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The castle was cold. Cold and quiet, like winter. The previously warm atmosphere disappeared. The change was sudden and jarring, but none of the occupants seemed to notice. They drifted through the halls, too distracted to know what happened around them. Slowly, ever so slowly, they came back to themselves. The ship stayed cold.
Lance returned two days in. Nothing special brought him back, just the worry for his friends. He had been in the kitchen, staring at the clean surfaces and unused appliances, and thought ‘Hunk should be here. Where is he?’ Which prompted him to go find his best friend.
He found the yellow paladin elbow deep in the castle mechanics with Coran, the two talking quietly. They didn't seem to be talking about anything important, so Lance plopped himself down next to the two, startling them.
Hunk blinked at him owlishly before giving him a tired smile. “Hey Lance. What's up buddy?”
Lance tried to give Hunk his best grin, but it came across the same way Hunk’s did. “Doing alright. What about you two? Haven't seen you in a while.”
Coran took his hands out of the machine, slumping down next to him with a huff. “Sorry my boy, we’ve been trying to get this old girl up and running to her full capacity. Haven't had much time for anything else.”
Lance hummed, looking back at the wires sticking out of the wall. “Do you know what's wrong?”
“Not exactly. But we’re close.” Hunk wiped at the sweat that built up on his brow and upper lip. “But we’ve been building up an impressive list of parts we need to get.”
Lance chuckled. “Maybe you should take a break. Get a fresh perspective tomorrow.”
Hunk didn't reply right away, glancing back at the wiring. “I don't know. We need to get this done.”
“You won't be able to do anything if you don't eat something. C’mon, big guy, you need sustenance.”
“Big words coming from the guy who thought ten thousand was ten plus one thousand.”
“It was a slip of words , how many times do I have to say this?” Lance sighed dramatically.
Hunk chuckled and patted his shoulder. “You're never gonna live that down.” He stood. “Thanks, Lance, but I'm not hungry.”
Hunk’s stomach disagreed. Loudly. Coran and Lance shared a look, both of their mouths twitched up. Hunks cheeks darkened.
“So. Food?”
A few hours later found the two paladins curled up on Hunk’s bed, staring at the ceiling. They had tried to get Coran to join them, but the quirky man had politely declined. They talked about anything and everything, catching up on a neglected friendship. They helped shoulder each others burdens.
There wasn’t much to it. Hunk trusted Lance, and Lance confided in Hunk. They told each other almost everything. Even after all this time, all the stress and little chances to just be in the others presence. The two just needed time to talk, and everything sorted itself out.
“It’s not the same without him. It’s like, with Shiro, I knew what I was doing and was confident in my actions and all that. But now that he’s gone, it’s all wishy washy, ‘cause everyone’s wishy washy. You get me?”
“I get you, big guy. Things are tense right now. But we’ll pull through, we always do. Keith should open up Black at any time now, we’ll go out and kick ass, find a way to get Shiro back, and everything’ll be like it was. Probably. In the meantime, things can be okay if we keep at it.”
“I hope. What about you? How do you feel about all this?”
Well, not everything.
Lance was keeping something from Hunk. He could tell. When Hunk asked him how he was doing, the answer he received was ‘not so great’ with no elaboration no matter how Hunk asked. It was concerning, to say the least, but he couldn’t do anything if Lance wasn’t willing to be helped. He’d just wait until Lance came to him.
In the meantime, he'd sing along to the songs from musicals Lance started to randomly sing. He did that occasionally when he was nervous. At least none of his tells had changed.
Pidge hadn’t slept properly since Shiro went missing. They’d pass out and wake up a couple hours later every few days. It had been like this for a couple weeks. They spent all day fiddling with their computer, trying to modify the program they was using to track their family to pick up anything on Shiro. So far, no luck. The longer they tried, the harder the work got, and the more frustrated they got. On the fourth night, they finally passed out at their desk.
They woke up, a few hours later, in their bed, warmth surrounding them and the lights dim, but on. They tried sitting up, but were held in place by an arm around their waist. They sighed, recognising the green jacket on bronze skin.
“Lance, let go.”
“Nope.” Pidge’s head was tucked snug under Lance’s chin, one leg swung over theirs. There was no getting out of Lance’s hold even if they tried.
“I have work to do.”
“You can take a break.”
“A break from looking for Shiro?”
“A small one.”
Pidge sighed. They were still tired, and didn’t really have the effort to fight Lance on this, so they flopped back down and closed their eyes again.
The next night, Lance came into the workshop. Pidge didn’t acknowledge him. Not when he entered, not when he came over, not even when he called their name. They only did so when they were physically picked up and thrown over Lance’s shoulder.
“Lance! Put me down!” They slapped their fists against Lance’s back, but Lance just kept walking.
“Time to go to bed, Pidge.”
“I cannot believe you are actually putting me to bed! What am I, five?”
“Seems like it when you don’t know how to take care of yourself. Even five year olds go to bed when they’re tired.”
Pidge huffed, but let themselves get carried away that night. They didn’t fall asleep until Lance laid across their stomach and made it clear they weren’t getting away easily. The night after that, they crawled into the vents and hid. Lance came in, looked around a bit, and left. Pidge continued to hide every night for the next week. Lance started sounding more and more frustrated each time he came into the room and didn’t see Pidge.
One night, when he came in, he sounded pathetic and helpless. It might be the saddest thing Pidge had ever heard.
“Pidge?” He’d called, voice exhausted and quiet. “Pidge, c’mon, you need to sleep. You might die from sleep deprivation.”
There was shuffling, then a deep sigh. Pidge peeked out through the grate. Lance had sat in the middle of the floor. He rubbed his eyes, swaying where he was. When his hand dropped, Pidge could see the deep bruises under his eyes. They started, almost bashing into the room. Hadn’t Lance slept?
“Pidge, please. I miss Shiro. You miss Shiro. We all miss Shiro. For fucks sake, I can’t believe I have to have the same conversation with you that I had with Keith, since you’re the ‘smart one’. But you have to take care of yourself. What do you think Shiro’s gonna do when he gets back and finds out you haven’t been taking care of yourself?”
Pidge tried to imagine it. He’d probably be disappointed, and a bit exasperated. Then pick them up and force them to bed, kind of like Lance did. Now that they thought about it, Lance kind of sounded like what they thought Shiro would. Just more whiny.
Lance continued after a few moments of silence. “And imagine what will happen when we have to go help people. Will you be able to pilot? Will you be able to complete the mission? Can you promise us you won’t mess up because you couldn’t see your controls clearly? Besides, regular rest will make it easier for you to think. Shiro’s tough. He can survive the time it takes for you to get back into the habit of being a functioning human.”
His argument was sound. Harsh and another few words from being below the belt, but sound. Pidge huffed, removed the grate, and slinked out of the vent. Lance watched them, not seeming to be surprised by their hiding place. Pidge began to wonder if he knew they were in there from the start.
“What are you waiting for?” They started waving Lance out of the room. “Let’s go to bed.”
When Pidge looped their arm through Lance’s, leaning heavily on it, Lance didn’t comment. And in return, Pidge didn’t snark about Lance using them as a crutch for the last bit of the walk.
Lance had taken to sitting on the bridge for a couple hours every day. He’d watch the stars pass out the window, silent. Allura never minded the company. She appreciated that Lance didn’t try to flirt, or force conversations, or reprimand her for working too hard. The silence was comforting in a way. It reminded her of the times she’d creep into her father’s study while he was working and read his completed documents. Allura smiled despite the pang that thought sent through her chest.
The mice seemed to enjoy having Lance there, as well. Whenever he came, they scampered off towards the blue paladin. He’d always play with them, whisper secrets (that Allura then learned; she sometimes wondered if he told the mice just so she could laugh at his childhood antics), and let them nap on him. He’d sometimes bring food for her and the mice. She’d always eat it, not really enjoying it, out of courtesy. The mice always enjoyed their meal though.
Lance always looked tired when he came into the room. But then again, Allura bet she didn’t look any better. She hardly left the bridge, her clothes probably stunk of sweat and whatever else gathered, her hair was a mess, she always wanted to pass out, and at least three fingernails had broken when she used a little too much force. She hadn’t even noticed her nails had grown out, she prefered to keep them short and out of the way.
She thought she might need to take a shower when her hair felt equally dry and oily. And even she could tell how bad she smelt. Allura turned to the door just when Lance came in for his daily star gazing.
“Lance! Perfect timing. Could you watch for any danger while I get cleaned up and alert me of any changes? I’m afraid I am in desperate need of a shower.”
Lance blinked, then slowly walked to the control panel. “Of course, princess.”
She nodded, then rushed off. She was back within the hour, in her royal robes. She hadn’t bothered with her nails or brushing out her hair, but she felt a bit more awake clean. She stepped into the bridge, and stared at the amount of products and cushions littered around the room.
Lance sat in the middle, the mice clambering over him, with Coran spreading some blankets out strategically. The ginger man was the first to notice Allura standing in the doorway and smiled brightly.
“Allura! Come in, Lance and I just finished setting up!” He walked over and ushered her in.
“What is all this?” Allura made her way over to Lance carefully, sitting in the nest-like structure.
Lance grinned at her from his spot, nodding to the hair brush and nail things. “Thought we could have a girls night out, for lack of better description. And we’ll be right next to the control panels, so if any danger arises, you can still act quickly. Kinda genius, right?”
Allura blinked, a little speechless. Then she huffed and smiled, offering her nails to Lance. He beamed at her, took her hands delicately, and started working on them. After they were finished with both her nails and hair, Allura felt a bit like herself again. She felt safe enough to even fall asleep in the nest, the mice nestled around her. The last thing she registered before she was out was a gentle hand running through her hair and a soft smile.
Coran never really tried to hide anything. If someone asked him how he was doing, he would be honest, saying he was stressed and sad, but hopeful. But no one asked, so he didn’t tell. It seemed to work fine, the paladins reminded him a bit of his own children, so the grieving process was easier on him when he could take care of them. His feelings didn’t seem to matter when compared to helping the paladins.
But when Lance asked him how he was holding up one day, Coran couldn’t very well lie to the lad.
Lance listened to Coran, as they sat on the observatory deck, as he spilled out his heart to the other. Lance nodded, patted his shoulder, gave him encouraging smiles, and gave the occasional comment or prompt when Coran faltered. He seemed to know what to do when, and Coran wondered how many people Lance had helped through a breakdown for him to be so good at it.
When Coran was finished, they sat in silence for a while.
“I’m glad you told me, Coran. Thank you for trusting me.” Lance smiled, sad and small, at him. Coran returned it.
“What about you? Anything you want to get off your chest?”
Lance hesitated, but then sighed, slumping. He told Coran of how worried he was for everyone, how if even one person wasn’t taking care of themselves then Lance wasn’t either. He admitted that losing Shiro was hitting him hard, and he felt lost. He talked a bit about his insecurities, but didn’t elaborate on them. He missed his family more than anything. He wanted to help Pidge find theirs before he went back, as well as help Keith look for his mom. He wanted to help the others, but didn’t know the first thing about helping himself.
Coran could relate.
They sat there, speaking quietly, until the next day rolled around and they had to face reality once more. But the talk helped, on both sides. Coran was grateful there was someone like Lance on the team. Someone who could hold them together when they couldn’t do it. Coran hoped he was doing enough for them.
Lance wasn’t thrilled with cooking, he avoided it when he could, but was pretty good at it. So when Hunk expressed that he wanted to get back into the activity but had no motivation one night when they were curled up, Lance suggested he help and be Hunk’s motivation for him. The yellow paladin had been hesitant, but agreed in the end. So, the next day, they pulled out as many ingredients as they could get their hands on, and started experimenting.
They ended up making many edible things, an ice-cream like substance included. Lance managed to get everyone to agree to have dinner at the table, and they served the meal.
“I thought you said this was going to be a normal dinner?” Allura commented, amusement detectable in her voice. “This seems more like a feist.”
Lance snorted. “If you think this is a feist, you should see my family meals near Christmas.”
Hunk’s eyes went wide. “He’s being sarcastic. Don’t do it. It’s crazy.”
Pidge rolled their eyes, and dug into the food as soon as it was placed in front of them. They might not have been sleeping properly, but they had no problems with eating. Lance was grateful for the little miracles.
“What even is half of this stuff?” Keith poked at the pink, twirly stuff in front of him, an eyebrow raised.
“No clue! We just did what worked and stuff that tasted good was the product.” Lance sat down, scooping a bit from each dish onto his plate. “I bet I can eat more than you.”
Keith knew he was being baited, but he couldn’t help the competitive feelings that welled up inside of him. He shot Lance a smirk, gathering a bunch of food up. “You’re on.”
The rest of the night was filled with conversations and laughter. For a while, the castle didn’t feel cold. For a while, they could forget their troubles and the hardships they would be facing. For a while, Shiro wasn’t missing, the Galra weren’t more powerful than ever, and they weren’t losing. For a while, they were just a bunch of kids with their caretaker, able to fool around without the shadow of war looming above them.
For a while, everything was okay.
From the hangar, the lions purred, happy that their paladins were on their way to being alright.