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Lance can feel the anger burning within, sizzling and searing through his veins like explosive fuses networking through his body. The spark that lit the match had been Pidge’s agonised cries and screams, the destruction that shattered through her armour and broke her body in horrible unknown ways. She should never have been there, if they had have just listened to him…
They hurry into the Castle of Lions, Pidge whimpering and sobbing in Shiro’s arms, fading in and out of consciousness. Lance wants her in the healing pod immediately, but that’s not how it works, they have to prep her first. Or, Coran does.
Lance runs ahead to trigger the automatic door and Shiro rushes in, placing Pidge down on a medical table where Coran is already waiting. A small amount of relief and gratitude soothes through his anger as Coran instantly starts the process, carefully cutting Pidge out of her armour with high-tech Altean equipment Lance doesn’t even know the name of.
Trembling and panting, Lance and Shiro stand and stare, lost in a worried daze.
“You should leave,” Coran says without removing his eyes from his work. Not for any form of privacy for Pidge, they’ve been working closely together for too long for that to matter anymore, but for Coran’s concentration. He knows how important this is and needs to focus.
Shiro turns on his heel and silently nudges Lance in the shoulder. Lance backs out of the room, eyes remaining on Pidge’s small, too-pale face until the sliding door closes between them.
Lance hears the sniffling and sobbing, can see Hunk leaning heavily against the wall in his periphery and slide down it, burying his face in his hands. He knows he should comfort his friend, he usually would, but he’s livid. Furious. Seething. It boils under his skin, bubbling to the surface and on the verge of exploding.
“Keith,” Shiro’s gentle voice breaks through the tense silence so smoothly Lance feels it begrudgingly comfort him. “It wasn’t your fault. You—”
“Like hell it wasn’t,” Lance snarls, voice viciously shredding through the calm Shiro created.
There’s a silent, disbelieving pause filled with heavy breathing and the silent grinding of Lance’s teeth as his jaw clenches and unclenches stiffly.
“Lance…” Shiro warns.
He whirls to face them and the dismayed expression on Keith’s face is almost enough to make him bite his tongue and swallow his anger. But Shiro’s immediately jumping in to defend him sends another spiteful wave of scorching lava through Lance’s system.
Lance snorts a humourless laugh. “Of course you’d fucking defend him.”
Shiro’s eyes widen with surprise but darken quickly, transitioning into reprimanding dad mode. “It was an accident,” he insists, taking a challenging step towards Lance and in front of Keith. “No one could have predicted the arrival of that elite Galra squad, our intelligence revealed no ships or activity in the area. All we have to go on is the information we have and Keith made the best call based on it.”
“I predicted it,” Lance says simply, tilting his head and taking on Shiro’s challenge by stepping towards him. He’s not intimidated by Shiro, never has been, especially not now that Lance has grown slightly taller than him. “I told you we needed to infiltrate through the vents in case there was a silent alarm. I told you we couldn’t leave Pidge there by herself. I told you we needed to be more cautious with this mission. I told you it looked like a motherfucking trap!”
“Lance, please,” Hunk begs, too distressed to do much else. “Please stop.”
“But you never fucking listen!” Lance growls, taking another step forward until he’s chest to chest with Shiro. Lance curls his hands tightly into fists to stop the tremor. “I thought that maybe you’d stop seeing me as the ‘silly kid’ and one day you might actually listen to me,” he says directly to Shiro, voice wavering with emotion and hurt. “I thought—hoped that one day you might actually respect me enough… That you’d actually see me.”
Shiro’s stern expression falters, sadness and guilt washing over the strong lines of his face. He’s been harsher with Lance lately, distant, not meeting his gaze and avoiding him. Swallowing hard, Shiro lowers his gaze and takes a defeated step backwards.
Keith seems to shake himself of his grief, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. “I told you it would have been more dangerous to waste our time with—”
“More dangerous?” Lance snaps, turning to face Keith. “Pidge nearly died! And still could!”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” Keith snarls, getting in Lance’s face.
“Did you even listen to me when I told you my plan? Because I fucking told you exactly why it wasn’t more dangerous!” Lance argues, shoving Keith in the chest. He can feel his fury slowly threatening to boil over under the scrutiny of Keith’s defiant scowl. “Your heavy-handed, aggressive tactics are what always get us in trouble! I would have thought you’d learn to listen by now.”
“It’s hard to listen when half the words that come out of your idiotic mouth are complete and utter bullshit!”
Keith’s words echo through the silent corridor, lingering and taunting. The air rushes out of Lance’s lungs like he’s been punch. With wide, hurt eyes, Lance watches remorse gradually overcome Keith’s hot-headed aggression. But it’s too late.
Lance’s body explodes with fiery, molten fury and without hesitation he swings with the full power of his experience and training hardened body. Keith’s eyes widen with surprise but he’s too fast, too reflexive, and he catches Lance’s wrist.
“Woah, Lance—!”
Keith’s mistake comes in believing Lance will simply stop, that he’s Keith’s friend and wouldn’t actually attempt to hurt him. He’s so very wrong. Right now Lance isn’t his friend, right now Lance isn’t even sure he’s Lance. All he feels is rage, it overwhelms any sense and consumes him entirely.
Twisting in Keith’s grip, Lance swings his other arm in a less predictable arc and clips Keith in the jaw. His head whips around with the force and Lance punches him in the stomach before he has the chance to recover. He’d never win a fair fight with Keith, so why fight fair?
Coughing and spluttering, Keith straightens and Lance notices the flexing of his muscles, the combat rigidity of his body. No way is he going to allow Keith to get a hit in. He shoves Keith against the nearest wall and pins him there with all the strength he can muster.
“You’re the reason Pidge’s in there! You’re the reason Pidge nearly died!” Lance screams in his face.
Keith’s composure crumbles, any thought of counterattack or escape dissipating as his eyes shine with tears and a sob escapes from between his trembling lips. Too far gone to notice, Lance draws his arm back to punch him again, but someone grabs his wrist and suddenly he’s trapped. Pulled hard against Shiro’s chest, Lance struggles, his movements ferocious and forceful but no less feeble in Shiro’s iron grasp. Even without his Galra arm he would be too strong for Lance to overpower.
“Let me go!” Lance snarls, kicking and flailing desperately.
“It’s okay, Lance,” Shiro hushes him, voice incredibly low and soothing, cooling through his overheated body. “Everything’s going to be okay. Lance, shh, it’s okay.”
“Shiro! Fucking let go of me! Let me go! Let me go!”
Lance leans forward to try and dislodge him but Shiro leans with him. His voice wavers and breaks as he screams, the uninhibited comfort Shiro offers evaporating Lance’s anger and leaving only the heart-breaking worry and distress. A painful sob shudders through his body and his legs give way underneath him, dragging Shiro down with him.
“Please, Shiro,” Lance begs pathetically, pressing his forehead to the cool metal floor as hot tears itch where they trail over his skin. “Please!”
“No, Lance, I’m not letting you go,” Shiro says, steady and calm, barely a whisper, just for Lance. “I’m right here. You’re okay.”
They remain like that for a long moment, silent save for Lance’s ragged breathing and broken sobs. Slowly, carefully, Shiro uprights them, shuffling backwards and settling back against the wall. His grip loosens into less of an obstructing hold and more of a cradling embrace. Tired and distraught Lance sags gratefully into his arms.
“I-If I had just—If I had’ve tried h-harder to—” Lance’s voice breaks, recalling the sound of Pidge’s pain through the comm channel. “It w-wouldn’t have happened if I could have just—just convinced you! If I was more reliable. More trustworthy.”
“Shh,” Shiro coos, pressing his face into the back of Lance’s neck and stroking his sweaty hair. His voice loses some of its calm, wavering with emotion. “It’s not your fault, Lance. It’s no one’s fault. Pidge will be okay. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Hunk hasn’t moved, head buried against his arms as he cries opposite them. Keith’s standing in the middle of the corridor, staring off into nothing and looking so incredibly small. So lost. Despite everything, Lance wants to hold him, to comfort him. Everything in him wants to comfort all of them, to make everything okay again. But he doesn’t have the energy, doesn’t have the will. Shiro’s his anchor, the only thing keeping Lance from falling apart completely.
Footsteps rush down the corridor and Lance glimpses Allura in his periphery. Her footsteps slow at the sight of them, approaching slowly with a hand held to her mouth and eyes shining with unshed tears.
“Shiro…?” she probes uncertainly. “Keith, what happened to your face?”
“I’m fine,” he dismisses the concern, pushing past her. “I’m going to see if Coran has Pidge in the pod yet.”
Keith absently wanders off, Lance has never seen him so despondent. Allura watches after him helplessly before moving to Hunk’s side and offering comforting words. Lance can only hear her soft murmur, but is instantly grateful for her presence and feels relieved that at least Allura will be there for his best friend. She gently coaxes Hunk to stand and helps him down the corridor, glancing at Shiro questioningly.
Lance can feel Shiro nod against his head and soon they’re alone.
“I’m sorry,” Shiro breathes. He clings to Lance and it feels different, it feels like Shiro seeking comfort, seeking forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, Lance.”
Weakly, Lance turns, wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist and nestles into the crook of Shiro’s neck. It’s all his tired body can give, all the comfort he can provide. Pushing back the messy hair on Lance’s forehead, Shiro presses a kiss there. Affectionate and appreciative.
In all their armour and sweaty from their mission, it’s not particularly comfortable, but Lance can’t bring himself to care. Emotionally and physically exhausted and wrapped in Shiro’s warmth, Lance starts to drift off. Wishing he didn’t have to wake up again until Pidge was okay, grinning and playfully teasing him.