“And for the tasks we have today…” Allura says, flipping to a page in her sparkly pink planner (a gift from Pidge and Lance via the space mall, that Allura loved to pieces), “we need two people for a supply run, and one person to do that diplomatic mission for the Coalitions newest ally.”
“Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”
“Alright,” Shiro says, “I know Pidge and Hunk have that hyrdroponic system they’re hoping to work on today, so that leaves them out.”
“Coran mentioned he wanted to test his new training sim for any errors before he has us try it,” Allura adds.
“So that leaves you, me, Keith, and Lance available,” Shiro summarizes.
The words aren’t even out of his mouth before Allura’s hand fly to her nose: “Dibs on free time!” she shouts, and Shiro scowls.
“Not fair,” he complains, but Allura just shrugs at him.
“Bulk up the reflexes, beefcake,” she says, and dear Lord he needs to keep Pidge as far away from the princess as possible, apparently.
“Fine,” Shiro concedes with a sigh. “I guess I’ll go on the supply run.” He grins, suddenly remembering something that makes him very happy about this arrangement, actually.
Allura narrows her eyes. “Why are you happy about that. You should not be happy about that. You hate supply runs.”
Shiro rubs his hands together like a cartoon villain, because he feels like one, and it’s great. “I do hate supply runs. But. I was up early this morning, and I happened to see Keith come out of Lance’s room instead of his own, and I am suddenly very grateful for several hours locked in a pod with him, where he cannot leave the conversation and I can be as annoying as possible.”
“Hey, you withheld information! That’s not fair! If I had known there was klance drama I would’ve taken the supply run!”
Shiro smiles smugly at her. “Bulk up on the reconnaissance, beefcake,” he taunts.
Allura rolls her eyes. “It sounds dorky when you say it.”
Unfortunately she is correct, but Shiro left his dignity behind on Earth several years ago, so it truly does not matter.
“Don’t care,” Shiro says serenely. “Anyways, that leaves Lance for the diplomatic mission, which is good. He’s great at those, and he seems to like them. Well, I think he does.”
Allura raises an eyebrow. “You think?”
“I genuinely cannot get a read on him. Every time I give him a solo diplomatic mission, he gets this — pinched expression, almost? But then he gets all excited about making friends, so. I’m not sure how to interpret that one.”
“That is strange,” Allura agrees. “He’s usually pretty straightforward.”
“I know! But he does a really good job on the missions, so I think he’s happy with them? If he asks me to stop then I will, but until then…”
“No, I think he’s fine. He might just be nervous, you know he sometimes doubts himself.”
“Oh, that makes sense. I’ll make sure to remind him that we’re proud of him.”
“Good. We’re done here, then? I have free time to enjoy.”
Shiro sticks his tongue out at her. “Yes, you horrible cheater.”
She smirks back at him, gathering her sparkly planner and several dozen gel pens up before prancing out of the briefing room, wiggling her fingers in a smug little wave, because she is a horrible jerk.
Shiro rolls his eyes fondly, pulling up the files for the diplomatic mission and sending Lance a quick message on the comms, asking him to come down. It’s really only a sort of official welcoming into the Coalition; getting paperwork signed and meeting all necessary government officials, which is why it’s a one-paladin job. And Lance is one of their best in terms of socializing, so he gets sent on these missions often.
“Is that the mission folder?”
The voice comes suddenly, right next to his ear, making Shiro screech and jump so hard he nearly falls out of his chair.
“Jesus Christ, Holy Joseph, and the Mother Mary!” he shouts, pressing a hand on top of his galloping heart. He glares at the perpetrator. “Why do you keep doing that, Lance?!”
“S — sorry,” Lance tries, but he’s laughing to much for Shiro to buy it.
“You are not sorry, you little jackass,” Shiro snaps, but there is very little heat behind it. “You enjoy doing that every time.”
“I would enjoy it less if you had a less funny reaction.”
“My reaction is not that funny.”
“Shiro, you act like an astonished old Catholic lady. It’s funny every time.”
“It’s not that funny! Lots of people yell the lord’s name in vain when they’re startled!”
“Shiro, you’re a Buddhist.”
“Which is why it’s okay for me to do it! It’s not a sin for me!”
“Whatever, you goober,” Lance says. “Tell me about the mission.”
Shiro glares at Lance one last time, just so he knows he is Not Forgiven, before moving on.
“Right. The newest planet to join the Coalition — planet Juyin — needs our official welcoming spiel, and you’re my best bet to get that done. You’re very good at making people at ease.” Shiro makes sure to slip in a compliment, keeping his and Allura’s conversation in mind.
Lance still gets the pinched expression.
“Okay,” he says, and turns his gaze towards the file, biting his lip as he reads it over.
Shiro is familiar with the routine. Lance will read the file carefully, every word, then ask Shiro a million questions about the planet’s cultural norms — “Is eye contact seen as a form of aggression?” “Am I allowed to speak without asking permission, or is that offensive?” “Can I wear my paladin armour or do I need to get fancy clothes?” “Is there a type of greeting I should memorize?” — that are very thoughtful, and that Shiro can never answer.
(They usually end up asking Coran.)
Then Lance will slowly lose his pinched expression as he learns more about the planet’s culture, getting excited about all the people he’s going to meet an inevitably befriend, and then he’s off to complete the mission with ease. (After which he comes home and immediately ducks into his room, because “I’ve been smiling all day, Shiro, I need to do some extra skincare or I’ll get wrinkles. Do you want me to get wrinkles?”)
Lance finishes reading the file, then turns to face Shiro. Shiro braces himself for an onslaught of questions, and readies himself to message Coran —
“Is this your way of quietly kicking me off Voltron?”
Lance swallows roughly, eyes trained on his fidgety hands.
“Um, I asked if this is your way of kicking me off the team,” Lance repeats.
Shiro has never felt more like his brain was completely empty, because he has no fucking clue what to say.
“No, I got that,” he says, unsure how to proceed. “I just don’t understand where it’s coming from, buddy.”
“Well, you’re setting me up to fail, right? Giving me missions that I can’t do very well until I inevitably screw up, so then you have a real reason to get rid of me?”
Shiro feels completely lost. What is going on?
“Lance, I don’t understand. Why would I ever want you off my team?”
Lance shrugs. His eyes are still downcast, but to Shiro’s horror, a tear drips down his cheek.
“I dunno. I can’t really offer much, not like everyone else. And I’m frustrating and annoying and I mess up a lot and I’m not very smart and most people only tolerate me because they have to and —”
“Lance, breathe,” Shiro interrupts, scrambling forward to kneel in front of Lance, holding his hands tightly. “In and out, buddy, just like I’m doing. Take a minute. In and out. Just like that. Good, okay? You’re doing great.”
The tears don’t stop when Lance stops hyperventilating; if anything, they drip down faster.
Shiro has no idea how the situation slipped from him so fast.
“Lance, no one is frustrated with you, or annoyed. You’re plenty smart. No one ‘puts up with you’, we hang out with because we like you. Where’s this coming from, kiddo?”
Lance shrugs, sniffling. “You keep sending me on missions I can’t do right. When I fail, you’re not going to say it, obviously, but then you’ll have an excuse to tell me that I can’t be the blue paladin anymore and it’ll be out of your hands.”
Shiro is so confused, and a definitely little panicky. Where on Earth — or in space — is this coming from? How long has Lance been feeling this way?
And, most importantly: how can Shiro fix it?
“Lance,” Shiro says gently, “I send you on these types of missions because you’re very good at them, and because you always look excited about meeting new people. I am absolutely not looking for a reason to get rid of you; and even if I was, I would never be so underhanded about it. I promise. But seriously, hun, where is this coming from?”
Lance’s chin trembles, and more tears stream down his face. He untangles his hands from Shiro’s to press them tightly to his face. “That’s what Iverson did,” he says, muffled. “He would give me simulations that we’re different than everyone else’s and really hard for me, because he knew I’d mess up and then he’d have more of an excuse to kick me out of fighter class. I figured you were doing the same because you only really send me on the solo diplomatic missions, so.”
Shiro feels an intense mix of fury, guilt, and sorrow whirl around in his stomach. Fury because fuck Iverson — Shiro has always hated that man — and everything he’s done to Lance, who most certainly did not deserve it, and especially not as a young, still-learning kid. Guilt because he cannot believe he’s been putting Lance through this — however accidentally — and not noticed. And sorrow because, obviously, Lance is hurting, and he hates it when his kids are hurting.
“I’m not doing what Iverson is doing, Lance,” Shiro promises quietly. “I send you on these missions because I never realized you struggled with them. I thought you liked them.”
Lance peeks through his fingers to glance at Shiro, brown eyes wet and rimmed with red. When he evidently decides that Shiro is telling the truth, he drops his hands from his face, slipping them back under Shiro’s. Shiro takes the hint, squeezing them again.
“I like the part where I get to meet new people,” Lance says. “But it’s hard because I can’t read human social cues very well, let alone alien ones, so I always think I’m going to fuck up and then they’re going to get mad and call off the alliance and then their people will be unprotected and it will be all my fault. And I do fuck up all the time, too. I keep having to make up lies so they don’t know I fucked up. Like, last week I had to tell the S’eetns that plugging your ears when someone is talking to you is a human custom that means you find your conversation partner very intriguing, because they had really screechy voices and I couldn’t handle it and they got mad. I was so scared they wouldn’t believe me because I’m not very good at lying, but they did, but I was still nervous, and —”
Shiro is the king of all dumbasses. Like, seriously. He’s an idiot.
No shit Lance is having a hard time on these missions. God.
“Lance,” Shiro interrupts, “are you autistic?”
“I didn’t know that, kiddo.”
Lance blinks. “Oh. I thought everyone knew.”
“Lance, if I knew, I never — not in a million years — would send you into intentionally stressful situations alone. Never.”
“Oh,” Lance says again, in a much smaller voice. “That makes a lot more sense. I didn’t think you were a jerk, I just thought I was being a screwup and you didn’t know how to tell me.”
“You are not a screwup, Lance McClain,” Shiro says firmly. “You are exceptional. I mean — look at you! You spent God knows how long doing these missions perfectly, even though it was unbelievably hard for you. That’s incredible.”
For the first time since this whole mess came to light, Lance smiles. It’s a small smile, but it’s a start.
“I guess so,” he says. His smile drops. “Does that mean I have to do this mission anyway?”
“Absolutely not, Lance, God,” Shiro says, aghast. “I’m proud of your strength, but I’m not going to make you keep suffering now that I know that you are, okay? God. I’m so sorry, Lance.”
Lance shrugs. “It’s fine. I liked the socializing part, anyway, so it wasn’t all bad. Besides, it’s not like I can never do a diplomatic mission again, or anything. I just maybe need to do it with a partner so they can tell me if I’m being a weirdo; that way I won’t be so scared that I’m going to fuck up all the time.”
“It’s not fine, Lance, and you’re not a weirdo.”
Lance makes a face. “I mean, objectively —”
“No, Lance. Listen to me. Are you listening to me?”
Lance looks at him with wide eyes, shocked by his intensity. He nods.
“You’re not a weirdo. I mean it. You’re just fine the way you are. And it’s not fine that I put you through that; I’m sorry and it won’t happen again.”
“I’m really not angry with you, Shiro. Seriously. I forgive you, or whatever. It was an accident, okay?”
Shiro’s clearly not going to get anything else out of him, so he decides to take what he can get.
“Alright, bud. Okay.” He squeezes Lance’s hands one more time, before moving to get up — Jesus Christ, that’s hell on his knees, he should have thought that one through and sat down, or something; but whatever, Lance is feeling better, so it’s worth it — and sit back down on his chair.
“Okay. Well, now that we’re on the same page, what do you think, Lance? Where should we go from here?”
As much as Shiro just wants to wrap Lance up in a million blankets and keep him away from anything that will every hurt him again, he realizes that that’s a guilty overreaction, and likely not what Lance needs. The best thing he can do for Lance, right now, is be as clear as possible so he doesn’t make mistakes like this in the future.
“Well, you were right on one part, like I mentioned,” Lance says, after thinking for a moment. “I like the social part. It’s fun. And so long as I’m not actively doing something wrong, I like the diplomacy stuff, too. But I’m always nervous because I feel like I’m going to say something wrong, or I’ll miss something and do something wrong. So that part kind of ruins the enjoyment part.”
“Okay — so what do you think will make that easier?”
“Maybe if I didn’t have to go alone?” Lance suggests. “Like, I have no problems when we do diplomacy missions as a team. I know we can’t afford to send everyone on these smaller missions, but maybe if I had a partner, it wouldn’t be so stressful?”
“That sounds great,” Shiro encourages. “We can do that. What else makes these missions hard?”
“Um, as much as I have fun, they’re kind of draining?”
Shiro hums. “I see. Is that why you always disappear into your room afterwards?”
“Yeah. It’s a lot of sound and light and stuff like that, so it’s nice to just quiet down after. And, some cultures are less direct than others, so I have a harder time trying to figure out the etiquette and what they’re trying to tell me, which is really draining. So sometimes I’m really exhausted after.”
“That makes sense. Hey, Lance —” Shiro gently bumps their shoulders together — “this is all easily doable, okay? This is not a problem in any way. We can make this happen. We want to make this happen, make this less stressful for you, okay?”
Lance takes a deep breath, shoulders slumping as he exhales. Most of the stress on his face fades, and he shoots Shiro a small, relieved smile.
“Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, kiddo. I mean it. I want you to come to me if you’re struggling — we’re a team. I want to help you, not find an excuse to get angry with you. We’ll fix things together, but I can only do that if you come to me. Promise you’ll do your best?”
“Good. Do you still want to do that mission today? I’ll go with you; Allura can go on the supply run with Keith; she’ll be happy about that.”
Lance brightens. “Yeah! Coran was telling me about the Juyins, they sound so cool! They have laser eyes. I can’t wait to meet them!”
Lance gets up, gathering the forgotten file and tucking it under his arm. Shiro follows him as he makes his way out of the briefing room, chattering all the while about all the awesome things the Juyins can do, and how much fun he and Shiro are going to have on the planet.
It’s very endearing. Shiro is very relieved he got the chance to sort this out with Lance, even if it was a difficult conversation to have, and also very pleased with how things turned out: it makes more sense to have a pair go on diplomatic missions, anyway. This decision was one he should have made months ago.
“Oh, by the way,” Lance says, stopping in his tracks. “Why did you say Allura would be excited to go on the supply run with Keith? She hates supply runs.”
If Shiro didn’t know Lance, he’d assume it was simply an innocent, offhandedly curious question.
But he does know Lance, even better now than before. And he can see exactly what that question is really asking.
“Don’t worry, Loverboy,” he says drily. “She’s not fighting you for Keith, promise.”
“That’s not why I was asking,” Lance says hotly, lying like a liar.
Shiro raises a teasing eyebrow.
“I’m serious,” he insists, but his red face gives him away.
“Okay, okay,” Shiro says, pretending to surrender. He waits a moment for Lance’s blush to fade, then strikes:
“She’s excited because she heard Keith came out of your room this morning, and is very interested to interrogate him and find out why.”
As expected, the flush explodes back on Lance’s face, and he immediately starts sputtering.
“That’s not — it’s not what it — how did she know —”
“Maybe I should send Keith with you instead of me, huh?” Shiro teases, and Lance yells.
“No! Fuck off! It’s not — you suck!” he shouts, decking Shiro in the arm.
Shiro laughs. “Oh, buddy,” he says, slinging an arm around Lance’s shoulder. “I thought I was going to get to bother Keith today, but this is so much better. You are going to be stuck in a lion with me for several hours. I cannot wait.”
Lance scowls, but doesn’t try to shove Shiro off, which tells Shiro all he needs to know. “I changed my mind. I don’t want your help anymore, I can do this alone. Ugh.”
Shiro presses a kiss to Lance’s head, ruffling his hair.
“Not a chance, kiddo,” he says over Lance’s grumbles, “not a chance.”
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