared balefully at the piles of paper — official communiqués, memos and reports — spread across his desk and scattered on the floor and wished that they would go away. Paperwork. He hated paperwork. No, he corrected himself with a grimace. He loathed paperwork, especially when he had so much of it to do.
But still, he would rather wrestle with his paperwork than deal with Nanny, he consoled himself, remembering how Nanny had autocratically demanded Allura's attention immediately after the formal ceremonies celebrating their safe arrival.
Allura. His wife. The thought brought a smile to his face and seemed to lighten his load. He allowed himself the luxury of a few moments to daydream before tackling the rest of the paperwork on his desk.
The computer on his desk began to beep insistently. Its console lights blinked furiously in alarming colors — flashing yellow, then orange then red — in an insistent demand for attention.
Keith turned to his console, eyes narrowed with irritation at having his daydream interrupted. "Alright, alright, already," he grumbled, casting an infuriated glance at the helpless machine. "Check messages," he commanded.
"You have one thousand, six hundred and ten messages," a synthesized voice announced.
Keith slumped in his chair, resigning himself to many more hours of mind-numbing paperwork. "Activate Filter. Show all unread reports submitted by the other members of the Voltron Force."
"Working... three messages satisfy the selected criteria," the synthesized voice replied. "Displaying first message. Sender is Lt. Darrel Stokker, VFAD."
"Generate hard copy of all three reports," Keith ordered with a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples in an attempt to ease the headache he could feel building there.
He chose to read Lance's intelligence rundown first and was glad that he did. He could almost hear his first officer's voice reciting the report — it was filled with the astute observations and biting comments that Lance routinely threw out.
Keith was genuinely sorry when he put it away — not just because it was interesting, but because it marked the downward trend that the years of commanding the Lion Force taught him to expect.
Hunk's report was next and Keith winced inwardly as he skimmed through it, penciling in corrections. He always felt more like an editor than a field commander whenever he read through one of Hunk's reports. Writing was not one of Hunk's strengths.
Pidge's report was the exact opposite of Hunk's — the smallest space explorer enjoyed showing off his extensive vocabulary while the largest preferred to express his thoughts with words of one syllable.
Twenty minutes passed as Keith strove to make sense of Pidge's report. The technical jargon and numbers that peppered the report were overwhelming. He called up the dictionary on his computer in self-defense.
"The prioritization settings of the various Castle Defense systems is governed by a queued series of interrupt requests transmitted over the shared bus to be processed FIFO by the Castle Control CPU," he read slowly, without much comprehension.
"Maybe the pictures will help," Keith muttered hopefully as he flipped through the pages of the thick report. They didn't. His eyes begin to blur as he tried to understand the system diagram Pidge presented in excruciating detail.
It was time to take a break.
Without another thought, he stretched out on the couch, not even pausing to pull of the white boots of his flight suit. Closing his eyes with a tired sigh, he enjoyed the embrace of cushions that were as soft as a cloud and just as comfortable.
He was asleep within minutes.
Cautiously opening the door, Allura peered into the darkened interior of Keith's study, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior after the brightness of the hallway.
The light of the computer on Keith's desk was blinking a steady green, indicating that the computer had taken over environmental controls of the room. Its lighted monitor cast a bluish tinge on everything — the desk, the bare hardwood floors, and the papers and books scattered around the large room.
Allura took a few steps further into the room, pushing a cart before her.
Her mouth twitched with amusement as her gaze fell on Keith's infamous couch. It was the latest source of conflict between her husband and her governess. Nanny insisted that the current condition of the couch did not befit the study of the Prince Consort of Arus while Keith stubbornly refused to let anyone near his favorite piece of furniture.
Allura knelt by the couch for a few moments and listened to the soft, even sound of Keith's breathing as he slept. A soft smile lit up her face, as she indulged in the luxury of watching him without consequence or question.
In sleep, his face was soft and boyish and his hair was spiked in a dozen different directions. Not, she reminded herself with a silent laugh, that his hair was neat even when he was awake.
She wondered if he had ever watched her sleep. He probably had, she decided. Even in sleep, she had sensed his presence. His nearness called to her and soothed her, in a way that she couldn't understand.
Keith grumbled in his sleep, shivering a little.
Allura shook her head with a wry smile. Keith was solicitous of everyone's welfare but his own. She reached down and covered him with the light blanket that she found draped over the back of the sofa with hands that were unmistakably tender.
His soft murmurs of contentment made her smile grow wider.
She watched Keith burrow under the blanket and almost disappear into its folds. The only visible parts of him were his unruly black hair and the white boots that hung over the edge of the sofa.
Allura got to her feet and began to tidy up the room. It never ceased to amaze her a compulsive organizer like Keith could be such a slob. His study was proof enough of that.
The coffee table alone was an appalling mess.
Allura decided to exercise her wifely prerogative by starting there, knowing that it not been dusted ever since Keith banned the housekeeping staff of the Castle from entering the room.
She focused her eyes and then her mind on the books on the table. In the next moment, the books went flying to the air to join the others shoved helter-skelter into the shelves.
She picked up the papers scattered on the floor herself and arranged them in two neat piles, placing a ceremonial dagger from Pollux on one and something that she recognized as the claw of one of Haggar's miniature ro-beasts on the other.
Within minutes, the study had some semblance of order.
Allura heaved a sigh of relief.
She was a creature with a need for orderliness in her personal surroundings — and her home definitely counted as one of those places. It was something that Keith — and the rest of the team — often teased her about.
She briefly toyed with the idea of ordering a general cleaning session for Keith's study, but in the interests of marital peace, settled for regarding the rest of the room with a critical eye.
Her eye was drawn to the large picture window that took up almost the entire wall of the study. Would adding drapes make the room cozier? Allura wondered, idly glancing at the night outside the windows.
Her heart suddenly ached with fear as her eyes widened with recognition. The night had the same inky blackness that she had seen in her dreams. The sense of destiny imminent grew stronger.
Allura tore her haunted gaze away from the dark sky with an effort.
She lit a lamp in a desperate attempt to chase the shadows out of the room. She searched for something to distract herself with and found it in the cart that she had wheeled into the room.
She unpacked the cart's contents, with hands that shook slightly, hoping that the mindless task would help her forget the foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach.
She finished laying out the food and drinks Nanny prepared for Keith and prepared to leave. She had barely risen to her full height when she was stopped by something tugging at her skirts.
With a muffled yelp of surprise, Allura found herself yanked off her feet only to find herself cradled on top of the prone form of her husband. "Keith!"
"Hey, Ally," Keith's mouth tilted in a sleepily lopsided grin as he wrapped his arms around her, an embrace that sent shivers of delight running up her spine. "I thought I smelled you."
She arched a delicate eyebrow and managed a light-hearted rejoinder, trying not to be affected by his closeness. "Oh really? And what DO I smell like?"
"You smell pretty," Keith mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the curling softness of her hair and running his hands down the graceful curve of her back. "Like roses and sunshine and laughter and rainbows."
"You can't smell laughter and rainbows," Allura scoffed, raising herself on an elbow so that she could look at him. A shadow of sadness chased across her face. Something in her eyes softened and strengthened all at once.
"Ally?" Keith asked, sensing her sudden shift in mood. His arms tightened around his wife's slender waist and his eyes narrowed with concern. "What's wrong?
Allura shook her head, refusing to meet his dark eyes with her own.
"Nothing," she breathed, slowly leaning forward to touch her mouth to his. "Please, don't talk," she whispered achingly against his mouth. "Just kiss me."
Keith's ironclad control broke and all of his noble intentions fled in the face of Allura's whispered entreaty. With a heartfelt groan, his arms wrapped around her and he luxuriated in the feel of her against him.
The soft rasp of fabric against his fingers as he ran his hands across Allura's soft curves was torturous to his strained nerves. But the way his princess quivered under his lightest touch and the way her breath caught in stunned surrender added sweetness to the desire.
He tapped into a reservoir of strength that he didn't know he possessed and found tenderness. He smiled gently at his wife just before he lowered his mouth to hers. An eternity seemed to pass as Keith lost himself in the silent wonder promise of their kiss and the blind searing joy he felt as a new unspoken bond formed between them.
Dragging his mouth away from hers with an effort, Keith brushed kisses against the delicate skin of Allura's cheeks and jaw, tempting himself with the sweetness he found there. "Princess Mine," he murmured huskily, his breath a butterfly caress on her skin.
He groaned again, with satisfaction this time, as Allura raised her head so that she could meet his mouth with hers. He deepened the kiss, and his fingers tangled in the silky length of Allura's hair.
Whistling softly under his breath, Lance sauntered down the hallway leading to Keith's private study and opened the door without announcing himself, as was his habit. "Hey Cap, I have —"
He blinked in shock as he took in the unexpected sight of Keith kissing the princess. Lance gasped in surprise and a shocked oath rose unbidden to his lips.
Jolted back to reality, by the unexpected sound of Lance's voice, Allura broke away from Keith and sat up. She bit her lip self-consciously, not realizing how the action highlighted their kiss-swollen state.
"—something to ask you," Lance finished his sentence weakly, stepping aside automatically as Allura fled the room with a barely audible excuse, not quite able to meet his eyes.
Even in the dim light of the room, he couldn't help but notice Allura's appearance as she passed him. Her cheeks were as pink as her dress and her hair — hadn't it been arranged in its normal braids earlier? – was tousled and lay in disarray around her slender shoulders.
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of the first officer's stomach. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight around uncomfortably. He was in DEEP shit. The expression in Keith's normally impassive face — barely banked frustration — was dangerous. Lance knew that it did not bode well for his continued well-being.
"Lance? You wanted to ask me about something." Keith asked silkily as he rose to his feet to watch the graceful sway of his wife's skirts as she hurried down the hallway. Shutting the door, he crossed to his desk, punching a few buttons on the wall-mounted control panel as he did so. The lights in the room grew brighter and the lamp shut off. "What's that, Lance? The grapevine is wrong about what?"
Lance flushed slightly with embarrassment. He had forgotten how sharp his captain's hearing was. He rubbed the back of his neck, a mannerism he had picked up from Keith. "Umm. You and the Princess. Your things were placed in separate rooms so they say that you aren't sleeping together."
"Hmm." Keith carefully wiped all expression off his face, amazed at the accuracy of the Castle grapevine. "You wanted to talk to me about something."
Lance nodded, grateful for the reprieve. "I have some concerns about the staffing requirements of Castle Control."
"I've been thinking about that too," Keith agreed quietly. "Are Hunk and Pidge still up? We need to work out a closely supervised training program for possible Control Coordinators."
"They are. Let me just go call them," Lance offered, jumping at the chance to escape from the uncomfortable situation he had created.
"Wait."
Lance stopped in his tracks and turned to look at his friend, wondering how Keith could inject so much authority into a single word. "What?"
"Before you call the others, I just want to go through something with you." Keith's voice dropped to a menacing rasp as he glared at his unfortunate first officer.
"See that?" Keith asked rhetorically, pointing to the door. "THAT is a door. You open doors to enter rooms, but before you do that, you KNOCK so that you know WHEN you can open a door."
"Knock." Lance repeated weakly.
"That's right. You remember that maneuver, don't you?" Keith raised a steely fist and knocked on his desk, demonstrating the proper technique.
Lance swallowed hard. His fist jerked reflexively as he unconsciously echoed the unfamiliar maneuver. He looked up at his long-time friend. "Look, I'm really sorry for barging in on you guys. I'll make sure that you know I'm coming next time."
Keith nodded, his temper exorcised and appeased by the sincere contrition shining in Lance's eyes. "No problem," he said as he sank down on his chair with a heavy sigh. "But just don't do it again, okay?"
He swiveled his chair and stared out of the window. As far as he was concerned, the discussion was over, but apparently, his first officer had other ideas.
The door swished closed, but Keith could feel the weight of his friend's scrutiny boring into his back. "Still here, Lance? I thought you were going to go fetch Hunk and Pidge."
"In a while," the first officer said, studying Keith's carefully controlled nonchalance with knowing eyes. He knew his friend well enough to see through that act — years of rooming together in the academy had taught him that much. "I want to talk to you first."
"So talk," Keith said, picking up a thick intelligence report marked Astra-17, Galaxy Garrison's highest level of confidentiality. "By the way, I have a few questions about your report."
Lance chuckled wryly. Amusement at his friend's weak attempt at distraction briefly replaced the concern that glittered in his brown eyes. "How are you holding up?"
Keith raised a sardonic eyebrow. "How am I holding up? What on Arus are you talking about?"
Lance folded his lanky frame into one of the armchairs facing Keith's desk, slouching into a comfortable position. "You. Your new marital state can't be easy on you."
"None of your business, Lance." Keith said dismissively, opening the thick intelligence report and pretending to read it.
Lance snorted under his breath with mild irritation. Keith was being difficult, but that was something he expected so he forged on, undeterred by his friend's reaction. "After all, you're in love with her."
He held his breath and waited patiently for his captain's reaction. It was everything he hoped for — the thick report slammed closed with a heavy thud.
"WHAT?!" Keith stared at his friend incredulously.
"You were named Sir Galahad for a reason, you know," Lance continued, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You hide it well, but you're a romantic at heart."
He watched the expression on Keith's face closely. It was as guarded and controlled as ever, but the flicker in Keith's dark eyes told him that his friend was listening. "I remember when you broke up with Velvet because she wanted to get married. We went out that night and we got WASTED." He grinned at the memory, "Or rather, you and Jeff got wasted. *I* was the designated driver, so I didn't drink."
"Probably one of the few times that you didn't," Keith grunted.
"You told us then that marriage to Velvet would be a slow slide into oblivion. She wanted you to be who people expected you to be instead of wanting you for you. I think you said that she was already planning how to spend your money."
Lance paused to take a deep breath, "Our assignment to Arus was the best thing that ever happened to you. Jeff and I were worried about you for a while, you know. We saw how you changed after we started active duty."
Keith's eyes darkened in mute acknowledgement of Lance's words.
"Everyday, you lost a little more of yourself, but then you met Allura and everything changed. She's the only person I know who has enough nerve to argue with you," Lance continued.
"On the other hand, Coran would say that I'm the only one who has enough patience to argue with her," Keith muttered.
"And there you have it!" Lance exclaimed, not quite able to hide the mischievous affection shining in his eyes. "You're perfect for each other. Two crusaders trying to better a flawed world."
"But I just can't go up to her and tell her that I love her!" Keith protested, running a frustrated hand through his already unruly mane of hair.
"Why not?" Lance demanded. He couldn't hide the triumph shining in his brown eyes. "What's stopping you?"
"Things are complicated enough as they are already, " Keith admitted candidly in a rare bout of vulnerability. "And admitting my feelings for her would complicate things even more."
"I'm have the utmost faith in you, Keith," Lance teased, unable to hold back the wide grin that spread across his face, "You'll figure it out. After all, that's why they made you the captain!"