#but now another gremlin joins into the fray | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Little Red Lies - Chapter 1

Or, AUgust 2021 Day 10 - Fake Dating

{Next}

Words: 5,439

[Booked tckts yet? virge wants 2 check u still need 2 places 4 reception dinner]

Trash Rat 22:57

[cant w8 2 meet ur new ~date~]

Trash Rat 22:58

Roman stared at the messages for several long seconds, then groaned.

[Of course I booked tickets. Yes I still need the +1 seat.]

Roman 23:04

[cant believe u havent even sent a pic or yk a name]

Trash Rat 23:06

[no shame if ur still </3 ovr remy]

Trash Rat 23:06

[even tho its been 2 yrs now]

Trash Rat 23:07

[Of course I’m over remy. You’ll meet my boyfriend when we get there. He’s shy.]

Roman 23:07

Roman seriously considered throwing his phone across the room and booking a plane ticket to Alaska rather than Manhattan. That way, he wouldn’t have to go to his brother’s wedding and admit that he was most definitely single and most definitely not over his ex boyfriend (of seventeen months - two years was an unfair exaggeration).

[u kno virge h8s not knowing whos coming to his wedding right]

Trash Rat 23:10

[I know, I know, I’ll apologise as soon as we get there. He’ll be first to meet my bf, promise.]

Roman 23:11

[book ur fuckin plane tckts ro, I know u didnt do it yet]

Trash Rat 23:11

Roman threw his phone across the room.

It bounced off of his Heathers poster and landed on his desk, which was covered in scripts, textbooks, empty takeout containers, balled up bits of paper, crumpled drinks cans, and pens, and Roman buried his face in his pillow and groaned.

Ten months ago, Roman’s sister had flown down to Los Angeles, dragged Roman out of bed and announced that he was actually Roman’s brother. Almost sooner than Roman had been able to take this in stride, Virgil had added that he was marrying his boyfriend in December and would Roman mind being one of his groomsmen? While Roman was still reeling from the bombshell that was the fact that their gremlin of an elder brother Remus was Virgil’s best man, Virgil had leaned forward and asked if Roman was doing alright because he couldn’t help but notice that his dorm room resembled ‘the result of an explosive going off in a pigsty’.

Roman had blinked dumbly at him, nodded, and then started pressing for details about Virgil’s wedding. Eventually, his brother had promised that he’d get Patton, his fiance, to call Roman to discuss every detail, from location to napkin frills, and Roman felt that he had managed to avoid the topic of how he was doing.

When he and Remy had first broken up, midway through last July, Roman had gone to pieces. He had spent the end of the summer holiday between his first and second years locked in his room and listening to the same few songs on loop until Virgil, who was three years older and had been packing his things to move into his new apartment, had put his fist through the wall between their rooms. Then Roman had put his headphones on. It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he was too uncivilised to appreciate the wonders of ‘Michael In The Bathroom’, ‘Someone You Loved’, or ‘Impossible’, after all.

Then Roman had gone back to university, where he had tried to drown himself in reading for his degree, and instead ended up sleeping through lectures after all-night crying sessions. He had tried to submerge himself in his essays and instead ended up daydreaming about his ex-boyfriend in study sessions. He had tried to get involved in theatre productions, but every audition had gone sour, and he often ended up thinking about the few times he and Remy had met up over the previous year rather than learning his lines.

Everyone had said that long distance relationships would be hard, but Roman, the romantic fool that he was, had insisted that they could do it.

They couldn’t.

Eight months ago, nine months after the two of them had broken up, two months after Virgil had announced his wedding plans, Remus and his partner had flown into Los Angeles and tried to stage an intervention. This had involved Remus trying to seduce the campus security guard and almost getting reported to the police (Roman had always insisted that his mustache only made him look sketchy), followed by Janus sneaking past the pair of them and into the building. Remus had somehow managed to join him moments later, and the two of them had somehow made their way up to Roman’s floor without alerting anyone else of their presence.

Roman had been woken by a furious hammering at his bedroom door at a little after four in the morning, and had to wade through a mess of papers and laundry to find that the two of them had knocked on every single door on his corridor, unable to remember which was his. He had not been popular with his dormmates the next day.

Their intervention had involved sitting on Roman’s bed and sharing the leftover pizza that had been on Roman’s desk for the last three days, and telling him to wash the dirty clothes all over his floor. Then they had tried to persuade him to accompany them to a bar to hook him up with somebody, and Roman had quickly concluded that the pair was somewhat drunk.

He had vehemently refused, and when Janus had eventually rolled onto his back, dark hair dangling off the edge of the bed and onto the sticky patch of carpet that Roman had spilled soda on three weeks ago, he practically whined that Roman was being very difficult when all they were doing was trying to help him.

“Trying to help me? You’ve disturbed the people I live with at fuck-o’clock in the morning! I have class tomorrow!” Roman was sat at his desk chair, trying very hard to ignore the stack of textbooks he was supposed to have read and hadn’t.

Remus rested a hand on Janus’ hip to stop him from rolling off the bed, and raised a lazy eyebrow at him. “Cut the bullshit, little bro. We all know you haven’t been to class in… How long, Jan?”

“Two months, three weeks, and four days,” Janus sing-songed.

“How the fuck do you know that?” It sounded about right, anyway, and Roman had a feeling that if he denied it this would just take even longer. He spun around in his chair and picked up a pen from his desk. “It’s my business if I don’t go to class.”

“Called my sister. Jannie takes all your classes, you know…” There was the sound of shifting fabric, and when Roman glanced back, Janus was sitting up and tucked under Remus’ arm again, looking very much as though Remus had just placed him there.

“You’re right, Ro. It’s not my business if you’re not going to class.” One of Remus’ hands trailed slowly up and down Janus’ arm, so casually Roman could almost believe that his brother didn’t realise he was doing it. “But it is my business that my little brother isn’t taking care of himself anymore. You haven’t answered my calls since before winter break. You obviously haven’t been eating healthily - this pizza tastes like you fished it out of the garbage, by the way, and I would know - and you look as though you haven’t seen the sunlight since last July.”

The assessment wasn’t quite fair. Roman might have been skipping classes, but it wasn’t as though he had just been lying in his room and wasting away! “I went to the gym last week. And I auditioned for the musical in March. I’m fine, Remus! Can I go to bed now?”

“No! We’re going to a club!”

Janus had nodded enthusiastically at Remus’ words, then rested his head on his partner’s shoulder as Roman shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to go to a club. I want to go to bed. I have class tomorrow.”

“Nope.” Remus’ hand rose to tangle absently in Janus’ hair. “We’re going to a club, and you’re gonna find some hottie to fuck all the yearning for Remy right out of you. Then you’ll feel much better!”

“You’re pulling my ha-”

“Fuck no. We’re not doing that.” Roman pressed his palms into his eyes, then stood up and jerked his door open. “Can you go now?”

“Give me one good reason why you getting laid is a bad thing right now, Ro, and we’ll leave.” Roman had gotten as far as opening his mouth before Remus interrupted. “See? You can’t. You need to move on, man. Clinging to Remy is clearly unh-”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“-ealthy, and- What?”

Maybe it was because it was four in the morning. Maybe it was because Roman hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, and Remus had managed to step on the last of his fraying nerves. Maybe it was just because he wished it was true.

“I have a boyfriend,” Roman repeated, and felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the obvious shock on Janus’ usually impassive face. “Three months. Met just after term started. It’s pretty serious, actually.”

“Bullshit.” Remus looked half impressed.

Now it was irritation that flickered through Roman. Was it really so unbelievable that he could have found somebody else? “It’s not.”

“You fucked yet?”

“Remus…” There was a warning note in Janus’ voice, and Remus sighed.

“None of my business. Got it. Do we get to meet him?”

“He’s shy.”

“Which is another way of saying he doesn’t exist.”

“Asshole. It’s another way of saying that it’s four in the fucking morning and he’s asleep. You’ll meet him at the wedding, anyway - I’m going to ask him to be my plus one when Patton sends out the RSVP date.” The words had been out of his mouth before he had had time to regret them, and Roman had spent the last eight months trying to sidestep questions about his non-existent boyfriend.

He had later found out that Remus and Janus hadn’t really come down to see him. They had gone to Los Angeles to celebrate their two year wedding anniversary and decided they might drop in while in the area. (Just because they had eloped rather than holding a big party, Janus had commented idly, didn’t mean they couldn’t celebrate it).

But now it was December, and Roman was partner-less and running out of excuses. His lie had gotten out of control, and he had ended up asking Patton and Virgil to include his partner in the guest numbers. He had invented dates they had been on for his mother when she had asked, and he insisted that his boyfriend was shy and had practically no internet presence anyway, so knowing his name wouldn’t help anybody.

He could just say that the two of them had broken up and go home alone, of course.

But that would mean disrupting the meticulous wedding seating plan Virgil and Patton had been making for months.

Besides, Roman was fairly certain that nobody in his family really believed in his mystery boyfriend, and failure to produce one after months of insisting that they would meet… Well, he didn’t want to open himself to that sort of ridicule.

Of course, it didn’t look as though he had much choice.

He hadn’t managed to make many friends at college.

In his first year, Roman had spent a lot of time trying to keep on top of his schoolwork and working toward the various theatre productions the school had put on; all of his free time he had spent planning dates for when he and Remy finally visited one another, or else video calling his boyfriend. There simply hadn’t been time to make many friends during that.

His second year… Well, Remus had been right. He had spent most of his time in his room, eating junk food, watching sappy romance films, and missing Remy.

So far, he had spent his third year trying to bring his grades back up to something more respectable… And missing Remy.

He knew it was pathetic. It had been almost a year and a half since they had broken up, and he still missed being able to call someone to talk about nothing at all at two in the morning, missed planning extravagant dates, missed the feel of hands in his hair and lips on his.

At least his floor was cleaner than it had been last year. And he had eaten slightly less fast food this semester than the previous one.

Roman’s phone chimed again. With a frustrated groan, he made his way over to his desk.

[Looking forward to seeing you on Monday!!! <3 <3 <3 !!!]

Pops 23:25

Patton.

[Me too, Padre! I’ll bring some of that fudge from the shop you love!]

Roman 23:26

[eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <33333333 Can you get some of the currents+salt? Vee loved it last time + I want to surprise him]

Pops 23:26

[Will do. Looking forward to seeing you too!]

Roman 23:27

Patton would probably be the most understanding if Roman decided to come clean about his lying - but Patton was the worst secret keeper Roman had ever met. He and Virgil had been dating for almost three years, and in that time the thin voice actor had managed to spill every single plot twist in every single show he had watched or acted in. Roman had no doubt that Virgil would know that he was bringing home fudge within the next hour. If he admitted to Patton that he had been lying about having a date for the wedding, Roman would get Patton’s kind - if confused - reassurances, and half an hour later he would get the mixture of mockery and horrible pity that would come with the rest of his family finding out that he still wasn’t over Remy.

Roman let his phone slip through his fingers and land on his desk once more. Three days, and then he’d have to come clean - until then, he could just avoid thinking about it. Collecting the overflowing basket from the corner of the room (he had been putting off doing laundry for a while now), Roman left his room and headed toward the building’s basement laundry room. Term had finished last week and it was almost midnight - he doubted anybody would be down there now. Most people had probably already gone home, or were making the most of the free time to go out rather than spend it doing chores.

The light was off in the basement when he got there, so Roman left it that way as he loaded his clothing into one of the machines.

Moving around in the dark was far more of a Virgil move than a Roman one, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something comforting about the-

“Sweet fucking Shakespeare!” Roman’s hand flew up to cover his eyes as light burst through the small room, quickly followed by the strong smell of coffee.

“Sorry! I was unaware that there would be anybody in here.” As Roman dropped his hand, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, the newcomer made his way over to the machine on the far side of the room from him. “Most people prefer not to fumble around in the dark.”

Remus or Remy would have made some comment about how fumbling around in the dark could be quite fun really. Roman just shrugged. “It’s been a long day.”

He had expected the other man to say something; instead, silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the powder tray being opened, filled, and closed again.

Roman didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He had seen the person in the room next to him only twice so far this term, and only knew his name because the mailroom was organised by room number rather than alphabetically, and the name Roman Prince was right next to Logan Ursa.

Logan looked more tired than he had on either of the other times Roman had seen him. There were deep bags under his eyes, the shadows almost deeper than Virgil’s had been at the height of his eyeliner experiments, and the black ponytail that hung halfway to his waist was missing, replaced with what could only be described as a thicket of tangled hair. It looked as though he had been outside even less than Roman had in the past few months: his skin was so pale it seemed to glow under the fluorescent laundry-room lights. There was a steaming mug and a thick book on the lid of the machine beside him, and Roman had the strong feeling that it wasn’t the first coffee Logan had had that evening.

The washing machine Logan had been loading began to rumble, and as the other student straightened up and picked up his book, Roman made himself duck back down to finish his own task.

He’d have to come back to collect his clothing later - Roman suddenly regretted deciding to get this done now, when it meant he would have to return at almost two in the morning, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

“Do you want me to leave the light on?” He was more trying to make conversation than anything else: Logan was perched on one of the machines in the corner, nose already buried in what Roman could now see was a heavy medical textbook.

“Obviously.”

Yeah, he probably should have guessed that.

Logan was still in the laundry room when Roman returned to collect his clothing two hours later. He was still sat on the same machine, although now he was speaking into his phone in what sounded like rapid Italian. (It definitely wasn’t Spanish: Roman was almost fluent in Spanish). (The languages were similar, but although he could guess at a few words, he had no idea what was going on). (Not that he was eavesdropping, of course). Logan’s hair was even messier than it had been before, and out of the corner of his eye Roman caught him jerking his free hand through it once or twice.

Roman pulled his now-warm and dry clothing from the machine and dumped it into his laundry basket, doing his best to ignore the way Logan was practically shouting behind him, but couldn’t stop himself from startling at the wordless, frustrated yell that came from the taller man a few minutes later. He was halfway to the door, but paused and glanced at Logan, who was stuffing his phone angrily into the oversized hoodie he was wearing.

“Everything okay over there?”

“Family stuff,” came the snappish response. Roman watched for a few seconds as Logan knelt in front of his own machine and began jerking clothing from it, folding pants as though he wished he were ripping them to pieces instead, then throwing several dark shirts over his shoulder and stalking over to one of the ironing stations.

“Pretty loud family stuff,” Roman commented, then wondered why he was bothering. It had been clear from his first meeting with Logan that the other student wasn’t there to make friends: Roman had been carrying a large cardboard box into his room the day he had moved in, and bumped into him in the hallway. Logan had looked him up and down, said something like, “Keep the volume down. I’m here to work,” and marched past him as though Roman were no more interesting than a hat stand.

Sure enough, Logan didn’t turn to face him, instead ironing a shirt in a manner that strongly hinted that he wanted to make it beg for mercy. “None of your business family stuff.”

“Are you-”

“None. Of your. Business.” This time, Logan actually did glance over his shoulder, and fixed Roman with a scowl that suggested that if he didn’t drop it, his face was going to be the next thing under the iron.

Roman left quickly. He had done his best to be friendly, and if Logan wasn’t interested, that was his problem. He didn’t seem like the sort of person Roman would really want to be friends with anyway.

Logan’s haggard expression lingered in his mind as he made his way back up to his dorm room and began stuffing his now-clean clothes into his wardrobe. He should probably start packing - his suitcase was sitting open and empty against one wall - but he had plenty of time.

Besides, he was exhausted.

Roman had changed into a pair of sweatpants and gotten into bed by the time he heard the door to the room next to his slam shut. Clearly, Logan was still annoyed by whatever ‘family stuff’ had had him first yelling into his phone and then taking his frustration out on his laundry and somebody trying to be friendly.

How long could Logan hold a grudge? Was he the kind of person who would calm down after a couple of hours of sleep, or would whatever he had been arguing about be hanging over him for the next week or so? That would make the winter break uncomfortable…

Or maybe he wasn’t going home. He had looked pretty invested in the textbook he had been studying earlier, despite it being almost midnight and no longer termtime. Maybe Logan was going to stay in the dorms over the winter break and use the hours without lectures for private study.

That sounded like a lonely way to spend the next three weeks.

The idea struck Roman suddenly, and he sat bolt upright in bed, the kind of elation that only comes with golden inspiration coursing through him. He would persuade Logan to come back home with him for the holidays! If Janus took it to mind to ask Janine about him, she’d be able to verify that Logan didn’t socialise much; all he would have to do would be show up briefly for the wedding, and he could spend the remainder of the holiday studying all he wanted, away from ‘family stuff’!

He would ask Logan the following morning, and when he agreed, Roman would book the plane tickets home - he’d pay, of course. Or rather, he’d use the money his mother had sent him so that he could bring his fictional boyfriend home. Either way, Logan wouldn’t have to spend any money himself!

Laying back down, Roman pulled his thin blanket back up to his neck and rolled onto his side, satisfaction warming him more thoroughly than any hot drink could.

This was the best idea he’d ever had.

“That is the worst idea I have ever heard.” Logan glanced into the hallway over Roman’s shoulder as though expecting an audience for a practical joke. “I cannot believe you have wasted my time listening to you.”

“Is… That a maybe?” Roman tilted his head and gave Logan his best puppy eyes.

Alas, Logan’s heart must have been made of stone. “No.” He made to slam the door.

Well, Roman couldn’t have that. It had been difficult enough to get Logan to even open the door in the first place, and harder still to get him to listen beyond the initial “I need you to do me a huge favour, okay, but it works out for you too.” In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have led with that. But then he had explained, and for some reason Logan was still trying to close the door on him.

“Ow!”

“That was entirely your fault.”

“You just slammed the door on my foot!”

“You did put your foot there after I had begun closing the door. My point stands.”

Technically, Logan was correct, but Roman wasn’t there to quibble over technicalities. “You got the part where I’d pay for your flights, right? All you have to do is show up for one day in something resembling formalwear, and in return you get rent free accommodation and food all holiday! Plus company!”

“I have too much to do to pretend to be your boyfriend for three weeks for no reason. Find somebody else.” Logan made to close the door again, and this time Roman caught it with his hand.

“There is nobody else!” Roman was aware that he was beginning to sound desperate. “You’re like, the only person I know!”

“That sounds like your personal problem, not mine.” Several strands of hair had fallen from the impressive tangle around Logan’s ears and into his face, and he blew them out of the way. His breath smelled like coffee - bitter coffee. Roman wrinkled his nose. “Let go of my door.”

“Come on, Logan! What else are you going to be doing this holiday?”

“Studying! I have exams to pass!”

“You can study at my place. You won’t have to pay holiday rent there!”

“I won’t have to pay holiday rent if I go to my mom’s place, either! Let go of my door!”

Roman finally pulled his aching foot out of the way, but didn’t remove his hand from the wood. “You don’t want to go back to your mom’s place, though, do you? The phonecall -”

The glare that Logan sent him could have frozen the insides of a volcano, and his voice was suddenly cold enough to make Roman shiver. “Good day, Roman.” This time, Roman jerked his hand out of the way, and the door snapped shut in his face.

Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to use Logan’s ‘family stuff’ against him. He made a note of that for future reference, then hammered against the door again.

“Please, Logan!”

Silence.

“I’ll be forever in your debt!”

More silence. Maybe Logan would prefer something a little more extravagant?

“I’ll sing of your virtues from the rooftop every night for the rest of the year!”

Nothing.

Okay, maybe that had been a little much. Logan had made it clear that he was there to work and didn’t want to be disturbed in his caffeine fueled study crusades, so something excessive was possibly the wrong way to persuade him to do this.

Oh-

“I’ll pay for your coffee for the rest of the year?”

Roman held his breath and waited.

And waited.

Just when he thought that he had been wrong and that Logan really wasn’t going to be persuaded, the door opened the tiniest of amounts. Logan was still frowning at him, but some of the ice was gone from his expression.

“That’s your dealbreaker? Coffee?”

“I drink a lot of coffee.” A slight deepening in the crease between Logan’s eyes told Roman not to push the subject. “You need a date to a wedding. In return, you pay for my flight there and back, provide accommodation for the duration of the winter vacation, and keep me supplied with coffee for the rest of the year.”

“Well, a wedding, the reception, any pre-wedding parties, and keeping up the act while we’re around other people,” Roman corrected, counting on his fingers. From the irritated twitch of Logan’s left eye, he got the feeling that he hadn’t mentioned the reception or the potential stag night in his initial pitch.

“Blue Moon or Red Planet.”

“What?”

“The coffee. I like Blue Moon or Red Planet coffee. They’re more expensive, so I don’t expect them every time - maybe a ratio of three regular jars to one nice jar.”

Roman blinked. “Uh… Okay.”

Logan nodded once. More hair fell over his eyes. “I’ll draw up a schedule and provide you with estimated projections of my coffee habits for the rest of the year so you can budget accordingly. When do we leave?”

“Um… Monday.” Still reeling from Logan’s sudden and complete 180, Roman cast around for something to say, but the long haired man got there first.

“Monday. That gives us approximately two and a half days to draw boundaries and fabricate enough pictures and stories to give our deceit credibility.” Logan closed his eyes, and Roman realised that he was staring again. He hadn’t expected the other to take this in stride so quickly. “Given that I have work to finish today and you will likely need several hours on Sunday evening to pack… Have you told your family how long we have been romantically involved?”

“Uh, since January. But I told them you were shy, so we don’t have to have any pictures or anything - we can say that all our dates were just pizza and Netflix, and…” He tailed off at the incredulous look on Logan’s face. “What?”

“You expect them to believe that we have been dating for eleven months and you haven’t taken a single photo? Roman, I have listened to you belting the lyrics of more break-up songs than I care to count.” Roman shrugged, and Logan rolled his eyes. “You are quite clearly a romantic. Had we really been dating, the number of pictures you would have taken on whatever extravagance you planned for our six-month anniversary alone would be infinitesimal.”

He had a point.

Roman had already stretched his family’s belief in him to breaking point (and probably well past it) by refusing to share even the smallest thing about his ‘boyfriend’ over the past eleven months; if he didn’t get home on Monday with at least a couple of dozen photos to share, their charade would be over before it could ever really begin. “Right. You’re right. We’ll need to spend the weekend planning, doing a photoshoot - it’ll be fun!”

“You,” Logan started, already retreating, “obviously have a different definition of that word than I do. Eight thirty tomorrow morning, The Roost. Bring a notepad, your phone, and a couple of changes of clothing suitable for various weather conditions.”

“Eight thirty? A prince needs his beauty-”

“Eight thirty. We are going to do this properly.”

Roman’s phone was in his hand barely seconds after Logan’s door had closed (albeit more gently than before).

Groupchat: Princes and Co.

[Can’t wait for you to meet logan!]

Roman 09:58

[a name!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[we have a name!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

Trash Rat 09:59

[such a nice name! can’t wait either, ro!]

Pops 10:01

[About time! I’ve been stalling on the place settings for weeks waiting for this name]

Emo Nightmare 10:02

[Was about to fly out to LA to strangle it out of you]

Emo Nightmare 10:04

[he was. i had to physically restrain him from doing so yesterday]

Padre 10:04

[bet u both enjoyed that ;);););););)]

Trash Rat 10:04

Several people are typing…

[Suck a dick, Remus]

Emo Nightmare 10:05

[we did, actually]

Pops 10:05

[would but janjans at work :((]

Trash Rat 10:06

[Didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know.]

Roman 10:06

[Pat!]

Emo Nightmare 10:06

[Logan Ursa??? 4th yr medic??? Coffee addict???]

Snake Eyes 10:06

Roman stared at his phone for a second. That was faster than he had expected.

[u knew????? jan u held out on me??? the luv of ur greyspec life???]

Trash Rat 10:07

[You told Janus?! I’m your brother! He’s not even related to you!]

Emo Nightmare 10:07

[No I didn’t tell Janus!]

Roman 10:07

[I’m omniscient.]

Snake Eyes 10:08

[Plus I just asked Jannie for a list of all the Logans you could have associated with.]

Snake Eyes 10:09

[You and your sister scare me]

Roman 10:11

[He has surprisingly little internet presence.]

Snake Eyes 10:11

[Told you. He’s shy]

Roman 10:12

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Roman returned to his room and picked up his laptop, this time to actually book the tickets he was supposed to have booked weeks ago. He had no doubt that they would arrive on Monday to discover that his family had already unearthed everything there was to know about his fake boyfriend - should he break that news to Logan before or after they were on the plane? Making the man paranoid might make their weekend photoshoot a lot more difficult.

Their photoshoot! If Logan was really on board, Roman would have to make this as easy as possible for him - and the performance of a lifetime for himself. Given that he was expected to bring a notebook to their meeting tomorrow, they were going to have to do a lot of brainstorming, so he might as well start coming up with ideas now. He already had a few as he grabbed a notepad from the mess on the floor and started hunting for a pencil.

No matter what his fake date said, this weekend was going to be a lot of fun.

#AUgust 2021 #fake dating au #logince #moxiety #dukeceit

33 notes · View notes

ilovelocust · 7 years

Text

Kitten (Complete)

Relationships: Keith/Shiro

Characters: Keith, Kuro, Shiro, Lance, Allura, Hunk, Pidge (yes, we actually see into all these character’s heads)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Breaking Fingers, Claustrophobia, Water Torture, Branding, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Recordings

Words: 25,637

Summary: Kuro violently kidnaps Keith from the Castle of the Lions. Team Voltron desperately tries to get him back, while Kuro taunts them about all the things they can't stop him from doing. When they finally rescue him, the truly hard part begins.

Note: Don’t let the warnings scare you too much, over half the fic is dedicated to the recovery part of Hurt/Comfort. If you don’t like tumblr as a format, Kitten can also be found on my AO3 account (username ILoveLocust).

If you enjoyed Kitten, please share it! I only have so many followers, and there is no way I can reach everyone that would like this fic on my own.

Part One

He’s such a pretty kitten. Convinced his sharp little claws can do real damage against the big bad wolf. Kuro’s weaker self has been humoring him. Letting him think he’s stronger than he is. He’s lucky his stubbornness is endearing, or Kuro might have just killed him for not acknowledging his betters.

Declawing the kitten is easy. He just has to wait until he over extends himself on an attack, then rip the sword from his hand. The red bayard resumes its dormant state when he tosses the blade across the room. The kitten doesn’t give up at the loss of his weapon. He keeps fighting with his weak fists alone. Kuro is pleased. He’d be so disappointed, if he’d quit so easily. He might have had to wring his delicate neck.

The kitten tries. He tries so hard to land a blow, but Kuro has fought creatures so much faster and stronger than him. Every attempt whiffs past his body into open air. He’s honestly committing an act of mercy when he doubles him over with a fist in his gut. Preventing him from going through the humiliation of dragging this out.

A strike to the back of his knees brings the kitten to the ground. A follow up to his head sprawls him to his belly. Before he can blink the haze from his pretty purple eyes, Kuro straddles the back of his thighs, and twists his arms into a painful lock.

He can see the fear bubbling up in the way the kitten snaps his sharp teeth, and pulls fruitlessly against his hold. When he leans down, presses the front of his torso down the smaller one’s back, so he can see the terror in his eyes up close, the struggling escalates. His continued attempts at escape are cute, but when he tries to crack his skull against Kuro’s own, Kuro still grabs his hair and slams his face against the ground.

He licks some of the blood from the kitten’s busted lip before sitting back up. Of course the thing tastes as good as he looks.

There are so many games he would like to play. He knows the kitten would be good for days of enjoyment, if only he had the time, but alas he does not. He guesses he can settle for hearing him meow before he has to let him go.

He very carefully telegraphs his moves. Makes sure the kitten notices how Kuro picks out one of his smaller fingers and holds the digit separate from the rest. Very slowly he bends it the wrong way. Letting the anticipation build. He watches the pain increase in the kitten’s actions. He starts with heavy breathing, then choked pleas for him to stop, and finally, with a snap of bone, the prettiest scream he’s ever heard. Oh he wants to hear him make that sound again. He selects another finger.

By the time he’s heard that beautiful cry five more times, the kitten is a mewling mess. Letting out little whimpers every time he twists the already broken fingers. He wonders what other noises the cute thing can make. What would he have to do, to turn the wetness in his pretty eyes into real tears.

There is a whoosh as the door opens. Kuro looks up to see who is interrupting his fun. Oh, the kitten’s owner has arrived. Such a shame, seems like Shiro wants his kitten back.

Part Two

Oh, his weaker self is so dumbfounded to see him with his kitten. Mouth all agape in shock. His fish look is amusing, but not what Kuro wants. He decides to help him along. With a hard twist the kitten gives another hoarse cry, and Shiro gives a bellow of rage in return. Kuro meets him. Leaves the pretty thing to watch as he tears into his owner.

The fight is delightful. Everything he wanted. Shiro isn’t being held back by any of those morals or calm reasoning that slows him down and makes him weak. He’s vicious, strong, and clever just like Kuro. His perfect match. There’s blood and burns and hard hits just shy of breaking bones. Things he’s dreamed of. Except maybe this is not as perfect as he’d hoped. Shiro is hitting a little too hard, a lot too fast. Things are becoming less an exchange of blows and more an extended beating. The violence is still invigorating. The challenge engaging, but losing here would be an end to his fun.

Kitten’s gotten back up and retrieved his blade. His mangled fingers preventing him from holding the sword in his dominant hand. Purrfect.

Tricking him into joining the fray is easy. Fake an opening to his back, and the thing can’t help but try and take revenge. The next maneuver is tricky. He’s forced to take a sizzling cut to his thigh to execute it, but the end state is Kitten standing between him and Shiro. A slice to his bicep buys him a burning grip on the small wrist and the Red Paladin’s weapon once again clatters to the floor.

Ring around the kitten. Shiro goes left, Kuro goes right, until he’s at the right angle to wrap his upgraded hand around the delicate neck between them. The fight is over. Kuro likes the pretty thing, but he won’t hesitate to kill him if the need arises.

Threats are thrown. Kuro pays them no heed. If Shiro takes a step closer, he just squeezes until he steps back. He has all the power for now, and he’s leaving. He knows the kitten isn’t getting enough air in his hand. Taking a slow slide to unconsciousness as Kuro drags him from the room, but he’s still supporting his own weight and that’s enough.

Switching hands to destroy the control panel once they're out the door is hard. He gets a nasty bite and punch to the jaw when Kitten struggles free, but he returns the favor and adds banging his head against the wall until he’s almost too dazed to stand on top. He’s much more manageable after that, if a little slow of a walker. Kuro solves that problem, by tossing him over his shoulder.

The alarms blare, as Kuro goes in search of the escape pods.

Part Three

The green gremlin tries to stop him next. He briefly considers taunting her about the conditions in the work camps. Maybe sticking around long enough to dash her hopes of seeing her father again, with tales of how he was probably whipped to death for being a poor worker, but he can hear his weaker self’s voice over the speakers. He must escape now or never. He’ll make a video for her and ‘convince’ one of their allies to pass it along later.

He’s sure her weapon is dangerously unconventional to the uninitiated, but he side steps the green bayard’s attack with ease. Sending her tiny body to bounce off the wall with a back hand and stomping on her helmet for good measure. He probably didn’t do enough damage to kill her, probably.

No one else reaches him in time to stop him from finding the shuttle he’s looking for. In the hangar right where he remembers it. Kitten’s recovered enough to struggle again by then. He can’t set him down while he checks to make sure everything is in working order. Ripping out safety equipment that would let his control of the machine be overrode externally.

The bay doors are designed to be opened even if the computer system is malfunctioning, so there is nothing anyone can do to stop him when he punches in the proper authorization codes and launches the shuttle. The Green Paladin had sweetly equipped his escape vessel with a cloaking device. With her incapacitated, they can’t be detected once he activates the cloak and sets a course towards the closest shipping lane. He would love to take credit for planning their escape to be in a system filled with interstellar and interplanetary traffic, but lady luck gets the credit for this one.

He drops Kitten into the pilot seat, reasserting his grip on his throat. He can’t get the pretty thing to stop struggling, so he’s forced to tighten his hold until he loses consciousness. Only then does he flip on the video screen for a parting call. His weaker self isn’t there to answer, instead the Altean bitch appears on his monitor. Where’s the fun in showing off what you stole to someone who doesn’t fully acknowledge the thing’s value?

Still he mugs for the camera. Makes sure both Kitten’s still breathing chest and bloody head injuries are visible. He’s sure Shiro will see a copy of this, and will appreciate all he’s done. Kitten’s eyes flutter open near the end, in a moment he couldn’t have planned more perfectly. As soon as Kitten’s consciousness leads to dawning horrified understanding crossing his face, Kuro tears out the communication’s wires, ending the call.

Now he and Kitten are finally alone. He has all the time in the world to enjoy.

Part Four

The kitten is mewling again. Soft whimpering pleas that he can’t breathe. Kuro can’t help but smile at the sound. Stroking the outside of the container he’s keeping him in. The discovery that the bench seats in the back of the shuttle lifted up to reveal tiny compartment meant for luggage had been the best thing that happened to him all day.

The one he’d selected for Kitten had just barely been big enough for his small body. Kuro had had to twist his arm until he cried out, then forcibly fold him down into a kneeling bow, forehead nearly touching the floor, to make him fit. There is so little room in there, he likes to imagine Kitten’s arm is still stuck behind him inside the compartment.

Like a cherry on top of a Sunday, he found that laying down on top of the seat lets him hear all the little noises the kitten makes in his fear. When he’d first put him in, he’d stayed and listened while the poor thing had hyperventilated himself to unconsciousness. Kitten had never been scared of enclosed spaces before, but the inability to even squirm without pressing against cold metal walls was too enclosed even for him.

He’d almost canceled his ‘shopping’ trip to stick around to hear the panic when Kitten woke up, but sorting through the bags of supplies and goodies he’s acquired to the sounds of tiny breathless whines assures him he made the right choice in going. Even if he had been forced to kill the merchant before he could help Kuro find everything he wanted instead of after.

Damn Paladins had sent out a wanted poster for him in this solar system, and the alien had seen the thing about halfway through filling his cart. Truly annoying, and if it happened again he’d probably have to skip over to a place a little less friendly to Voltron to keep this game going.

Still, he’d found what he was looking for. Ropes, food, accessories for the kitten, and oh, best of all, a little square recorder, so he could take pictures and video of Kitten to reflect on once he put him away for the night. Mmmm, he’ll have to find a way to securely send these back to his weaker self. Spread the joy of fear in Kitten’s big purple eyes. Maybe he could figure out how to make an actual video call without leading directly to his location. He could make it two way, except instead of video of himself, he’d send the images he curated to Shiro’s screen. Then he could see the look of horror and impotent rage on his face, as he realized what he couldn’t stop Kuro from doing. Ooo, the idea made him positively shiver with excitement. He had to make sure it became a reality, but first, he would need to make some videos.

Carefully selecting a few choice items, Kuro stores the rest of his groceries out of the way. Now is the time to let the sweet kitten out to play.

Part Five

Kitten is trembling on his hands and knees, choking on deep gasps of air after being freed from his box. Kuro watches him, lets him recover enough to sit back on his haunches and stare up at him. The kitten tries to put on a brave face, act like Kuro’s golden stare doesn’t unnerve him. Oh how he enjoys the stubborn defiance, as if he hadn’t reduced him to a begging mess not so long ago. Makes doing it again so much more pleasurable.

Kitten has questions for him, so many questions. Who is he? Where does he come from? What does he want? Kuro answers none of them. He thinks who he is and what he wants is obvious. As for where, why does it matter? He’s here now, he doesn’t particularly care how he came to be. The little pet doesn’t like his quietness. His voice gaining in pitch the more Kuro leaves unanswered, a slight quaver of unvoiced fear in his words. When the silly thing tries to stand, face him like they’re equals, he smiles, lets the kitten see the sharpness of his canines, before backhanding him back to the ground. Blood wells up to paint his pretty mouth. What a picture he makes, Snow White with his pale skin, dark hair, and blood red lips.

He has the hovering box capture the moment, then rolls him over with a kick to the shoulder. He enjoys the flinch of pain as he yanks stiff arms back so he can bind him wrist to elbow with the rough rope. He imagines his soft skin will scrub raw under the abrading material if left too long. Scratches building up until every struggle is painful. He’ll have to make sure to leave him likes this for as much time as possible. That’s for later, he has such beautiful plans for now.

Kitten makes little high pitched hitches of breath, like he’s about to cry some more, while he struggles to breathe against the rope constricting his throat. He’s trying so hard to hold still under Kuro’s wandering ministrations to his easily bruised skin. He knows the taught line between his bound ankles and the loop around his neck will only pull tighter if he struggles or jerks. He’d learned that the hard way, when he nearly strangled himself panicking as Kuro tore off his shirt to expose his chest.

Oh what a perfect canvas Kitten’s bare torso has been. The tender flesh of developing bruises to dig his thumbs into. Ribs to squeeze until they creak, then release, then squeeze again, taunting him with how easily his enhanced hand could snap them in his chest if Kuro so chose. What had been the best was playing with the sensitive spots he remembered from his weaker self’s explorations. Pinching and tormenting the delicate skin until he cried out and slow fat tears leaked from his eyes for Kuro to lap from his cheek.

He’d recorded those tears. Using metal fingers to hold the kitten’s chin purposefully harsh, until he could capture just how they glistened and reflected the light.

He thinks he should probably stop now. Let Kitten recover, patch up his weak spots, so he can crack him all over again later. Much more fun when he’s an active participant. Besides, he thinks he has enough of the pictures and videos to start his other game. He just needs to find a place to broadcast from.

Of course, even if he’s letting him recover, he can still leave him something to ‘entertain’ himself with. A few buttons pushed, and Kuro’s new collection is cycling slowly in front of Kitten’s eyes. He leans down behind him, lets his breath tickle first his neck then his ear. “I’m going to send them to him.” He whispers. No elaboration, the first and only words he’s said since finding the pretty little thing. He leaves him with that thought and the slideshow of his own humiliation, as he goes to pilot the ship.

Part Six

Keith’s eyes are downcast, not meeting the camera. His lip is busted, puffed up and cut. Both his cheeks are swollen. There’s a bump like a round dome on his forehead where the skin has split open with dried blood running down from it in a cracked river. His throat has the dark imprints of a hand and something thinner making a threatening ring around it. What he can see of his chest has been mottled with cruel blacks and blues. He’s not wearing a shirt, and even though he can’t see them in the image, he knows the fingers on his right hand are twisted to unnatural angles.

Shiro wants to scream. He wants to tear his hair out. He wants to kill the sick bastard wearing his face. He wants to be able to close his eyes without seeing that picture on his eyelids.

He’s only had him for two days. Two days and he’s already done so much damage to the beautiful man he loves. How long until Kuro, that’s the name the packet had been signed with, kills Keith. How long until he is choked until his eyes roll back in his head and don’t come back down. He should never have had to find out what Keith looks like when he can’t breathe.

He’d seen the videos that came with the pictures. Seen how Kuro had given him every single bruise. He’s seen them so many times, until the others demanded he’d stop. There were no clues to be gained from them for where Keith has been taken. Their only hope is Pidge, Hunk, and Coran sticking their heads together and figuring out a way to track him down, but Shiro can’t help with that. He didn’t have the genius necessary to track the stations a signal bounced through or build something that could sense the not-unique-enough power source of Altean shuttles.

All he can do is sit here and replay it all in his mind’s eye. How he’d messed up fighting Kuro, he should have pulled Keith out of the way instead of dodging around him. How he should have warned them not to engage Kuro alone, so Pidge would have been conscious to track him when he was showing off Keith’s bloody face to Allura. The evidence of how his mistakes were being taken out on Keith’s small form. That picture, most of all that damn picture. The younger man, alone, hurt, and desperately in need of Shiro, who isn’t there.

Keith, baby. Please. If he could just have him back alive. He’d never let anything happen to him again.

Part Seven

Kuro finishes filling the small tub with cold water. The kitten had been grimy when he put him away in his box last night. His normally fluffy hair matted with sweat. The dried blood on his face going from its original appealing red to a dirty rust brown. A bath of some sort really was in order.

Kitten doesn’t struggle much when Kuro opens the lid to his box. He lets himself be lifted out, hands under his armpits, much like how Kuro would handle his namesake. He’s not really cooperating, though. It’s just prolonged time spent in the cramped container puts the kitten in so much pain, he can hardly stretch when he’s first released.

By the time Kuro has set him down beside the tub and retrieved the rope to restrain him with, he’s bounced back towards his normal endearing self. Fruitlessly trying to fend off someone he has no hope in besting. He tries to kick Kuro, but he merely grabs the leg and flips him over to bind his wrists behind his back.

He takes his time stripping Kitten for his bath. Partially because the smaller man won’t stop twisting and bucking in his grip, no matter how much force he uses to pin him. Partially because he likes to hear the fear laced begging for him to stop. He hadn’t told him what was going on, and Kitten seems to have drawn all the wrong conclusions. What a dirty mind he has, just a little implication and his thoughts go straight to the gutter.

The bath he’s using is a bit makeshift. The shuttle’s bathroom only has enough space for the toilet, and the tub he acquired isn’t big enough to fit Kitten in, more like a wash basket than something designed for humans, but he had found a sponge and a towel to clean up the mess afterward. That’s enough for his purposes.

Dragging Kitten back from where he’s scrambled against the wall after being stripped, Kuro gets to work. He doesn’t miss any spots as he scrubs the filthy thing down. Toes, arms, everything. The look on Kitten’s face when he pries his legs apart to clean there, is something to cherish. He drags that part out, touches a lot less than innocently, just to let the panic build, before letting Kitten go.

Kuro has to smile at the way Kitten looks at him afterward with wide eyes, breath coming rabbit quick, and legs curled up protectively to hide his bits and pieces from view. The little thing knows he’s not done with him yet, and all he can do is wait until Kuro decides to continue. He has all the power here.

Carefully, he cups Kitten’s cheek, rubs a metal thumb softly over one bruised cheekbone, before sliding his hand back to grab his hair harshly. Kitten cries out as he hauls him forward to the basin, holding his head up a second so he can see the clear water in front of his face, before thrusting him under. His feet make little squeaking noises as they slip and slide on the floor behind them, trying to get purchase. Kuro holds him down, getting his hair nice and soaked. When he pulls him back up, he’s gasping.

Kuro hums to himself, squirting some shampoo into the wet mop of hair and running his fingers through it to work up a nice lather. For once, Kitten sits still and lets Kuro work. At least, he does until Kuro grabs his neck and starts to drag him back down. The smaller man nearly knocks the tub over with his struggling before Kuro can get him under again. He keeps him there longer this time. Holds him down until he’s certain every last bit of shampoo is out of his hair, before letting him back up to suck in big gulps of air.

He mostly repeats the same procedure for the conditioner. Holding him under this time until his kicks grow weak. After that, Kitten doesn’t try to move from where he drops him on the floor. Shivering and choking on left over water.

Kuro gives him a pat, before going to collect an accessory he’d been working on. He’d found the black collar with the pretty pink name tag in the shop he’d raided. Unfortunately, the shop keeper had died before he could engrave it for Kuro. He’d thought, at the time, he was just going to have to give up on personalizing the item, but then, he’d found a tiny metal burner in a tool kit under one of the cockpit seats. With just a little bit of adjustment, he’d been able to do the engraving himself. Kitten was going to hate it.

Kitten’s eyes watch him as he approaches, shoulders curling in when he kneels down beside him, careful to avoid the wet mess on the ground. Kuro holds up the name tag. Lets him read the script on it. ‘Kitten’ etched in careful curling letters, with a little heart for the ‘i’ dot. He can see the moment Kitten comprehends. He recoils and snarls up at Kuro. Ahhh, he’s so adorable when he’s mad. Little nose wrinkled in anger. Almost as cute as when he’s humiliated.

Speaking of humiliation, there isn’t much the younger man can do to stop Kuro from putting the collar around his neck. He tries to bite, but a small pop from his right hand convinces him to settle down. He ends up looking exactly as good as Kuro thought he would. Both in the way he’s refusing to meet Kuro’s eyes, and the way the thin black collar draws attention to his pretty neck. If he decides to let the bruises heal, the contrast will be beautiful.

Nothing in the store had caught his eyes for clothes, so when he’s done with the collar he puts the pet back in his boxers and pants. The joy of how Kitten’s heart beat races under his hands every time he has to peel him back out of them, is just too great to pass up for a nakedness he’d quickly grow accustomed to. He does think it’s a shame alien tastes run differently than humans though, he can only imagine how Kitten would react if he’d forced him to wear something made up of lace instead. Oh how he’d do that angry blush of his. Especially if he’d made him pose spread leg for the camera. Hmmm, if he unzipped the pants and tugged them down just right, that sort of position might still work for the proper emphasis. He’d have to try that later.

A quick dry with the towel and he’s done. Kitten is all clean and ready for more fun.

Part Eight

“Say your name for the camera,”

“Fuck you.”

“Tsk tsk, that’s not very nice. I thought you were hungry.”

“I’ll never be that hungry.”

“Well if you don’t want to play, I guess I could put you up for the night.”

“no, don’t”

“What you don’t like your box? But it fits you so well.”

“You’re sick.”

“Mmmm, maybe. Hey, I’ve got an idea! How about I make you a deal. You answer my questions how I told you to, and I’ll let you sleep outside of your box tonight.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Oh Kitten, I have all the power here. I can force you to do whatever I want. I have no need to lie to you. So how about it, you be a sweet kitten and play along, and I’ll let you sleep on top of the box tonight. I’ll even give you a blanket so you won’t be cold.”

“…okay,”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll do what you want.”

“Good, now what’s your name?”

“kitten”

“What’s that around your neck?”

“My collar…”

“And who’s your owner?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Uhuh, that’s not what I asked you. Who owns you, Kitten?”

*whispering* “…shiro.”

“Such a good boy. See, I knew you could behave. A shame such a pretty kitten like you has such a terrible owner.”

“What?”

“A good owner would have never let me take you.”

“That’s your fault not his. He tried to stop you.”

“He didn’t try very hard or he would have succeeded. He had home turf advantage. He should have won that fight. Unless he just didn’t care about what would be stolen if he lost.”

“Fuck you, Shiro loves me.”

*chuckling* “He finds you passably attractive, and more appealing that a cold bed. That’s different than love.”

“Like you would know anything about caring for other people.”

“I don’t need to, because I know Shiro. I have all his memories. I know how he feels about you. He may have thought he loved you once when you were both carefree at the Garrison, but the arena changed him. You’re nothing but a guilty burden to him now. He needs you to play nice with the others and take care of him when his past gets too hard to bare, but he doesn’t care about you anymore. If he could find someone less needy to pilot the Red Lion and deal with his broken mind, he’d replace you in a hot second.”

*shouting* “You’re lying!”

“The first time you let him fuck you was in your father’s old shack as a birthday present. He’d let you do it to him a half dozen times already, but you were scared of how big his cock was and wouldn’t return the favor. You called him Takashi when you came.”

“H-how can you know that?”

“I told you Kitten. I remember everything Shiro remembers. You should be excited by this. Don’t you want to know what he’s been thinking all those times he’s said he’s fine?”

“Shut up!”

“Those sentences he starts but never finishes.”

“I’m not listening to you.”

“How about when you bottom for him and he gets that far away look, like he’s not even seeing you. I’ll give you a hint, by galactic standards your ass is really a sub par lay, and he would know.”

“Stop it.”

“When he looks at you all he can think is, is this it? He works so hard, goes through so much, to get home and warn all you ungrateful bastards, and what do you do? You, Kitten, drag him into a war. Force him to lead a bunch of untrained children, against an empire that made him fight as a slave and has lasted more than 10,000 years.”

“It’s not like that…”

“Then you can’t even leave him alone to do the job you forced on him. Following him around like a lost duckling. Sticking your nose into things he doesn’t want to talk about. Do you really think he wants to constantly be checked up on Every. Single. Time. he tries to get some space?”

“stop”

“Do you know why he wants you to lead? It’s because he wants to leave. He can’t stand to be around you, and constantly having to pretend he’s someone he’s not. You’re like a leech draining him of all his energy.”

*crying* “please stop”

“Oh Kitten, shh shh, it’s okay. You already knew he wanted to go. You always knew. It’s like you used to say. No one actually wants you, that’s why everybody always leaves.”

Part Nine

The Castle hasn’t felt so cold since she first found out her father was dead. The loss of the Red Paladin to the one calling himself Kuro has leeched the life from the walls as surely as the open vacuum of space. Her paladins walk the corridors like ghosts, what few jokes the Blue Paladin attempts to raise spirits die before a single laugh can be heard. Coran is the only one who seems unaffected. Flitting here and there to attend to his normal duties, stopping only to make sure she eats and sleeps. She’s beginning to suspect that his happy face might be less related to his true feelings and more to do with assuring herself and the other younger residents of the Castle that things will be okay. She wishes she could believe that.

A bright red ping alerts her that Pidge’s program has found another signal. They had taken far too long to pick up on Kuro’s last message, and by the time they arrived at the originating station, the trail had been cold.

She doesn’t want to open the message at all. The images from the last are still haunting her dreams, but she needs too. She needs to ascertain their content on her own. She must be strong. She cannot hand this duty off to others. The last time the Black Paladin had rewatched what they’d been sent so many times it should count as a form of self-torture. Seeing a friend destroy themselves was nearly as bad as what Kuro was doing.

“Are you going to open it?” A familiar voice says from behind her. Allura startles, she had not realized Shiro was on the bridge.

She closes down the program, and turns to face him, “You shouldn’t be here,” She says, she doesn’t mean this room, but watching over her shoulder. Looking to see more of what they all agreed he shouldn’t.

Shiro doesn’t need clarification, “I need to know,” He says softly, almost pleading with her.

“It won’t do any good,” She tries to reason with him. Only one person needs to make sure there isn’t any clues on the tape. There is no need to share the pain.

“Allura, please, I can’t not know.” Shiro begs, the look in his eyes break her heart, and she knows, she’s already lost. She can’t deny someone the knowledge of the fate of their loved ones.

“Once, you can watch them once, with me. No more, not again.” She will delete them off the computer, before she allows what happened last time to repeat itself.

“Okay,” Shiro agrees.

“He’s lying!” The things Kuro said about Shiro’s feelings for Keith, they weren’t true. He loved him, he’d always loved him, “It’s not true. None of what he’s saying is true,” He turns to Allura, tries to make her understand, he’s not like that, not to Keith, but he can see the doubt in her eyes. She doesn’t believe him. Who could, after seeing something like that?

“So the words about your first time, were false? He doesn’t have your memories?” She asks slowly.

“No, that really happened,” It had been one of his treasured memories, “But the other things, that is not how I feel. He’s lying to Keith,” He emphasizes.

“I see,” She says simply. She thinks he’s lying.

Lance wants to look away from the screen. He’s never seen Keith cry over something emotional before. He didn’t think the guy could cry over something someone said to him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that this was the kind of thing it took to break the guy, but Pidge was counting on him. She needed to know what was happening to a member of their found family, but after that bath, she couldn’t bare to watch it herself.

He can understand. He fully admits that when she’d slammed the computer shut before Keith had even lost his underwear, he’d thought that video was going in a much worse direction too. If Pidge needs to know but can’t stand to see what happens herself, he could do that for her. At least it let him help someone on this ship.

Pidge’s vision blurs a bit at the corners. She blinks the tears away furiously. She’s not going to cry. She’s not a little kid. She’s not helpless. She found the location of the latest electronic package, and now she’s going to finish the wiring on her and Hunk’s decloaking device, because she does something about her problems.

She’s not scared they are going to lose Keith, because they aren’t going to lose Keith. They’re going to fly to the station she found. They’re going to deploy this machine. Then they’re going to spot Kuro’s vessel, when his cloak fails, and rescue Keith. Everything will be fine, because it’s going to happen that way. It has to happen that way. She has to believe that.

Hunk’s not even sure what he’s making anymore. He’s not sure if it will be edible or even taste good, but it keeps his hands busy and his mind some semblance of occupied. He needs that right now. He’s already done everything he can to help. He helped design and build that machine with Pidge, but his part is done. Now all he’d be able to do is hover over her shoulder and worry. He can’t do that. He’d drive himself insane, thinking about things in a never ending loop.

So he bakes food he never plans to eat, and tries to tune out Lance’s quiet reports on the videos to Pidge. He’s grateful they are working at the kitchen table. He wants to be alone right now even less than he want to stop doing something, but he doesn’t want to hear whats happening to Keith. He’s probably the only person in the castle who hasn’t watched and obsessed over ever single second they’ve received, but he won’t do that to himself. He knows that they contain nothing good, and that his friend isn’t going to be okay when he sees him next. That’s all he needs to know.

Part Ten

Kitten looks positively adorable curled up under the rag of a blanket Kuro had given him. Still sniffling occasionally and trying to hide his face between his shoulder and the floor. Attempting to mask how he is hurt even though Kuro had cracked open all his gooey emotional insides for the whole world to see. If he’d known he’d get this sort of reaction, he’d have had that conversation so much sooner. He can’t believe he hadn’t realized how fragile Kitten was when you pressed in the right spot.

Despite his original plans for the day, now that the sweet thing has cried himself out, Kuro isn’t quite sure he is really ready to let him rest. How often would he get a chance to play with him when he was so vulnerable? Let him sleep and he’d awake with his guard back up, ready to snap his teeth and defend his hurts from Kuro’s prying fingers, but right now, he is as emotionally weak as a new born kitten. Heh. Given the barest motivation he’d do anything he was told to.

When Kuro sets the bowl down beside him, Kitten’s one visible eye quavers and shuts. Ahhh, he’s playing coy. Like Kuro would let him off that easy. He drags him up by his fluffy hair.

Kitten makes a little mouse squeak of pain, then shivers as the blanket falls off his shoulders and exposes his skin to the cold air. Kuro had turned the temperature down to stop Kitten from sweating so much. Bathing hadn’t exactly been a chore, there had been some quite fun aspects to it, but clean up afterward had been annoying. He’d like to drag the time out between baths if he could. Besides, Kitten’s chilled skin reacted so beautifully to pain.

Kuro cuts the ropes holding his arms behind his back, then holds the small bowl up to his face. It is filled with what is probably the worst slop outside of a Galra cell, but Kitten hasn’t had anything to eat since he stole him. The nasty stuff, as disgusting as it is, would fill his stomach, “Pose for me?” He asks. Tying him into position held appeal, but there was something about making Kitten cooperate with his photo shoots.

Kitten’s arms hug his bare torso, looking away from the bowl as his stomach growls, “I’m not hungry.” Oh that wouldn’t do, starving kittens weren’t nearly as perky and playful as well fed ones. On the other hand, he could just force food down his throat later. If Kitten really didn’t want the carrot…

Kuro activates his arm and holds his fingertips just a centimeter away from the soft delicate skin under Kitten’s chin, “Pose for me?” He asks again.

Kitten makes such a pretty model. Dead hopeless eyes, from where he checked out as soon as Kuro told him to unbutton his pants. Bruised imprints of Kuro’s hands just barely legible between the other marks on his skin. Perfect obedience to how Kuro tells him to pose. He’d been right in his musings earlier, unzipping his pants and pulling them down just right made an appealing framing for his groin. Even better when he sucked on a few of his slender fingers.

Something was missing though. The pictures were all nice, had all the right elements, but they lacked a certain message that would push them over the edge…Oh, he knows exactly what will make this better.

Kuro leaves and returns a second later with the tiny tool he’d used to engrave Kitten’s collar. The poor thing is so out of it, he doesn’t even react until there is the first sizzle of burning flesh.

Kuro is forced to draw rather large to preserve quality, and occasionally he has stop to subdue Kitten again so he doesn’t make him slip and ruin the whole thing, but when he’s done, the kanji for ‘Takashi’ is etched clearly into his chest in bright red marks right above his heart. There, now his weaker self could have no doubts about who these photos were made for.

Kitten’s reaction is also pleasing. As soon as Kuro gets off him, Kitten curls his hands protectively over his new brand. He peaks under them hesitantly and then gasps. Kitten doesn’t speak the language himself, but Kuro remembers how the younger man had begged Shiro to teach him to write his name. He knows exactly what this symbolizes. Tears well up in his eyes once more.

Kuro restarts the photo shoot.

Part Eleven

Kitten’s resting now. Still passed out from their last play session. Kuro had finally gotten tired of him starving himself by refusing to do tricks for food and just given him a bowl with no requests attached. His reaction to the drugs he laced it with were better than he’d hoped.

Kitten had screamed. Seeing phantoms of his mind’s design. Calling out names and pleading with them not to leave him. At one point, he’d even seemed to be begging Zarkon of all people not to do something. What, Kuro couldn’t quite tell from Kitten’s blubbering half of the conversation, but it had him terrified. Then he’d started to see the bugs. First crab-crawling away from the invisible hordes on the walls, then scratching his own arms bloody to try and get them off. Kuro had been forced to intervene at that point and tie him down. Some self injury is amusing, but he’d hate for Kitten to claw out anything Kuro would miss. Eventually Kitten had been unable to keep up the fight and was reduced to a panting quivering mess on the floor, then even that had become too much and he’d slipped into fitful unconsciousness.

Kuro had used the intervening time to get some rest and send off another packet to his weaker self. Oh he could just imagine the look on his face when Shiro saw how Kuro had broken his little kitten and made him cry. Would he blame himself for leaving Kitten with such obvious weak points? He hoped he did. Nothing made Kuro happier than thinking about about Shiro brooding and hating himself for being unable to stop him. Admitting Kuro was superior through his own weakness.

He hoped that soon he’d stop having to imagine Shiro’s pain and actually be able to see it for himself. If he can find an electronics shop of some sort, he should be able to ‘convince’ the owner into helping him set up an untraceable communicator to contact the Castle with. If he keeps just at the edge of communication’s range with his cloak up, he could have as long of a conversation as he wants without fear of capture.

But first he’d need to get some more footage to share.

Kitten is going to be wonderfully disoriented when he wakes up from his nap. That puts him in the perfect frame of mind for some of the toys Kuro has yet to have a chance to use. Carefully, gently, so as not to wake him, Kuro slips on the blindfold and earplugs over the sleeping kitten’s face and locks them in place. He has no idea what material they were made of, beyond being alien in origin, but the salesman had guaranteed and Kuro had tested out himself that someone wearing them would be unable to see a single prick of light while staring at the sun or hear a spacecraft landing directly beside them. Kitten would be both blind and deaf while wearing them.

Kuro carefully arranges the camera for the perfect recording and checks the bindings on the sleeping things arms to make sure none of Kitten’s earlier struggling had loosened them, then he slaps him. Kitten jerks awake, panics, and slams his head into the wall in an attempt to scrabble upright. Kuro laughs hard, and hits him again. Kitten chokes and curls into where Kuro’s fist buries itself in his stomach. He takes a step back and watches as the thing gasps and tries to press into the wall to hide from the blows he can’t see. Huh, he almost looks halfway defended. Back to the wall legs pulled up to protect his stomach. That just wouldn’t do.

Grabbing him by the back of his neck, Kuro hauls him into the middle of the room and drops him on his knees. There, now he’s exposed on all sides, and still at a complete loss for what’s going on. He circles him, like the predator he is. Watching Kitten’s head twitching about desperately trying to pick up some clue on where Kuro is. Every light crack to his skin from Kuro’s fist or boots making him cry out and fold. Unable to see or prepare himself for what’s coming.

Kuro doesn’t play long before he grows bored. The kitten is scared, flinching at every errant wind current, as if it might herald a blow, but he’s not in any real pain. He bounces back from every hit, showing signs of forgetting the last as soon as the next arrives. New minor injuries blurring into the background of the old. He finds it unsatisfying to have his efforts be so temporary.

Truly Kuro is at fault for this, he’s been awfully gentle with the kitten since taking him away from his home. Trying so hard to make the smaller man last, that’s he’s hardly done more than bruise him. A little bit of rougher play is clearly in order. He thinks, he’ll start with his toes.

Kitten’s chin collides with the floor, as Kuro lays him out on his belly. Straddling his thighs to hold him still while facing his feet. He slowly traces up the back of the kitten’s calf with cold metal fingers. Enjoying the tiny sounds of fear and confusion that Kitten can’t quite swallow. The moment he selects a toe, Kitten seems to catch onto his plan and begins to try and wiggle out of his grasp for real. Slow build up pressure, bending the thing back further than its meant to go, tiny whines of pain like music in the air. He bends it further and further until-

The ship alarm blares, startling him into dropping the foot. Damn, they’d gotten here quicker than he’d expected. He leaves Kitten whimpering on the floor and heads to the pilot seat.

He arrives just in time, to see what he thinks is the Green lion put out what looks like an expanding bubble. He’s barely has time to throw the shuttle in reverse, before a curtain of energy washes through the cabin. Something sparks and explodes off to his right. His cloak is gone.

Kuro is exposed. Out in the open, circling a planet friendly to Voltron. He can’t outrun them, not in this tiny shuttle, and without the advantage of the cloak he can’t sneak past them either. They’ve already spotted him, he can see the Green lion turning to face him.

He executes the only option he has left. Dropping into atmosphere and streaking towards the planet surface. He’s smaller than the lions, if he can find a cave or densely forested area to hide in before they catch up, he can buy himself time to come up with another plan.

He can’t be picky. The closer the Green lion gets the better able her pilot will be to see exactly where he goes. The first clump of trees big enough to cover his profile from the air, he slides under and cuts the power. He knows somewhere on the Castle they have the ability to sense energy output. Leaving the ship on, will only make him easier to find.

Finally, he can breathe and access his situation. He can just barely see the Green lion hovering above him through the foliage. She’s searching for him. He won’t be able to fly out of here, and it is only a matter of time until he’s found. He’s surrounded by heavily wooded bordering on jungle like forest. If he leaves on foot, he’ll reach a city where a new ride can be acquired in about a half a days walk, but dragging Kitten through this terrain would leave a trail so obvious he would certainly be caught. Such a shame, he’d been having so much fun.

He briefly considers snapping the kitten’s neck and leaving his pretty corpse for the paladins to find, but he’s not foolish enough to believe that the rage such a move would inspire wouldn’t prevent him from ever leaving the planet alive. He’s much better off leaving Kitten as a distraction. After all, the most important thing they want is to take back what he stole. Give them back the kitten and they’ll be too busy trying to access the damage to search for Kuro seriously.

He guesses it’s time to say goodbye then. Kuro sets a nice slide show going for whoever finds the ship, grabs his trophy camera to take with him, and leans down to where Kitten has shakily pushed himself into a sitting position. One last picture for the road.

Kuro kisses him. Disappointingly, Kitten is a cold fish. He whines, but he doesn’t even try to bite when Kuro’s tongue invades his mouth. Staying still and simply letting him take what he wants. This is simply not how he desires their last moments together to go. Reaching down, he lets himself grope until he finds the thing that makes Kitten’s breath hitch, then squeezes until he cries out and tries to get away from his touch. There we go. He knew the kitten was just playing dead with him.

One last upload for the kitten’s owner, and Kuro steps out onto the planet proper. He’ll miss this time they spent together, but he can’t let himself be too sad. He’ll be back after all.

Part Twelve

Pidge has found Kuro’s shuttle and cornered it on the planet. He gives her strict instructions not to engage until he and the others arrive. He won’t repeat the mistakes of last time.

When they land, its four cats surrounding one tiny mouse. Kuro doesn’t respond to his hails for surrender and turning over Keith. He didn’t expect him to accept the terms, but he expected the monster to at least answer their hails so he could taunt them more. The silence worries him. What if-No, he can’t let his mind wander down those lanes, not right now.

He leaves Hunk inside his lion, ready to snatch the shuttle out of the air if Kuro tries to take off, as he and Pidge approach the entrance to the ship. Lance is further back covering them. He has strict orders to take the first kill shot he gets with Kuro. They are here to rescue Keith alive, and the best way to do that is to make sure Kuro dies as soon as possible.

The door panel still responds to his authorization codes, seems Kuro didn’t know how to change them either or just rightly surmised if they got this close the minor security provided didn’t matter anymore. Shiro opens the door and immediately hear the cries for someone to stop.

He moves in on instinct. He’ll kill him. He spots Keith kneeling with his back to him in the middle of the room. Long bloody streaks leading down to his bound wrists and broken fingers. He’s alone, Kuro’s not in this room. Shiro crosses the space to get between Keith and the only area Kuro could be hiding. He won’t let him be taken hostage again.

Pidge has caught up. Shiro leaves guarding Keith to her, and sweeps the rest of the ship. Kuro’s not here, but he can hear his laughter and Keith’s voice getting higher and higher pitched in terror. Doubling back to the room with Keith, he sees the screen. He’d dismissed it as not a threat on first pass, but now he can see that Kuro left them one last recording of his sick games.

Keith’s screaming on the video. Pupils blown wide, staring at his forearms in horror. Then he starts to scratch, nails tearing at his own flesh-“Pidge! Turn it off Now!” He bellows. Keith, he needs, he needs to make sure he’s okay.

The current Keith is still kneeling exactly where he was when they first came in. He’s shaking like a leaf, but hasn’t responded to any of the noises they’ve made crashing through the room. There is something cupping over his ears and what looks like a blindfold over his eyes. “Keith?” Shiro tries, but Keith doesn’t behave as if he can hear him. The things on him must be to cut off his sense of hearing then. Shiro needs to get them off. Let him know he doesn’t need to be scared anymore. Shiro’s finally here to rescue him.

The sound of the video cuts off, as Shiro takes Keith’s head gently in his hands. The younger man flinches back, “Don’t,” Keith whimpers. He thinks he’s Kuro, and Shiro isn’t certain if he wants to cry or scream at that thought. He holds him still, soft but firm enough that he can get a good look at the clasps. No locks, he doesn’t have to hunt down a key or figure out how to physically cut them off without injuring Keith further.

The blindfold unsnaps with a pop, revealing that Keith’s eyes are squeezed shut underneath. The smaller man makes a distressed noise, like he thinks he’s about to be hurt further. Shiro pets his hair, shushes him, even though he knows he can’t hear. He won’t let anyone hurt him again. The ear muffs follow the blindfolds to the floor, and finally he can hear.

“Keith?” Shiro whispers, praying that he hasn’t gone somewhere he can’t reach him.

Keith’s whole body stills, pauses before one eye peeks open to look up at him from where he’s cringing against Shiro’s hands, “Shiro?” Keith whispers back, eggshell weak hope in his voice.

“It’s me, baby,” Shiro says softly, heart fluttering as both Keith’s eyes open to stare at him. Fear draining from his expression, “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.”

Part Thirteen

“No!” Keith shouts, pulling out of Lance’s and his supporting hands. He stumbles backwards and nearly crashes to the ground before Shiro can catch him, “You can’t make me go in there!” Keith yells, struggling to get further away from the healing pod. Shiro has to let him go before he almost falls again.

“Keith, you’re hurt,” Shiro says, going for calm. He raises his hands, palms out, to show the younger man he can stop backing away. No one’s going to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do, not while Shiro is here, “You need to heal. Just for a bit, at least the bones.” He can’t take away the time his lover had been held captive anymore than he can take away the memories of his own, but he can at least make the physical pains disappear. That’s something. The best start for emotionally healing he can give him.

“No,” Keith shakes his head harshly. Despite Shiro’s attempts to look non-threatening, he continues his retreat, right up until he bumps into Hunk. The bigger paladin isn’t do anything, just standing there, but Keith whirls on him, breaths coming fast, muscles tensed for flight. He reminds Shiro of a scared animal. So keyed up on fear, he can no longer tell what’s is and isn’t a danger to him anymore.

“Keith,” Shiro says softly, calling the younger man’s attention back to himself. He needs to calm him down before he hurts himself or somebody else in his panic, “It’s alright, baby. You’re okay.” Words under normal circumstances, Keith would be repeating to him. What sick irony of the universe that he now had to use them on his lover. Keith was never supposed to know pain like this.

Keith pretty purple eyes focus in on his own, “Don’t make me,” He whispers, begs, eyes watery with the first signs of upcoming tears. Shiro would cut off his left arm, if it would stop that look from ever crossing his face again.

“I won’t,” He promises, for anything short of Keith’s life he won’t do anything to him he doesn’t want, “Just come here, we’ll get you some comfy clothes and lots of blankets, and you can just rest for the rest of the night.” He’d try to convince him to go into the healing pod again tomorrow morning, when Keith was a little less raw from his captivity. One extra day wouldn’t make too large of a difference in his recovery.

“Promise?” Keith asks in an unsure tone he should never have towards Shiro offering comfort.

“I promise”

There is an unspoken statement that unless, you’re giving direct aid you should stay behind, so he’s a little surprised when Pidge manages to beat out Lance in helping Shiro help Keith walk out of the med lab. She practically teleports across the room, when it is time to go.

Keith can walk on his own, but he limps like every step is painful. He doesn’t know which of Kuro’s tortures caused that, which makes him wonder if there are even more videos they have yet to see. Shiro would just carry him, but he can’t tell how Keith would react. Every sudden movement seems to send his fear ratcheting back up.

Their little procession arrives at his and Keith’s shared quarters. The benefits of surrounding him with a familiar setting outweighs the potential problems of sharing space with someone who looks so much like Kuro. Shiro will just gets a mat from Coran later and sleep on the floor, until Keith is comfortable sharing a bed with him again.

When they ease him onto the mattress, Keith lets out a soft groan of relief. Shiro fetches him some worn sweatpants and an over sized shirt for him to sleep in, “Do you need help?” He asks.

Keith takes the clothing from him, but doesn’t meet his eyes, “I can do it,” He says quietly. Shiro turns his back and busies himself finding every spare blanket and pillow they have. He tries to ignore the tiny sounds of pain Keith can’t quite seem to stop himself from making.

Later, when his lover is buried deep and safe under all the blanket they own, Shiro presses a light kiss goodnight to his forehead and turns to the only other person in the room, “Pidge, could you stay here?” He doesn’t want Keith to be alone right now, even if he is supposed be sleeping, “I’m going to check in on the others.” As much as he might want to, he couldn’t keep ignoring the rest of his team. Everyone was traumatized by the last couple days, and he’d been failing to look after them while stewing in his own misery.

She nods her head, pulling up a chair and her tablet to do some reading. With one last regretful look, he leaves.

Part Fourteen

Lance can’t sleep. It’s been an hour since his last semi-successful attempt, and he thinks he’s not going to be able to get back to that comforting rest again. He just can’t stop thinking about the rescue, or more precisely what happened afterward.

Saving Keith was supposed to be the end of all this. Kick Kuro’s ass, save the Red-Paladin-In-Distress, pop him in a healing pod to fix the damage, and then maybe a bit later do some minor boasting about saving his rival’s butt for once. Sure he hadn’t been expecting Keith to be up and ready to banter as soon as they got him off the shuttle. He’d seen the videos. He knew the guy would need sometime to rest, but he hadn’t…god dammit, he hadn’t expected Keith to keep looking so openly fragile after they rescued him. He’d looked so terrified of them, like they were trying to put him in a vat of spiders instead of a healing pod. Keith was supposed to do the dumb brave face hero thing, maybe at worse be unconscious when they got to him, not watery eyed and staring at Lance like he was somehow the bad guy for trying to help him.

He thinks he was justified in calling it an early night after that. Shiro had asked him if he wanted to talk, but their leader’s smile had looked like a feather could crack it. How are you supposed to talk about how you’re a little freaked out by a torture victim’s behavior, when a guy looks like he’s one step away from having a breakdown over his boyfriend’s condition. He wasn’t that self-centered.

Of course, what good did going to bed early do, if you can’t actually sleep? Ughh, Lance sits up in bed and scrubs at his eyes. This isn’t working. He needs to try something else.

Hunk’s room, that’s what he needs. Hunk was always a great pal, letting Lance crash with him whenever he was feeling lonely or homesick, and unless Lance volunteered the problem, he wouldn’t ask. He can just pass the need off as more missing his family back on earth.

Mind made up, Lance slips on his Blue Lion slippers and heads out into the hall. Blanket and pillow in tow.

Thankfully, no one is up to see his trek. All tucked away in their own rooms resting, like he should be. At least he thinks that, until he knocks on the Yellow Paladin’s door and Pidge of all people answers. Lance counts doors to the end of the hall. No, three doors down, this is most definitely supposed to be Hunk’s room.

“You can’t sleep either?” She asks, rubbing her glasses-less eyes blearily. She doesn’t wait for him to answer, “Come on in then, you can join the sleep over.” Sure enough, looking past the tiny paladin reveals an extra mattress on the floor covered in a mess of pillows and a half awake Hunk. Hunk waves him in. Huh, maybe he isn’t the only one that could use a little company right now.

Lance enters the room.

Part Fifteen

It’s dark, so dark. He can’t move. Can barely breathe. Choking on his own hot damp breath, reflecting back on him in the minuscule space. Kuro’s above him, enjoying himself. He can hear the recording he’s watching. His own voice crying out in pain. There are other sounds. Sounds that make the acid in his empty pit of a stomach roil with the desire to be sick. He tries to block them out, pretend they aren’t there.

The box is too small to add anything more without suffocating. Unforgiving metal pressing against aching flesh. He shifts. Tries to garner some relief from the ever present pain, but he can’t. No, no, no. The walls are drawing closer together. The area growing smaller. He’s being crushed in slow motion. He can’t draw the breath to scream. His chest has become too compressed. He’s dying, and he can’t call for help…

…the wall is a foot away? A dream. Fuck he’s cold. Really really cold, even under the blankets. Hadn’t Shiro promised to turn the temperature in the room up? He’s still sick to his stomach from the nightmare. Really really sick. Bathroom, now.

He feels as graceful as a beached whale escaping the confines of the bed to tromp across the room. Blanket drawn close around his shoulders, ineffectually shielding his goosebump covered skin from the freezing air. Shiro startles awake from his place on the floor as he passes. Good, as soon as he’s done, the man can answer what kind of sick joke he’s playing turning the temperature down instead of up.

He reaches the toilet just in time. All of Hunk’s carefully crafted dinner coming back up in hard heaves. Keith can feel the pin pricks of tears in the corner of his eyes by the time he can finally flush. He feels better, like he could fall back asleep if he just laid out on the floor.

Maybe he should, the bed is so far away, and he aches terribly. His whole body hurts twice as bad as when he went to sleep.

“Keith?” The familiar voice startles him, he nearly topples over before catching himself, “Here, rinse your mouth out.” Grey eyes, Shiro is kneeling beside him. Holding a glass of water. Keith takes it from him shakily. His hands are shivering and hard to hold steady. Rinse, spit, repeat, until the taste of sick is almost gone.

Shiro takes the glass from him when he’s done. Sets it on the countertop, and helps Keith to his feet. Shiro’s palm on his forehead is warm, so warm. He lets his eyelids fall close, as he presses against the hand. Tries to leech some of that heat for himself. “Baby, you’re burning up.” Shiro’s voice is soft, worried. Huh, is that why he’s cold? Keith reopens his eyes. Tries to focus enough to see the concerned crease between Shiro’s eyebrows, “We need to get you in a pod.”

Keith yanks himself out of Shiro’s steadying grip, “No,” He hisses, shaking his head, even though it makes his vision swim. Shiro promised, he wouldn’t make him. He promised. Keith stumbles further back. Shiro’s hands find their way to his shoulders. Supporting him. Keith shakes his head again, “I’m fine,” His voice sounds like a whimper to his own ears.

“You’re not,” Shiro insists, holding him tighter. Preventing him from escaping. Shiro’s tired of waiting. It’s been two day since his rescue. Shiro doesn’t want to babysit Keith anymore, while he recovers naturally. Shiro’s lips are still moving, but Keith is remembering Kuro’s word. He’s a burden, a responsibility that has to be shouldered. He’s tying Shiro down, forcing him to be where he doesn’t want to be. “Keith!” Shiro’s fingers, the cold metal ones, are angling his face. Forcing him to look up into his eyes, “Sweetheart, listen to me. There is no telling what you have. We don’t know how it could progress. You need a pod. Please, let me help you.” Will that make him less trouble? Will Shiro stay if he says yes? Does as he’s told?

“Okay,” He whispers. He’ll be good. If that’s what it takes. Shiro sweeps him off his feet. One arm behind his back, one under his knees, in a bridal carry. Cradling Keith close to his warm chest. This is where he wants to be. This is safe. This is worth the box. Just don’t leave…

Consciousness leaves him before they reach the medbay.

Part Sixteen

The Black Paladin is still standing vigil over the Red’s cryo pod. The relief she feels at the situation that is so obviously causing her friend pain sits laden with guilt, low and ugly, in her gut. Rationally, this is a good thing. The Red Paladin’s refusal to be healed had been inviting medical complications and artificially prolonging the time that the Red Lion was out of commission. Placing them all in danger, including himself. Growing ill enough that he agreed to be treated was far better for his health in the long run. The fear he felt towards the thing that would make him better had needed to be routed, even if less dire circumstances would have been preferable.

Still those justifications don’t shake the feeling she should have tried harder to prevent this. While the most efficient, the cryo pods were not the only medical devices on the ship. There was equipment designed to heal without putting the patient in stasis. She had vague memories of them from her childhood. She knew they existed. Where the ones strong enough to knit bones where and how to operate them, she didn’t know, but she could have asked Coran. She should have asked Coran. Of course, they would have taken longer, and there was no telling if Keith’s strange aversion to the cryo pods would have stretched to other methods of healing. She could have even possibly made things worse by using the unfamiliar technology.

No, she's making excuses. She’d chosen not to investigate other options. She’d decided expediency and certainty was more important than comfort. The only reason she's doubting now is because she can no longer change anything. Fear of future potential consequences. She’d done what she thought was best, and she owns up to that…Had it been the right choice?

She misses her father. He would have known if she’d done the right thing. He’d led their people and made a multitude of hard calls. If he couldn’t tell her whether it would turn out good or ill, he could have at least given her advice on how to cope while waiting to see how things went. How to make amends if they came out poorly.

Maybe she should go down there? Provide company, until the Red Paladin emerges healthy once more? No, her own nervous energy won't help the situation. She should distract herself. She’s already looked over the recent data they’d received from the Blade of Mamora, but a second look can’t hurt and would give her something to do.

She minimizes the view of the medbay and pulls up the files.

Part Seventeen

Keith is too still. Floating so quiet in the healing pod. He’s not the peaceful stillness of well deserved sleep, but the nasty kind that comes from sudden blows to the head or collapsing where you stand, when either pain or exhaustion becomes too much. The sight of his lover like this is sickening. Too close to the dead for comfort, but he can’t look away. Every time he tries to distract himself, talking to the others or simply reading on his tablet, he finds his eyes inevitably drawn back to the pod. Has Keith’s pallor improved slightly since he last looked? Is that barely comprehensible readout change a good sign? Watched pots never boil. Continued monitoring just makes the recovery seem longer, but he still finds himself staring without pause.

He must have done something truly awful in a previous life, because despite how long he waits, he’s still not there when Keith gets out. A bathroom break, that’s what screws him over. He even made sure that Lance was there to watch the pod while he was away, just for a few minutes, then he’d be back. That’s all the time Keith takes to disappear. When he returns, Lance is standing shocked, alone in the room, and Keith is gone.

Lance can’t tell him where he went. Why he went. According to him Keith cursed him out as soon as he was steady on his feet and left. He couldn’t have gone far, not that much time had passed. Ha. If Shiro was ever that lucky, surely it would be a sign of the end times.

Keith isn’t in the halls outside the medbay. Neither their quarters or the Red Paladin’s solo quarters are occupied. He isn’t in any of the training rooms. The kitchen is empty, and he only finds Hunk and Pidge in the common room. They haven’t seen Keith either.

What if someone took him? Snuck aboard and grabbed him while he was alone. The last time, his first hint that Kuro was on the ship was Keith’s scream. No warnings, no Galra ships in the area, one moment everything is fine the next he’s running to the sound of distress only to find his own face staring back at him. They never found out how Kuro got in. He could be back, and Shiro would never know until he was too late to save Keith once more.

That’s it. He’s just going to page the whole damn Castle, until either Keith responds or someone finds him. The nearest computer should be in a room just up ahead-Oh, that’s where he is.

In one of the many rooms that lay abandoned due to the low occupancy of the Castle, the younger man is sitting head to knees curled up in the corner. He flinches when Shiro enters.

Shiro stops in the door, “Keith,” He calls softly, tries not to pose a threat, “Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, but he can’t think of a better way to start.

He can see Keith taking a steadying breath, before he sits up straight to meet Shiro’s eyes, “I’m fine,” He’s always been a terrible liar. His eyes may not be red rimmed, but his distress is still easy to read, as is the way his emotional walls are trying to go back up.

“Can I come in?” Soft question, not an accusation. Not yelling at him not to run off like that, when Shiro is so afraid of what could happen out of his sight.

Keith glances away to stare at a spot on the floor, “Sure, it’s a free Castle,” Not really an invitation, but he can’t help if he’s not here. Shiro edges into the room slowly, watches Keith for any signs that he wants him gone, before sitting down a little ways away from him. Mirroring his position on the wall. Keith looks at him a second before looking away again, “I’m sorry. I needed some space. Had things to think about.” He says hugging his knees.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Not to him, not right now, “I was just a little worried, when I came back and found you gone,” He shouldn’t guilt. He should be purely understanding, but Keith had been gone, “If you want to be alone again. You can just ask. We’ll clear out.” The younger man won’t. He never does. He always runs when he’s upset, for as long as Shiro’s known him. From the Garrison roof, to a shack out in the desert, to an abandoned room. It’s what Keith does.

“Sorry,” Keith says again. Shiro frowns, “I’ll remember that.” They lapse into silence. Keith’s withdraws deep inside his head. No signs of what he’s thinking about, though Shiro can guess. He doesn’t dare interrupt him. Forcing him to open up before he’s ready will only hurt him further. After a while, Keith sighs and stands, “I guess I should apologize to Lance for yelling at him.” Really? That’s good, that he’s thinking of others, but it just seems an odd first action.

“He’ll appreciate it, but you don’t have to. Lance understands you’re under a lot of stress.” The Blue Paladin had been more concerned that he let Keith go on his own, than the fact he’d been cursed at. He couldn’t be more proud of how Lance was handling the whole situation. He’d risen to the occasion admirably.

“I’m going to. It’s part of being a team player right? Apologizing when you’ve done wrong.” The smile Keith gives him is brittle. Shiro meets it with an encouraging one of his own. Something is wrong here. Something is very very wrong. Reaching out to the other is good, but he feels like there are words Keith’s not saying. Important ones that could pin down why he feels like instead of progress they just fell down two flights of stairs.

“Okay, I’ll come with you.” He offers. He can’t read his lover's mind to find out what’s gone awry. All he can do is be here when it all comes crashing down.

Part Eighteen

The sound of gagging and vomiting is clear through the locked bathroom door. Hunk had made something for dinner that visually most closely resembled brown gruel. The food tasted fantastic once they dug in, but Keith, he’d gone pale at the sight of the bowl. The younger man had insisted he was fine and began to eat before Shiro could try to grab something else for him. He’d been doing that ever since the healing pod. Refusing to say when something was obviously wrong. Insisting he was okay.

Lance had even pulled him aside earlier to tell him how unnerved he was at Keith quietly watching some bootleg cheesy movies with him. He’d said he was enjoying himself when asked, but the thing was, the Blue Paladin had acquired those particular flicks specifically because the Red Paladin had said he despised them in the past.

Gentle prodding on the subject only ended with Keith apologizing for worrying him, then going silent before leaving. Most likely to train some more. When he isn’t following one of them around like a ghost, he’s on the training deck. He’s scaring Shiro, and he doesn’t know how to fix this.

Which brings him back to now. Keith hadn’t been fine at dinner. He’d made it five minutes before excusing himself. No one had batted an eye, when Shiro had dumped his own food and followed him out. Keith had beelined for the restroom and locked himself inside.

The sound of wretching stops. Keith must be done. He almost knocks. Almost asks to be let in. To make sure the younger man is at least physically okay, if nothing else, but then he hears the muffled sob. Shiro’s fist clenches. He presses his forehead against the door and squeezes his eyes shut. He listens, because there is nothing else he can do. Keith hasn’t cried in front of him since being rescued. He knows that’s not a coincidence. There was a time when his arms were one of the few places Keith felt safe enough to let go, but now, he’s hiding from him and pretending he’s not. Does he look at him and see Kuro? Is that why he doesn’t feel safe with Shiro anymore? Would he tell him if he did?

He listens as the bitten off sobs become choked wails. He can tell the exact second that Keith must clasp a hand over his mouth to try and keep quiet. Shiro nearly makes his presence known then. He nearly knocks many times, but that’s the point he comes closest. The love of his life is breaking down a few feet away. He physically aches to hold him close and rock him until he’s better. Offer some comfort, that might mitigate the pain, but Keith doesn’t want him there. Keith doesn’t even want him to know. If he did he wouldn’t have made excuses to avoid his presence, would have done this when they were together in their room, instead of alone with a toilet.

Shiro shouldn’t even be eavesdropping. He’s violating the privacy of someone who has already lost too much. He knows better, but he can’t make himself leave. Not until he hears the sound of crying descend to sniffles, then the sound of the sink being turned on. Too wash away the evidence of tears, he suspects. That makes him leave. Keith wouldn’t appreciate finding Shiro standing outside the door. He can at least create the illusion he didn’t overhear what wasn’t meant for him.

Allura catches him in his hasty retreat back to the kitchen. Her pretty features twisted in obvious concern, “Was he alright?” She asks, no elaboration necessary. They are only ever talking about one person in the last week.

“The food didn’t seem to agree with him,” She doesn’t need to know the rest.

“Good, I was worried, when he was so pale that it was a memory,” Alteans didn’t use the word flashback in normal conversations. Some rule of etiquette, that required they used thinly veiled euphemisms. There were days he appreciated the obfuscation.

“Why?” He didn’t remember anything on the tapes that resembled the situation they’d been in. Not that that always matter. Training bots didn’t look like Galra soldiers either.

Allura pursed her lips, she’d alluded to something she hadn’t meant to, “The loss of color was all, that made me wonder.”

“Allura.” Shiro says, fixing her with a stern look. It’s all he needs to say. Guilty secrets on good people always cave under pressure.

She holds out longer than most, but eventually she looks away first, “The food resembled something that Kuro fed him. The results were not pleasant.”

What was she talking about? Kuro hadn’t given Keith anything to eat on tape. He’d tried to bribe him several times to play along in his games for a meal, but Keith had denied him the sick enjoyment. Unless…there was footage Shiro hadn’t seen. Part of it had been playing, when he entered the ship, but with Keith finally back with him, he hadn’t sought it out. “Where’s the video?” She didn’t answer him, “Allura, where’s the video.” He demands, using the voice meant to drag unruly cadets into line, “I can’t help him, if I don’t know what’s going to trigger him.” If he’d known, he could have asked Hunk to make something else, before Keith had even gotten the chance to see the food.

Allura closes her eyes for a second before speaking, “They’re in the subfolder with the others. I will give you access,” That’s all he needs to hear, Shiro strides past her, heading towards the bridge. He’s downloading them all to his tablet this time. No more hiding important information from him, out of misplaced concern for his mental health.

“Shiro!” Allura calls after him. He turns to face her, “Don’t let yourself be sucked in this time. We can’t change the past, and the Red Paladin needs you here with us.” That’s who he’s doing this for. Shiro leaves.

Part Nineteen

He needs to try harder. The others can see the cracks, the places he can’t seem to glue back together, not yet. He can’t be like this. The patience of understanding is short, always short. If he hasn’t pulled himself together by the time their patience runs out, they’ll move on. They won’t be cruel. Good meaning people never are on purpose, but they’ll find another Red Paladin for the good of the universe. Red won’t want to go. He’ll have to make her, if he can’t fix himself.

Shiro used to be the one that would help. Give support when Keith was struggling. Used to he was the one person he knew wouldn’t go if being with him became hard, but he couldn’t ask him. Kuro, like the devil, hadn’t needed to lie, when the truth had hurt so much more. Now that he was looking, Shiro’s exhaustion with him was obvious. The healing pod was just the first. He was the one to come to him with the complaints from the others. How his attempts to behave like the team player they needed were failing. ‘Strange’ his heart had been too loud in his ears to hear much, but he remembers that.

Then there was the dinner. He’d lost his composure to food. Fucking food. Was it any surprise that even Shiro hadn’t want to deal with the aftereffects? He’d seen Shiro following him, out of the corner of his eyes, when he all but ran to the bathroom. Coming to tell him how silly he was being? Insulting to Hunk’s cooking? He never found out. He hadn’t wanted to face him. Hadn’t wanted to go out and see the disappointment, and somewhere all that fear and pain had pulled open the flood gates. He’d tried to be quite. Not to let himself be heard, but he knew he was unsuccessful. The doors weren’t that soundproof.

Some small part of him had wanted that. Held out hope, like when he was a child crying for his Dad’s hugs, that Shiro would hear and come comfort him. Hold him tight like he used to, and tell him that everything would be okay. When he got himself under control, the hall had been empty. There was no way Shiro hadn’t heard him. He’d known, and he’d chosen to leave. That tired, that done with dealing with Keith’s neediness.

“Keith!” Keith jerks. Pidge is staring up at him. He’s slipped, again. She’d been explaining her latest attempt to hack the Empire with an antenna and her laptop, and he’d spaced on her instead of paying attention, “Are you with me?” She asks.

“Yes,” And then on automatic, “I’m fine,” He can see her mouth twist in concern. She doesn’t believe him. That won’t do, he has to do better. Time is running out.

“Do you want to do something else?” She asks, “I know these explanations can be kind of boring.” They also don’t require him to fully be here. He can paper over his absences by letting her talk. That’s the best type of activity right.

“No, I found it interesting, continue.” He doesn’t try to smile. The looks on everyone’s faces when he does, tells him his smiles aren’t coming out right.

“Look, can I be honest?” No, please don’t, but she doesn’t wait for his answer, “I’m not dumb. I can see you aren’t having fun. Let’s play cards, or something we can both be into.”

“I should go,” No thoughts, he just needs to leave. He can’t keep things up if he’s expected to participate, not right now.

He hears Pidge call after him when he leaves, but she doesn’t chase him down.

The training deck is his first thought. Work himself so he can’t think, but he’s already gone for two hours today. Shiro had asked him to limit his time. He wouldn’t be much good to anyone if he injured himself to the point of needing a healing pod again…cold…small…No, Keith squeezes his eyes shut. Not in the middle of the hall, where anyone can see.

His room. No one will enter there unannounced, even Coran had learned humans required privacy in their quarters. Shiro is there when he arrives. He’s watching something on his tablet, jotting down notes as he does. He startles when Keith enters, shutting the thing off in a panic. His head is buzzing with white noise. If he tries to talk that will be obvious. “Shower,” Keith grits out, walks quickly past the bed to the attached bathroom. It’s not until he’s already closed and locked the door, that he realizes he didn’t grab any clean clothes. He’ll just put back on the dirty ones then. Not worth going back out at this moment or later naked.

The shower is good. Hot, nearly boiling, no cold that clings. He doesn’t scrub, spares himself washing his hair, just stands under the heat until he feels almost relaxed. He didn’t actually need one, so it doesn’t matter. He gets out, grabs a towel. Maybe he can find Pidge again and play that card game she’d wanted. Make her forget about earlier. He’s feeling better now. Even the scar on his chest, Kuro’s mocking reminder that even if Shiro no longer wants him he’s still his, barely gives him a moment’s pause. He’s thought about scratching it off. Taking his mother’s knife and removing the skin, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to hide the wound. Shiro would want to talk about it. Maybe use the name as a jumping off point to what they mean to each other anymore. Better not to mess with it.

Shiro hops off the bed as soon as he exits. He won’t sit on the thing when Keith’s here. One more way Keith is being a burden on his everyday life, “You don’t need to get up.” He’s said it before, but Shiro doesn’t listen.

“I was going to the bathroom. Why don’t you lie down? It’s been a long day.” Keith’s not tired, but he’s being asked for so little, he’d be petty to say no. Don’t turn down small things, people get angry when you do. He learned that early.

Keith nods, kicks off his shoes and flops down on the bed. He feels almost loved when Shiro pulls the covers around him and kisses his temple. Can someone do the small acts of caring by rote? Apparently Shiro can. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Shiro promises before leaving him alone.

He means to go ahead and try for sleep. Be good, don’t be trouble that has to be looked after, but Shiro’s tablet catches his eyes. He wasn’t in a state to wonder when he first came in, but now, he’s curious. What was Shiro worried he’d see? Are they in danger? Is Voltron needed and no one wants to tell him that thousands are dying because he’s not pulling his weight?

The device is password protected, but Shiro had shared the code as soon as he put it in. Keith wasn’t the prying eyes he was trying to keep out. A few taps to open, then…Keith stops breathing.

It’s him. He’s on the video, the one Kuro always threatened to show the universe. His shirt is missing, pants undone, the fucking collar is around his neck. It’s playing. Continued from the last stopping point. Shiro was watching this. Watching him. Posing at Kuro’s command like a cheap pinup. Why? Why does he have this? Why is he watching this? His vision is starting to blur, his chest is aching. There are words written in a notes section below. He can barely make out the words “The Box?” Highlighted and underlined, before the screen is gone. He’s staring at his empty hands. Unable to comprehend.

“Keith. Keith!” Hands on his face, forcing him to look up into grey eyes, “Breathe, Keith. I need you to breathe.” There are spots starting to show up in his vision, “Please babe, take a breath. Just one.” His chest hurts, his lungs hurt. He does as he’s told. It hurts even more. Air flooding his lungs, banishing the spots, but not the blur to his vision or the wetness on his cheeks, “That’s it, there you go, now breathe out. Follow me.”

“Why?” He chokes out instead. Shiro’s eyes go wide, “Why!” Keith screams. He slams his fist against Shiro’s chest.

Shiro wraps his arms around him, pulls him too close to continue his pathetic assault, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Shiro says into his hair, “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

He’s full on crying now, he can’t stop. He can still see the video in his mind. The sound had been off, but the words said still clear in his memory, “W-why do you have those?” He gets out between sobs.

Shiro’s rocking them both back and forth, in short little movements, “I’m sorry.” A hard kiss to his forehead, “I just-I just needed to know what happened. How to help. You weren’t supposed to see.” Help? How was watching his humiliation helping?

“Delete them.” He struggles, Shiro lets him go. He grabs Shiro’s shoulders and shakes him, “Delete them, right now.” He hisses. He wants them gone. No one else can see. There can’t be a record of what happened.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get rid of them.” Shiro reaches over, grabs the tablet. Keith’s shaking, tears refusing to stop as the little deletion bar winds up to completion.

“There all gone?” He needs to know. Needs to be certain.

“Yes,” Shiro says, his arms are encircling Keith again. Pulling him into a hug. He doesn’t fight it. Leans in, digs his fingers into his shirt. “I’m so sorry.” Shiro whispers again. Keith stops trying to hold it in.

Part Twenty

The quivering bloody mess on the floor is rather nasty. Its garbled plea for mercy through its shattered teeth pathetic in the not enjoyable way. Kuro frowns. He’s disappointed at how quickly his new toys have broken. He’d really had every intention of making these last, drawing out their time together. Both to savor the pain and to not arouse suspicion in the local authorities, but the things had been immensely unsatisfying. Like a bag of chips, there was no substance to their screams.

He missed Kitten. The pleasure he’d gotten from breaking one of Kitten’s delicate fingers was equal to what he gained from snapping both this creature’s knees. Things just weren’t fair. He should be happy. He’d taken all the best elements of his time with Kitten and dialed them up.

He’d chosen the most startling beautiful couple he’d seen. Pale, waifish, with sharp claws that hinted at gorgeous danger. Made them watch while he played with the other, let them beg for him to stop, and if they were very very good, even let them take the other’s place. Their personalities had been a perfect contrast, one who cried out at all pain like a song, and one that took an hour’s work to get a single glass shattering yell.

Why weren’t they enough? Why did he feel he was constantly chasing a high, only to have it slip through his fingers a moment after being obtained?

In the night, while they rested, he found himself ignoring the recordings of the day and going back to watch Kitten’s poor attempts to fight him off instead. He’d even recreated some of the scenes, but they were just not the same. The best he’d made was a tiny bit of roleplay, with ‘Kitten’ and ‘Shiro’. Unfortunately, ‘Kitten’ hadn’t survived the encounter. Turns out, their anatomy hadn’t meshed well with his own, and besides what was the point of these things, if all he was going to do is imagine he was with someone else?

Kuro sighed, this just wasn’t working out. He needed the emotional connection that came with knowing Kitten and tormenting his weaker self. Strangers, no matter how pretty, just couldn’t compare. He puts his enhanced hand around the remaining alien’s skull and starts to squeeze. He wanted to give a “It’s not you, it’s me,” speech, but this thing wouldn’t get the reference. One more way they failed to live up to proper playmates. The thing’s broken arm is flopping uselessly against the metal of his own, animal instinct trying to survive well past it’s time. He does enjoy the millisecond where its eyes register its doom before its skull cracks like an eggshell.

Blick. Kuro flings the disgusting gore off his hand. Its blood wasn’t even an appealing red. How had he ever thought they could replace Shiro and his kitten?

Well at least he’d learned something, and the time spent here had given him a chance to lay low while the paladins let down their guard, so this wasn’t a complete waste. With a shake of his head, Kuro begins to pack up. He’s been using an abandoned house for his games, but the couple had owned a shuttle he could use to get off planet. He’d already stripped it of anything that could give away its position. A little bit of caution and it was the perfect tool for his next step.

It was finally time to stop messing around and go find the pet he actually wanted.

Part Twenty One

Keith’s breathing is even, peaceful, where he lays curled against him. Sleep had not come easy. The tears once started had taken a long time to abate. They were Shiro’s fault. All Keith’s crying and sobbing, little hiccuping whimpers, were because he had been careless. Left the tablet where Keith could find it, and…God, the look on Keith’s face, the way he’d been shaking when he seen what Shiro had been watching. He drags the sleeping form a little closer, holds him a little tighter, as if he could keep all the pieces he shattered together, if he just hugs him long enough.

Keith’s fingers have a death grip on his shirt, even in sleep. Once they found purchase, he’d refused to let go. Clinging to Shiro, despite the fact he’d been the one to hurt him. He doesn’t understand, but he has to stay. After the way Keith had whispered, on the edge of unconsciousness, for him not to leave, there isn’t any force in the universe that could make him move.

It wasn’t enough, though. He needs to do more to make this right. Holding him while he cries and saying how sorry he is, that he loves him and would never do this on purpose, doesn’t even qualify as a bandaid over the wound. He’s fumbling blindly, doing more harm than good. He needs guidance. The videos, they’d told him most of what happened, but there were gaps, things that scared Keith with no explanation. He could ask him, scratch the scabs off his trauma for information, but what then? Remove everything from the Castle that could possibly remind him of Kuro? All Shiro knows how to do is protect. Keith needs to heal, and Shiro, he can’t even heal his own damage. How is he supposed to help someone else?

He’s going to have to ask the others. He’s out of his depth, and everyone else, well they are probably just as lost as he is. Certainly no one had ever volunteered any information on how to help with his own mental health, but surely between everyone in the Castle, some sort of plan of action could be devised. Something better than hoping and trying to pick up the pieces every time he messes up.

There is a small shift against him. Keith’s eyes are blinking up at him slowly, then scrunching together in confusion.

“Hey baby,” Shiro whispers. Strokes his hand up and down Keith’s spine. Let’s him know he’s safe here.

“You’re still here?” Keith sounds surprised. His fingers tighten in Shiro’s shirt, as if he’s worried now that he’s awake Shiro’s going to leave.

“Still here,” He bows his head forward so he can nuzzle at the top of Keith’s head. Physically let him know, he’s not going anywhere. When he moves back, Keith’s eyes have fluttered closed. His grip is relaxing, and his muscles are going loose in his arms, “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll watch over you.” Even with the early night, it’s still far too early to start their day. Besides for completely selfish reasons, he’s not quite ready to let Keith go yet. A couple more hours of letting his lover rest will help his own feelings of guilt.

Keith tucks his head under Shiro’s chin, breathes out a long sigh, then mumbles, “…thank you” Even so close he can barely hear the words.

“Always.” He’ll stay for as long as Keith allows him, “Love you.”

Part Twenty Two

Pidge has a mission. Well two missions, but one needs to be done right this second. Find and scrub every copy of the images Kuro had made of Keith. She’d gotten the job from Shiro earlier, in the least subtle subtle way possible. Seriously, their darling leader’s childhood of following rules was showing through. He didn’t know how to stealthily pass a message while being watched to save his life.

He’d shown up in the common room, Keith in tow, left the Red Paladin standing in the door, and literally just walked up and handed her a piece of paper. Keith had watched the whole thing, looking lost and brittle in the doorway. Like he didn’t know what he was doing here. Shiro had turned around and grabbed him on his way out, saying something about haircuts. It said something about his current state of mind that he hadn’t slapped Shiro upside the head for such and obvious ploy. Whatever it worked, and the message had been important.

The details and instructions had been sparse but to the point. Keith had found one of the videos Kuro made. He didn’t know about the copies or who watched them, but he wanted them all deleted. Shiro wanted her to make sure they were gone off every system in the Castle, and not bring this up to Keith.

He’d entrusted the right girl. By the time she was done, a full forensics team wouldn’t be able to tell they’d ever existed.

The traces of druid magic were faint but still clearly present in their taint. Coran had been right to bring this potential anomaly in the sensors to her attention. Some sort of magic had manifested in this hall. If Allura had found it sooner, she could have determined the purpose of the energy with ease, but now the residue was nothing more than a grime that touched everything in the area. Dispersed by time to the point its original shape was lost.

The only thing she could be certain of was that the timing matched Kuro’s arrival on the Castle. Whatever this was, it was responsible for how he’d gotten aboard. Until they discovered how it worked and how to prevent its use, they were all vulnerable to more attacks of this sort or a reappearance of that monster.

A fleeting thought, but she wished, just a little bit, that he would show up again before they closed off this pathway. She was certain if he ever showed his face in the Castle of the Lions once more, he would never see another day. He had hurt her friends, and revenge could be a very satisfying balm for pain.

That was a fantasy to pass the time, though. She needed to be practical, concentrate on fixing a weakness in their defenses. Now if only Pidge would hurry up with her sensory equipment.

Hunk really wished Shiro had given him some warning before volunteering Keith as his kitchen assistant. He got it. He understood the whole not wanting to leave him alone thing, and whatever Shiro was talking to Coran, Allura, and Pidge about so seriously in the next room, Keith was probably better off not being there for it. He wasn’t complaining about being put on distraction duty. He was complaining about being put on distraction duty with no heads up.

He’d had to completely change up his dinner plans. Throw together something on the fly with lots of nice simple tasks he could hand over and talk about in detail. Keith had never been much of a conversationalist, but now he might as well be mute. Put a lot of strain on Hunk to keep something going long enough for Shiro to finish whatever it was he was doing. Thank goodness Lance had stopped by. His friend could steal attention from a marching band when he put his mind to it. Also, he was good enough to read Hunk’s desperate hand signals that now would be a good time to do so.

Lance was performing like a champ. He’d been holding a one sided conversation on the benefits and downsides of mermaid girl kisses vs human girl kisses for ten minutes straight. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t even stopped to breathe. All Hunk has had to do is make sure that Keith had something to stir or chop to keep his hands busy, and voilà, no time to think about why he’d been ditched. They were even going to get something delicious out of the bargain. Ulterior motives were no excuse for poor cooking after all.

Still, he’d better get the biggest thank you, when Shiro gets back. Also, someone better fill Lance and him in afterward on what had been so sensitive that Keith couldn’t be there. Distraction duty didn’t mean getting locked out of the loop.

Part Twenty Three

Shiro has become his constant shadow, ever since he found those things on his tablet. No, that’s not quite right. Shadow implies he only follows Keith around. Shiro does do that, waiting for him outside of the bathroom, finding exercises he needs to do in the training room whenever Keith spars with the bots, but Shiro also drags Keith behind him whenever he needs to do something in another part of the castle. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders or a hand around his wrist and tugging Keith along. Never letting him get far away unless he’s found someone else to leave him with, even then not for long.

He’s like someone worried about their anxious pet, scared to leave them alone less they hurt themselves or the furniture. Maybe Kuro hadn’t been too far off calling Shiro his owner. He certainly seems to treat Keith that way. He should be angry at that, feel the urge to lash out at the notion he can’t be trusted to watch himself, but the feelings don’t come. Shiro’s presence calms his heartbeat instead of elevating it. Keith craves and covets his every little touch like water in the desert. Shiro owns a little piece of his soul, and as long as he continues to treat it gently, Keith can’t bear the pain of taking it back.

He’s still scared. Still worried that even if Shiro has found his way back into their bed, lets Keith tuck close to his side while he studies the history of the Empire’s conquest, that soon he will close his eyes and open them to find Shiro gone. Vanished from the Castle to escape the burden placed on his shoulders. How long will feelings of duty keep him here before it becomes too much?

He supposes that’s why he’s standing here, in the bathroom, staring at the brand on his chest. Did burning Shiro’s first name into Keith’s skin in his native tongue mean something beyond just rubbing salt in the wounds of a drop out that cared too much? Was it just calculated to hurt or working off how Kuro knew Shiro viewed him? Shiro and Kuro both had said the gladiator pits had changed him, changed how he saw others. That didn’t make Keith any less broken when he hoped it was the latter. Shiro wouldn’t abandon something that belonged to him. He hadn’t changed that much. He was still far too responsible do something like that.

He sees Shiro out of the corner of his eye, a second before the older man curls around his back, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder and loosely encircling him with his arms. Shiro is looking at his bare torso in the mirror. Without thinking, Keith covers the brand with his hand. Shiro eyes are far too expressive in their concern as he hugs Keith’s middle in response.

“I can help you get rid of it, if you want to.” Shiro offers. How is he planning to do that? Somehow he doubts Shiro would really sit by and watch Keith use his knife to skin off a part of his chest. Shiro’s Galra hand reaches up to grasp the one hiding the name from view. It’s a horrible thought, but Shiro’s couldn’t be offering to layer another burn over it, would he? For a second, he feels like he can smell his flesh sizzling again, while Kuro smiles over him. Keith’s breath stalls in his chest.

Shiro’s hand is off his own immediately, almost as if he read Keith’s mind, “Sorry,” Shiro’s hand drops down further, safely away from his already damaged skin, to give a reassuring squeeze to Keith’s hipbone. The feeling passes, Keith’s fine, “You don’t need to decide right now. I’ll be here whenever you make up your mind.” Shiro says softly.

Maybe, he’s still reeling a bit, because he doesn’t think before he speaks, “Will you?” Shiro goes still against him, and Keith realizes what he just said, “No, nevermind. I need to go.” Keith tries to push Shiro’s arms away, beat a hasty retreat out of the bathroom. He doesn’t want to hear the answer to that question. He’d rather have the bit of doubt, than offer Shiro the opportunity to confirm what he already knows. Everybody leaves him.

Shiro holds him tighter, trapping him, “Keith, stop,” Shiro says. Keith doesn’t want to be here, but he can’t get loose. He slumps defeated. Stares at the cabinet and awaits the hard truth he’s been trying to avoid, “Baby, what do you mean, will I?” Keith shakes his head. Childish attempt to stop Shiro from making him say what’s going to happen. Shiro turns him around, so all Keith can see is the broad expanse of his chest, then the still worried crease of Shiro’s eyes when his face is tilted up by his chin, “Talk to me. I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

His chest aches. He can’t escape, and Shiro won’t let him go until he says it, “You’re leaving me,” Keith blinks hard and fast, he’s not going to start crying again, no matter how much this hurts, “You’re trying to fix me, so you can go without feeling bad.” Just like with trying to get him to take over as Black Paladin, Shiro’s setting everything up so he can go responsibly.

“No,” Shiro breathes, then more vehemently, “No, baby, no, you can’t believe that. I love you.” What did love have to do with it? His dad had loved him. His mom had loved him. Love didn’t stop anyone from leaving, and that was assuming Shiro wasn’t just lying to make him feel better. He was a nice guy after all.

“It’s okay,” It’s not. It’s breaking everything inside of him into little bitty pieces, but he knows he’s been selfish. He’s been leeching off Shiro ever since he came back to earth, “I understand. You don’t have to say it.” Please don’t say it. He can’t hear those words from Shiro. Kuro saying them was bad enough.

“Stop.” Shiro’s hands are hard on his face, “I love you.” Shiro repeats, then again, “I love you.” Like a broken record with just one phrase.

“No. You don’t.” He may have thought he did at the Garrison, “Not anymore. Kuro’s ri-”

“He’s a liar!” Shiro roars. Keith flinches back, and Shiro lets him go. Shiro’s are eyes wide. He’s breathing hard. All Keith can do is stare, as Shiro regains his composure, then gathers him back up in a much gentler embrace, “He lied to you, baby. He’s a monster and liar. He said those things to hurt you not because they’re true.” Shiro says softly but fiercely against his hair. They’re rocking side to side again. Shiro’s go to for comfort.

Keith rubs his eyes, to stop the tears trying to well there. He won’t cry, “You still want to leave,” He whispers.

“I don’t. I promise you I don’t. Please, believe me.” Shiro’s begging him. Actually begging him to believe what he’s saying. He can’t-He doesn’t-This is too much.

“I don’t. I don’t..” He wants to curl into a ball. Hide under a pile of blankets, until he can make sense of everything again.

“I love you,” Shiro squeezes him, pulls them impossibly closer together, “I never willingly abandon people I love.” Like it could ever be that simple for him, “I’ll prove it to you. I promise. I’m not going to leave.”

Keith doesn’t believe him, but a small hopeful part of him wants to let him try.

Part Twenty Four

Shiro’s hands won’t stop shaking, heat is gathering near his eyes in preparation for tears, and if he tried to speak, his voice would surely crack. Just one more way he’s failing. Keith needs him to be strong. To be unwaveringly there for him. Anything less will convince him Kuro told him the truth, but what is he doing instead? Having a freaking meltdown. Letting his own emotions take precedent over the person who was actually hurt.

He tugs at his forelock. Forcibly keeps his breathing even. He has to pull himself together before Keith gets out of the shower. Shiro’s over active feelings aren’t something the other man should have to deal with right now.

Think of something else, think of his plans for the next couple days. He’d finally spoken to most of the others about what to do. Quickly and quietly, while Keith was in the room next door being distracted by Hunk. As he’d thought, they’d been nearly as lost as he was. None of them had real knowledge on how to handle the situation, but Coran had suggested trying to get Keith’s life back to something close to what it was.

Obviously, not pretending nothing happened, but maybe moving them out of this limbo they’d all been stuck in since the rescue and slowly back into their normal routine. Nothing had been explicitly said, yet the secondary meaning that Voltron was still needed had hung heavy over the conversation.

Until absolutely necessary, they would make do with four lions, but at some point they’d need everybody. He knows Keith will pull through for them when it comes down to crunch time. He has no doubt in his mind, that when it comes to the fate of the universe, the Red Paladin will never fail to rise to the occasion. That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try and put that time off for as long a possible. A battle is no place to heal.

The sound of the water running in the background ceases. Shiro pushes off the ground from where he’s been sitting against the door. Stand straight as he waits. The nagging fear of failure still bites at the heels of his thoughts, but his face has been schooled. His own problems successfully suppressed. He’s ready. He has a plan. He’ll follow the plan and make this better.

Part Twenty Five

The Red Lion races ahead of him. Pilot and ship both eager to let loose after being cooped up in the Castle for so long. Shiro coaxes Black to speed up. They have no chance of keeping pace with their Red counterparts, but he can at least keep the other lion in sight.

Keith heads straight for the nearby asteroid belt. Snaking his way between giant hunks of rock with a delighted laugh. Shiro follows much more carefully, but genuinely smiling for what feels like the first time in weeks. Coran had been right. Getting Keith, getting them both, back in the cockpit had been a good idea. Flying the lions was freedom and power to go anywhere, do anything, or do nothing at all on a whim, and that was exactly the kind of thing Keith needed in his life right now. Something he could control and shape to his desires on his own.

Shiro lets himself live in the moment. Get lost in the follow the leader run through the asteroid belt. Keith never pulls too far ahead. Doubling back or doing a couple tricky loops when it looks like he’s about to lose the Black Lion, but never actually slowing down. This is good. They should have done it sooner.

They head back to the Castle eventually. Keith looks much more relaxed stepping out of his lion than going in. Maybe a little tired, but the good kind of tired. Not overwhelmed, just a bit exhausted.

He doesn’t quite run between their hangars, but Shiro is there to greet him when he steps down with a tight hug and a kiss to the cheek. Keith hasn’t said anything, but after everything Kuro did, Shiro is sticking to safe affections for now. He’s rewarded by Keith leaning into him, hiding the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks. PDA, even when they are alone in a public space, has always mildly embarrassed him. It’s good to see the small things start to reassert themselves. That means they are finally doing something right.

Hunk messaged him earlier to tell him lunch is ready, but Shiro lets the hug linger until Keith moves back with a tiny smile. He wraps his arm around him, before they walk out of the hangar together. He hasn’t felt the need to have his hands on Keith so much since they first started dating. Then he did so out of the newness of the privilege. After the pining and the awkward flirting, finally getting to touch had sent him over the moon, and he’d done it every chance he got, to the point he had to have a very awkward conversation with Iverson.

Now he does it out of reassurance. Physical affections has always meant more to Keith than words. He can’t remember who said it, but someone called Keith touch starved once and that stuck with him. Keith longs for physical contact like a desert flower seeks water, and he is just as beautiful when he gets what he’s looking for. If Shiro is going to convince him that he would never willingly leave, then this is the most important step. Also has the added benefit of touching Keith. Never too much of that in the world.

They don’t make it far into the Castle before Keith pulls up short. He’s staring down the hall that leads to the hangar with the shuttles. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s thinking.

“Do you want to see it?” Pidge had recommended getting Keith to talk, maybe process some of what happened to him with someone else’s help. Her suggested manner had been too harsh and was vetoed, but the sentiment behind it was true. Keeping everything bottled up wasn’t helping.

Keith’s eyes are a little unfocused when he looks back at Shiro. His fingers grip the back of his vest before he speaks, “Maybe?” He sounds more like he’s asking Shiro what to do than stating an opinion.

Shiro runs his prosthetic thumb across Keith’s cheekbone, “Hey, you don’t need to.” He reassures. Needing to talk doesn’t mean he needs to go back to visit what was essentially his prison.

Keith closes his eyes and breathes deep. Steadying himself, “I think, I do.” When his eyes open, there is determination in them. Short of picking him up and carrying him off, Shiro isn’t talking him out of it.

He nods, “Okay, I’ll be right there with you.”

Shiro stares down at the bench seat in dawning horror. Keith is waiting outside. Seeing the shuttle was enough for what felt he needed to do. He didn’t want to go inside, but Shiro, he’d had to see the truth of what Keith had told him.

“Is everything still in there?”

“Yes, everything he left, but he took some things with him.”

Maybe, maybe it’s bigger on the inside than it looks. The space could go deeper into the walls or floor. Still inhuman conditions but better. He presses the keys to unlock the storage space.

“What did he take?”

“Somethings, it’s not important.”

It’s not. Fucking hell it’s not. There’s not enough room in there for Keith. Even curled up, he’s not that tiny. Oh god, things begin to make horrible sense. Keith’s fears, the pains of stretching on the videos, what Kuro did to make him play his games. How could someone do this to him. How could someone who claimed to have his memories keep Keith locked away in this?

He can’t tell if he wants to throw up or scream. He wants to kill Kuro, right this instant, beat him until they no longer resemble each other. Shiro activates his arm. The metal beneath his fingers smokes and begins to melt. It’s easy to tear the wall of the container to shreds. Destroy the object used to hurt even though the wielder is out of reach.

“Shiro tell me.”

“The recording equipment, a tool box, and whatever the box was.”

“…my box is still in there.”

Keith’s waiting for him when he exits. Arms crossed in a way that looks suspiciously like a self hug. Shiro gives him a real one. Holds him as tightly as he dares. “I’m so sorry…you didn’t deserve that.” The words are inadequate, but he has to say something. Express everything he’s feeling, and how, how none of this should have ever happened to Keith.

Keith inhales sharply, tenses up in his arms. If he cries, Shiro is going to bring him Kuro in a box of his own. Fuck morality, he’ll let Keith burn him alive for this.

Keith doesn’t cry though. He just stays like that, while Shiro rubs his shoulders and upper arms. Breathing in an overly calculated manner, until he finally seems to suppress the urge.

Keith pushes away, “Can we go?” He asks in a voice that’s still too small.

“Sure. Let’s go eat, okay.” Hunk has probably started to worry about them. Even with Shiro’s message they’d be late.

They leave the hangar hand in hand.

Part Twenty Six

Convincing the guard of this outpost to help him is bloody work. Its pride outweighs its survival instincts to a suicidal extent. He barely curtails the desire to cut out the filthy beast’s tongue, when it threatens to have him sent to the slave ships. The Galra’s blood thirst and bluster may put them above the cowering likes of his weaker self, but they are paltry rats compared to him. He would never allow them to throw him in a cell. He’d carpet planets with their fur first.

Still they are stubborn rats. Most would have done what he asked after losing their claws, or some of their fangs, or one of their damn ears, but not this one. Noooo, this one had to have the pain tolerance of a war god. He was nearly ready to slit the thing’s throat and go find a fresh one to start over with, when he spotted it. A tiny device he recognized from Shiro’s time with the Galra.

A few quick button pushes and he is delighted to find a picture of what looks like the animal’s cubs. Newphews? Something young and related to him, that’s all that matters. The thing is so much more helpful after that. Stupidly helpful, if it had two brain cells to rub together the guard would have realized that the universe was far too big for him to hunt down the subjects of the photo. He could barely tell the brats in the picture apart, much less distinguish them from every other young Galra rat in existence. Killing him after he completed dialing out to the Empire’s command network is doing the gene pool a favor.

The Galra who picks up the call is just as much of a brain donor as the one he just disposed of. It takes far too long to convince the idiot that if he’s calling on this line then he probably deserves to be put in touch with someone with resources who’s interested in capturing Voltron. He’s not terribly surprised when after what feels like forever on hold, Haggar appears on the screen. There are only so many forces in the universe that have both the motivation and the capability to create him. She probably had an alert out for his discovery.

“I assume you have a functioning propaganda network.” He cuts to the chase. He has no desire to drag out a conversation with the hag any longer than necessary.

“Yes,” The witch answers. Her eyes are far too piercing, and it absolutely does not disturb him. He doesn’t feel fear at her presence, not like his pathetic counterpart.

“I can force the Castle of the Lions to appear at the time and place of my choosing. You are going to help me get on board, and I will cripple your greatest foe in return.” He keeps the sneer off his face. The paladins are glass soldiers. A little pressure and they crack. The fact the ‘mighty’ Galran Empire considers them such an existential crisis reflects on how weak it is.

“If they don’t show?” She asks. The question sounds more perfunctory than anything. He has her interest.

“Then I have some truly lovely fodder for your next information packet on the Red Paladin.”

Part Twenty Seven

Lance isn’t jealous. There’s nothing to envy in this situation. They’re just having their first training session with Keith back, and the Red Paladin is massacring drones like he never left. He may have even improved a bit since they last fought together. Is it because he’s related to the giant space cats? Some sort of predator instinct that gives him an eternal edge over Lance?

It’s not like he doesn’t work on his stuff outside of the group. He and Hunk get together for long range target practice sometimes. That’s just not all he does with his free time. He occasionally likes to take time out for things like sleep and breathing. You know, having some sort of life even if he’s stranded thousands of light years away from a real social scene. Nothing against alien beauties, but he’d kill to get a chance to flirt with a woman who might actually understand a Star Wars joke.

Somebody slams into his back and his next shot goes wide, nearly hitting Pidge. “What the hell! Watch where you’re going!” He whirls and yells. He immediately regrets his outburst, when he’s met by Keith’s deer in the headlights look. No returning anger or yelling. Just a look of panic, that makes him feel like he just kicked a puppy. Great, Lance wins the biggest asshole of the day award. It’s a relief when a stray shot sends him plummeting through the floor a second later.

By the time the round is over and everyone else has lost to the bots, he’s regained his composure. Keith’s standing a little bit separate from the group, while Shiro talks to Pidge and Hunk about what they could do better next round. Lance tries to casually mosy on over to him, so of course Keith jumps and nearly cracks him in the face when Lance taps him on the shoulder.

“Jumpy much?” Lance kicks himself mentally. Great start to an apology, insult the other person.

Keith crosses his arms and ducks his head a bit, “Sorry..I was thinking about something. I didn’t see you.”

“No harm no foul right?” Lance smiles, tries to get the guy to understand it’s chill, but yeah, kicked puppy, “Riiight, so, about earlier. I’m sorry about the yelling.”

“Why?” Keith looks confused, and he tries not to take that as an insult to his character, “I nearly knocked you over. In a real fight someone could have died.” How about because he’s not a complete and utter dick that kicks people when they are already down.

“Yeah, but this wasn’t a real fight. I shouldn’t have gotten mad, okay.” Just accept his apology and they can both go on with their lives.

“Lance, it was my fault.” But no, things can never be that easy when dealing with Keith, “I didn’t pay attention to where everyone was and Pidge nearly got shot.”

There are brick walls that are more conceding of a point, “Accidents happen. I overreacted okay.” That’s the end of it.

Or it would be, with anyone else, “But-”

“-Dude! Just let me apologize!” And he’s yelling again. Something that becomes quiet clear by the wide eyed look Keith’s giving him. Smooth Lance, real smooth. Maybe he can accidentally punch the guy while he’s at it. That should round out this conversation real well.

The shock doesn’t last long, after a moment the edge of Keith’s mouth quirks up in a tiny smile, “…you’re apologizing for yelling at me by yelling at me some more?”

Lance throws his hand up in the air, “Argh! You know what forget it. I’m not sorry after all.” He’s so done. This is what he gets for trying to be a nice guy.

Keith laughs. Claps a hand over his mouth to stifle giggles type laughs.

“Well I’m glad you find my frustration amusing.” Lance shoots him a glare, but he doesn’t mean it. He's officially counting making Keith laugh as his good deed of the day, even if it was completely on accident, “Weirdo,” Lance adds under his breath. Keith snorts.

“What’s so funny?” It’s Lance’s turn to jump. Shiro appears like a ghost behind him. He’s honestly surprised it took him this long to investigate what was going on.

Keith smiles and shakes his head, “Nothing,” He says.

Shiro looks between them, then focuses his attention back on Keith, “You feel up to another round?” Lance really hopes he is. If Keith wants to quit for the day, Shiro is going to follow him out. Which means the rest of them are going to be left to Allura’s tender loving care. He’d rather go play in the airlock without his armor.

Keith nods, “Yeah, I think I do,” Woohoo, no sadistic Altean training for him today! Definitely worth all the sticking his foot in his mouth earlier.

“Alright,” Shiro says softly, then turns around and bellows, “Everybody up top, let’s try that again!”

Part Twenty Eight

If Keith was holding onto his flesh hand, he’s certain the tight grip would have begun to hurt by now. As he’s not, Shiro just rubs soothing circles into the back of Keith’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this now, if you want. The equipment’s not going anywhere.” Last night, Keith had hidden under their sheets and admitted quietly that he wanted the brand Kuro had given him gone. He didn’t like being unable to take off his shirt without having a stark reminder of what happened. Shiro could relate. If only his own were so easy to remove.

“No, I want to get rid of it today,” Keith looks over to were Coran is standing beside the medical cot and nods, “Go ahead I’m ready.”

“Alright my boy, this will sting a bit.” The needle Coran is wielding is wickedly pointed. He feels a people as advanced as the Alteans should have found some better way to administer numbing agents, but then again, the Galra hadn’t either. Their needles looked like something out of a horror movie. No, bad thought. Especially in this setting. He needs to be the reassuring one right now.

He watches Keith’s face for signs of discomfort while Coran works. Still nervous, but the needle isn’t the cause. If he has to guess, Keith is worried about the scalpel gleaming off to the side. That disturbs him as well. He’s not going to be able to watch as Coran removes the scarred skin. Not without going places he really shouldn’t.

“We’ll leave that for a few ticks, and then we can start. Now you need to tell me if you feel anything.” Keith nods in answer.

Shiro catches his eyes and smiles, “All be over soon,” He squeezes Keith’s hand.

Keith squeezes back, “Can’t wait,”

Coran’s picking up the scalpel now. It’s sharp, the shape, the curve looks like the same kind the druids used. Without the anesthetic the thing would probably hurt the same. He forces himself to look at Keith’s eyes instead. Purple the color of rare jewels instead of magic filled labs of pain. “Shiro? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” He’ll be fine, this isn’t about him. Distraction will help though, “Just thinking about what to do after. I was thinking about borrowing Pidge and Lance’s game station. What do you think?”

Keith’s looking at him far too closely. He’s been growing more aware recently. More observant of Shiro’s own moods. That’s good, means he’s healing, but also bad, as he becomes more and more conscious of where Shiro is wearing thin. He has to work harder at keeping himself in check. He can’t slip back into using the younger man as an emotional crutch.

There’s no more words between them. Coran works quickly and efficiently, and Shiro tries to pretend he can’t see the raw meat revealed. Keith stares him down the entire time. Coran carefully applies a bandage, no healing pods for what has become an obvious reason, and gives a cheerful, “All done!” The white covering the wound makes the constriction in his chest ease. Everything is okay, this is real medical treatment, not let’s poke him to see what makes him scream loudest.

“Playing a game sounds nice,” Keith says.

“What?” Game? What game? Oh right, the console, he’d asked him about that. Keith has a little frown on his pretty lips, “Right, I think they own one of those racing games. We could go a few rounds.”

“Sure,” Keith sits up, hops off the cot, and tugs Shiro towards the door. Damn it, he’s slipping worse than he thought, they’re nearly at the door before he realizes that Keith is leading him away from a source of panic. He needs to do better.

Allura’s waiting for them outside the room. “Do you have a moment?”

Keith answers “Yes,” before Shiro can make an excuse. She has her serious face on. The one when she’s about to deliver important or bad news. He would have appreciated if she’d waited until she could catch him alone to bring whatever this is up, but Allura was one of the biggest proponents of bringing Keith back into the loop. She’d most likely chosen now on purpose. Keep him from hiding whatever she had to say from Keith.

“Pidge and I have discovered how Kuro managed to circumvent the Castle’s defenses.” Keith’s back muscle go tight and still. This is exactly the sort of thing he’d prefer to have run by him first. Allura continues, “We have also determined he can not do so again using the same method.”

Shiro wraps his human arm around Keith’s shoulder and pulls him close. Reassurance by presence. Then he looks up at Allura, “Explain,” He curtails the harshness he wishes to put in his voice. Letting anger show won’t help.

“The spell used to create him was placed on you.” She looks at Shiro, “Likely started while you were still in captivity,” That’s to be expected, Kuro had displayed enough of his knowledge that he had to be a part of his creation, “It takes time and quintessence to execute, you escaped before they could finish.” That makes a terrifying amount of sense, his act with Matt had only worked so long. The guards had quickly realized that his persona in the ring wasn’t real. Someone must have wanted a real ‘Champion’, “Sometime recently, Haggar must have gotten close enough to order the spell to finish. Kuro was created inside the Castle.”

Only one question, “Can they make another?” He will leave right this instant, if there is even the slightest possibility of him being the source of another Kuro. None of his team will ever be hurt by that monster again.

“Not without recapturing you. The spell is spent. There will be no more Kuro’s.” Allura hesitates for a moment, then adds, “We are all safe.”

“Thank you for letting us know,” Shiro says in a clear tone of dismissal. Keith is still stiff by his side. They need privacy, so he can check on him.

They say their goodbyes and go their separate ways. Shiro makes an executive decision and heads for their bedroom instead of the common room with the others.

Keith lets out a huff of what he thinks was supposed to be laughter when they go inside. “I’m fine,” Keith says before Shiro can ask.

“You don’t have to be fine,” Keith glares at him. That’s one of the lines he used to like to use on Shiro, “You went through a lot.” He adds.

“Lance nearly died, and you don’t see him hiding in his room over it.” Lance also doesn’t remember that happening.

“How about me?” Keith had spent hours curled around him after a nightmare, whispering sweet nothing until sleep finally over took him again. If he could do that for Shiro, as bloody as his hand were, couldn’t he do it for himself?

Keith looks away, he remembers all those times just as well as Shiro does. Probably better considering the hazes of some flashbacks. Shiro cups the back of Keith’s head, pulls him in to nestle against his chest, “These things take time, and no one expects you to stop being hurt.” Keith’s arms find their way around him too, and they just stand there, soaking each other in.

“Can we call it an early night?” Keith’s deflecting. Trying to get out of Shiro’s flawless logic.

“Sure,” He lets him. He’ll try again later, and then again, and again. Until Keith finally believes him.

Part Twenty Nine

The key to a good trap is having the right sort of bait for your prey. You want a lioness, you dangle her injured cub. You want the paladins of Voltron, you release a few choice screen shots with easily traced upload locations. He’d chosen some of Kitten’s tamer pictures for his bait. Hinting at the extent of their time together, without showing too much. Wouldn’t do to reduce the value of his leverage by giving the good stuff away for free.

If the Castle didn’t appear soon, he might not get a choice about making that sacrifice. The ‘allies’ he’d gathered for this trap were fair weather at best. The longer this dragged on, the more likely they were to decide to try and turn on him. He hadn’t been foolish enough to give them his location, but a brute force search of the sector would surely reveal him. No, losing the opportunity for more quality time with Shiro’s kitten and having to fight his way out, is much worse than sharing a few more pieces of his prized collection with the unwashed masses of the galaxy. Besides, the look on Kitten’s face when he reads all the appreciative comments from his new fans would be something worthy of immortalizing.

A little red blip appears on his sensors, and a second later, a wormhole rips through the fabric of space on his view screen. His estimates on the best strategic entry point had been correct. The paladins were right where he wanted them.

He opens the hailing frequency. Someone much more technologically apt than himself, had kindly volunteered to rout his hails through the same station he’d made the uploads from. Given time he could be found despite the extra step, but by then he planned on being long gone.

The Altean bitch picks up the call again. “Kuro.” She says with all the venom of a rattlesnake. He ignores her, examines the other residents of the bridge. The orange idiot is there, with something approaching a serious expression for once. He might as well be a chair for all his potential amusement value. The green gremlin is at her station. He never did get around to sending her that video. She’s not as amusing as Kitten, but he imagines her anguish could be worth the effort. Be more fun if Matt were here though, more history to build on with that one. Last but certainly not least, his weaker self is glaring up at him, hatred etched into the grit of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. He must be barely keeping his temper in check. Shiro’s been fantasizing about confronting Kuro and killing him, between wrapping his kitten up in blankets and nursing him back to something human all sickeningly sweet. Kuro knows this for certain. That’s the fun of Shiro, he never has to guess what he’s feeling.

“Miss me?” His giddiness is showing, and Shiro’s fist are clenching in reaction. Maybe he can get him to break something in a fit before they’re done here. Wipe off a bit more of that golden boy shine to show his team the broken gladiator beneath.

“What do you want?” Shiro growls, stepping forward to stand by the princess. From the look on her face, he’s already going off script. Did they try to stop him from coming to this meeting? Not surprising they failed. His weaker self can be so stubborn about putting himself in situations that hurt him. Almost takes the fun out of emotional torment…Well, not really.

“I just wanted to chat and catch up with my two most favorite people in the universe,” Shiro’s going to crack a molar if he grits his teeth much harder, “Speaking of which, where is your kitten?” Did he know about this meeting? Or did they just make a jump without telling him where or why? Oh, maybe he’s really lucky and they haven’t told him what Kuro did. Tried to hide the evidence for his own good. That would mean he’d get to see the initial shock and horror himself.

“His name is Keith!” Shiro shouts, his face going red. The princess reaches out and grabs his arm. The struggle to pull his temper back under control is obvious on his face.

“Kitten,” Kuro says with a smirk, “Why don’t you go ahead and call him in? It’s not nice to hold conversations about someone behind their back.”

“You will never speak to him again.” Oh, Shiro should know that you never say never. Especially in a galaxy as big as theirs.

“Call him up,” Kuro pulls his recorder into the line of sight of the camera, “Or I start releasing more on the galactic Internet every minute until he arrives.” He presses the play button and the video on the recorder starts with a panicked cry from Kitten to ‘stop’. This was one of their more vocal play sessions, perfect for an audible reminder of all he still has left to offer.

Shiro chokes. The princess steps in to cover for him, “We will not be blackmailed.” She says without a trace of doubt someone might disobey her. He’s certain if she was the only one he was negotiating with, then they’d just stand by and let him. Maybe even leave the sector without further comment. Good thing she’s not.

Kuro gives her a dismissive glance, then very pointedly looks back at Shiro, “Are you going to make that decisions for him? How do you think he’ll feel when he finds out you chose to humiliate him in front of the entire galaxy rather than ask him if he wants to talk to me?” He has him. Shiro knows how much Kitten hates to show weakness in public. He’s always been so intensely private. His weaker self could never allow this to happen without his permission.

Kuro watches patiently, while the princess and Shiro have a quiet argument. She’s not nearly cold blooded enough for this job, she caves before a minute passes. Shiro turns to leave, “Send the Gremlin,” Kuro calls out, “I want to visit while we wait.” If Shiro goes, he’ll help prepare Kitten for what’s to come. Much better to have someone less good at handling him go to retrieve him. Bonus, with the green paladin gone from the bridge, it will take them even longer to locate him.

Shiro hesitates. Kuro ups the volume on the recorder, no need to verbalize the threat, “Pidge, tell Keith what’s going on.” Shiro’s tone is clipped. He’s hating every moment of having to dance to Kuro’s tune, but he’ll do so. He’s a self-sacrificing weakling like that.

They don’t end up talking while they wait. Shiro fumes in silence, and Kuro double checks his playlist in preparation.

He’s just beginning to entertain the thought that the paladins don’t plan on holding up their side of the bargain, when Kitten arrives. He immediately stalls. What little color he has draining from his cheeks. Kuro would like to think his presence alone has such an effect, but likely the pretty thing is reacting to the audio still belting out from his recorder. Someone forgot to warn him about the ambient soundtrack to this meeting. Kuro smiles, “Come here, let me get a good look at you. It feels likes it’s been ages.” Kitten walks stiffly into the room to stand by Shiro. His weaker self’s expression has gone from anger to concern. He was probably hoping that his kitten wouldn’t show. Give him free pass to ignore Kuro’s threats and try to hunt him down instead.

“I’m here,” Kitten is still pale as a sheet, but he’s putting on his brave face. Like Kuro hasn’t wormed his way into being one of his worst nightmares, “Say what you have to say.” A particularly loud cry on the audio makes him flinch anyways. So cute and high strung. He’s going to have so much fun breaking him again.

“I was wondering, have you been dreaming about me? Have I been in your thoughts, while we’ve been apart?” From the way Kitten sucks air past his teeth, the answer is yes. He can just imagine how that’s been. Kuro’s presence clinging to him like a stain he can’t wash off. Shiro hovering over his shoulder trying so hard to make it better. The expressions, the feelings, oh yes, he doesn’t need to have been there to know exactly how it went.

“Fuck you,” Kitten spits, just as powerless to stop him from inflicting pain as when he was tied up on Kuro’s shuttle floor. That gives him ideas. Maybe when he gets Kitten back, he can find them a nice barren planet and let him run. Chase him down again and again for play until he’s too broken to try anymore. Having him back can’t come soon enough.

A flashing purple alert goes off in his peripheral vision. The Galra are in position. He’s stalled long enough. He smiles down on his soon to be playmate, “See you soon, Kitten.” Kuro disengages the call before he can respond.

It’s finally time.

Part Thirty

Keith tears off his helmet, sucks in a deep breath of cool Castle air. Adrenaline is still screaming in his veins. Pushing him to move move move. There is a lurch, the whole ground shaking just like his clenched hands, as the Castle escapes through a wormhole. The battle is over. They’re safe. He can stop now. He needs to stop now. He can’t. Everything is too closed in. The walls of the hallway feel like they’re drawing together, shrinking the space he has to move in, but his armor is worst of all. His chest plate is compressing him, making it hard to breathe. He needs to get it off. He needs to get it all off.

His fingers refuse to cooperate, clumsy on the release snaps. Slipping and sliding until he wants to scream. Somehow despite this, he still manages to claw every piece of hard carapace off. Throwing it far to the side until he can fill his lungs without feeling something pressing against his chest. Only then does he hear the soft click of approaching boots.

Shiro. Come to check on him. Make sure Keith isn’t having a meltdown, after his first real fight back. Won’t he be disappointed. Keith closes his eyes, reaches for that unobtainable calmness that will make his skin stop feeling like it’s vibrating with anticipation. Shiro won’t care he’s falling apart, but Keith does. He wants to stop and be better already.

He almost flinches when Shiro’s prosthetic hand rests on the crook of his neck, cold thumb rubbing against the skin right above his flight suit. He forces himself to relax, “I’m fine.” If he says it often enough, maybe it will be true.

There is an amused huff from behind him, “Really? Well that is a shame.” Keith’s eyes fly open. He tries to turn, but there is a harsh hand in his hair and the wall is rushing towards his face. Pain. Blackness nearly swallows his vision, then dancing spots of white bring it back.

He tries to get his feet back under him. The back of his hair feels like it’s being ripped out by its roots. He elbows backwards, but doesn’t connect. Kuro’s laugh is just as cruel and cold as he remembers.

A blow to his gut leaves him gasping, “Told you, I’d see you soon.” Kuro purrs. Keith can see him smiling at him patronizingly from the corner of his vision. The glowing yellow of the bastard’s eyes standing out particularly well. Kuro’s left both of Keith’s hands free. He’ll make him pay for that mistake. He throws himself at Kuro, feels the rip of hair from his scalp as his hands close in on the monster’s face. He’s going to gouge his eyes out, then beat his skull against the floor until it goes squish.

Kuro grabs at his wrists to stop him, but he has a perfectly good set of teeth left. Kuro’s the one to cry out in pain this time, as skin tears under his bite. When he’s tossed off, he takes a chunk of the man with him.

He rolls with the throw, ending on his feet. Spitting out the piece of flesh he took, he meets Kuro’s angry snarl with a bloody one of his own. He’s going to kill him or die trying. The only thing he’s certain of is one way or another, he won’t be taken captive again.

The sound of running feet catches both of their attentions. White armor with black accents, Shiro, the real one has arrived. Kuro barely gets his prosthetic arm up in time to block Shiro’s incoming glowing fist. Keith nearly continues the fight himself, before a stray blow melts a chunk of the wall. Shiro, Kuro, are always armed. The Galra metal as deadly as any weapon. If he’s going to join, he needs his sword, which is still attached to his armor a little ways down the hall.

He’s careful as he darts past the two. He won’t give Kuro the opportunity to make him the damsel in distress of this battle. The fight escalates on without him. He doesn’t turn back until his bayard is activated in his hand. Now he can do some damage.

Shiro and Kuro are not as evenly matched as he would have thought. Shiro maintains a slight edge, that if left alone would probably result in his victory. Assuming nothing changes. Kuro is viciously clever, though. Acting on that assumption will likely end in pain.

Keith waits, picks his moment. Kuro never fully gives him his back, but his lightly clothed side is on display. When both his arms are engaged fending off Shiro, Keith moves. Slicing, as Kuro dodges out of the way, cutting flesh enough to bleed but not deep enough to cripple.

Kuro tries to move to a better position to fight them off, but Shiro pushes into his guard and Keith harries him from the side. Until finally, Kuro doesn’t block fast enough and Keith’s blade slips past and buries into his gut. Kuro eyes go wide, chokes, stops. A glowing purple hand is coming out of his chest. Who hit him first? Keith or Shiro? There is no way to tell. Keith pulls his sword free. Kuro topples over backwards, a puppet with his strings cut.

The yellow in his eyes fade. Glow dissipating until all that’s left is dull grey eyes. Kuro has grey eyes. That shouldn’t bother him, but the face…without the Galra yellow, there isn’t a difference. Keith’s bayard clatters to the floor. The vibrations in his skin are back. His breath coming too quick.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice barely registers. He can’t look away from the slack jaw, the gaping wound, the lifeless eyes.

A cold hand touches him, “Don’t touch me!” Keith shouts, battering the metal away. Shiro’s face, for the second he sees it, is shocked, but the corpse calls his attention back. This shouldn’t bother him. He should be happy. Why isn’t he okay?

Shiro kneels down in front of him, blocking his view. Kneels? When did Keith sink to the ground? He doesn’t remember doing that, “You’re okay, baby. You are going to be okay.” Shiro says quietly. He doesn’t try to touch Keith again.

Shiro stays with him as he cries.

They eject Kuro’s body into a planet’s upper atmosphere. Letting him burn away into nothing. It’s grisly, but Pidge insists they keep his arm. They know so little about Shiro’s, that having a spare to pull apart is invaluable. He can’t argue with that logic even if he wants everything to do with that monster gone from the Castle.

Night, rest, can’t come soon enough.

Shiro, dressed in pajamas, is standing in the middle of their room. He’s probably thinking of offering to sleep on the floor again, as if being alone ever makes anything better. Keith grabs his bicep. Dragging him to the mattress and shoving him back against the wall. He curls up against him and pulls a blanket over both their heads, making his own little world with nobody but Shiro and him in it. He still can’t relax.

Shiro pets his hair with his warm human hand. He leaves his Galra one sticking outside of their little blanket world for now. He feels guilty, but he still appreciates the thought. He squeezes his eyes shut. Shiro presses small affectionate kisses to the creases between his eyebrows and the corners of his eyes until his breath hitches.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shiro whispers. Keith shakes his head. He wouldn’t know where to start, “It’s alright baby, I’ll be here if you ever do.” For once, he believes him.

“Thank you,” Keith whispers back. He wants to bury his face against Shiro’s neck, but his nose hurts too badly from being banged into the wall.

“Always,” Shiro places another small kiss on the top of his cheekbone, “I love you.” Keith’s cheeks heat up. Shiro could always say these sorts of things so easily.

Keith peeks up at him. Shiro’s looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in his world. He doesn’t think, he just catches Shiro’s lips with his own. The kiss isn’t deep, but it’s soft and loving, like how Shiro always treats him. He breaks just far enough away to whisper, “I love you too.” His lover’s smile can be seen in the crinkle of his eyes.

He wishes eternity could feel just like this.

#Sheith #shiro #keith #Voltron #Kuro #Lance #Allura #Hunk #Pidge #Kitten #my fic

99 notes · View notes