#sighs loudly. sure thatll do
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bustles around the metaphorical room that is my blog, carefully stacks random shit on top of other shit on the table that is this post to clear out a spot, and sets something down. alright yall get fuckin ready its 5 am and its time for my jason pet headcanons. ...underneath a cut. because i had a lot more to say than i expected to.
first of all. his murder of crows. ofc. nobody talks abt gothams crows and ravens and pidgeons enough imo. he comes back to gotham like ah yes, i totally wont amass a large following of ravens and crows this time, and then he feeds seeds to one or two because they happen to stop by his windowsill and its all downhill from there
theres a base headcanon for jasons ability to commune w animals that i came up w like. two months ago. basically i think hes an animal whisperer completely on accident. hes very very chill about animals. will give them the space they need when theyre scared, but he sort of treats them like theyre just other people in the room. smth smth wounded dog metaphors i guess. but for real, it just fits jason to me. stray cats he feeds wind around his feet and he doesnt even glance at them, ravens perch on his shoulder and he just turns his head to nod at them sagely. it doesnt work to my brain the way it used to but i still believe it i think. not an animal person in that he likes them but an animal person in that they like him because hes chill. damian is very jealous for a while. but he starts to understand that jason just respects animals in a simple kind of way and starts being less jealous and more impressed. he goes to jason when he cant figure out how to deal with a kind of animal because jason knows jack shit about most but they all like him regardless because hes just got good instincts in regards to them
then, of course, my babies and jasons. his dog charcoal and his cat clarisse. i was thinking about giving him pets one night and thought to myself, i should give him both a cat and a dog, and then the names just kind of. happened, as did their personalities, though i added traits over time.
clarisse is a street kitten he found and nursed back to health, shes very small but will fuck you up if you scare her. shes standoffish and will very rarely sit in even jasons lap, but she likes standing on his shoulders and will sit with him when he feels bad or hes been gone for a while. shes majority white with spots of black here and there, like an inverse of jasons hair. long hair cat, pretty fluffy. green eyes, the piercing kind. she looks like she would kill you if you touched her. she loves jason, and tolerates tim, hates duke, doesnt mind a lot of the others, thinks bruce is way too fucking huge. she likes damian though. him and cass are the only two other people shell jump on the shoulders of. everyone else moves too much. sometimes she loafs on one of jasons shoulders, when hes cooking and not walking around the apartment. generally she just hangs out on windowsills and on jasons bed, but she follows jason around sometimes, and has been known to curl up on his chest when hes sleeping on occasion.
charcoal is a wolfdog breed, but its very mixed and muddled, more like 1/8th wolf. (dont take my word on this one i know nothing about dogs. i just know i like this silly dog thats also jasons little guy.) jason found charcoal...i dunno, actually. i think i went with 'on the streets' for him again, but. sure, sure. well do that. he was already a decent size when jason found him, about 3/4th of the way up to his knees. he was probably pretty young, because he grows up to be as tall as jasons hips on all four paws. its my favorite thing abt these two, clarisse is half the size of jasons arm and charcoal is HUGE. as he grew, he started being more careful of sitting on jason, but jason is jason. charcoal is a lap dog only because, again, jason is jason.
the only people charcoal tackles when he gets excited besides jason are dick and bruce, because bruces build and dicks height look like they can take it. bruce can, dick cant. most of the time hes pretty quiet and stoic, and hes an excellent guard dog when he needs to be (sitting in front of the couch when jason is curled up on the couch, clarisse purring softly on his chest), but jason knows how to get him excited and have a little fun. damian does too, but charcoals careful around him because. gestures at damian. clarisse stays at jasons apartment 24/7, but charcoal comes with him to the manor sometimes, and because jason is a busy, busy vigilante, charcoals walks are usually jasons errand runs. hes not certified or anything, but hes a good set of eyes and ears. hes pretty good at making sure jason doesnt have a breakdown/meltdown in public. (yes im giving my little guy autism are you really surprised.)
hes also really good at making sure jason doesnt go anywhere when hes injured, because jason can pick charcoal up, but he cant push his way around a 120 pound (? dont take my word on this one either idk how heavy dogs usually are) dog half his height with a broken rib. ...well, no, he could. maybe not with a healing stab wound, though. speaking of which, yeah. he can pick coal up. because hes jason. theres this image in my head of jason laughing big and wide holding a huge fucking dog thats the size of his abdomen and more in my brain and it means. so fucking much to me . somewhat related, this time, sometimes charcoal lays on top of jason when hes going to bed/falling asleep on the couch. jason could move him but. he couldnt, actually. its the same reason for why he doesnt take claire off his shoulder even when shes digging her nails into his shoulder, he doesnt have the heart to move them anywhere they dont go themselves even if they wouldnt be scared of him doing so anymore. (heart too big for his chest, i swear to god.) he sics charcoal on tim and dick when theyre overworking, because they literally cant move coal. damian lets charocal lay on him willingly. he likes weighed blankets.
i, sadly, have no fucking clue what charcoal looks like. hes just this giant brown shaggy dog to me. coarse fur, kinda? i know nothing about dogs. sorry charcie :(
charcoal and clarisse arent like. besties or anything. but they curl up under sunspots together, sometimes, and they dont mind each others presence or anything. jason got charcoal first and introduced the two of them slowly, but they got used to each other pretty quickly. sometimes charcoal will gently pick clarisse up in his mouth to move her, but he only really does that when shes bothering jason, or he wants to go curl up w her, or jason is acting off. sometimes claire will curl up on coals back, too, but thats a little rare.
circling back around to his crows. he hasnt named many of them, but there are a few that frequent his apartment every other day or every day in the afternoon that he has names for. midnight, poe. i have no other ideas the point is he isnt good at names. sometimes crows will show up with a bloody wing, and hell know he hasnt seen this crow before, but another will land after it and follow it into the window he cracked open. if crows do that kind of shit, i also know nothing about crows. he has about ten ravens he knows, too, two couples and six others, all part of the same small group. they stop by when they see him, sometimes, and there are some that hang out in a local park he goes to with damian sometimes (usually also with charcie and titus, of course) that he considers part of his collection of corvids. itd be funny if he had some jaybirds. damian is working on befriending gothams crows and ravens, too, but half of his flock is part of jasons because jason introduced parts of his flock to damian, which was part of what got him interested.
i also like to think that all of the other bats' pets love jason nearly as much as they do their respective owners, but those are details for the reblog. until then, i think ive sketched out like, most of the details for jasons main little guys, if his giant flock of crows count as some of his little guys. i wrote most of this at 5 am and then added bits and pieces the next day at 4 pm so hopefully its coherent. ok thats all from me see ya o7
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Love in the Morning
From: @ivecarvedawoodenheart
To: @amessnamedwidogast
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2461
I hope you like it!! I had a really good time with this :) Happy Valentine’s Day!!
Summary:
“Don’t you dare, you had better not, I’ll call your dad and the press, I’ll tell ‘em—”
“I think ‘Jack Zimmermann helps out teammate with checking drills’ would be a good headline, actually. I give you my blessing.”
“Not when you’re threatening to pour water all over me you big ole—”
“‘Big ole’ what, exactly?”
___________________________
Zimbits, from Bitty’s POV. Focusing primarily on waking up in the morning.
(AO3)
Someone throws a pillow at his face. Bitty jolts upright, looking around wildly, almost falling out of bed. It better not be — oh Lord, he’s gonna murder him —
“Bon matin, Bittle.”
Bitty check his watch and screams internally.
“Jack, were you dropped as a child? Is that why you feel the need to force me out of bed at four in the morning?”
He thinks Jack raises his eyebrows. It’s hard to be sure when it’s so dark in here, but the vaguely Jack-sized blob in the doorway gives off a distinctly amused vibe.
“My uncle Wayne did, actually,” Jack says. “My parents forbade him from holding me until I could do backwards crossovers.”
“Mmph.” Bitty closes his eyes and pulls his blankets up under his chin. “Go bother Shitty, Mr. I’m-Friends-With-NHL-All-Stars. I have a test today.”
Jack says, “That was yesterday, Bittle.”
“I could have another one today, Zimmermann.”
“You, having a test and not tweeting about it? Impossible.”
Bitty cracks open an eye at that. “It’s too early for you to be chirpin’ this much,” he says, but he swings his legs out of bed and lets Jack bundle him off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wake up somewhat. They’re on their way to the rink, Bitty in an oversized Pens sweatshirt because he couldn’t find one of his in the dark, before he realizes that means Jack reads his tweets.
____________
“I’m asleep, my eyes are closed, go away Jack, can’t you see I’m sleeping—”
“You’d be much more convincing if you weren’t talking, Bittle. You’ll have time after to take a nap, let’s get at it—”
“Oh my god . ‘Let’s get at it’? Are you actually eighty years old—”
“Yes, okay, Old Man Zimmermann, ha ha, that hasn’t been played out. If you really want to make fun of me you’ll get your butt to the rink, that’ll really show me.”
Bitty scowls at him when they get to the locker room. Jack laughs, just once, and it’s so surprised and quick a sound that Bitty almost misses it. He wants to hear it again.
____________
Midnight, and there’s a knock at his door. Bitty presses Señor Bun tighter to his chest and wipes his eyes hastily, catching his French book before it slides to the floor. “Yeah?”
“Can I … can I come in?”
The door makes it difficult to hear, but he thinks it’s Jack. He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lip. Then he forces himself to perk up as best he can.
“Of course! Why’re you up? It’s so late.”
Jack eases the door open and shut behind him. Bitty watches him scan the room, taking in the flashcards strewn across his bedspread and his laptop. He wishes he hadn’t left it open on Google Translate.
Jack rubs the back of his neck. A little sliver of his shirt rides up, and Bitty knows this shouldn’t be anything — they’ve all seen too much of each other in the locker room — but it’s almost too much on top of everything. His hair sticks up in all directions. Bitty holds Señor Bun tighter to keep from crossing the room and making his hair even wilder.
“Your light’s still on,” Jack says. He looks so unsure of himself here. Bitty’s not sure he’s ever been in his room outside of waking him at godforsaken times in the morning. “I wanted to, euh. Make sure everything’s okay.”
“I’m fine,” Bitty says quickly. Jack shoots him an unimpressed look, first nodding to Bitty’s flashcards, then raising his eyebrows at the clock. “Well. Not quite okay, but. I will be fine, which is what matters.”
Jack still doesn’t look like he believes him, but when he crosses the room to sit on the bed, his face softens. He picks up a flashcard with le fromage written on it. “You’re learning food words?”
“Oui,” Bitty says. Even that has such a pronounced twang to it. He sighs. “I’ll be honest, it’s not going great.”
He’s fiddling with the card now, flipping it back and forth, playing with the corners. Bitty watches him gather the rest of the flashcards in a neat stack and shuffle them.
Jack says, “I can quiz you,” and Bitty’s about to cry again.
He wipes his eyes. “You don’t have to.”
It must catch in his voice, because Jack looks up then. His eyebrows crease. “I mean — I don’t want to overstep, but. I do speak French, so.”
“Oh do you?” Bitty asks, and Jack rolls his eyes. He tosses a card at him and le jus hits him in the Adam’s apple. Bitty swallows reflexively.
He doesn’t think he imagines how Jack watches him.
Jack bumps their knees together. “If you want,” Jack says softly. “I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” Bitty whispers. He clears his throat. “If you’re fine with how badly I’m going to pronounce these words, that is.”
“I’ll live,” Jack says.
Bitty smacks him with his pillow, and he laughs quietly. A little thrill runs through Bitty at the sound.
“Okay, Bittle,” Jack says. “Let’s do this.”
____________
In the morning, Jack yawns loudly in the faint morning light and says, “Up and at ‘em, let’s go—”
“You can’t be serious,” Bitty says, grumpy. “We were up the whole night doing flashcards and you took up the whole bed, I didn’t get to sleep for a second.”
“That’s a lie, you snored the whole time, I didn’t—”
“You and your big ass stole all the blankets, I couldn’t’ve snored because I have to be asleep for that—”
“Couldn’t’ve? Are you joking—”
Jack goes on a rant about how difficult it is to understand him, and then how hard it must be to understand either of them, and then segues into a scheme to confuse everyone next time they come back from a break and their accents are stronger. Bitty chimes in now and then. Mostly, though, he drinks in how this feels: Jack in his bed, flashcards still everywhere — there’s one stuck to Jack’s cheek now, he thinks it’s les fraises — and his eyes still sleep heavy.
Bitty wants this so badly he outright gasps in the middle of Jack’s sentence.
“You okay, Bitty?”
“Fine,” he says, trying to push the feeling aside. “You’re kidding though, right? About checking practice today?”
Jack holds out a hand in a may I? gesture that Bitty doesn’t understand until he pouts, glancing at Señor Bun. Bitty hands him over tentatively. Jack tucks Señor Bun neatly under his chin, cuddling him with his eyes closed, and this all but knocks the air out of Bitty.
“‘M joking,” Jack says. Beneath the covers, Bitty feels him gently nudge his side with an elbow. “‘M tired. Bonne nuit.”
“No French when I’m trying to sleep, Mr. Zimmermann,” he says softly. Jack nudges him again.
He drifts off. In his dreams, he sees Jack holding Señor Bun like he’s something precious.
____________
Bitty has Canadian bacon on the stove when Jack stumbles downstairs. He quietly pours himself some orange juice, then Bitty feels rather than sees him join him at the stove.
“There’re some eggs in the fridge,” Bitty says, “if you wanna do somethin’ with them.”
He bumps his shoulder against Jack’s chest just to touch him and prove to himself that they’re standing here, together. Jack’s golden in the dewy morning sun.
“Your checks are getting better,” he says then, and Bitty says, “Oh, shush, you.”
Jack scrambles some eggs and fries some, and it’s peaceful between them.
____________
“Don’t you dare, you had better not, I’ll call your dad and the press, I’ll tell ‘em—”
“I think ‘Jack Zimmermann helps out teammate with checking drills’ would be a good headline, actually. I give you my blessing.”
“Not when you’re threatening to pour water all over me you big ole—”
“‘Big ole’ what, exactly?”
“I — it’s early, okay? My mouth hasn’t woken up yet.”
“Seems like it has to me.”
Bitty crawls out of his blankets at that, cheeks burning. “You tryin’ to tell me I talk too much?”
Jack takes a sip of water. “No, I’m trying to tell you to get your ass out of bed so we can go to Faber before the early skate. Do you think I enjoy being up at four?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” He tilts his head to the side. “Look, it’s prime running time—”
Bitty narrows his eyes. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann, you could get mugged—”
“—not if I’m running faster than my mugger, which is what I was about to say when I was so rudely interrupted, and how else am I to outrun a mugger than to practice running?”
He looks so pleased with his logic. Bitty says, “People like you are what’s wrong with this country,” and he grins broadly.
“I’m Canadian, remember?”
Bitty beats him for the first time in their end of practice race.
____________
Bitty’s alarm wakes him for the first time in ages, which of course means Jack died or something because no way in hell would he miss an opportunity to push him into the boards for an hour and a half.
Lord. He wouldn’t mind being pushed against the boards.
He’s had enough dreams that end up against the boards, for various reasons, and … he shouldn’t be thinking this, now, but.
He checks the weather and his school email and then, shivering, pads across the hall.
“Jack?” An answering mmph gives him the okay to open the door, so he does. He blinks to adjust to the darkness. Jack peeks blearily out from his blankets. “They’ve called classes for the day, it’s too cold out.”
Jack says, “Mmph,” and Bitty connects the dots. “You knew that already, I’m sorry! I’ll just—”
“Bittle.”
Bitty stops midway to the door.
“Yeah?”
Jack jerks his head toward the bed, peeling back his blankets. “It’s cold,” he mumbles, “c’mon.”
Bitty’s heart about stops. His mouth moves wordlessly for a few seconds before his mind catches up from where it stopped on Jack’s asking me to get in bed with him .
“Are you sure?” he asks, and Jack nods.
“No point losing more body heat,” he says sleepily. “Besides. My bed’s bigger than yours, we’ll fit fine.”
“Chirp chirp.”
So Bitty does. He climbs into his bed carefully, trying not to jostle Jack too much. Jack clumsily tucks the blankets around them and when Bitty tugs on the covers himself, their hands brush. Jack squeezes his briefly, then lets go. Bitty shivers again, but not from the cold.
“Oh — here —” Jack shifts his pillow and then presses a balled up sweatshirt into Bitty’s hands. “If you want.”
It’s the Pens sweatshirt he’d borrowed months ago. It still smells like him. The fact of Jack, sleeping with this so close to his face, breaks so sweetly in Bitty’s chest. He pulls it on.
“Thanks,” he whispers.
Jack says, “Mmph,” but Bitty can see him smiling slightly.
____________
Bitty wakes up after graduation to two texts. They’re timestamped 4:02 AM.
They say,
I’m sorry if it’s too early to say this , but I’ve been wanting to tell you for awhile now
I think I fell in love with you in the morning
He touches his lips with his fingertips and wonders when it was he got so stupid lucky.
________________________
A pillow lands on his face, yanking him out of a stress dream about playoffs.
Something in their bedroom smells delicious. He opens his eyes and blinks to be sure he isn’t dreaming.
Jack’s filled their nightstands with plates and plates of food. There’s a heap of pancakes stacked high and half buried under blueberries and strawberries and what smells like 100% Canadian syrup on one of them, and toast shining beautifully with butter stacked next to eggs cooked every which way of the other. Jack himself is sitting at Bitty’s feet, wearing the Schooners shirt Bitty had gotten as a signing perk two years back. It still looks so, so good on him. Bitty’s never gotten over the thrill at seeing Jack in a shirt with his last name on it.
“Oh sweetheart,” Bitty says, yawning. “How did you—”
“I have my ways,” Jack says, handing him a plate and Bitty smiles.
“It all smells so good.”
“That’s only because you missed about an hour of me burning everything on the stove.”
Bitty throws up his hands in mock exasperation. “This boy.”
Jack crawls next to him and leans against the headboard. He rests his arm around Bitty, pulling him gently against his side, and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Your boy, you mean,” he says, and Bitty about melts.
“For half a second there I thought you were wakin’ me up for checking practice again,” Bitty tells him, after they’ve kissed a little.
Jack says, “I still could,” and Bitty kisses him some more to distract him. From the way he huffs a laugh, he knows Jack knows what he’s doing. “Though you don’t really need it now.”
“Yeah, I had a really good, really strict captain for that.”
They’re quiet a moment while they eat. Bitty sneaks peeks at Jack now and then, liking the way the sun still loves him. Jack catches him a few times and chirps him softly.
“I don’t think I ever told you,” Bitty says, when they’ve stacked all their dishes out of the way. “It was when you said you read my tweets, for me. Or with Señor Bun that first night in my bed, when you looked at him like he was a new bucket of pucks.”
“When…” Jack starts, frowning a little. Bitty waits for him to puzzle it out, leaning fully against him now. He sees the realization before Jack says it. “Oh,” Jack says. “When you…”
“When I fell in love with you,” Bitty says simply. “That was when.”
Jack tips his chin up with two fingers and Bitty savors this kiss more than any other they’ve had, except for the one after that one, and the one after that.
“I love you,” Jack says afterward. He presses their foreheads together.
Bitty says, “I love you no matter how many eggs you burn,” and Jack laughs another quick, surprised laugh. Hearing now is even better than the first time.
Jack helps him out of bed and they wash the dishes together, stopping now and then to bump into each other and kiss softly and be at home here, together in their kitchen with the sun just coming up. Even after all this time, this feels like the start of something.
Bitty takes Jack’s hand as the radio plays. They stay like this, dancing their way through cleaning up, well past when the sun rises fully in the sky.
________________________
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Remember Me - Chapter 14
(First Chapter) (Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)
Word Count: 5,504 (Total Word Count: 57,367)
Read on AO3
Story Summary:
It was strange enough for the paladins of Voltron to have found another human this far from home, locked in a Galra prison. But it was stranger still when this human insisted that he knew them, and even that he was the former red paladin of Voltron.
That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? After all, if this Keith was actually a part of the Voltron team, then why does nobody remember him?
Chapter Preview:
“Keith,” Allura snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Saving the stupid mission, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Keith shot back.
“You were supposed to stay on the bridge with Coran!”
“Whoops,” Keith said drily. “Guess I forgot. Lance, on your eleven.”
“On my - hey!” Lance yelped, veering Red away as Keith sped by mere inches from her port flank. “Watch where you’re flying!”
“How’re things looking, Pidge?”
“Well, the intel holds true. We’re definitely getting readings in line with the ones the rebels sent us.”
“And you’re sure it’s quintessence?”
“Either that or the most bizarre new form of static cling ever discovered.”
Allura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she frowned up at the screen where imaging from the Green Lion’s viewport was being projected back into the bridge, where the other paladins stood gathered, watching intently. “Pidge,” Allura said, “What have I told you about being sarcastic when reporting to base?”
“Hard to say, princess, I tend to tune you out when we get onto that topic.”
“Pidge,” Shiro said, tone scolding.
“Sorry. In any case, there’s definitely readings of quintessence on this ship, but it’s also definitely… different.”
“Different how?” Allura asked. “Different like the quintessence the Blade’s been trailing?”
“No, see here.” The view on the screen switched to Pidge’s helmet cam, and she pointed to a readout on her dashboard. “There’s no pattern to the energy surges. The quintessence that the Blade found in connection to Lotor had different energy readings than the ones we have on record from that druid lab we found way back when, but they were still regular. This stuff here, though, it’s like - it seems… unstable.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re moving around in Green,” Lance suggested. “Like, you know, you’re getting closer and farther to the ship, so the reading’s weird?”
“No, Lance,” Pidge sighed. “That’s not it.”
“Well, we can’t know that for sure until - ”
“Yes, we can. Distance doesn’t affect how Green picks up quintessential residue. She releases a signal toward a pre-calculated epicenter on the targeted area that remains completely static regardless of - ”
“Never mind,” Lance said. “I just decided you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, goody, I feel validated.”
“Could whatever’s creating the quintessence energy be being actively altered right now?” Shiro asked. “Perhaps there’s a working lab in that ship?”
“Doubtful,” Coran spoke up. “Not with that make of ship. It’s a cargo ship, for one thing, but beyond that, it looks to be modeled after the Galra’s old Lexell-N-13 ships. Wonderful stability in the engine room, but notoriously terrible at maintaining internal gravity levels. A dreadful place to be doing precision lab work.”
“So, what are we looking at, then?” Allura asked.
“Transporting supplies, no doubt,” Coran answered. “Whatever’s leaving the quintessence traces may be what’s being experimented upon.”
“Not sure if that really gives us the greatest well of answers as to what the druids have been up to,” Keith commented from the back of the group. “Not if we don’t get access to their process in action, I mean.” This was the first he had spoken since Allura had told them about the signal the rebel group had picked up. Amid their wormholing to the coordinates and sending Pidge out in her cloaked Green Lion to scout out the ship the rebels had come across, he had remained quiet, intently focused.
“Perhaps not the greatest,” Coran replied, “But still useful. We can certainly glean information from whatever is being transported, both the cargo itself and inventory logs, and if they’re keeping travel records, we could use those to find out where the ship is coming from and where it’s going - two other locations that would be immense resources to us.”
Shiro nodded. “All right. Princess, your call: are we looking at an infiltration mission here?”
“That would probably be the best course of action,” Allura answered.
Lance lifted his hand in question. “Should we go for hijacking the ship while we’re down there? I’m just thinking, if this stuff important to Witch Lady, probably would be helpful to keep it from getting to checkpoint B, right?”
“Not in this case, no,” said Allura. “If we’re able to get information about the ship’s docking points, we’re going to want to be able to go investigate them afterward. As long as we’re stealthy and don’t impede the ship’s route, they won’t know we’re coming. If we interfere with them though, or if they’re able to send off any communication that something’s gone wrong en route, they’ll have time to clear the evidence. And if that prison was anything to go by, it seems that’s something at which the druids are quite adept.”
“All right,” Shiro said with a brisk nod. “I could join Pidge, and we can go down in Green and try and make our way into the ship.”
“Sounds good,” Allura said. “Lance, be on standby in Red in case they need help making a quick exit. Hunk and I can ready Blue and Yellow in case any shots start firing, and we can regroup once you’re either finished, or if a battle situation erupts.”
“What should I do?” Keith asked as the others started toward their ziplines.
Allura paused mid-step. “What - what should you do?”
Keith nodded. “Yeah. Should I ride down with someone, or do we have any cruisers to spare, or…?”
“Right. Right.” Allura cleared her throat. “Well, actually, er, it - it would probably be very helpful to have an extra set of eyes here on the bridge to, say, keep an eye on - ”
“Uh-huh,” Keith cut her off, and Lance could practically see him physically deflating. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be helpful.”
Allura sighed. “Keith, this isn’t a matter of you not being helpful, it’s - ”
“I just figured, you know, this is sort of my mission too, isn’t it?” Keith asked. “I mean, we’re - we’re looking into this ship because it’s a lead on, um, my - my, uh, my whole… deal, with Haggar, and I thought - ”
“Keith - ”
“And like I’ve already told you, I’ve got experience with infiltration missions, so I know what I - ”
“Keith,” Shiro said. He had doubled back toward him from his path toward the zipline, and he set his hand on Keith’s shoulder, turning the smaller man slightly to look him in the face. “I promise you, this isn’t anything personal. I’m sure you’d do just fine on a mission. But right now, we just need to do this quickly and efficiently, and that’s going to be more difficult if there’s an unfamiliar element in the mix, you know? We’re, ah, used to the current Voltron dynamic, we know how to work off of it.”
Keith bit at his lower lip for a moment before dropping his gaze and nodding. “Right, sorry,” he mumbled. “I hadn’t thought of - I’ll, uh, stay here with Coran.” Shiro smiled and patted his shoulder before moving away.
“Oh, I’m honored to have the companionship!” Coran said, brightly and just a little too loudly to be perfectly natural, before throwing his arm around Keith’s shoulder and tugging him toward the mission control screens. “Don’t know how many of these instruments you’re familiar with, so let me give you a quick rundown!”
He began an enthusiastic tutorial of the various monitors and buttons, and the other paladins took the opportunity to start toward the ziplines again. Lance shuffled over to walk beside Shiro. “You know,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?” Shiro asked.
“Like, give Keith a whole speech if he doesn’t like an order? I know you’ve never been big on pulling rank, but, I mean, you and Allura are in charge, right?”
Shiro shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt anything. ‘Specially when he’s still not in the greatest state mentally and all.”
“He’s a lot better on that mark lately. It just doesn’t seem - ”
“Gotta split up here, Lance,” Shiro said, gesturing toward the zipline entrances.
Lance huffed out a breath. “Right,” he grunted, parting ways with Shiro and moving toward his own zipline. He could let the matter drop. It wasn’t as if he actually cared about whether Shiro was coddling Keith too much. It just had seemed worth a mention.
That’s all.
He slid down the zipline and into Red’s waiting cockpit, and from there he flew out of the hangar to wait, and it was easy to put any concerns about how Shiro was handling Keith to the back of his mind. Red had a way of keeping him focused during a mission. Lance wasn’t sure if it was just the thrill that came with being in the pilot seat, or if the Red Lion’s own keenness and confidence were contagious. Probably the latter, if he were to be honest. And it was something he wouldn’t trade away for the world.
He waited for the others to get their places situated; Allura and Hunk were flanking Black on the way down so Shiro could move into Green for the infiltration itself, and keeping the lion covered until Shiro could return to the pilot’s seat. Once Shiro had made his move, he tailed Green along back toward the Galra ship, keeping his distance.
“Found what looks to be a good entry point over beneath this wing,” Pidge said into the comms. “I can keep Green’s cloaking on and dock her. Lance, keep an eye out on the exterior and be ready in case we need to use a different exit point.”
“Roger,” Lance said. He started Red on a wide swingaround to the other side of the Galra ship, keeping his eyes peeled all the while for any activity.
“You got any schematics you can send my way, Coran?”
“Got some for the old Lexell-N-13,” Coran answered. “Not sure it will be precisely the same as this ship, but should give you a good guideline.”
“Pass ‘em over,” Pidge said. “Long as an access point to their security network’s in roughly the same place, I’m good to go.”
Lance kept his position in the air, and the others were quiet over their comms as they waited before Shiro said softly, “Disembarking Green now.”
“Got you on my radar, Shiro,” Lance said, pulling up the thermal imaging scope on Red’s dashboard and focusing onto the entry site Pidge had pointed out earlier, where two bright blurs indicated Shiro and Pidge’s presence. “Think your coast is clear.”
“All right, I’ll make my way toward security,” Pidge said. “Assuming that these schematics are accurate?”
“I’m eighty percent sure that they are,” Coran said.
“Good enough. Okay, Shiro, quintessence reading’s mostly centered farther back along the cargo bay toward the aft fuselage. Start heading that way, I’ll monitor you?”
“Already on it,” Shiro said.
Lance watched as the two blurs from their heat signatures parted and took off, tracking them until they started overlapping with others on the ship in connecting hallways. At that point he minimized the thermal vision on his dashboard and brought Red around to monitor from behind the cover of one of the ship’s elevons.
“At the security bank,” Pidge said after a few doboshes, “How’s everyone holding up?”
“Hunk and I are holding steady out here, Pidge,” Allura replied.
“Same here,” Lance said.
“Think I’m gonna need a hand, actually,” Shiro said. “Door’s not responding to my arm.”
“Shit, hang on, I don’t see any alarm raised or anything, so what did - ”
“It didn’t light up red or sound an alarm, it was just unresponsive. Seems like it’s turned off.”
“All right, hang on, let me get that powered back up for you.” There was quiet for a few moments before Pidge said, “Uh, Shiro, what door are you trying to open?”
“The cargo bay entrance? Why?”
“Well, I’m looking, and I can’t find any entrance to the cargo bay.”
“What?”
“Like, there’s definitely a cargo hold here on the ship, got official schematics here in the security bank, but I can’t… figure out how to get there.”
“Could you send those schematics my way, Pidge?” Coran asked.
“Sure thing.”
“Pidge?” said Shiro. “If this isn’t the entrance to the cargo hold - ”
“Hold on, let me find you on the monitors… yeah, looks like you’re trying to access a liquid hydrogen tank.”
“Then how do I get to the cargo hold?”
“I’m looking…”
“Don’t forget, Pidge,” Coran said. “You’re also looking for access to transport records and inventory logs.” In the background, Lance could hear Keith’s voice softly ask, “Can I look at the schematics?”
“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget,” Pidge said. “I’ve got two hands, Coran, I can only type so much at once.”
“So what should I - ” Shiro started.
“Lay low for sec,” Pidge answered. “Look, I’ll - I’ll keep an eye on the cameras while I work my way into their records, Coran can start trying to figure out a way into the cargo hold.”
“I don’t think there is one,” Keith said.
A pause, then, “Come again, Mullet?” Lance asked.
“Well, I mean, there is, technically, but it’s not - look, I recognize these schematics, we infiltrated a ship with this exact same layout once when I was with the Blades, must have been the same model of - ”
“Now, Keith,” Allura sighed, “We have been over this. You were never actually - ”
“No, okay, whatever, I wasn’t actually a Blade, but I swear, I know this ship! And you’re not gonna be able to get to the cargo hold, not from inside.”
“What are you talking about?” Pidge asked.
“It’s an added security measure to ensure that only select people have access to whatever’s being transported. You can’t get to the cargo hold from inside, not unless you go completely smashing through some walls. The only way to get to the cargo is through the exterior bay doors, and they locking mechanisms and key codes aren’t connected to the ship’s internal network, so Pidge won’t be able to hack them from where she is.”
“Aw, isn’t it so sweet how much the Galra all respect and trust each other,” Pidge muttered. “So what, we’re gonna have to go try to get into the cargo bay from the outside?”
“Nothing doing, short stuff,” Lance said. “I’ve got the exterior cargo bay doors in my view. Windows all around, right in the line of a laser turret just off the starboard wing, no place to dock Green… there’s no way in Hell you’d ever be able to get in there without being spotted.”
Keith let out a little grunt of frustration before saying, “Well, then, forget about the stealth, and you can just - ”
“Absolutely not,” Allura said. “Remember, if we give away our activity, we give them the opportunity to clear out evidence wherever the ship is intending to go.”
“But - ”
“Sorry, Keith, but Allura’s right,” Shiro said. “For now, we may just have to forego the cargo and focus on Pidge’s info download.”
“...Fine.”
“Well,” Pidge said. “The good news is, that shouldn’t take much longer. Think I’m just about into their primary drive, so if we - ” A sudden blare sounded into the comms, making Lance wince and put a hand over his ear. “Fuck!” Pidge spat.
“What happened?!” Shiro cried.
“Pidge, did you trigger an alarm?!” Hunk asked.
“No, no way, I - ”
Whatever she said next, Lance didn’t hear. His eyes widened as one of the turrets on the ship rotated toward him. A nudge from Red kept his surprise from freezing him in his tracks, and he had time to grab onto the steering and pull away before a laser blast came shooting his way.
“Crap!” Hunk yelped. “They’re shooting!”
“You don’t say?!” Lance grunted. “Sorry, Pidge, they spotted Red, think that’s what triggered the alarm!”
“Shit,” Pidge muttered. “Woulda been nice for you to wait a few minutes more before making your grand entrance, Lance!”
“Hey, Red is a gigantic robot lion in the sky, there’s only so much I can do to keep her from being noticed!”
“Paladins, please!” Allura said. “This is not the time! Pidge, Shiro, get back to Green! I’ll escort Black around so Shiro can make the transfer. Hunk, you’re on defense, get to Lance and stave off any attacks. Coran, prepare the castle for me to return and make a wormhole for us.”
A chorus of ‘right’s and ‘roger’s sounded through the comms as everyone hastened to comply with the orders. Lance dove out of the way of another blast from the ship before sending one of his own back through Red’s open mouth.
“Hey,” Keith said. “As long as your cover’s been blown - ”
“Not really a good time, Keith!” Lance shouted as he narrowly dodged another blast.
“But we can use whatever’s in the cargo hold!”
“Keith, we don’t have time,” Pidge said. “I don’t know how long it will take to figure out the locking mechanism on the bay doors, and we can’t - ”
“Then forget the locking mechanism, you can get through the doors by force!”
“If we wreck the doors or the cargo bay, we’ll no doubt also destroy the cargo,” said Shiro.
“If you’re careful about where you hit, there will be enough left intact to at least get something! Bring one of the Lions close enough, and - ”
“Even if that is the case, they’ve got weapons mounted right outside the cargo bay,” Lance pointed out. “You try to get into it, you’ll get shot down easy.”
“Not if you’re fast and you dodge!”
“Enough!” Allura said firmly. “We’re cutting our losses now, and that’s that. This is not up for debate.”
Keith let out a growl of frustration, and Lance heard a thump in the comms before Coran said, “Keith, where are you - ?” He paused, then, “Think he left to cool down.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Shiro said. “We’re at Green, boarding her now. Allura, ETA?”
“Within the dobosh,” she answered.
“On the bright side, least this wasn’t a total wash,” Pidge said. “Managed to get those transport records opened up before the alarm sounded, so I’ve got coordinates on hand now.”
“Those coordinates certainly would have been more helpful if we’d been able to maintain stealth, but I suppose they’re better than nothing,” Allura said. “We’ll have to - ” She stopped as a beeping sounded over the comms, followed by a thoughtful “Hm” from Coran. “Coran?” she asked. “What was that?”
“Erm, nothing, princess,” Coran answered.
“Coran - ”
“Allura, we’ve got visual on you and Black!” Shiro interrupted. “Moving in for transfer now.”
“Right, right,” Allura said.
“Feel free to hurry,” Lance said as Red sent another blast of flame toward the ship, “Sooner we get that wormhole opened, the better.”
“We’re all more than aware of that, Lance,” Allura said.
“Hey, guys? Looks like they have reinforcement coming in,” Hunk said.
“Quiznak, you’re kidding me!” Allura said. “What are we looking at here?”
“Just a small cruiser on my six o’clock, but I don’t know if more are intending to follow.”
“You and Lance hurry and take care of them.”
“On it,” Lance said, moving Red so that Yellow was blocking the ship from her before turning to face the new threat.
Just as he was preparing a beam, though, his comm crackled and Keith’s voice sounded into his ear. “Wait, wait, don’t shoot, that’s me!”
“Keith?!” Lance cried. “You’re their reinforcements?!”
“Wha - no! This is one of the castle’s cruisers!”
“Keith,” Allura snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Saving the stupid mission, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Keith shot back.
“You were supposed to stay on the bridge with Coran!”
“Whoops,” Keith said drily. “Guess I forgot. Lance, on your eleven.”
“On my - hey!” Lance yelped, veering Red away as Keith sped by mere inches from her port flank. “Watch where you’re flying!”
“I know what I’m doing, Lance,” Keith growled.
“Like fuck you do,” Lance muttered as he turned to watch Keith speeding straight toward the ship. “Hey dumbass, you do realize that’s where the lasers are coming from, right?!”
“I’m aware,” Keith answered, dodging one even as they spoke, not letting up on his speed for a moment.
“I’m heading back toward the castle, wormhole to follow shortly,” Allura said. “What exactly are you - ?”
“I told you,” Keith said, “You wanna get into that cargo bay, you gotta use force.”
“Keith, you’re gonna get shot down before you get within a mile of that cargo!” Lance shouted.
“No, I’m not!”
“Yes, you - oh, for the love of - ” He hastily turned Red to fire at the turret that had been aiming for Keith’s cruiser. “See?! That thing just almost took you out!”
“But it didn’t!”
“Yeah, and you got me to thank for that! Now would you just - ” A crash echoed over the comms, and Lance’s jaw dropped as Keith rammed diagonally right into the exterior cargo hold door, leaving a massive dent in its wake.
“Keith!” Shiro shouted. “Stop that, you’re going to wind up hurt!”
“I already said I know what I’m doing,” Keith said. He started making a wide turn away from the ship, getting back into position to start careening toward it again.
“I hope you’re aware that the castle’s healing pods aren’t quite as good at healing corpses,” Allura said.
“Noted,” Keith replied, right before another crash, louder still than the one before it, and this time Keith’s cruiser managed to get through the cargo bay door, the tail end of the ship left sticking out of the vaguely cruiser-shaped hole in the metal.
“... Keith?” Shiro said. “Keith, come in! Keith!”
“Oh my God, is Keith dead?!” Hunk squeaked out.
“I’m fine,” Keith groaned. “Just… just a little winded.”
“Keith, are you hurt?” Shiro asked.
“I’m disemarking for a moment.”
“That doesn’t answer my question!”
“Hang on, there’s - shit,” Keith spat. Blasts started coming through the comms, and when Lance squinted, he could see small flashes of light in the edges of the hole not currently blocked by the cruiser. “What the hell’s going on in there?” Lance asked.
“I don’t think the cargo hold likes visitors…” Keith said.
“Then get the fuck out of there!” Pidge shouted. “Guess the locking mechanism’s not the only security on that cargo.”
“I know, I’m going, I’m going,” Keith said, and a few ticks later, the cruiser moved, backing out of the cargo door. A couple of small laser blasts followed him out, narrowly missing the cockpit.
As the cruiser made it out of the ship and started moving away, Lance kept half an eye on it. The vehicle didn’t look to be in the same shape it had been before its crash - only natural, he supposed - and Keith was no longer flying nearly as smoothly as before. The cruiser kept slowing and speeding, and repeatedly lurched to the side before being pulled back onto its course.
“Keith, I don’t think you’re ship’s in a good state to be in battle right now,” Shiro said over the comms before Lance could say anything. Seems he wasn’t the only one who noticed the erratic flying.
“It’s nothing,” Keith replied. “Just some dents.”
“It looks like a hell of a lot more than some dents. If you can’t fly it - ”
“I can fly it just fine, it’s just a little - ” He broke off to let out a small cry as a shot from the Galra ship caught his starboard wing, leaving him spinning out for a few ticks before managing to find equilibrium again.
“Just some dents, huh?” Pidge asked.
Keith was silent for a moment before hesitantly replying, “I, uh… I might need some help.”
“I’ve got him,” Lance said, resisting the urge to tear his eyes away from the battle long enough to roll them. “Hunk, cover me.”
“Roger that,” Hunk said. Yellow made a wide turn to fly between Red and the Galra ship, and Lance sped to where Keith’s little cruiser floated to scoop him up into Red’s mouth.
“Thanks,” Keith grunted.
“Uh-huh,” said Lance. “Now, what have we learned today about crashing ourselves into bigger ships and expecting to fly off unscathed afterward?”
“That you’re too chickenshit to try it?” Keith asked, his tone gratingly innocent. Lance scowled and grabbed a joystick on the dash to make Red shake her head back and forth. “Hey!” Keith yelped. “What are you doing?!”
“Sorry, Red had an itch,” Lance said.
“The lions don’t get itches.”
“And you would know that how, exactly?”
Keith went quiet, and Lance had to grimace to himself a little. Admittedly, that remark had been a bit of a low blow. He opened his mouth with the intent to say as much, but lost his trail of thought when the castle’s wormhole opened up in the sky before him.
“All right team, moving out,” Shiro said, and Black led the way through the wormhole, Red and her catch bringing up the rear.
The universe around Lance went eerily quiet as it always did when they went through a wormhole, that sudden transition away from the noise of battle always leaving a ringing in his ears. The silence was soon relieved by a buzz of conversation on the comms, appraising what they’d gotten from that mission and asking what was to be done next.
“Keith, are you going to need a pod?” Shiro asked as Lance neared Red’s hangar.
“Uh, hard to say,” Keith replied. “Think my ship’s more banged up than me, to be honest.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check just to make sure. Coran?”
“Right-oh, Number One,” Coran said. “I’ll meet you boys in the hangar!”
“Thanks,” Keith grunted right as Red touched down. Lance lowered Keith’s cruiser to the floor delicately, taking care not to jostle it as a silent apology for knocking him around earlier.
Keith was struggling out of the cruiser as Lance descended from Red’s jaw, and the latter let out a low whistle at the state of the smaller vehicle now that he could get a better look at it. A chunk of the starboard wing had been torn off from that blast it had taken, and the crash had left the forward bulkhead half caved in. “Damn,” Lance said, “If this is what you consider ‘dented’, I’d hate to see your idea of a wreck.”
“It’s… probably mostly cosmetic damage,” Keith said, and Lance turned to him. This was also first time getting a look at Keith, since their communication had been entirely over the comms rather than any video feed, and Lance raised his brow at the other’s appearance. Keith had at some point outfitted himself in a thick, boxy armor and helmet, silvery-white save for pale blue accents on the joints and above the visor, a color scheme Lance recognized as that belonging to the old Altean military uniforms in the castle’s storage. Keith finished exiting the ship fully, pale face grimacing as he planted himself on the metal floor of the hangar. His left arm was tucked into his abdomen, his right arm wrapped around it, and he tilted as he found his footing.
Lance frowned. “Your ability to assess your ship’s damage doesn’t give me much faith in your whole ‘I don’t need a pod’ thing.” Keith just sighed.
The door to Red’s hangar opened then with its electronic whir, and Coran marched in with an authoritative stride. “All right, let’s see what the damage - good gracious!” he said as he approached and got a look at the ship. “That looks like - ”
“Yeah, I know,” Keith said. “I’m sorry. It can be repaired though, right?”
“Nothing’s ever beyond repair,” Coran replied. “But it certainly won’t be a quick job.” He tutted as he stepped in to examine the ship more closely. “You’ve got Hunk and my work cut out for us, haven’t you.”
“Sorry,” Keith said again.
“Well, what’s done is done.” He shook his head before turning back to Keith. “Now, boy, this ship’s not the only thing that took a beating, correct?” He gestured toward Keith’s abdomen. “Come now, let the Coranic have a look.”
Keith slowly moved his arm away, and Lance winced when the left hand came away covered in a splattering of scarlet. Coran pounced immediately, tutting away as he moved Keith’s arms aside and examined the injury himself, so Lance had to step around and crane his neck to see the blood seeping through a seam in the plackart.
“Dear dear,” Coran said. “I assume this was from that little crash?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Keith said. “Kinda wound up thrown into some dented part of the ship’s dashboard. I, uh… there was a little, um, I felt a crack.”
“A rib may have broken through the skin,” Coran remarked. “Let’s see about getting this armor removed, yes?”
“Is everything all right?” a voice called. Lance looked up to see the others at the entrance to the hangar. Shiro was at the front of the group, making his way briskly toward them, and he hadn’t even so much as removed his helmet before coming to check the damage, just having rolled up the visor instead. “Keith, are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Keith answered as Shiro stepped in to hover over him at Keith’s side. The others, as they joined, hung back, giving Keith some space.
“Okay, my ass,” Shiro said. “You’re bleeding.”
“Well, I’ve had worse,” Keith said. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever crashed a ship.” He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked a breath between his teeth as Shiro carefully peeled the chestplate from him. “And this one wasn’t even so bad. Yeah, I got thrown, but - but normally I hold up better than this, I swear.”
“Where did you get that armor?” Allura asked, frowning at the chestplate.
“Uh, in the armory?”
“Why did you select this armor?”
“It - it looked like it would fit? Why?”
“Because, this is infantry armor,” Allura answered. “It’s no wonder you got hurt. This armor’s not designed to hold against the sort of impact that would come from a full-bodied high-speed collision.” She lifted her gaze from the armor to Keith’s face, eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully lucky you weren’t hurt worse.”
“Good,” Keith muttered. “‘Bout time I got some good luck.” He gasped as Shiro gently probed at the underarmor an inch above the spot where the skin had broken.
“Definitely going to need a pod,” Shiro said grimly. “Keith, honestly, you gave us all a scare with that stunt of yours. If you want to go on missions with the team, you can’t just - ”
“Hey, that stunt got us quintessence, didn’t it?” Keith snapped.
The others paused, all holding still and staring at Keith in silence. “Um… what?” Shiro said.
“The quintessence. Snatched some before whatever security was in the cargo hold started firing on me. It’s in the cockpit.”
Immediately Allura turned and climbed onto the ship, clambering into the cockpit and stretching past the caved-in parts only to soon slide back out. Her eyes were wide as she gazed at the two clear tubes in her hand, each filled nearly to the top with a glowing, pale-yellow liquid.
“Well,” Shiro said softly. “I’ll be damned.”
“You’re welcome,” Keith said flatly.
Allura sighed. “Keith, regardless of whether or not you managed to - ”
“So sorry to interrupt, princess,” Coran said. “I’m in total agreement that Keith’s in need of a nice long lecture, but perhaps it ought to be saved until after he’s had his time in the pod? Shouldn’t be more than a varga or two.”
“Fine,” Allura said. “Get healed up, then we can discuss your… conduct. I’ll take charge of these in the meantime.” She gestured with a tilt of her head toward the vials of quintessence in her arms.
Keith nodded to her as Shiro slid his arm around Keith’s shoulders in preparation to walk him to the med bay. “Coran and I will get that taken care of,” Shiro said. “You three, go ahead and wind down; we can debrief once Keith’s out of the pod.”
The others nodded, and the group made their way out of the hangar. Beyond the door, they separated, Allura off to the bridge, Shiro and Coran balancing Keith between them en route to the med bay, and the rest heading off to the living quarters.
“All right, I’m just gonna say it,” Lance said as soon as Keith was out of earshot. “Anyone else starting to think New Guy is kind of an asshole?”
“Maybe a little bit,” Pidge said with a shrug. “But even you have to admit, he was pretty badass out there today.”
“Badasshole,” Hunk commented, and, at the looks the other two sent him, added, “Sorry, continue.”
“I’m just saying,” Lance said. “Hey, you guys don’t think Allura and Shiro are actually going to let Keith start joining us on missions and stuff, do you? I mean, yeah, he’s all eager for it, and okay, sure, he can pilot, but after that crap he was pulling, can’t imagine he’s much when it comes to, say, following orders and, oh, not almost killing himself.”
“Hard to say,” Pidge replied. They turned the corner into the hallway housing their bedrooms. “Guess it’ll be their call. If nothing else, having him along for missions will definitely make them, um… exciting.”
Lance rolled his eyes as he made his way to his own bedroom. “And isn’t that just what Voltron needs,” he said drily as he opened the door. “More excitement.”
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