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As Color Fades Away

Chapter Seventy-Five

Lance felt fear churn in his stomach when Shiro returned without Coran, but he forced it back upon seeing the peace in Shiro's expression that had been missing this entire time.

"Coran is fine," Shiro said quietly, "and so is Allura."

There was a few moments of stunned silence and then—

"Allura?" Lance breathed, voice thick. "She's alive?"

"Yeah, buddy," Shiro sank down in front of them, legs thanking him for the break. "She is. I… I don't entirely know how but Coran did something. He healed her. She… she's going to be just fine."

Lance was crying, shoulders shaking, and Pidge's eyes were bright. Shiro leaned forward, pulling them both into his arms.

"We're all okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Pidge's head, nearly doing the same to Lance and changing course at last minute to rub a circle on his back instead. "We did it."

They remained like that for a while – could have been minutes, could have been hours – but Shiro released them when his shoulder could take no more of the hold and sat back, soaking in both of their tear-stained, blood splattered faces.

"You both need to go into a pod," he told them.

Lance shook his head though, biting his lip.

"Lance," Shiro said sternly, if tiredly. "I know you don't like them but—"

"I can't," he whispered. And he held up his left hand that he'd been hiding against his stomach.

Shiro blanched and Pidge sucked in a harsh breath.

For not only was there a hole that seemed to go from palm to the back of his hand there was a blood-soaked dishcloth infused inside of it, fibers and flesh pieced together like a bad sewing project.

"Oh God," Pidge moaned, averting her eyes.

Shiro very, very gently took Lance's arm by the wrist and turned the hand over, confirming that the hole did indeed go through. His own stomach was turning but he forced it down and looked towards Lance, who had his eyes down.

"Lance, buddy, look at me," he ordered gently and dark ocean orbs rimmed with tears lifted. "We will fix this, all right?"

Lance hiccupped out a sob.

"Pidge?" Shiro turned to her. "Anything preventing you from going in a pod?"

"I don't think so. Um, I did sort of have almost a minute and a half of facial exposure to space. But my lungs feel fine," she added hurriedly."My face just feels… raw."

Shiro stared at her, unblinkingly.

"What?" Pidge demanded, going to cross her arms, wincing, and thinking better of it.

"Pidge..." Shiro swallowed, not sure how to say this. "Human lungs... in space... you..." She should be dead. More than dead. A human body could not be be exposed like that in space; trying to hold her breath should have killed her, that amount of exposure should have killed her... a lot of things should have killed her, and yet here she was, standing without any apparent injury from the ordeal other than raw looking almost sun-burned cheeks.

She shrugged and winced again. "Maybe space is different here? I mean, we aren't anywhere in the Milky Way galaxy and the components could be different." Her lips pursed. "The Galra ship did burn for an abnormally long amount of time, which would indicate oxygen or something like it in the atmosphere. Maybe from the planet? It is giving off cloaking rays it could be there's something else to it than a frequency dampener." There was a faint glimmer popping into her eyes, a desire to study and dissect and know, and as relieved as Shiro was to see it he was more than happy to accept whatever anomaly this quadrant of space had given them and focus instead on getting Pidge into a pod. He told her as such and asked if she would show him and Lance the start sequence so they could get started.

"What about you?" she countered. "You need it more than me."

Shiro shook his head. "I'm not going in one until either Allura or Coran are back up. I'm not leaving you guys alone like that. I'll be fine until then."

Pidge did not look entirely like she believed him and Shiro couldn't blame her. He knew he must look a wreck. He felt like one too. And as much as he wanted to hop into a pod and wake up feeling whole again, put aside the mantle of adult for a little while, he couldn't do that. Not yet.

"Pidge, please," he pleaded, hoping it didn't come off as desperate and tired as he felt. "I'll feel better once you're in a pod."

And he could tell that she was in clear pain despite how much she was trying to hide it. Her left arm was in a tattered sling for starters, so either her arm, wrist or hand were hurt, her face was a mess and there were plenty of dings and burns to her armor indicating she had indeed been in an explosion.

Besides, he knew that Hunk and Keith, by the sound of it, were going to be in the pods for quite a while and if they could get her healed up and out of them within half a quintant and have someone at full health that would be ideal. Allura looked to be fully healed herself but there was no telling how her stamina would be and Coran the same.

And Lance… Shiro glanced at the ruined hand. That alone once they managed to somehow free the cloth was probably going to take at least half a day to repair the fine damage, and to say nothing of the mental exhaustion he was suffering from waging a mind battle against Haggar. Shiro didn't know how long he would need to be in one but it was going to be for more than a few hours, of that he was certain.

"All right," she agreed quietly. "Lance, can you help me set it up?"

Shiro helped them both to their feet and ushered them over to a third pod next to Hunk's. Between the two of them they agreed on some sequence and Pidge instructed Lance on how to initiate it once she was in the pod.

She allowed Shiro then to help her unclasp her outer armor and pull it off, stacking it as neatly as they could in one of the corners, and then she pulled on one of the cryo-suits over her underarmor. She reverently removed the broken glasses, placing them on the counter.

"Pidge…" Shiro whispered, looking between the destroyed frames and her shadowed face.

"It's all right," she murmured. "It's fine. They're… they're just glasses." She flashed Shiro a watery smile. "Promise. I'm fine." All he could do was nod and make certain that the glasses were pushed safely back so no one could accidentally knock them off and damage them further.

Before she went into the pod though she pulled Lance into as tight of a hug as she could with her one arm, burying her face against his chest, bloodstained jacket and all, and he returned the embrace just as tight.

"Love you," she mumbled against him and in return she felt Lance give her a little squeeze.

"I love you too," he whispered., breath tickling her ear. "I'm… I'm so glad you're okay."

"You too." She gave him another squeeze.

Shiro was up next and he pulled her to him, gently but firmly, and pressed one hand to the back of her head. "Thank you, Katie," he said quietly. She sent him an inquiring look and he huffed out a soft laugh. "For everything. For being there when we needed you most. When… when I needed you most." For when Keith needed her was said silently and Pidge gave him as tight a hug as she could manage.

"Thank you, Shiro," she murmured. "For... for everything." For saving her. For killing Haggar. For protecting her from having to do so herself.

He ruffled her hair, a gesture so normal she felt new tears well up.

It really was over.

Minus everyone getting into pods. And then the inevitable emotional and mental aftermath and breakdown. She almost envied Keith; he was going to have almost no recollection of anything.

Pidge clambered into the pod and gave a thumbs up to Lance. He didn't return it but did give her a small smile and Shiro closed the pod door. A few ticks later it frosted over and she was lost to sight.

Shiro shifted to Lance's side and put a gentle hand on his back, wary of the bloodied marks on his shoulders, but even there Lance winced but still leaned into the tender hold.

He'd come a long, long way, Shiro thought with pride.

"How about we get cleaned up?" Shiro suggested gently. "See what we can do until Coran gets up?"

Lance gave a small nod, in that moment looking so young.

Shiro gently steered him out of the infirmary and to the bathroom just next door. It was a small thing, toilet and sink taking up most of it and Shiro gestured for Lance to sit atop the closed toilet lid while he rummaged in the cabinet under the sink and pulled out some spare hand towels.

He pulled off his one glove and then ran one of the towels under the faucet, water warm.

"Here," he held it out gently to Lance. "For your face."

Lance gingerly took it in his right hand, water streaming from the damp cloth to mingle with the red blood all over his hand. He dutifully lifted it up and dabbed at his face, wincing at even his own touch.

Shiro left him to it for the moment and set about stripping off his outer armor and dumping it in the hallway, feeling immediate relief as the heavy pieces were shed.

Getting his chestplate off was harder than normal thanks to the gunshot wound in his shoulder, but he managed with relatively little expressions of pain, trying to keep it to a minimum so as not to spook Lance.

He took inventory of himself as he wet his own cloth, rubbing it first vigorously over the prosthetic and watching the dark red that had cooked on with the heat swirl down the drain. The most major concerns were the gunshot wound, although it being a laser had cauterized the blast so it was bleeding very little unless he strained it, and the gash across his stomach that had yet to really stop bleeding although it had slowed. He dabbed as much as he could around it and then pressed another towel across it, intending to get bandages from the infirmary once they'd scrubbed up.

He had an assortment of smaller bruises and cuts littering him and exhaustion was cutting like a knife, but otherwise he was mostly okay. Until a pod was ready nothing resting and trying to get some sustenance in him couldn't hold off.

He looked over to Lance to see how he was faring and felt his heart constrict as Lance was still rubbing at his face, but not hard enough to actually remove any of dried splatter. His eyes were staring but they didn't seem to be seeing anything, his hand moving mechanically in the same small circle.

Shiro had known it wouldn't be so easy.

"Lance," he called gently. When that yielded no result he lightly tapped Lance's knee and called his name again. Ocean eyes blinked and refocused on him. "Hey. You with me, buddy?"

Lance's lip gave a barely perceptible waver.

"Hey, hey," Shiro murmured, rubbing his thumb over Lance's completely blood-soaked pants knee and trying hard not to think about the first part. "Estás bien. It's okay. We're all okay."

"I k-killed him," Lance choked out. His eyes drifted to his washcloth, which Shiro could see had dark purple imbued in the light tan threads. "I killed him, Sh-Shiro."

Shiro closed his eyes. He'd been afraid of that. But it was just like the last time and Lance would realize that too. With some time.

"He left you no choice," Shiro said cautiously, relieved when Lance gave the tiniest of nods.

But then…

"He m-made me."

Shiro did not like the sound of that, the way Lance's eyes were filling with a horror he could not fully identify.

"Made you?" Shiro repeated, hating how his gut clenched that had nothing to do with his wound.

Lance shook.

"He… he…" Lance broke off with a choked sob, shaking his head.

"Shh, it's okay, it's over now," Shiro said, trying not to let his own unease show. "Let's get you cleaned up now. You'll feel better. We can talk after, all right?"

Lance whimpered out a possible yes.

Shiro took the washcloth from an unresisting hand. "Lance?" he asked quietly. "Would it be all right if I washed your face?"

Because Lance was doing a terrible job of it and Shiro did not see it improving. But this wasn't food goo; it was blood and it needed to come off.

Lance inclined his head.

Shiro re-wet the cloth, rinsing out what little blood there was, and made sure it was comfortably warm, and then very, very carefully lifted it to Lance's cheek.

Lance flinched at the contact, his eyes scrunched closed. Shiro placed his other hand at the base of Lance's neck from behind to hold him steady.

"It's just me," he murmured, scrubbing firmly but still as gently as he could. "I would never hurt you."

"I know," came the tiny response. "But…"

And this time it was Shiro's turn to sigh out an, "I know."

"Lo siento."

"You don't need to apologize," Shiro retorted kindly. "I know. I understand. It's okay."

Lance trembled the entire time as Shiro cleaned the blood and dried tears from his face, but other than the initial recoil he held steady. It both amazed and warmed Shiro to see the level of trust Lance was showing despite all that happened not even an hour before.

"You're doing great," he encouraged. "Almost done."

And a minute later he was, Lance's face free and clear of the brutality it had witnessed. Shiro wished he could do something about the ring of bruises that were beginning to show around Lance's throat, a second necklace of pain.

"Can we get your shirt and jacket off?" Shiro asked. Both were beyond ruined, the right arm sleeve entirely missing on both and jagged cuts covering both shoulders. Based on the amount of blood that had soaked into the material there Shiro knew the injuries below were somewhat serious.

Lance nodded his consent and Shiro opted to cut them off rather than try and force Lance to move his arms or slide the material over his left hand that he was still avoiding looking at. He left Lance for a minute alone to dash back to the infirmary and grab a pair of medical scissors as well as a few rolls of bandages and a jar of salve that was good for numbing. He would be applying that liberally to his own wound once he had the chance. Another blanket too as he had the feeling Lance was going to need it.

Lance had not moved an inch in the time he was gone and Shiro wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Shock, he decided, as Lance was staring blankly again at the floor. He was honestly surprised it had taken so long considering all that had happened. He was having a hard time processing it all too but right now focusing on Lance and reminding himself again and again that they were all going to be okay was pushing him through.

"Lance," he tapped the boy's knee gently and was relieved when after a few seconds that tired gaze lifted to meet his. "I'm going to cut them off now," he explained. "Ready?"

Lance gave a small nod. Shiro worked quickly, slicing the jacket layer first down the front and then the shirt. Pulling them open on Lance's front revealed a chest mottled with bruises and, Shiro pressed lightly earning a low hiss, broken or at least badly bruised ribs.

He had Lance pivot slightly on his seat and more carefully cut through the back of the jacket and then through the material on the shoulders and down the length of the left arm.

He winced as he pulled it away, the long-sleeve shirt clinging a bit with dried blood. Lance moaned but held still as Shiro pulled it off in pieces, revealing deep claw marks gouged into Lance's shoulders and upper arms and stretching into thinner scratches down his back. More bruises there as well.

His expression darkened as he lightly washed away the blood and blotted at the wounds. He for one was not upset in the slightest that the Galran commander who'd done this had met his end.

Although he wished Lance hadn't been the one to do it. The circumstances surrounding it sounded… wrong.

Once Lance's torso was cleaned Shiro offered up the salve and while he put it over Lance's back and shoulders Lance rubbed it in on some of the bruises on his chest and stomach.

It was working, Shiro smiled, as he felt Lance relax ever so as he wound bandages about the claw marks. When he was done Lance looked like he had on a vest made of bandages but Shiro was pretty proud of his work, if he did say so.

"Pants next," Shiro instructed, the bottoms honestly having more blood soaked spots than clear ones at this point.

In answer Lance carefully stood and Shiro left him to it, going about slathering the cream and bandages on his own bare torso.

Lance tugged at the drawstring, still unsettled by the fact he was doing so with his right hand. The pants practically fell off with a wet plop, weighed down with so many fluids. They'd soaked through the fibers too, his legs, particularly his knees, stained red.

Most of that was Hunk's blood.

Lance wavered.

He'd have tipped right over if Shiro hadn't been so fast, catching him around the shoulders and guiding him back to sitting on the toilet seat.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Shiro comforted, kneeling in front of him and hands lightly resting on Lance's upper arms to keep him steady. "It's okay."

"H-Hunk's…" Lance got out, throat closing up.

"And Hunk is going to be just fine," Shiro transitioned. "He's in a pod and he's healing and he's going to be okay."

But it wasn't just that.

"Me," Lance whispered. "Because of m-me, he…"

And Shiro realized that this time Lance wasn't speaking on overarching blame that because of Haggar's obsession with his quintessence the team was in danger and he was at fault. No. This was more personal.

"He protected you," Shiro said gently.

"Because I was stupid," Lance choked out. "I should have…" He should have taken the shot. He could have killed Theodek with one strike, ended it before Hunk had acted as a human shield.

Shiro tapped his bloodied knee. "Hey. None of that. You are not stupid."

"But—"

"No," Shiro said firmly. "You are not." His tone softened. "We're a family, Lance. We will always protect one another. Hunk got hurt, yes. But does he regret it? I'm going to say no. You got hurt protecting all of us before. Do you regret it?"

"No," Lance whispered. "But… but it was different, Shiro."

Shiro didn't interrupt except to pick up another washcloth and incline his head at Lance's knee, still seeking permission. Lance gave a tiny nod and Shiro began to lightly scrub away at the blood there but said nothing else, waiting for Lance.

Lance swallowed. "I could have killed him. Theodek. But I… I shot his hand instead." He lowered his head, unable to look at Shiro. "I didn't want to kill anymore. I thought… I thought…" He broke off with a little sob. "I was wrong. And he… if Hunk hadn't…"

Shiro was trying to piecemeal the broken account together, and understanding dawned within a few seconds. "Hunk took a hit meant for you," he said cautiously and based on Lance's cry he was right. "The cut on his stomach?" he clarified and Lance confirmed it.

Silence reigned for a few moments until Shiro got up to rinse out the cloth and start on Lance's other knee.

"If you had taken that hit," Shiro said quietly as he knelt back down, "you would have died."

Lance's breath caught.

"Hunk had the best chance of surviving a wound of that nature and he knew it," Shiro continued, recalling his observations. "I don't know the circumstances surrounding it, and it's up to you if you want to talk to me about it all right now, but I do know that Hunk would do anything to save you Lance, just as you would for him. You're brothers, right? Hermanos?" He put out the word he'd heard the two call each other fondly.

"Sí," came the whispered response.

"Hunk lived," Shiro said, "and he's going to be just fine. Focus on that for me, okay? We all are going to be okay. We will get through this."

He blotted Lance's legs dry and then pulled off the equally bloodstained shoes and socks, tossing them all along with the pants he freed from Lance's ankles into the bathroom garbage that was now overflowing with Lance's jacket and shirt and his own upper underarmor.

Lance was only dressed in his boxer shorts now and was shivering slightly, but he was all cleaned up. The only untouched part was his left hand – Shiro averted his eyes from it as his stomach twinged – but it did not seem to be bleeding and would hold until Coran could advise.

Time for the blanket now.

"Shiro?"

"Hm?" Shiro asked, in the process of grabbing said blanket shaking it out. He draped it over Lance's bandage covered shoulders, tucking it around and settling the loose folds in Lance's lap.

"Are you okay?"

Shiro's breath caught, but then again, why was he not surprised?

"I'm fine," was his automatic response but Lance reached out his right hand and latched it around Shiro's wrist, grip tight.

Blue eyes stared at him and there was a distinct absence of the hollow fear and guilt that had filled them before. Shiro's own words came back to him then, his observations following their talk in Blue. Lance healed best by helping others. His feelings of compassion and love outweighed anything else, even his own fears and doubts.

"I'm not so fine," Shiro amended. "But not now, okay? Let's get back to the others and find you something to wear first."

Lance shivered at that and Shiro reached up to tuck the blanket more firmly about him.

"Okay," he agreed quietly and released Shiro's wrist with that promise.

They made it back to the infirmary without trouble and Shiro helped Lance settle down on the floor in front of Hunk's pod with a few more blankets and the two pillows from the cot. He wished they hadn't move the couch back out now as it would have been incredibly nice to have.

There were a few spare cryo-suits but he knew the material was rather stiff and lacked that comfort feature. Lance though, after a few minutes of Shiro opening up every cabinet, had said he was fine as he was, the one blanket pulled tight about his shoulders and clutched in his right hand and another across his legs.

Shiro had admitted defeat, not willing to leave the infirmary and go across the ship to their rooms, and had joined him with a blanket over his own shoulders and another water pouch for the both of them.

"You need to drink that," he said as Lance merely held this one in his hand as well.

"I know."

He made no effort to drink it still.

Shiro plucked it from him. "Close your eyes," he instructed and Lance raised an eyebrow, the closest he'd gotten to something other than sad smiles and that timid fear. Shiro welcomed it. "Trust me," he grinned and Lance snapped them shut immediately.

The water pouches were cold, stored in the infirmary's cooler. Lance had just barely started to drink again and it was limited to hot drinks. Of course a pouch of cold water, not even room temperature, would not be welcome.

Shiro activated just his hand for a moment and held the pouch above it in his other hand. He turned the purple glow off and handed the now warm to the touch pouch to Lance with a soft command to open his eyes. "Here. It's just hot water but…"

Lance first flushed with a shade of embarrassment but then gave a shake of his head and turned to Shiro with a soft smile that brightened his eyes. "Gracias, Shiro." And to Shiro's relief he took a sip and then another.

They sat together quietly, exhaustion pressing in. Lance slumped sideways and rested his head against Shiro's left shoulder and in response Shiro brought his arm fully around him and tugged him in closer. Lance breathed out a small, contented sigh and Shiro smiled down at the dark head.

He thought Lance might have fallen asleep for how quiet he had become, his breaths near even against his neck, when he spoke although the word was barely audible. "Haggar?"

Shiro stiffened. He hadn't expected Lance to want to talk about her so soon, but then again it made sense. Shiro had confirmation she was dead while Lance had whatever Pidge had probably told him.

"Dead," he said just as quietly.

"Are you okay?" Lance repeated from earlier.

And here, huddled beneath blankets and Lance a warm presence at his side, Shiro was. He nodded as such. "I will be," he voiced aloud. "I just…" He swallowed thickly himself. "I'm glad she's gone," he managed.

Lance gave a small nod of agreement. "Me too. But… but you had to…"

Shiro sighed, closing his eyes. "I know. I… I wasn't in a good place back there. I know I wasn't. I was so… so angry." He shuddered. "I felt… I felt like…"

Not like Shiro. He hadn't been Shiro there with his desire for revenge. Shiro protected others out of love, would only take that final step if no other alternative was presented and even if he did in the name of justice he did it for that, to protect people.

But that had not been what he had done. He had aimed to kill Haggar, even when she was defenseless to him while she and Lance had waged some type of mental battle, had gone after her not with a desire to protect but a desire to kill.

He had not been Shiro then.

He had been—

"Champion," Shiro breathed, hot tears stinging his eyes. "I…"

Lance wormed his right hand into Shiro's prosthetic on his shoulder, closing the metal fingers about his own.

"You're not him," Lance said quietly, but firmly. "You're not a killer, Shiro."

"I wanted to kill her."

Lance huffed out a laugh that wasn't humorous at all. "I… I think we all did. Pidge even said… she said she'd have done it. If you hadn't. I think… I think even I might have…"

And Lance realized as he said it that it was true.

If given the opportunity…

He would have killed Haggar.

He had committed to killing Theodek after all, and had made several attempted shots that had they connected would have been the end. He'd hoped too that the barrier, the Lions, would be enough to destroy her.

But Shiro shook his head. "It was different," he murmured. "I… I didn't just want her dead. I wanted her to suffer. You heard me," he hung his head. "I was not… not myself."

"You were scared," Lance countered gently. He understood that feeling. It had washed over him when Theodek had turned to go for Hunk and he'd thrown that first knife without hesitation. "That… that doesn't make you a killer. It doesn't make you… him. Champion." Shiro shuddered at the title and Lance squeezed the prosthetic tighter. "This," he tapped his fingers on the metal, "doesn't make you a bad person. It doesn't make you hers. Just… just like I'm not. We're not hers. We're us. We… we don't belong to anyone." And as he said it he realized how true it was. Shiro had said something similar to him once, right after he'd been rescued, but to hear it now, to hear it and to know it was true...

They were not hers.

Shiro's breath caught and he choked on his next one. Just like last time Lance's words were unlocking something inside him. He took in a full breath on the next inhale, it feeling lighter than any before.

They were not hers.

"You're Shiro," Lance continued, voice soft. "Our leader and brother and… and the most amazing person in the universe. You're our champion."

"Thanks, buddy," Shiro managed past his clogged feeling throat. "I… thank you, Lance." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of the dark head, freezing a second later as he realized what he'd just done as Lance's shoulder's stiffened against him.

But Lance untensed a moment after and snuggled up more against him, pillowing his head now on Shiro's chest, an answer more than any words could provide. Shiro relaxed too, although he pulled his arm off of Lance's shoulders, as Lance seemed to have no desire to let go of his hand, and settled it between them instead.

"You are amazing, Lance," Shiro said quietly, giving their hands a squeeze. "And don't deny it," he added as he felt Lance's chin shift to refute his words, "you are. You really helped me." And he was being completely sincere. Talking with Lance always seemed to do that and he could not fully express how grateful he was for it. But he could try and at least return the favor. "Will you let me do the same?"

"Can you just… hold me?" Lance asked after a few moments, cheeks darkening at the request but Shiro only squeezed his hand in reassurance.. "I… I don't want… not yet." He didn't want to think about his hand, about Haggar or Theodek. He didn't want to think about how close he had come to losing Hunk and talking about what had happened in the Astral Plane felt too big to speak about just now.

"Come here," Shiro answered, patting the space between his legs and Lance needed no second urging, none too gracefully clambering over his left leg and settling down, back pressed flush against Shiro's chest. Shiro adjusted the blankets over them and then looped his arms about the thin shoulders and rested his chin atop Lance's head. "This okay?"

"Gracias," Lance murmured, already closing his eyes. He felt safe here, wrapping up in Shiro's arms and his warmth at his back. For at least a little while he could pretend that everything was all right and forget about the still unknowns lurking.

"Get some rest," Shiro said quietly, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. "I'll be right here."

Lance gave a sleepy mumble. Within the minute his breathing had evened, exhaustion winning the battle against everything.

Shiro's own eyes drooped and within moments he too was sound asleep, drawing comfort in Lance's steady breaths and the weight against his front.

No nightmares visited either of them.

Author's Notes:

I had a few readers way back asking for more one on one Shiro and Lance. Here you go! I've been giggling and holding this in as I knew it was coming up at some point. Sleepy boys, everyone is getting rest and cuddles.

If you're still here reading and enjoyed the chapter please do leave a comment below. I'd really love to hear from you! Thank you so much to the beautiful souls who left one last chapter; I super appreciate it!

(Also, please no season seven spoilers. I like to be surprised, please and thank you!)