#shancefluff2018

Back during those precious few minutes of his return to Earth, Lance was the first person who didn’t flinch at the sight of his arm. He was the first person who reached out and shook his offered hand and didn’t cower at the sight of him as the other prisoners, whom he’d spent the past year of his life with, had. They feared him because they knew what he was capable of, they’d witnessed his exploits in the ring as the ‘Champion’, so favoured by the Galra he was given the gift of an unbeatable weapon. Lance hadn’t known any of that then, so he shook Shiro’s hand without any hesitation, but then he was dragged back into space, pulling four innocent bystanders along with him, and Lance saw everything. He saw what the arm was capable of, what Shiro was capable of. And yet Lance loves him. At least he says he does, and he hasn’t left him yet even if he does refuse to touch his right hand, so really Shiro should count his blessings. Sure, when they first started dating Lance would always hold his hand, and didn’t seem to mind which hand he grabbed at first. But every time he held his prosthesis, Lance would shudder, and he would pull his hand away sooner than he would have had he been holding Shiro's left hand. Now, even if Shiro offers Lance his right hand, Lance will distract him, dance around and grab his left in a way that looks completely normal and unintentional. But Shiro knows. He looks at his black fingers melding into a silver palm. Apart from the unnatural colours, when it’s not activated and glowing purple, it looks pretty unremarkable. There’s no hint to what it can truly do, and it’s not as if it feels that different. The metal palm may be hard, but his fingers are soft and dexterous, and he’s always been careful to adjust his grip with his prosthesis, so he doesn't squeeze too hard (the hand has too much power. He doesn't think he's ever done something like accidentally hurt Lance. Has he?   Shiro wiggles his fingers, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Lance flop down on the sofa next to him. On his left. There’s enough room either side of him, but Lance, of course, chooses to sit on his left. “Penny for your thoughts?” Shiro doesn’t answer and just wiggles his fingers again. He shouldn’t let it get to him, he should be happy that Lance loves him despite the arm, even if he refuses to touch it, but- Lance’s reaches for his hand, his left, and he laces their fingers together drawing Shiro’s hand towards him. “Shiro, you can tell me.” Lance knows that’s something is wrong, and he’s worried. He cares. It shows in everything he says and does so how can Shiro possible complain about one little thing and risk making him feel bad? “It’s nothing.” Lance frowns. He isn’t buying it. “Shiro.” He tugs Shiro’s hand and leans closer to him Shiro tries to lean away. He almost wants to pull his hand free from Lance’s grip but he can’t. That would be too suspicious. “Babe.” Shiro feels trapped. There’s no escape. “Fine. Why won’t you hold my hand?” Lance blinks at him slowly. “But I am holding your hand.” “Not that hand, this hand,” Shiro brandishes his prosthesis towards Lance. Lance leans back a little, staring, his eyes wide. It takes him a moment to recover, and all he can do is focus on Shiro’s prosthetic hand, eyes wavering. “Shiro, why didn’t you tell me this was bothering you?” Lance looks pained, guilty, and it’s precisely the thing Shiro wanted to avoid. “I just...forget it, it’s stupid.” Shiro drops his hand back to his side, tucking the prosthesis against his thigh, away from Lance. “It’s not stupid.” Lance lets go of Shiro’s left hand and reaches across him, snatching Shiro’s right hand before he can properly tuck it away. He tries, but Lance can’t quite suppress the shudder that goes through him. “Do you think I’ve been avoiding touching your hand because it’s a prosthetic or something?” He asks gently, his fingers lacing with Shiro black digits, his palm pressing against the silver plate of Shiro’s. “I don’t know,” Shiro answers in a small voice. He can’t look at Lance because that is exactly what he’s been thinking, and he doesn’t want to admit it. Lance may act the fool, but he’s far more perceptive than people give him credit for. Too much so sometimes. “Shiro, it has nothing to do with that. It’s just your hand is really cold.” “Cold?” Shiro lifts his head. Of all the reasons he’d considered, that thought had never crossed his mind. “Yeah, and you know how much I hate the cold. As soon as the temperature drops even one degree I need to put like five more layers on. If I hold your right hand for too long, my fingers go numb.” It’s true. Shiro remembers the ice plant they visited and how Lance shivered even when the planet's inhabitants gave him two thick fur capes to wear. “I never noticed.” “Of course you didn’t. You’d be ok walking around in the snow in shorts and a t-shirt,” Lance rolls his eyes. “What about when we make love?” Lance flushes a bright scarlet and looks away. “Well, that’s different. Your cold hand against my hot skin feels really good then,” he squirms, and even though Shiro didn’t think it was possible, he goes even redder. Shiro lets out a breath in a huff of laughter. “I’m such an idiot. Sorry.” “Hey, why are you apologising?” “For thinking that you would avoid holding my hand because of what it is.” “Hey.” Lance squeezes his hand and leans forward, bumping his head against Shiro’s. “I’m the one who never said anything, and I never said anything because I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but I didn’t notice it was bothering you, so I’m the one who needs to apologise.” “You don’t- wait what surprise?” Lance lets out a long sigh and groans, tilting his head back. “Well, I guess it’s almost ready, so I may as well show you now.” Lance jumps to his feet, and he’s still holding Shiro’s hand. His right. He smiles, tugs on Shiro's hand, and Shiro rises from the sofa to follow him. “You know, you can let go. If it’s too cold.” “Nope. Even if my hand freezes around yours and I end up holding your hand forever, I’m not letting go!” Shiro laughs, and Lance leads him through the winding hallways to their room. He doesn’t let go of Shiro’s hand once. “Ok, close your eyes.” Lance orders when they’re in the room and Shiro does as he’s told. He feels a brush of lips and hot breath against the back of his hand (his prosthesis is surprisingly sensitive, he can feel everything) before Lance lets go. He hears a shuffle of footsteps, then rummaging. It sounds like Lance is digging something out from under the bed. There’s a bump, a muttered curse, and Shiro dutifully keeps his eyes closed tight. “You can open them now.” Lance is holding a box, his gaze cast down to the side. He looks nervous and a little embarrassed. Shiro looks into the box and studies its contents. Gloves, several of them. Many are black, made of different materials, some wool, some thick heavy fabric, others thinner and more decorative. There are several with different patterns, one pair that looks purple, another in varying shades of grey, and various others. “I figured if you wore gloves, at least on your right hand, then I wouldn’t be able to feel the cold and I can hold either hand. I didn’t want to just give you one glove just in case you didn’t like it or something, and I didn’t want you to feel obligated to wear it, so I’ve been working on making a selection for you, so you can just not wear the ones you don’t like, or you can just not wear any of them at all I mean-” Lance is rambling, and he’ll go on for ages if Shiro doesn’t do something. He reaches into the box and pulls out a glove. It’s made of soft blue wool with the words ‘Lance’s No. 1 Fan’ woven in with a darker blue. “I like this one.” The box drops to the floor, along with Lance’s jaw. “You weren’t supposed to see that one!” He yelps and he tries to snatch the glove away, but Shiro holds it out of his reach. “Why not? Is there someone else who claims to be your number one fan? Because if there is I may have to have words.” “No, of course not. Please give it back.” Shiro puts the glove on his right hand instead. The words stretch over the back of his hand standing out proudly. Lance’s arms drop to his sides, and he huffs (pouts). “You’re embarrassing,” he grumbles. Shiro laughs and cups Lance’s cheek with his gloved hand. “So are you,” he grins before kissing Lance.

Lance sucked in a breath, startled. Shiro could picture the way he would blink quickly, those pretty blue eyes wide as they darted from side to side before settling. He smiled fondly at the mental image. “Sorry, Shiro. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Red just needed something.” Shiro can’t hear the Red lion, not like her pilot can, but he got a sense that Red huffed in indignation at that. “I know, sorry girl just play along. Please,” Lance whispered. Shiro pretended not to hear. A moment later the Red lion rested her chin on the ground, her jaw opening and Lance stepped out. “How’s it going, Shiro? Did you need something?” Lance asked with forced cheer and a false swagger to his step as he walked towards Shiro. He lifted his helmet off his head, and his hair stood up at the sides with a hint of static. Lance shook his head, which only made his hair messier. “I was wondering if we could have that talk now?” Lance stopped. “Oh. Right, of course. Talk.” He drummed his fingers against his helmet, eyes darting around like a trapped animal before they landed on the flower in Shiro’s hand, and froze. “You still have that?” “Yeah. It survived the battle pretty well even though Black got knocked around a bit.” Shiro heard a purr in the back of his mind, his lion proudly admitting she helped protect the flower. Shiro thanked her silently before turning his attention back to Lance. “I think I should give this back to you though. May I?” Lance, not understanding what Shiro was really asking, nodded dumbly and slowly lifted his hand to take the flower, but Shiro stepped forward his hand (with the flower) going to Lance's head. He smoothed down the short, flyaway hairs with the tips of his fingers, and then tucked the flower behind his ear again. “There. It really does look better with you.” For a moment, Lance forgot to breathe. “Can we go somewhere now, or would you rather get change first?” Shiro shuffled his feet, his grip on his helmet tightening, suddenly nervous. “Oh. No, we can go now.” Lance sucked in a breath and nodded his head. The flower bounced up and down over his ear. “Great, great. Good. Let’s go.” Shiro turned abruptly and marched off, leading the way. Behind him, he heard Lance’s shuffling footsteps follow him. - ----------- Shiro lead them to a small side room that few ever visit, so it guaranteed some level of privacy, as long as no one came looking for them. There was a large window that looked out into space, a plush yet small sofa and nothing much else. It was a room for relaxation. Shiro sat on the far corner of the sofa, and Lance took a seat on the opposite end, putting as much distance between him and Shiro as the small sofa would allow. Shiro didn’t take any offence to that, in fact, he was glad. If Lance had sat too close, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get the words out. “There’s a field close to my Grandfather’s house that was always covered in blue forget-me-nots. I grew up there, playing in that field. It’s my favourite place on Earth.” “So that was your…” Lance turned to face him. His eyes seemed darker, deeper in the low light of the room. “I’ve always wanted to take the person I fell in love with there. It was special to me and seemed like the perfect place for a romantic confession or something. I was starting to think I’d never get the chance to do that.” Lance’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. It took Shiro a moment to realise he’d pretty much confessed right then. This wasn’t how he ever planned to tell him. “I like you, a lot,” Shiro added quickly. It was too late now, so he had no choice but to say it, so there was no room for doubt before Lance can misunderstand or question what happened in the dream and what Shiro meant. “This wasn’t how I planned to tell you. I didn’t think I’d ever tell you. I thought you still like Allura, and I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings.” Shiro bowed his head, looking down at his hands clenched together on his lap. They were shaking. “Your feelings aren’t a burden.” Lance slid closer, the sofa dipping under his weight. “And I liked Allura, I still like Allura, but we’re friends. I know she’ll never see me as anything more and I accepted that ages ago.” From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw him lean forward, his hand raised as if about to reach out, but then he thought better of it and pulled back. “I’ve always admired you, you were my hero, so far out of my league, I never dreamed I’d even be in the same room as you let along fighting alongside you. But I’m just, a spare part, sometimes I think I shouldn’t even be here, I don’t deserve-” Shiro grabbed Lance’s hand. “Lance, you are so much more than that! If it weren’t for you, the Galra would have followed me to Earth and taken the Blue lion, and this war would be lost. She chose you, out of all of us, and you brought us here in one piece. You pick us up when we're down, you supported Keith when he was struggling to lead, and you’ve been amazing as my right hand. Lance, you are everything.” The force in Shiro’s words took his breath away, the conviction in them shook him. Shiro smiled and squeezed his hand. “I don’t expect you to answer now, or ever if you don’t want to. It that kiss was just a whim you went along with because you thought it was a dream I won’t be offended, but I want you to know I meant every moment, and everything I’ve said. I love you.” “I love you too.” The words were so soft, barely above a whisper that Shiro almost didn’t hear them, even Lance didn't seem to realise he’s spoken at first, but in the silence of the room they carry, loud and clear. Lance snapped out of his daze with a blink, and he squeezed Shiro’s hand in return. “I love you too!” He repeated, the words spoken with pride and confidence as if it was something he’d only now been able to admit, even to himself. Shiro laughed, a chuckle of relief that almost broke in a sob. “Can I kiss you?” Lance gave an enthusiastic nod in reply, so Shiro cupped his cheek (the flower still sat above his ear), and he pulled Lance in for a kiss that felt both like a dream, and more real than anything in his life up until then. ------- It isn’t until many years later, the war is over, and they’ve returned to Earth, that Shiro feels brave enough to ask Lance to marry him. Lance says yes. Forget-me-nots are a major theme of their wedding, the little blue flowers woven into every detail, and when they leave the wedding venue together, join by vows to love each other for the rest of their lives, they are showered with a rain of the delicate little blue petals thrown by their family and friends, and they face another beginning together surrounded by the flowers.

millimetres away from touching. Lance lifted his hand onto his lap and curled forward. “Oh. Sorry, was I out for long.” Lance isn't sure why he's apologising to this impossible dream, it is just a dream, but even a dream, it's still Shiro and he feels bad for making him wait. Was Shiro really waiting for him? “No, not long.” Lance keeps staring ahead, afraid to look at the side, at Shiro. He focuses on the side expanse of blue that fades into lush, green fields stretching out ahead of him. In the distance there are mountains. The air is crisp but fresh, and as he sucks in a deep breath, Lance realises this is a dream of Earth (it feels so real). While many of the planets they've been too had a breathable atmosphere none were quite the same as Earth, and before he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint exactly how they were different, but he knows now, he couldn't put it into words, but this was unmistakably Earth. The breeze rustled the grass, whispering again drawing Lance out of his spell. “It’s nice here.” “Mmm, I wanted to bring you here.” “What?” Lanced turned to Shiro, sure the other man said something but it had only been a whisper, and it was carried off by the breeze before he could catch it. “Nothing,” Shiro smiled that warm, real smile that made Lance forget he might have heard anything at all. The smile took Lance’s breath away. “Ok.” It's Earth, but it's not anywhere Lance knows. It doesn't look at all familiar, probably something the dream pieced together from fragments of his memories, but Lance decides to play along with this dream. This fantasy. “What were we doing here, again? Before I fell asleep?” He mumbled with a yawn, pretending he's still half asleep. “Enjoying the view.” Its spoken more as a suggestion, as if Shiro isn’t quite sure why they’re there either. Well, this is Lance’s dream, so it’s no wonder this Shiro, conjured up by the dream, a mere figment of his imagination, didn’t know.   But it's nice. A movement from the corner of his eyes caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Shiro picking a flower, rolling the delicate stem between his fingers. Shiro considered the flower, watching the small, delicate blue petals spin, lost in thought. “You know, I always did love the colour blue,” he whispered, but Lance heard the words this time, and then Shiro turns to face him, fixing the other man with such a steady, searing gaze it made him freeze. The long grass rustles around them as Shiro leaned forward, reaching out to tuck the little flower behind Lance’s ear. His fingers ghost along the line of the other man’s jaw and Lance forgets to breathe. Shiro’s fingers are warm and callous, the touch so real. His lungs ache (he was still holding his breath, but did he really need to breathe in a dream?), and his heart races when Shiro’s hand curls around his cheek, pulling him forward. “You're eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen.” Shiro’s voice shook as if he was nervous, the words whispered against Lance’s lips, and then Shiro was kissing him. Shiro was kissing him. It was a dream. A wild dream showing him his deepest, wildest fantasies, but not something that could ever become reality. That merchant had been toying with him, and this was all just some big joke at his expense. Lance had no idea why they were doing it, but he may as well enjoy the moment. It might be the only one he ever had. Shiro pulled back before Lance could reciprocate, his lips leaving Lance’s with a small pop, and for a brief, horrible moment Lance thinks he lost his one and only chance. But Shiro is still so close, just enough space between them for him to meet Lance’s eyes with a question, searching them for an answer he finds as Lance smiles and curls his hand around the back of Shiro’s head, throwing caution to the wind to he pulls Shiro in for another kiss. They fall to the ground tangled together, the tall grass and vibrant flowers high above them, enveloping them, hiding them. Shiro braced himself on his hands and knees above Lance, so his weight isn't resting on the other man, but Lance arched against him and pulled him down as they continue to kiss, the press of lips getting harder and sloppier, so Shiro lets his body rest flush against the willing one beneath him. “What if someone sees?” Shiro teased, a laugh bubbling passed his lips when he pulled back to take a breath. He doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against Lance’s, and his smile now can only be described as giddy. “No one’s going to see us.” And they kiss again amongst the dancing flowers. - - - - When Lance woke his cheeks were damp. He lifted the face mask and tossed it to the floor, rubbing the back of his hand across his wet eyes. It had been such a beautiful dream, why was he crying? Because he wanted it so much. He wants to lie in bed all day and feel sorry for himself, the ache in his chest feels so heavy that he’s not sure he can get up anyway, but then he saw the time. “Quiznk!” He’s late for breakfast. The team decided a while ago that they will all eat breakfast together. Promptly, at the same time every day. Hunk, in particular, has gotten pretty strict about it. So Lance jumps out of bed and forgoes his morning routine, throwing on the blue robe over his pyjamas. He can freshen up later, after breakfast. Running down the corridor towards the dining hall, he almost crashed into Shiro in his hurry. He only just managed to come to a skidding stop, just in the nick of time. “Shiro. Hey, what are you doing here?” Lance is sure his voice cracked, but he acts as normal as he can, hiding behind a flustered smile. The dream was still so fresh, the warmth of Shiro’s lips lingering on his own. “Lance? I'm, uh, off to breakfast.” Shiro seemed flustered, his clothes rumpled and not quite sitting right as if he's gotten ready in a rush. “Looks like we’re both late then,” Lance laughed, running one hand through his hair, the other tugging at his robe, pulling it together at the front. His eyes dart around, not quite meeting Shiro’s. He can’t. Not after that dream. “Looks like it.” Shiro chuckled, deep and smooth. A sound that made Lance go weak at the knees. “Oh, you have something...” Shiro's fingers loom into his field of vision and reach behind his ear. When Shiro pulls his hand back, he held a single blue forget-me-not. They both stare at the flower, speechless. When Shiro woke in that field, he had been so sure it was a dream. A familiar scene from his childhood, his favourite place on Earth what else could it be? And it was such a welcome change from the usual flashes of memory from the gladiator ring or the dreams tinged with anxiety that don't grant him any rest, that he didn’t even question it when he found Lance lying beside him in the grass. He'd looked so beautiful, nestled between all those forget-me-nots. “That...wasn't a dream?” Shiro was the first to speak, letting out the words under his breath. But Lance heard them. “Dream? Wait, you had the same dream?” They looked at each other, and again Lance forgot how to breathe, the air catching in his throat. An alarm blared, startling them. 'Paladins, to your lions now.' “We...we gotta go,” Lance stuttered, taking a step back ready to run but Shiro's free hand shot out and curled around his wrist, stopping him.   “Can we...talk about this later?” Shiro squeezed a little tighter then loosened his grip, and for a moment he almost looked afraid. Afraid of rejection. “Yeah, of course.” Shiro's hand fell away, his fingers brushing against Lance's hand and Lance curls his fingers, catching Shiro's for just a moment before they let go. They run to their lions, the shrill alarm drowning out the sound of their racing heartbeats. Shiro held on to the flower as if it’s a precious treasure. He took it with him into his lion, tucking it safely into a groove on his console where it stayed for the entire battle like a good luck charm. The flower will die soon, even if he puts it in water, but as they fly back to the Castle, battle won, Shiro looks at the little flower and hopes that what is blooming between him and Lance will keep growing. He's been waiting for it.

taking their bows, all four of the mice ran forward and run up onto Lance’s shoulders, nuzzling his cheeks. Laughing, Lance fed them each a few kernels of popcorn, and then they move to Shiro’s shoulders, squeaking in his ear before they leave. Matt approached them next, standing in front of the white screen as Keith had. “Now we will soon be starting the main feature, but if you guys need a bathroom break or something now’s the time to say.” “Nope.” “We’re good.” Shiro and Lance chorus at the same time. They looked at each other, laughed and then kissed before turning their attention back to Matt. “Right. Well as soon as we start the film, we’ll all be leaving so you two can be as gross as you want. Enjoy.” Matt dodged the pillow Shiro threw at him and left with a cheery wave. The light dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of the fairy lights to illuminate them, and a projection lit up the white screen. “You know they’re still watching us, right?” Lance said. He threw a kernel of popcorn up into the air and caught it with his mouth. “Oh yeah, but I think I know how to make them go away,” Shiro smirked. He moved quickly, pushing Lance down he pinned the other man beneath him on the pillows. Lance shrieked in surprise. “Mr Shirogane. I’m not that kind of guy!” Shiro leaned forward and kissed the crooked smile right off Lance’s lips. “Wow, ok, I do not need to see this.” Keith barked. “Same. I’m out.” Pidge chimed in, and the two of them were the first t make a break for the door, almost tripping over each other in their rush to get out. Hunk followed behind them, muttering under his breath, his face flushed. “Yes, perhaps we should leave them too it now,” Allura agreed. She hooked one hand around Coran's elbow, the other around Matt's, and smartly escorted both men out of the training rooms observation deck. They couldn’t hear the words, but they heard the murmur of voices, hurried footsteps and a door closing. “I think they’re gone,” Shiro breathed against Lance’s lips. Lance hummed softly, pursing his lips to brush a chaste kiss against Shiro’s before gently pressing a hand against the other man’s chest. “This is great and all, but I’m actually kinda curious about that movie. Can we continue this when it’s finished?” Shiro laughed and stole another quick kiss before he sat up, pulling Lance with him. “I’m kinda curious about it too,” he agreed. They adjusted themselves, Lance now sitting in Shiro’s lap, Shiro’s arms wrapped around his waist, his chin resting on Lance’s shoulder. The movie was strange, and they talk most of the way through it, complaining that some things just aren’t realistic or that a certain character's behaviour is just plain dumb, but as soon as the credits roll Shiro wasted no time in pulling Lance into a deep, tender kiss, which Lance happily leaned into.

Lance lets out a whine, and he screws his eyes shut, so he doesn't have to look at his reflection in the mirror right in front of him. He lets go of Shiro's wrists and clenches both hands into tight fists, holding them in his lap. His body is tense and rigid, but at least he's not fidgeting anymore. Really his hair hasn't grown out that much, he just needs to snip off a few inches that threaten to each Lance's shoulders, and he'll have the smart, cropped style that he favours once more, so Shiro picks up the thin silver scissors from the counter and gets to work. He hums softly, the snip of the scissors cutting across the tune with a deliberate precision, each cut small and careful. It's clear that Shiro is being mindful of what he wants, he's taking his time, snipping away at his hair little by little, but Lance cant help let out another whine, his eyes scrunching up tighter. He can feel tiny strands of hair fall down the back of his neck and land on his shoulders even though he has a towel draped over them. It makes him feel more nervous. Shiro's fingers slide through his hair slowly, separating it into smaller section before snipping the ends. Snip, snip, snip. He continues humming and continues to run his fingers through Lance's hair as he works, and under his delicate ministrations, the tension slowly unwinds from Lance's body. His eyes remain closed, however. “Almost done,” Shiro announces after several long, tense moments. The pause between each snip of the scissors has become more intermittent. Shiro hovers at his side, carefully snipping Lance's bangs so they frame his face perfectly before moving to the other side. His humming is more distracted, with the occasional pause as he scrutinises what he's done to make sure it's just right. “Ok.” Shiro whips the towel off Lance's shoulders, one hand brushing the back of Lance's neck catching any stray strands. “Done!” It's the cue for Lance to open his eyes, but they remain closed, and instead, he curls forward as if he wants to huddle up in a ball. “If you ask me it looks great,” Shiro says proudly his fingers dancing along the back of Lance's neck, “especially now that I can see this part of you.” He bends forward, pressing a kiss to the nape of Lance's neck. “Shiro!” Lance yelps, his eyes snap open, but before he can say anything more he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, and he holds his breath. “Oh...it actually looks good.” “What do you mean actually? I'm good at cutting hair! I cut my own hair that time you know.” Shiro squeezes Lance's shoulders and pretends to sound offended, but Lance can see his reflection in the mirror behind him, smiling. “I would have helped you cut your hair then, you know.” Lance turns to look over his shoulder, soft and serious, his eyes dark. “I know, but it was something I had to do myself.” Shiro leans forward and kisses him, taking away any feelings of guilt or sorrow Lance might have before they can go any further. “Now then, you like it? So what does this haircut say about you?”   Lance laughs, tilts his head back and lifts one arm hooking it around Shiro's neck. “It says I have the best boyfriend in the entire universe,” he whispers against Shiro's lips before pulling him for another kiss.

“Yup. July twenty-eight,” Lance says with his hands on his hips, his head held high because he’s memorised his date of birth and will immediately give it out if prompted. But giving this information to Shiro prompts a very important question.   “Shiro, when is your birthday?” Shiro bows his head and shuffles his feet. “My birthday is weird…” he mumbles and then proceeds to try and explain to Lance how his birthday is on a day that only exists once every four years. Shiro is used to it. His parents explained it to him clearly, and it's kinda cool how they will let him pick if he'd rather have his birthday on the 28th of February or the first of March. He's only had his birthday on the actual day once so far, and really it wasn't any different, so it's not that weird. But most kids their age don't really understand the concept of a leap year, it's not something they need to know or particularly care about. Lance’s eyes are watering. “So ….you don't have a birthday every year.” Shiro drops the invitation and carefully opened envelope because even though they are precious gifts from Lance, the fact that Lance is crying is even more important. He rubs at Lance’s cheeks with clumsy hands, trying to wipe away the tears the way his mother does. Lance shuffles and curls into him. “I still get s birthday party and everything. It's just not the right day sometimes.” “But it's not your birthday,” Lance says emphatically. He can't quite put his frustration into words, but it's not right. It's not fair. Shiro having to move his birthday around is just so sad, and the twenty-eighth of February and the first of March are not birthdays. Lance doesn't know anyone who has a birthday on those days, at least think he does, so they are just like any other day. They are not special, and Shiro deserves to have a day that is special. “Shiro, did your birthday happen this year?” Lance asks suddenly, an idea forming.  The twenty-eighth of February isn't a special day, but the twenty-eighth of July is. “I had a party.” Shiro answers because he doesn't want to upset Lance, but his hesitant answer tells Lance all he needs to know. “Then when your birthday doesn't exist you can share mine!” Lance says fiercely, grabbing Shiro's hands tightly. “You can share my party too. I'll tell mama.” And no matter what Shiro says after that, Lance’s mind is made up. Lance talks to his mother. She knows how stubborn her son is, and the glint in his eye tells her there is no talking him around. She speaks to Shiro’s mother, and together the two women plan the unexpected addition to the party. Neither woman minds, happy their sons are close and such good friends. There are two cakes at the party, one for Lance, and one for Shiro. Both have candles. The addition of another birthday boy confuses some of the parents and gives them a laugh when the story is explained to them. The children take it in their stride and wish both boys a happy birthday just as cheerfully, and sing just as loudly for both. The pile of presents are mostly for Lance, but his mother has snuck a few in there for Shiro too, so he doesn't feel left out. They open their presents together, and Shiro doesn't care that his pile of presents is smaller. For one thing, Lance shares all if his gifts with him, but even if he didn't get a single present Shiro thinks he already has the greatest present he could ask for. Lance, his best friend. “Mama, can Shiro sleepover?” Lance asks when the party is finished, and everyone else has gone home. Lance is holding Shiro’s hand, and his grip suggests he won't let go. “I think that will be ok. If his mother allows it,” the woman smiles and then shares a look with the other woman. They thought this might happen, so Shiro's mother brought his pyjamas with them, just in case.   Both boys are tuckered out after the party, and as soon as Shiro is given permission to stay, they go to bed without complaint. Tucked up in Lance’s rocket ship bed, they fall asleep still holding hands.