Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m going to be a fighter pilot!?”

“I know”

“Like Takashi Shirogane, you know!”

“Hmm”

“Maybe someday, I’ll work with him”

“Yep”

“Flying though the Solar System, going further than any other person on Earth. Like Kerberos”

“Sure”

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“What?”

Marco huffed and stomped his foot on the tiles floor, “I knew it”

Lance sighed, a hand coming up the rub the bridge of his nose, “I-I- look, I’m busy. I have finals in a few weeks- “

“Yeah, in a few weeks”

“That’s not the point, Marco. This exam will decide if I get my Honours or not.”

Marco huffed and stomped towards the lonely stool on the other side of the lab. His eyes wandering again to the posters on the wall of the enclosed, white room. Science. Science. Genetics. Chemistry. Blah. Blah. Blah. Science is boring. Math is better. He flopped onto the metal stool, his butt chilled by the cold surface. It felt like the rest of the lab. Cold and lifeless.

Glaring hard at the white, marble table top of the lab. He was only here because mama didn’t trust him at home. He could totally look after himself, he only caused a fire that one time. But no, Mama had to pass him to his weirdo older brother at the College. He’s seen other teenagers his age. Lance acts nothing like that.

“You’re not normal” Marco said out of the blue as he fiddled with the glass looking stick that was on the bland table. Next to the microscope. The same white ones that his brother was using. Yellow light lit from the bottom with a slide, of what he assumed was a drop was blood.

Lance huffed a laugh, a “you don’t have tell other people that” under his breath as he stared at the specimen on the glass slide. His hands moving slowly to the knobs on the neck of the microscope, focusing and refocusing the image. Writing whatever he found onto the notepad below him, already filled with formulas, and other accounts and details of the blood sample of a Leukaemia patient.

“Serious. Other fifteens year olds have relationships and first time jobs and partying and school and prom and-“

“-I get it”

“you’re just boring. If you, being a fifteen, is what entails in our family at that age. I don’t want that. I want a life” Marco finished, his eyes carrying that sad, kicked puppy glint as he rolled the glass rod (which was supposed to be in its draw) along the table top. Overall, Marco just looked miserable all round.

Lance stopped. He could think of a thousand different ways on how wrong that was, and a stupid train of thought. He brought his hands down, into his lap, and twirled his stool towards his brother. Giving him his undivided attention.

“Where is Carlo now?”

Marco stopped, a confused brow raised.

“Wha-“

“Answer the question”

“Um, at school”

Lance nodded, pleased.

“Where is Sofia now?”

“What kind of question is that? With her friends, drinking. Doing everything that Mama tells her not to”

Lance gave Marco a pointed look. If his facial features alone could push him towards the point. Marco stared at him confusingly, until, oh.

“Oh”

Lance smiled, “Exactly”, twirling his rotating stool back to his work. His blue gloves stretching familiarly on his tan hands as that turned back to the knobs.

“We all lead different lives, Marco. Graduating way too many years early and starting college at a young age was my choice. And look where I’m at now. A fifteen-year-old on the edge of getting their honours. Carlo, is not like me. He is still in school, studying for his future and going towards being a champion of the swimming team. While, Sofia has decided to throw everything out of the window and focus on her social life. Which will most definitely back lash in the future.” Lance continued.

“We don’t have the same fate. We choose our fate, Marco. You want to become a fighter pilot, right. Go to Galaxy Garrison in Arizona, thrive there. Become as good, or better than Takashi Shirogane. Marco Charlie McClain, the best fighter pilot in the history of the Galaxy Garrison.”

Lance looked over his shoulder. Smiling when he spotted his brother absorbing his words like a sponge. “Write your future, Marco”

Lance grunted as his back was holding a ten-year-old. Thin, lanky arms choking him.

“Thank you, Lance. I needed that more than I thought” The muffled into his ivory lab coat.

Lance smiled, his arms coming behind his back to hold him in a static piggyback ride. Answering questions from the monkey on his back as he stared at his work from over his shoulder.

***

Red and blue lights covered his vision, even though the world around him was a hospital room. His ears didn’t pick up crying of his mother, the arguing of his sister to the nurses, the pacing of his father, the breathing from the huddled form of his younger siblings, or the tapping foot of his brother.

Instead his eyes desperately scoured the medical files, all his textbooks open on the tiled floor of the hospital waiting room. Never bothering (or listening) to the nurses to move his belongings so other people could move around. His younger brother was dying, those people could fuck off.

Hastily pushing back his black glasses back onto his face as he read sections of his heavily, sticky noted, bookmarked textbooks.

“McClain’s”

Lance snapped his head back to the Nurse’s Station, ignoring the sharp sting of his neck as he did so. A doctor stood still as his eyes roamed the waiting room. His dark blue scrubs looked hastily put back on, like he had to change. Lance shot up, leaving his expensive books on the floor as he darted forward, if not, looking slightly crazed.

“Where is he? Is he okay? Was the surgery successful? Was the bullet removed?” Lance repeated these questions as he parents moved forward. Not feeling the movement in the air of his other siblings coming forward. They must have instructed them to sit down and stay. Like dogs.

“Mr. McClain-“

Lance only continued his turret of questions. He stopped when his father placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Is my son alive?” his father asked, the fear trying and failing to stay underneath to need to be a strong figure for his family.

The doctor looked between the three. Torn on something. He took a deep breath,

“May I talk to you in my office”

“-the bullet was removed, yes-” Lance felt the world lift of his shoulders. From the cushioned chairs to the warm lighting. It felt like the he was floating.

“-but the bullet ricocheted of his pelvis. Which fractured.” The world was dropped back onto his shoulders. The chairs doing nothing to absorb the impact and, he felt like he was drowning.

“Then you scan him and find the where the bullet ricocheted” Lance attempted to resolve, his voice shakier than he would admit. The doctor only stayed silent, the same torn look in his emotionless brown eyes, behind the bulky spectacles.

“It’s not that simple Mr. McClain. The bullet broke apart” He felt his heart squeeze painfully.

“Then find that piece to-” Lance started. Feeling like his entire world was going to come crushing down. To be honest, it was pretty much true.

“Sir. That shard was directed to his heart.” Air rushed passed his chapped lips, like his lungs were being put into a vice. He could hear his mother sobbing behind her white, soft hands.

“Then you get it out. Start doing- “

“Mr. McClain” The doctor interrupted him before he could list all the treatment and procedures surgeons would do in that position.

“The surgery was unsuccessful” Lance felt the world snap. Before he realized what, he was doing, he had stood up and clear the doctor’s paper filled desk to grab at his coat. Paper copies of old cases and procedures littered the wooden floor. From personal experience, he knew that was a bitch to clean up. But he deserved it. He didn't try hard enough. To save him.

He didn’t consider the blown, fudge, wide eyes of the doctor as he world had come to an end, an end to the small child that would wait for him to come home after long lecture in the Science Building, or jump on his back for piggyback when he was less than ready.

His father stood up and carefully unwrapped his thin, piano fingers of the coat to bring him back down to hug, next to his mother.

“At 2:35pm, I’m sorry for your loss”

***

His pen hovered over the application form. His brain was battling with his heart. His brain wanted him to continue his ‘fate’ at the College. To be old enough to go into Medicine. His heart wanted him to continue his brother’s ‘fate’. Overall, he felt sick. Ready to spew barf all over the application form.

“You are not seriously considering it?” His brother yelped from his bed. His legs crossed and looking very unimpressed. Even at eighteen, he still acted like an immature seven-year-old. “You are sixteen, Lance. You are supposed to be eighteen to enrol in the Garrison, unless you’re gifted.”

Lance took that as an insult, “You are also looking at your brother who completed school by eight, got their bachelors at thirteen and just recently received their honours in Biochemistry.” He looked over his shoulder to his room, where his brother laid. His face of neutral of emotion, but an underlying disappointment in his brother."

“I think I’m gifted”

Carlo huffed. Lance was right. He was always right.

***

Lance hugged every member of his family as long, as possible. The Garrison uniform scratching against his skin. Remembering every feature on each of their faces. It was like he was going to war. Well, he was. With his common mind, his heart in the lead.

“Be safe” His mother kissed his cheek, next to the bold lipstick marks of his sister. He better rub that off before he arrives at the Garrison. If not, well, that would be an interesting first impression in front legit soldiers and generals.

“You look like a man in your uniform” His aunt said has she had her turn of hugging him, just as tight as his mother.

Next was Carlo, his hugged him like it was the last time he was see or touch him again. His moved his face to his ear. “Marco would be proud of you” he whispered. Lance nodded into the crook of his shoulder and silently cried.

He would make Marco prouder.

***

And he did just that, when he became a hero of the universe. A Paladin of Voltron.

***

The white goo was cold when he applied it to his face. The smooth solid spread across his unblemished face like peanut butter on toast. It was an old comfort. His sister introduced it to him when he was eight, after graduating school. It got rid of acne like magic. When he found the box of beauty containers in the draw. There were no words to explain how he felt.

Tightening his robe at the waist, he examined his mask covered face and walked out of the room. His uncovered feet, padding against the floor silently. A habit he has grown use to, from entering and exiting Galra ships undetected, it was the same with everyone else. It was silent, as usual.

Down the hallway, his ears picked up the distinct sound of gagging. Heavy footfalls of someone then the echoing sound of liquid hitting into something solid.

Lance sighed, “Why me?” he mumbled to himself. With a change of direction, Lance turned towards the communal bathrooms.

A dark figure was heaving into the metal toilet, their lungs sounding like they need to be replaced rather than fixed. Spitting whatever stomach acid that was left in their mouths into the water below. The stark smell of bile filled the room. Space Goo vomit smelt weird, Lance wondered. And that was never a thought he ever thought he would come up with.

Grunting and spitting one last time into the bowl, the figure rose. Keith wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stumbled to the basin, an obvious sweat on his brow. The water ran from the tap sliding down the basin like a slide before cupping his hands underneath it to drink.

It was then that he noticed Lance standing at the doorway through the mirror. His tan face showing the frown of displeasure.
Keith coughed, “What are you doing?”

Lance shrugged before stalking towards him, a frown marring his usually cheerful face.

“I heard you vomit a few hallways down. Did you know that you spew chunks louder than literally anyone I know? I swear Earth could hear you”

“Fuck you” Keith spat as he wiped his mouth with his shirt. Lance tsked.

“Such language”

Keith flipped him off.

Lance chuckled but stopped and quickly threw an arm around his shoulders when Keith pushed away from the basin with definite struggle.

“Alright Mullet, I’m taking you to the Infirmary.”

Keith didn’t argue.

***

“I can’t believe that you dragged me to the infirmary. I can walk you know!”

“Well, you are sick and didn’t put up much of a fight. It was like dragging a lifesize doll across the floor”

“Fuck off!” Lance shrugged his shoulders as he pushed Keith down onto the Altean, infirmary cot. With little fight than he was expecting. Keith just flopped on there like a fish. A very sick fish.

With a temperature, he checked.

He stared at the pods on the other side of the room. He was entirely sure they worked on illness. Well, maybe Pidge, but she knew everything. Anyway, they are about to find out.
“Stay here while I go get Coran. Alright. Here’s a bucket” Lance handed him the bucket from under the bed and gently placed this in Keith’s shaky hands.

Keith whispered his “thanks” as he bowed his head into the grey bucket. Lance walked out silently.

***

Lance found Coran with a high fever, sick on his bed. Then dragged him to the Infirmary. So, he did the next best thing. Allura.

He found her with Shiro in the bathroom. Both leaders sick. Whatever this is, he pray that Hunk and Pidge weren’t infected.

They were.

***

“I did not expect it to go in this direction” Lance said aloud. Pidge snorted into her hot chocolate as she snuggled into her pile of blankets with her bucket close by when the hot chocolate would most likely come up again within the next few minutes. She was like a caterpillar.

When Lance asked, he found out that no, the pods do not work on illness, just fucking perfect.

“Sucks to be you”

Lance turned to her, to frown. “Thanks” he whined.

Pidge laughed. Lance cringed at the sound. The sound was like nails against a chalkboard.

At the moment, Lance was staring at the view in front of him. Every other member of Team Voltron in one or other symptoms of an unknown illness that had plagued them, from what Coran hypothesised, from the previous planet they were on. Why Lance wasn’t affect was a mystery.

“I feel like shit” Pidge voiced, burrowing deeper into the mountain of pillows than he thought possible.

“I know”

“I want to die”

“I know”

“If you say, ‘I know’ one more fucking time. I’m going to kill you”

“I-uh sure”

Pidge grumbled.

***

“So, this is your medicine cabinet?” Coran looked at him confusingly, probably at the word ‘cabinet’. But continued.

“The problem is that they’re only for Alteans. And is extremely expired. If Allura and I use it, we could die” Lance hummed in response.

“And they weren’t, they would have been too concentrated for your species to use”

Silence laid on the pair, Coran’s sniffling filling the void.

“Where are your chemicals?”

***

“These are the components we use in our medications.” Lance peered into the storage room. Shelves and shelves of alien chemicals. The thought alone made him giddy with excitement. It was bigger than the College’s. Lance bit his lip to avoid having his smile shown in such a dire situation.

“Where’s the equipment that you use?” Coran looked at him weirdly before continuing.

“In the storage room in the Infirmary. Why?”

Lance shrugged his shoulders. Coran huffed, his breathing sounding like a whistle.

Coran sighed before turning back into the hallway, Lance following. Lance could see the tiredness in his eyes, the dread of working in the condition he was in. He looked older than he biologically was. And from what Lance imagined, from the symptoms of the others; Headache, vomiting, shortness of breath and the general, alien flu. Maybe something more.

“Did the scan reveal anything” Lance asked. The more information he could gather, the better.

Coran started to shake his head, stopping from the growing pressure pulsing in his head. Coran grimaced in pain.

“Not much. Just a misty substance in the lungs and in the digestive track, nothing dangerous that the scan found”

Lance hummed along.

***

“Why?”

Lance grumbled. Hunk stared at him, eyeing the syringe in his gloved hands. It was good news that Altea had the general same medical instruments as Earth. Or things would be different. Hunk was the healthiest out of the bunch, and the one he trusts the most.

“I just need your arm.” Lance said, his patience dwindling. Disappointment heavy on his chest.

Hunk shook his head furiously. Still eyeing the needle that glinted from the overhanging lights. It was suspicious enough that Lance asked Hunk to follow him to his room while rest of the team watched them. It was just the two of them in Lance’s room, several hastily scribbled notes on his bed and now with a needle pointing in his direction.
If Lance was still on Earth, this wasn’t even his job. The qualified nurses do this, they just stay in the lab and scan it, find out whatever the fuck was wrong with them or make and study new medications.

The moment Lance was alone, he grabbed the first thing that sightly even resembled paper and a pen and wrote down everything he knew on this subject of illness, formula’s and procedures. All strewn across his bed, not necessarily in order.

“Are you even qualified for that?!” Hunk screeched, despite the high temperature, he acted on, like nothing was wrong with himself.
Lance mumbled incoherently into the floor before turning back to Hunk’s terrified face, terrified that his friend was acting like an entirely new person.

“N-not necessarily,”

Hunk paled further than thought possible. Lance quickly unravelled his thoughts to quickly amend the situation.

“Well, not my place of area.” Lance breathed deeply, “but I need a sample. I need to have a look at your blood at a microscopic level.” Lance’s eyes didn’t meet Hunks, “…Please?”
Hunk continued to stare at the ‘weapon’ in Lance’s hands. The syringe that Lance managed to retrieve undetected in the Infirmary. Hunk’s resolve cracked at the look Lance was sending him. It was always that puppy dog face that broke him. It made him younger than he actually was, and was always a sucker for that.

Hunk sighed to the heavens, as if the lord himself would grant him the courage in need.

“Fine”

Lance shot up. A blinding smile plastered on his face. Hunk never saw him like this, much less about human biology.

“REALLY!”

The sound echoed through the room, his excitement resounding off walls of and floors. A shrill cry of indescribable happiness. Hunk quickly backtracked.

“Only a little bit”

Lance nodded like a toddler on a sugar rush. His brown bouncing like a basketball, his smile still engraved to his face.

“I promise!” Lance cried, “Only five millilitres. I swear!”

Lance instantly grabbed his arm, turning it so the underside of Hunk’s elbow was facing upwards. He started tapping it, feeling the cold touch of gloved hand to his dark skin. That was always something Hunk wondered why nurses and doctors do that. Then, with precision, Lance jabbed the needle into, what Hunk presumed, was the vein-slash-artery, the cold metal sliding into his arm. Crimson flowing through the needle and into the blue glassed syringe filling up with crimson slowly.

The needle slid out as quickly as it went in, the crimson stopping at the fifth line. Lance grabbed the Altean version of a cotton ball and dabbed in on the puncture sight. Hunk ignored the sick feeling in his stomach, whether from the illness Team Voltron caught, or his anxiety (which had decreased these past few months in space).

“There we go!” Lance cheerfully added, adjusting the syringe when the needle was detached from the syringe. He dumped the needle into a heavy covered tissue bag (or a handmade biohazard bin) and what was left in his hands was a tube of his blood. Dark, leaving red wherever it moved to.

“You haven’t been drinking enough water, mister” Lance mumbled as he looked through it with one eye, in the direction of the ceiling light.

“What?” Hunk asked from his position on Lance’s bed, amongst papers upon papers of messy notes.

Lance laughed and set the tube down on his desk, which was in desperate need to be cleaned. The tube sat on a plant from one of the planets they visited previously, the leaves curling around it like a precious item. Along with pencils lifted in the air and the pair of black spectacles hung from the nose frame.

“Nothing, don’t worry”

They sat in silence. Lance staring at the tube of blood, figuring out ways how he was going to study the sample aloud, whilst Hunk tried to figure out what the fuck just happened. The idiotic, cheerful, flirty, wonderful Lance became someone he no longer knew. He was dropping terms he didn’t even think to exist or Lance knew in his vocabulary.
The flirty, strict beauty regime, blue paladin of Voltron Lance became excited at the prospect of studying blood, much less anything related to science and the human body. AND HE KNEW HOW TO USE A FUCKING SYRINGE! LIKE STABBY STABBY KNEW!!! And he’s read the notes on his bed, or tried. They contained terms even he doesn’t know! Math, sure. Engineering, absolutely, Chemistry, sorta, fucking Biological terminology, no fucking clue.

Between his stomach gurgling and cramping, and the massive migraine rippling through his head, he was at a lost to the person he thought he knew in and out.
“How?” Hunk started, Lance instantly slumped. Like the world rested on his shoulders, and indescribable motion emitting from his very form. From the way Lance reacted, he knew what he was asking for.

Lance turned his face to his wall, his thin fingers playing with the soft material of the altean sheets.

“I…” He starts to try, like his mouth was changing its mind every few seconds. Opening and closing like a fish, “I have an honour” he managed to choke out. Refusing to look Hunk in the face. Knowing he lied to his best friend. The first proper friend he ever had. Not leaving friends behind because he was far too ahead academically or having no time to hang out with them within the struggle of studying.

Hunk snorted, the sound making his own head ache. No, not true. Not Lance.

“No” He drawled, even his voice sound doubtful of his own thoughts.

Lance looked back at him, such shame glinting in his eyes. “I have an honour’s in Biochemistry.” Lance repeated. His hand clenching the pale blue sheets, as a lifeline, from the shame of lying to a team that he should trust with his life.

Hunk continued to stare from his position of the bed, his head leaning against the wall.

“I graduated high school at eight, and got a scholarship to one of the closest colleges to where I live and finished my bachelors at thirteen, then did another two years for my honours” Lance concluded. Quickly adding, “I received my honour’s last year”.

Hunk stared. Just stared.

“So, you’re a post-”

“postgraduate. yeah”

They sat in awkward silence. Lance trying to find a way to continue this rapidly growing awkward conversation that has taken down an ugly turn, while Hunk tried to process the information.

“Why did you join the Garrison?” Hunk asked.

Lance resolve broke. He knew that question was coming, he just wasn’t prepared. Tears gathered in his eyes. He stopped fiddling with the sheets to grab them like a life line. Lance choked, he could see the guilt in Hunk’s eyes as he tried to find a way to take it back.

“It’s not something I’m ready to talk about, right now” Lance rasped, pushing through his constricting throat. Despite not knowing whatever was wrong, Hunk did was he does best. He drew Lance into a hug, his large arms encasing the boy.

***

By the next morning, the virus turned into something worse than previously imagined. Lance woke up to vomiting teammates, fevering, and cramping. Their lungs worse than twelve hours prior. Even Hunk had gotten just as sick as the others, and the dread that was on Coran’s face tenfold as he knew he had to make new medication for both human and alteans during his illness.

By then, Lance had managed to scavenge the lab equipment and materials from the storage room, without suspicion. Somehow. Now, they reside in his now, overly cramped room. He even remembers the relief he felt when he discovered they were just like Earth, if not, incredibly stronger. Lance could feel his fangirling come out.

“I can’t seem to find the lab equipment” Coran said aloud as he stared down the storage room, his hands bracing on the doorframe as his voice sounded like something from a horror film.

Lance, while in the midst of wiping the sweat off Allura’a brow and handing back to the bucket to Shiro, froze.

“I’m sure they couldn’t have gone far?” Allura questioned from slightly below him, a voice like a chalkboard being scratched.

“I swear it was in here” Coran mumbled. Lance turned back to the man in question.

“Coran, go to bed.” Lance asked, more of an order from the underlying tone when he noticed Coran’s unstablity as he leaned up against the metal wall.

“Lance, my boy-“

“Coran, I’ll find them”

That seemed to put the older man at ease, and he slowly stumbled back to the unoccupied bed of the Infirmary. Lance let out the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

***

They were moving.

The bacteria, he meant. They were moving, on the slide. Sliding around the place like slime. From the few hours he’s worked on Hunk’s blood, he has so far concluded that one; this mysterious bacterium multiplies and eats, and two; by eating, Lance means their white blood cells. This was another form of Leukaemia, without the abnormal cells, aka, cancer.

“Interesting,” Lance mumbled to himself. This illness was worse than previously imagined. Nothing from Earth could come close to this virus, other than cancer, but that wasn’t a virus.

From the rate of its multiplying and eating habits, it’s safe to assume that the virus would have completely wipe out any white blood cells within a week, leaving the paladins and alteans vulnerable from any cold and flu. But that still doesn’t answer for the substance in the respiratory system and digestive track.

Lance sighed. The clock that Pidge created ages ago flashed 12:00am obnoxiously, and he could feel his exhaustion seep through the barrier of space caffeine. The whole five cups of it.

With a yawn, he pushed himself to the machine that laid beside the microscope, and turned it on. Humming filled the air as Lance stared at the instruction settings , unfortunately, all in Altean.

“Fuckin Perfect” Lance hissed to himself.

Chapter Text

His desk trembled as he brought his head to wack against. He cried dryly. He was exhausted, and his friends were getting sicker. His brain was ready to implode, he had to learn the pure basics of the Altean Language in just a few hours to somewhat understand the Altean pharmaceuticals machine. Which after a few frustrating hours, he has finally gotten to work. He hasn’t eaten, he hasn’t slept, every time he stood up, it felt like his legs were about to collapse under him.

The others were only bringing up bile, their fevers where higher, and he still has no idea what the fuck was in their abdominal cavities. Blue purred. The rumble brought his stress to manageable level and he sighed as he laid on his desk. Papers covered in scribbles and punnet squares. He felt like crying, screaming and staring at the wall all at the same time. And who knows if the others have caught onto his vacant expressions during the day when he was tending to them, the only time where he could think of how his theories would actually work. With both human and Altean DNA, one of the reasons he had to work with the punnet Squares.

The one thing the accompanied his exhaustion was the weight of guilt. Coran gave up working sick to create a medication a couple of days ago for both Altean and Human, saying he worries that he would mix something up in his haze and accidently kill one of them. Then that moved to Allura saying to Lance, to call one of the allies, most likely the Olakri, to create the medicine. But, here’s the funny thing, Kolivan called up saying the Galra are (How to say this?) everywhere everywhere. Some rebel fighters saying they found some Galra on allied planets. Not many, but enough to know what was happening on the inside of those economic and military structures of those planets, and that includes Voltron. So, he did the best option. Lie. Needing Voltron now would be disastrous, for both person and lion. It was a miracle already that no fleet has ambushed the Castle of Lions in void of space.

The machine beeped. When he finally unlocked it, and got passed settings, he had found out it is everything he had ever wanted. It was a Fermenter, a Chiller, a Centrifuges, a Coater. It. Is. Everything. He could ever have wanted on Earth, all in the small machine on his desk. If his friends weren’t sick, and on the possible clock, he would cry with how beautiful it is.

Lance groaned as he lifted his head up and read the information on the blue holographic screen, pulling down his glasses to do so. To be honest, it looked like a food dehydrator. With layers of chemicals either boiled or chilled or fermented, ready to be taken to the core of the small machine to be either mixed and such. He squinted as he read the flashing letters.

[ Çvòlr xį Qæśdęłžêñ ]

Uh. “Run…out”. Something like that. “of that chemical I cannot name, alrighty,” Lance huffed as he used the desk for support as tried to stand on shaking legs, his knees popped as they moved in the first time in what seemed to be hours, “another inconspicuous trip to the storage room”.

He grabbed his jacket from the behind the chair and walked out the room. It was quiet, it has been for the past few days. And he hated it. It gave him flashbacks from when the castle was haunted. Not a good thing when the castle was on its night cycle and your friends were locked in the Medical Bay.

His uncovered feet padded against the floor, tugging his jacket on, he hugged himself. He missed the sounds of Hunks cooking echoing in the corridors, Pidge’s body clattering in the vents while she works on the unknown projects she has, Allura and Coran talking through the halls with memories of old times, and Keith and Shiro training in the training. Now, it sounds dead. Sometimes, he thinks he’s hallucinating, but he knows it was his brain trying to fill in the ever-ending silence. Like the sound of static in silence, just bubbling in your ears.

Before long, the singular door to the chemical storage room came into sight. Just around the corner to the Medical Bay. It wasn’t like the others were going to sneak up on him, he knew for a fact, that each and every one of them were asleep. And they needed it. They were like half dead zombie’s during the day, throwing up everywhere, barely moving. At some point, he wondered if they would need Catheters. He has seen medical students perform one when on the rare occasion that he had free time. As they slid it up, he could feel his own twitch in sympathy. But, he was willing to try it.

The doors to the room swooshes open and slid close when he took a step in. He could smell the sterile walls, it was pretty much his favourite smell. The exhaustion that fogged his mind ever so cleared as he observed each bottle of different types of chemicals. Coran had stated, the most explosively responsive chemicals are as separate as they could be. Which gave him a massive clue to which chemicals are which in Altean terms. Coran also said, that the poisons are on the other side of the castle. And he could not wait to study them. Once everyone is healthy and well, that is.

His eyes dragged across every label, his mind pulling up different chemical components like a radio switching between stations music. Or in this case, reading the Altean and switching it to English.

[Xįß Łįūwę] Sodium Chloride… [Vøūmvž Avøędł] Magnesium Sulfurate… [Púøßnłd] Bismuth… [Šøepo] Mercury?

Lance huffed. He looked back to the rows of bottles. This may take a while. He turned back to the rows of bottles and started to sing the one song that every chemistry student, whether middle, high, or college knows.

~ “There’s Hydrogen, Helium,
Then Lithium, Beryllium” ~

His finger grazed the multi-coloured bottles, as his eyes searched. When everyone was better, his number one priority is to swap and label everything in English. He does not want to do this every time he needed something.

~ “Magnesium, Aluminium, Silicon
Phosphorus, then Sulfur, Chlorine and Argon
Potassium, and Calcium so you'll grow strong
Scandium, Titanium, Vanadium and Chromium and Manganese
 
This is the Periodic Table
Noble gas is stable
Halogens and Alkali react aggressively
Each period will see new outer shells
While electrons are added moving to the right” ~

In the distant, he could hear his sister groan at the lyrics and Carlo’s tell him to shut up. In Freshmen year, his first year in high school, he took it on for himself to learn every word, and proper pronunciation to the song. Sixteen years of age, and he’s still got it. Even when he skipped the other half of that year, completely passed junior and sophomore, and did his last year in senior, graduate at thirteen and finish his honours at fifteen.

~ “Thallium and Lead then Bismuth for your tummy
Polonium, Astatine would not be yummy
Radon, Francium will last a little time
Radium then Actinides at 89

This is the Periodic Table
Noble gas is stable
Halogens and Alkali react aggressively
Each period will see new outer shells
While electrons are added moving to the right” ~

The labels started moving to the ‘Q’. Almost there. Maybe he didn’t need to read every label. But, where’s the fun in that?

~ “Actinium, Thorium, Protactinium
Uranium, Neptunium, Plutonium
Americium, Curium, Berkelium
Californium, Einsteinium, Fermium
Mendelevium, Nobelium, Lawrencium” ~

[Qæśdęłžêñ]. Here we go.

Lance smiled and picked up the bottle. It was as big as his hand in a fluorescent green colour. Found it.

~ “Rutherfordium, Dubnium, Seaborgium
Bohrium, Hassium then Meitnerium
Darmstadtium, Roentgenium, Copernicium -” ~

“What the fuck”

Lance jumped, the bottle in his hands clattering with the its neighbouring bottles when it jumped a little too close. His heart was at his throat as he turned to the unexpected person at the door.

Pidge’s eyes were as wide as her face. Which seemed to be a feat, considering…she’s short and small. The glasses on her pale face were askew and her face held some serious eye bags. Her hair was a mop on her head as she used the wall next to the pad for the door for support. Lance swallowed.

“Heeeeeeyyyyy~” Lance slowly moved the bottle behind his body, praying she didn’t see it. “Shouldn’t you be in bed” he laughed. It sounded as fake as he was.

“…You…wear glasses?” Not what he was expected this conversation to go, Lance gulped, “W-what are you doing in here? What is with the song?...I feel dead.” Releasing a breathy laugh, Lance shifted on his feet, a movement that Pidge caught.

“How long until the Olkari complete the medicine?” Of course, she was going to ask that, all of them have been for the last two days. Every time, he continued the lie. Lance swallowed.

“Soon” Really, he was almost finish, he almost to the need to trial it. Just about eight nine percent completely by an estimated guess.

Pidge looked doubtful. Does she know? Lance moved to not looking in her general direction.

“What are you doing here?” Pidge asked.

“You should be in bed?” Lance recounted.

She huffed, “Touché”

Silence laid on the pair. Lance rocked on the balls of his feet. The bottle behind his back felt heavier, just has heavy as the guilt that laid on his shoulders. Pidge cleared her throat.

“I was just going to find you” Lance’s brows shot up in surprise. Really.

“Really?” Pidge had a small smile on her face to her intended journey outside of the Med-Bay and by Lance’s surprise.

“I was searching through the current databases from the duration since we’ve been sick-“

“You shouldn’t. I took your computer away. Where did you find it?”

She completely disregarded his question, but her face crumbled into something he couldn’t read. It wasn’t sad, nor happy, just a something. “-and I couldn’t find the progress of the Olkari’s.”

Lance’s breath hitched. Shit. She knows everything by that computer. When she can’t find something either it hadn’t been admitted onto the servers or there was nothing about at all.

She knows.

“Pidge” Lance tried, desperation lacing her name. Only to be interrupted by a ball of fury.

“How dare you!?” Her face was a red as Keith’s lion, brow creased and lip curled. Her eyes glossy. “Did you not tell the Olkari our situation!? How incompetent and selfish are you!? Do you want us to die! I don’t want to die” She gagged and bowed in discomfort at the end of her rant. The vicious movement churning her stomach, even when there was nothing in it. She stepped back when Lance attempted to step forward. As she recovered and stood back up straighter a hand still on the wall. “We’re dying, aren’t we?” By Lance’s silence, she got her answer. She didn’t burst into tears, nor was she silenced. Just the same anger and energy.

She spat, “Wait until the others hear about this”. She turned around and stumbled through the doors with vigor, as Lance stood and stared before his brain could process.

The Med-Bay was right around the corner from the storage room. It won’t take long for little Pidge to stumble back into the room and confirm her (now proven) correct theory.

“Pidge, wait!” Lance called as he exited the storage room, spotting Pidge’s small figure towards the end of the hallway, right to the corner that laid the Med-Bay. If she goes in that room, all trust would diminish. Probably kick him off the team. The undisguisable feeling of panic flooded his systems.

“Pidge!” The liquid in the green bottle sloshed as he quickly jogged to Pidge’s impressive, sickly pace. She slapped every time Lance attempted to lay a hand on her shoulder.

“Pidge! Pid-Katie!” She halted, the hand on the wall turned into a fist. She utterly shook in anger.

Lance swallowed, “I can explain, just… j-just let me show you”

The silence was suffocating.

“…W-what…” Pidge said agape the moment they worked through the door. Lance smiled, loosening his hold on her shoulders. Soon enough, she just about slipped out of his hold to explore the room

It took a lot of convincing to drag Pidge to his room. Supporting her as he took her there, her breathing laboured from the vigorous “workout” she had just endured in her condition. In the corners of his mind, he knows that she’s still angry with him. Ready to “expose” him to the team and probably kick him off for signing their death sentences. Her hand caressed the papers he stuck to the wall and were abandoned on his desk, it matched to the dinner plate sized eyes she wore as she stared at the room that was currently in disarray.

She mumbled a “woah” and stepped further into the room, letting go of her crutch (aka Lance) and read out the other formula’s and notes he had plastered and abandoned on the walls and floors. Lance continued to smile as he walked direction to the Altean machine to pour the Qæśdęłžêñ solution into the cylinders built on the sides.
“You made all of these?” Pidge questioned as she picked up a note off the unmade bed. Lance hummed affirmatively.

[Døboshës uįłd čmpëtīn] Minutes until completion.
[Źâo.č] 168.4.

Lance cleared his throat, “One hundred-sixty eight minutes and forty seconds until trial commences”. He blushed at the still agape mouth Pidge wore.

She choked and gestured to the room, “You did this. Like no help.” He remained silent and Pidge’s jaw dropped to the floor, “By yourself!” She squeaked. Lance chuckled inwardly. He should have gotten a camera.

“Wow. Woah. Just…” Pidge shook her softly, slowing moving to sit on his littered bed instead of standing on unstable legs. “You’re not an idiot”, she whispers. He was taken back. Was that seriously what Pidge thought of him? Was that what the team thought of him?

Lance opened and closed his mouth like a suffocating fish. Before he could get the words out, she started to gag. Preparing herself to not get “it” all over herself but on the side of the bed.

“False alarm?” he supplied. Moments later, she shook her head.

“Ah. Ah. Shit!” For a moment, he looked like an insect on crack as he searched his messy bedroom. His eyes zeroed in on the plastic bin that was filled to the brim with paper. Dumping it onto the ground and swiftly bringing it under Pidge’s chin. Just in time for bile to land into the container than the floor.

He sighed, cringing at the sound of liquid splashing against solid. He was never going to get her to leave his room.

…

But, she could be useful…

• Nausea
• Vomiting
• Rectum bleeding. There shouldn’t be…Hopefully.
• Dizziness
• Fainting
• Abdominal cramping.

“What are you doing?” Pidge croaked from under the pile of blanket of his bed. Her fever had gone up and she slept for thirty minutes before she started to moan in pain. Seems like her hour of health just diminished. After she vomited nothing but bile, he had her sleep in his bed. No going back to med bay. And definitely no computer, no matter how much she complains.

Lance rubbed the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up ever so slightly. “I’m writing all the (presumed) effects once consuming the (to-be-made) medication”. He didn’t mean for it to sound flat, but he was so tired. It was miracle already that no one has rung him up yet to tend to their needs. Pidge hummed and continued to stare. She didn’t comment on his mood.

“What have you got?”. He was hesitant to give her the list, but she made him do it anyway. Even prompting him to announce the (ahem) Rectum bleeding. Afterwards, she made a face.

“Ew, I don’t want my rectum to bleed”

“I said it was a possibility!”

That small argument left to a bet.

One that Lance won later.

…It bled.

As the silence laid on the pair, the clock on the “Medicine makin’ machine”, the name Pidge dubbed, counting down. 30. 27. 15. The only memorable event that happened in those boring minutes of silence and the scrapping of a pencil, was when the little, potted plant on his desk started to wriggle about. He gave it a glob of old food goo that he left at the corner of the desk the other day.

“How do you know this. You must have a college degree or somethin’”

Lance stopped writing. He might as well. There was no need to cover this up, she has already seen it, it’s too big anyway. He sighed, “…I graduated High School at eight,” he could see Pidge tense from under the pile of blankets, to be honest, it left him with a little bit of satisfaction. “I received my bachelors at thirteen, did another two years to receive an Honour for Biochemistry. They said I was too young to do Medicine.” Well, that was long story short.

Pidge sputtered. She didn’t even try to move. She must have been too fatigued. She replied hesitantly, “I’m sorry”

Lance’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. What for?

“What for?” She must be really out of it. Why? Because, she began to cry. “Hey, Pidge. What did I do?”

“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, “I’m so sorry” Lance’s face crumbled in confusion.

“I thought of you as an idiot, and-and only an idiot. I labelled you, and I was so cruel, I talked about you behind your back to Allura because you acted so immature-”Lance stayed there, listening to every confession she made. It hurt. It truly did. And she was probably not going to remember this moment when she was well. But, it did give him some light on a few past confrontations. I.e. when Allura talked to him harsher and more general like than the soft friend tone she gave to his teammates. That became a phrase of “What did I do wrong?” or the time Shiro gave him extra laps than the rest of the team, then the unsatisfied look on both Shiro and Allura’s face when he could barely complete the last mile. He almost passed out!

Silver lined his eyes as Pidge confessed and confessed and confessed. As stated before, it hurt. Like a knife was stabbing through his chest that a person he considered a little sister on this lonely ship disrespected him so much. What was left of the drained Pidge was a once cleaned bin hovering under her face by his hands as all the guilt laid on her stomach. She looked so pale, hollow, overwhelmed with guilt.

“Stop,” She continued to heave and sob and hiccup above the bin, feeling sorry for herself, “Pidge. Stop” She tried, he could tell by the struggling to contain the sobs and the drools of acid. But she tried, he could respect that.

“Pidge, you missed judged a character because…” How to say it? “…because that character wasn’t…themselves” He watched motionless as she released another pouring of bile into the bin, though, he could see the confusion in the lines on her sweaty forehead. Lance pondered quickly if he should “reveal” it. He wasn’t brave enough to tell Hunk, he wasn’t ready. But? Is he ready now. Lance swallowed dryly.
“Do you want to know why I dropped out of college and go to the Galaxy Garrison?” He didn’t get a nod, nor a hand movement, but he got curious eyes. Curious eyes of childlike wander. The same ones he missed a long time ago. And he took that as his cue.

“A year ago, just completed my Final Exam a few weeks before. My brother’s school became a target for a shooting,” He paused slightly for Pidge’s facial expression. Hers crumbled, whilst his throat conjured a lump. “He was just coming into Middle School, and he got shot trying to protect his fellow peers. He was in the Operating Room for hours.” He started to choke and his voice started to go croaky, and he hated it, even more so when he started to tear up. “The bullet ricocheted off his hip, which shattered, and the shrapnel had enough inertia to travel to the heart. It was a miracle they managed to get him off to the Hospital in the first place” He tried to ignore the warmth that slid down his face, it was best if he didn’t acknowledge it. It felt like there was a genuine weigh tied to his apple. Marco was such a bright boy. “He was barely twelve and had such big dreams of going to Galaxy Garrison. Having had big dreams of becoming a Fighter Pilot. Like Gerard Bern and-and Shiro. Every time I had to babysit him at the lab he would go on and on of those two. I knew Shiro’s date of birth and unnecessary details before I actually knew him.”

Lance hadn’t realised he had bowed his head and was gripping his short locks in a terrifying grip, his glasses catching straying tears, until Pidge’s small clammy hand held his. He flinched at the expected, but welcoming touch.

“I’m sorry” Pidge croaked in a tiny voice. Lance knew she had questions. But, she was too tired to voice them. So, they stayed like that, until her hand became slack as she drifted off into a much-needed sleep. Soon enough so did he.

0:5. 0:4. 0:3. 0:2. YES! 0:1. 0:0. Lance cheered inwardly to avoid waking a Pidge. He instant tapped the holographic screen to release the medication. The bottom chamber released with a mechanical hiss and cold, white mist to reveal the most needed vial of liquid on this Castle of Lions for a cruelling week.

He calls it;

Quintel Potassium Cyanide

(Don’t ask him about the cyanide, apparently, it works against this unknown illness. He didn’t even realise in the first place)

Moment before, as he watched the time slowly tick down, listening to the silence and small oans of pain from the figure sleeping in his bed, he thought of the past week. Developing a theory on how this “epidemic” happened. The realisation hit him like a freight train rolling down a hill.

The previous week they went to the planet, Vermion, after they heroically saved the day as usual, they handed out these religious drinks he didn’t bother to try. But, he knew everyone else at least tried some, to not appear disrespectful. At the time, he remembered that he didn’t feel like eating or socially (which was a first- Pidge, 2090), too exhausted from the day’s events. He faked it. So, he come to conclusion that his teammates managed to get food poisoning. He laughed. Wait, until he tells them that they almost died from drinks that so closely resembled Blue Gatorade, Hunk was planning to recreate.

After that mind-blowing revolution, he went back to scans Coran performed at the start of the week. The misty substance in the abdominal area was the virus. So, the theory was; as they drank it, the bacteria that does not go well for a human’s (and Alteans) digestive system attached to their stomach lining as it was digested, therefore going into the bloodstream and eating all the white blood cells in their bodies. It is some crazy shit.

His fingers shook as he held the vial. It looked fluffy and solid, yet a liquid. It was like a fog dancing within the enclose compounds of the small vial, ready to be slithered out of its prison by the blue glassed syringes that he knew laid in the kit from the Infirmary somewhere in his room. He knew he would have to recreate a stronger solution for the Altean’s, and for future storage. But, it should be enough for now.

His eyes wandered to the young woman who slept in his bed. He was going to have to wake her up now and conduct the trial. Oh god! This better fucking work. This thing was killing them, and he needed the “cure” now, and not a day later.

The virus has just about conquered their bodies, he knows it. Making them sensitive to other viruses and diseases. He knew, if this thing works, they would have to stay in the castle for another week or two to build up their immune system again.

“Is it ready?” Lance jumped, the liquid in the vial sloshed, making a small peek before settling down again. Pidge was awake. “…Is that the medicine?” Silence. “Holy fuck! It is!” She groaned as she attempted to jump out of the bed, but it didn’t stop the enthusiasm and weak but blinding smile. In response, he smiled too.

“Yep. Fresh out of the “Medicine Makin’ Machine” too”

“Aw. You used my name for it”

His eyes scoured the littered desk, searching for the kit he retrieved from the Infirmary, one the contained the syringe. Pidge waiting patiently in the sheets of his bed. Dread filled in the pit of his stomach, knowing he would have to clean the mess that had been scattered all over his room. URG!

The black and silver “bag” barely caught his eye. He grabbed it from the under the piles of notes and popped it open. The syringe sat thought is the rolls of bandages and scalpels. The blue glass screamed, “Impale someone”, and like hell he was going to refuse that request?

Just like he did with Hunk, he picked up with the utmost care. Taking the alien plastic off instrument and drawing fine amounts of the grey liquid that made home in the tiny vial in his hands, just leaving enough for the others. And enough to be strengthened for Allura and Coran. His chest felt heavy as the small syringe held the small ten millilitres of the seventy-five. What if he drew too much? What if it wasn’t used on human genetic makeup? Will Pidge die?

“Lance” He whipped his head to a worried Pidge that sat on his bed, her sleeve already rolled up and more than ready to be over this sickness. “I’m going to okay”. She must have seen the worried creases in his tired eyes, and the tapping of his foot which she must have discovered as his nervous tick.

He smiled at her encouragement, only for that smile to drop in a petrified frown of uncertainty. Each step towards her felt heavy. The filled syringe made him feel guilty.

The moment he sat beside her on his bed. The crunching of his notes under his thin and exhausted form, her body turned in his direction and the underside of her arm splayed on his lap. She was definitely more than ready to get this over with. This was it. He was injecting a partially unknown substance in his teammate, no friend, no sister. Just praying to a higher being that she would not die at his feet.

The syringe slipped into the crease of her arm with ease, shallow enough to enter the vein. The slithering substance slowing retreating through the thin needle as he pressed down on the other end, making her veins darken under her skin like spider webs, only for it to fade as quickly as it appeared.

They were silent as Lance dabbed to injected area with the Altean version of a cotton ball and bandaged it. There were so many possibilities at the moment of injection, it felt like his heart was ready to jump out of his chest. She could seize at any moment, or her heart could stop. It would be hard for him to admit it, but he was scared. Scared for her wellbeing, scared for her long-term health. What if it fucked up some important system. See. Look at that. He can’t even think of the proper terminology he spent days, weeks, months, years studying back on Earth. Before his life went into a downward spiral.

He drew in a shaky breath and continued to observe her as she laid on his bed. Even for the next six hours. He even written everything she described when she asked. After much prompting to release such personal information. But on this Castle, he was the closest thing to an Earth trained doctor, he might as well act like it.

Hour #1: Mild Cramping and Dizziness, says “Almost as bad a period cramping”

Hour #2: High blood pressure, Mild Cramping and Nausea.

Hour #3: Vomiting; Bile, Dizziness, Light Fever and Mild Cramping.

Hour #4: Fever going down, Light Cramping, and Dizziness.

Hour #5: No Fever, Her Rectum Bled.

Lance laughed so hard outside of his conjoining bathroom, he almost pissed himself, while Pidge was in there no doubtfully red faced with embarrassment. She handed him the twenty-five GAC the moment she left.

Hour #6: Passed out in exhaustion.

He has no doubt that when she waked up, she is going to be feeling the best she has ever been in days.

As he watched her sleeping form, no longer pale, sweaty or moaning in pain. He was so proud. Proud of her, and proud of himself for creating a new medicine with alien (literally) compounds. He almost didn’t notice he was passing out on his chair.

Team Voltron watched Pidge walk into the Infirmary, a bounce in her step, a smile on her face, and her belly full of soft foods she has almost forgot felt like. Each and every one of them had a question mark written on their faces. They watched as she drew a dozen syringes out of the drawer at the back. On orders from Lance. After a brisk argument left her with the lies Lance told, and the understanding of why. Lance took a risk, on having the hands of his friends on his hands when all allied planets had been compromised, and to be honest, it left her with a large heart full of respect. He knew that they couldn’t have a Galra attack, so he didn’t risk it.

“Katie?” Shiro croaked from the bed next to Keith, already on his elbows and in confusion. He was the one out of the three who were awake. She ignored him. Lance was coming in with the two separated vials. One he used for her and another for Allura and Coran.

The moment everyone was injected, she is going to force him to go to bed. He has only had a few hours sleep, but enough for him to do hit job. Though, she did learn he had curly hair and wore Harry Potter glasses without the blurriness of her fever. And when he is to be awake, she will be teasing him mercilessly. On another note, she did make friends with his strange potted plant he got from the Space Mall, next time they go there, he was going to show take her to get one…she wants one. So, badly.

Even with her head filled with happiness, healthiness and respect, there was a tad bit of anger in her. One, for the lies of his amazing abilities he refused to share with the team that could be incredibly useful for combat and other aliens they save. Two, for the fact she didn’t do the math sooner. Graduated High School at eight, achieved his bachelors at thirteen and achieved his honours at fifteen, then going to the Garrison a year later. He’s not fucking eighteen, he’s fucking sixteen. A whole year older than her. But that left her a bit of satisfaction as she giggled evilly to herself. Like herself, Shiro is going to be putting restrictions than the free reign he gives to his eighteen-year-old unwanted (secretly wanted) charges.

The door swished open to the person she wanted to see most. A partially rested Lance. The glasses gone, probably with the plant he learned he dubbed Curie and his hair straightened, the look she was used too, the dark circles under his eyes, not so much, but she could make do. In his hand, holding the most important thing on this ship as to date. The vials. One a darker fog like substance and a lighter one. Allura and Hunk softly gasped as Lance lightly dropped them off on the table with Pidge to go wash his hands and apply gloves.

“The Olkari did it?” “Lance, you did it?”

They said simultaneously. The faces plastered with confusion at their very different comments. Pidge cringed, prepared for the shit storm that was about to come. Lance told her that he told Hunk, only partially of the whole story he gave her.

“We don’t have time to talk about it,” Lance said in the most serious tone she has ever heard from him, with light traces of exhaustion as he walked up to the table and picking up the lighter vial. Drawing just a higher dose than he gave her. Must be for either Hunk or Shiro. “I tell everything later, once your healthy”

He walked up to a wary Shiro, who gave him his arm reluctantly when Lance gestured for it. He did that to each and every one of them, waking up a cranky Keith and a delirious Coran. Who she had to give water to. They were all silent before and after the injections. If they weren’t, she fears that they would all be arguing in ill health about Lance’s predicament.

“Alright lady and gentlemen, right beside Pidge is pads and a pill. Why? Just in case your rectum bleeds” He gave a small smile at the bewildered looks the other gave him as he walked to the sinks.

The moment Lance came back from washing his hands a prepared to sit and observed, she slapped him. Hard.

“What the fuck was that for!?” Lance screeched, holding the offending arm to his chest.

“Go. To. Bed” She empathised and pointed to the door. She felt like those Italian mothers in aprons and a wooden spoon whacking their children, yelling after them as they ran out of the house. It kind of put a smile on her face. After a small argument purely by facial movements, he agreed. The victorious argument left her with a smile that lasted for hours as she wrote down everything Lance directed her to. That smile only fell once or twice when the boys started to complain about the cramps.

She muttered, “Fucking pansies”

But, the best occurrence on that six-hour observation was when Keith came back from the bathroom only to go to the table to grab a pad and a pill, completely red faced.

…She wished she had a camera.

“-do you realise could have completely lost our trust with your secrets,” Allura stated. Lance sat on the Common Room couch, his hands tuned into fists as he gripped his knees. Hours after everyone else became well, they dragged him from his room to the Common to explain the whole thing. So, he told the same story he told Pidge (minus a few details, aka age. He must have figured out the restrictions Shiro give her. That bastard) And he became completely still when (Space Mum and Space Dad) Allura and Shiro “lectured” him on his actions as the others watched on in interest.

Lance was startled at the big hand that landed on his shoulder. His blue eyes met onyx ones with a soft smile.
“Lance,” Shiro started. Lance looked so small in that moment. “We are proud of you. You saved our lives all by yourself. But, you need to know that you can trust us. Voltron is built on trust, and we need to have yours”. Lance reluctantly nodded. His fists slowly regaining colour than the white he gained with the grip on his jeans, a defeated look on his face.

“Fine. No more secrets. I promise.” The both were left with smiles, as was everyone else. Even Keith the Emo was smiling, especially when Hunk intervened,

“Alright, I know. I dumped all the food we got at Vermion, but I made something that almost tastes like bacon and I need taste testers, who’s in?” Everyone cheered, minus Pidge. Before they could walk off to the Dining Room, she coughed loudly.

“Lance, what about your other secret?” Lance froze on the couch he was about to leave, his face going red in what she presumed in frustration and anger due to the heavy breathing, all of that directed at her. It looked like her was praying with his face. The others looked at him in confusion while Shiro looked at him with the neutral face of disappointment.

“Lance?” The sound was so dad like she had to stifle her laugher. It looked like Shiro was about to go off on another lecture, before he could open his mouth Pidge beat him to it.

“He’s sixteen. Not eighteen” Silence. The tension so thick Shiro could cut it with his laser arm. Pidge rolled her eyes, “He graduated High School at eight, achieved his bachelors at thirteen and achieved his honours at fifteen, a year later he went to the Garrison, therefore he’s sixteen, not eighteen like we all suspected”

Keith chuckled whilst the others stared at Lance in bewilderment. Lance was a red as Keith was in their “recovery” period when he went to get the pill.

Let’s just say that left Lance behind with Shiro when they went to be taste testers for Hunk’s new concoction, on all the new restrictions he was given. It looked like he was about to cry. Pidge felt like he deserved it for all the lies he fed them. She crackled as she ate her “bacon”.

P.S. It took weeks for Shiro to finally let Lance handle the poisons. All it took was Lance to get on his knees and hug his legs, refusing to let go for two full hours.

P.P.S. It did become a great use on the Battlefield. Allura was so proud.