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For Shiro, and for everyone else, it was impossible not to notice the absolute shit day Keith was having during group training.
His reactions were sluggish. He dodged too late or didn’t block effectively. His footwork was messy, and his stance was unbalanced. The sword seemed overly heavy in his hands, like it took a massive effort for Keith to swing it one way or the other. To guide it where he wanted it to go. To follow all the way through. He seemed tired. He seemed unsure of himself, despite the fact that battle—even simulated—was often where Keith was most cutting and decisive.
Clearly, something was amiss.
Now, it wasn’t necessarily uncommon for someone in the group to have a sub-par performance during training on any given day—it had happened to all of them at some point. Just like Shiro’s morning runs during his Garrison days, most of his laps around campus were fairly average, but every once in a while a run would go particularly well—or particularly badly. Shiro didn’t question it much. It was normal. Natural. It was just the regular cycle of things.
Keith, however, seemed unfamiliar with the concept. Granted, this was the first time Shiro had ever seen him struggle so much with something so routine. Something he did in his free time for fun—or at least for a little stress relief.
Keith’s favorite part of training—whether solo or with the team—was fighting the gladiator. It usually came to him like it was second nature. Shiro tried not to think it was because of Keith’s extensive history with fighting back on Earth.
But today, as they watched Keith’s back, as they continually saved his ass from getting handed to him, Keith fought like someone completely inexperienced. It seemed as if he’d never even been in a fight firsthand, instead of being the one person on their team who typically dove headfirst into them.
Something was off. Shiro had had his suspicions about it since Keith’s first hit from the gladiator not even five minutes into the exercise, but the younger boy couldn’t have made it any more obvious than when he stormed off the training deck not thirty minutes later. It seemed like the third and final kick from the bot—the one that had sent Keith sprawling helplessly to the ground—was one hit to his body, and his pride, too many.
“God dammit!” Keith swore loudly after he painstakingly shuffled back to his feet. “This is fucking pointless.” He fumed, throwing his sword to the ground with an echoing clatter as he swiftly made for the doors. He didn’t look back.
The team watched him go in silence.
Shiro couldn’t say Keith’s temper never got the best of him—everyone on the team knew that wasn’t true. But this was the first time Keith had ever so blatantly quit in the middle of training. It was a testament to how badly he’d been doing that he’d so quickly given up.
Shiro’s instincts yelled at him to run after Keith—to find out what exactly was wrong. Why Keith seemed to be struggling so hard today, though the older man had a few ideas running through his mind already.
Regardless, Shiro knew better. He knew Keith would be reluctant to tell him anything until after he’d had some time to cool off. To get some space from his frustrations and gather his thoughts. Plus, no one seemed particularly eager to bring Keith back to training just to watch him fail to dodge or parry hits from the training bot. The gladiator didn’t pull its punches, and no one was particularly keen to see a friend get beat up on what was very clearly a bad day.
So the paladins let Keith go, but Shiro knew this wouldn’t be the end of it.
Another hour or so later, after training had ended and Shiro had taken a long shower, he found himself wandering into the kitchen looking for a snack, or maybe an early lunch. He wasn’t very surprised to find that he wasn’t the only one there—Lance was already rummaging around in the fridge for something, and Keith was curled up on the couch in the adjacent room, clearly still sulking. Had the latter not stormed off the training deck earlier, Shiro might’ve noticed how uncomfortable the younger boy seemed to be—but Keith’s reticence wasn’t so unusual for him, especially if he was still in a bad mood. As it was, it took Shiro a little longer to realize that something was wrong.
“Is that the last of the soup?” Shiro asked Lance, who was gently stirring a small pot over the stove.
“Yeah, sorry. I’d split it with you, but Hunk already asked me to bring him a bowl too. And I don’t think there’s really enough left to split three ways anyhow.”
“That’s alright. I think we still have some sandwich ingredients left.” Shiro replied as he took Lance’s previous position in front of the refrigerator. He turned briefly in Keith’s direction as he began pulling out a loaf of bread and some kind of condiment Hunk had invented that was way better than it looked, considering it was blue.
“Hey Keith, have you eaten yet? Do you want me to make you a sandwich too?”
At being acknowledged, Keith seemed to startle from his position, his head whipping around to look at Shiro with wide eyes. Shiro’s own brows furrowed as the younger man quickly shook his head and turned back around.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” Shiro reassured.
But Keith didn’t look back that time—just shook his head again and hunched further in on himself.
That was when Shiro began to realize that something was still off—but not the same kind of ‘off’ that had been wrong on the training deck. Keith almost never turned down food unless something was bothering him. And while Shiro knew something was bothering him—this was different. Keith seemed timid—almost like he was afraid of something. And while Keith certainly felt things like shyness and fear, he almost never showed it, preferring to hide his more vulnerable emotions under a veneer of anger and irritation instead. Under something colder and harder.
Unless, of course, he was little.
It hit Shiro then, as he stood up and walked a little closer to Keith. He hadn’t noticed it when he’d walked in, but Keith had his arms wrapped around his knees, clearly trying to make himself take up as little space as possible. He’d grabbed one of the blankets that had been lying on the couch and was wringing it anxiously between his hands—a nervous habit he tended to do without realizing when he was starting to feel small. But perhaps the most undeniable proof of all was the way Keith was chewing and sucking on the collar of his shirt—something he only did to try and soothe himself when he didn’t have his pacifier and his hands were too busy to act as the replacement.
Shiro nearly kicked himself for missing something that was so obvious, now that he was actually paying attention. When had Keith dropped? How long had he been dropped? Shiro was grateful suddenly that Lance had been in the room with Keith—he hated to think about his baby being unsupervised, even if Lance hadn’t realized Keith was dropped.
Immediately, Shiro came around the other side of the couch and crouched down to Keith’s level, putting a gentle hand on his knee.
“Hey, Keith,” Shiro began sweetly but only loud enough for the other to hear, in case the little boy didn’t want Lance to know how small he was feeling. Shiro knew Lance liked to tease Keith about this—and that Keith wasn’t very much a fan of it, big or little. “Are you okay?”
But Keith just put a finger up to his lips, making a “Shh!” gesture without a sound, before desperately checking behind him to see if Lance had heard. The little boy relaxed slightly when he saw that Lance hadn’t been paying any attention, busy pouring the soup from the pot into two bowls.
“Hey, it’s okay, honey,” Shiro assured him, rubbing his hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture over Keith’s knee as his other hand gently pulled the boy’s shirt collar from his mouth. “Bubba’s here now, and he won’t let Lance be mean to you, okay? I promise.”
Whether it was Shiro’s words, or the act of taking Keith’s drool-covered shirt from his mouth, the little boy’s face immediately began to screw up. Shiro braced himself for a loud, wailing sob, but was alarmed when the sound never came, even as tears streamed down Keith’s face.
Something was very, very wrong.
Big Keith didn’t cry. At least, not anymore. Shiro had finally gotten Keith to regress often enough nowadays that he kept most of his big emotions to himself, to let out when he was little. It wasn’t exactly Shiro’s favorite way to see Keith deal with his emotions, but it was a lot better than letting him keep it bottled up inside forever, or to leave him crying silently to himself when no one was around. And that was the thing that was blaring the most sirens in Shiro’s mind—he realized just then that little Keith was never quiet when he cried, let alone absolutely silent. He’d always had someone to comfort him when he was upset now, so he’d never tried to hide it before. The fact that he was doing so now indicated to Shiro that something bad was going on—but he didn’t know what.
What he did know, however, was that Keith, especially such a small one, would quite literally rather choke on his cries than let any sound out if that’s what he’d decided was best, and Shiro didn’t want Keith to hurt himself. He’d heard the hacking coughs and the violent spasms of Keith’s chest when he found himself unable to breathe, more worried about the sob that would come out than the air not reaching his lungs. Shiro had really hoped that was something Keith wouldn’t have to deal with anymore.
Either way, seeing that Keith was so clearly distressed, and that Lance being in the room wasn’t making things any better, Shiro made the easy decision to pick the little boy up and carry him out of the room. Keith squeaked in surprise as Shiro’s hands came under his arms and the blanket fell from his grasp. He whined softly in distress when he was settled on Bubba’s hip, his caregiver having now realized Keith’s pants—and the couch—were wet; it was a problem that could be dealt with later.
Keith started wailing the second they were in the hallway, even before the kitchen doors had closed. Shiro’s eardrums shook with the volume of it, the way Keith shrieked directly into his ear. He cupped the back of Keith’s head with his free hand, burying the little boy’s face in the crook of his neck as he swiftly carried him back to his room, shushing him softly all the while.
The trip back to Keith’s room was over all too quickly, and it had given the small child almost no time to calm down from his upset. If Shiro knew a big, frustrated Keith would give him no answers, he knew a sobbing, little Keith would give him even less—especially if his dirty clothes were bothering him, to boot.
Despite the severity of Keith’s upset, something told Shiro the boy’s current age was probably more suited to pullups than it was diapers, but Shiro decided to get out the latter anyway. The process of diapering Keith was slightly more involved and took a little more time than it did to simply slide a pullup onto him, and he knew Keith found the routine soothing. Plus, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Shiro gently laid Keith down on his bed while he went around the room collecting all the supplies he needed. Keith was still sniveling miserably on the bed as Shiro quietly continued to shush him, helping Keith shimmy off his wet pants and underwear.
Bubba slid the open diaper underneath his baby, but he spent a little longer than usual wiping him clean, rubbing lotion into his skin, and powdering him, hoping the gentle, circular motions on his legs would help Keith calm down a little more.
“There you go—you’re being such a good boy for me, Keith.” Bubba said when the little’s sobs had quieted to small sniffles and hiccups.
“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Didn’t m-mean to.” Keith murmured tremulously, nearly inaudible.
Shiro smiled at him a little sadly, finally pulling the diaper up to make a few adjustments before taping it snug and secure around Keith’s hips.
“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay. It was just a little accident. Nobody’s angry with you.” The older man assured.
Keith looked away, almost like he didn’t believe Shiro.
Quickly, the other man got out the soft, light pink hoodie Keith had picked up for himself at the space mall, along with a black pair of Shiro’s sweatpants that big Keith had stolen months ago, and which now seemed to belong permanently to the younger man.
“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” Bubba asked as he threaded Keith’s arms through the pullover.
The little boy only bit his lip and shook his head, ducking down to avoid looking at his caregiver.
“No?” Shiro asked, feigning a little sadness, but not enough to make Keith feel guilty. “Do you just want to cuddle with Bubba instead?” He’d let it go for now—clearly, Keith was still upset.
With another sniffle, and still not making eye contact with the older man, Keith nodded his head as he reached his arms out for Shiro. Shiro complied easily, shifting them so they were both lying in Keith’s bed, with Keith wrapped up safely in the other’s arms. He couldn’t help the few tiny hiccups that were still leftover from crying, and the occasional sniffle that wouldn’t seem to go away.
Besides the leftover sounds of Keith’s upset, silence rang softly throughout the room. It was quiet and comfortable, but Shiro found it hard to feel content, even as he squeezed Keith a little tighter with every slightly shaky inhale. He thought after fifteen or twenty minutes, his little boy might fall asleep for a nap like he tended to do after loud bouts of crying—but to Shiro’s surprise, he didn’t.
In fact, Keith looked far more awake than Shiro ever would’ve expected him to be.
“You’re really quiet today, bub.” Shiro commented, giving Keith another extra squeeze. And the more he thought about it, the more unusual it seemed. The silent crying earlier had been Shiro’s first giveaway that something wasn’t right. But there had also been Keith shushing him when Shiro had first approached him, and the fact that Keith hadn’t said a word—not to him or Lance—when he’d wet himself. The latter was especially surprising to Shiro—even in diapers, as long as Keith was verbal, he was the first person to tell Shiro when he needed a change, especially if he’d had a genuine accident.
It worried him, to say the least.
The smaller boy just gave a little whine, hiding his face even further in his caregiver’s chest. Shiro had given up hope on getting Keith to talk to him about what was wrong, at least for today, so he was surprised when a few moments later, the little boy in his arms muttered something into his sternum.
“What was that, pumpkin?” Shiro asked, rubbing a hand on Keith’s back.
“I gotta be…” the toddler murmured again.
“Gotta be what?” Shiro asked again kindly, not understanding.
“Quiet.” Keith explained.
“What?” Shiro was confused. He wanted to immediately refute the statement, but he knew doing so might sound to Keith like a dismissal of his concerns if he didn’t get to explain himself, and that was the last thing Shiro wanted to do. So instead, he asked, “Why do you have to be quiet?”
Not looking his caregiver in the eye, Keith spoke meekly, “The grown-ups don’t like it if I’m not quiet. They said that little kids have to be good around grown-ups…and sometimes they use not-nice hands if I’m too loud.” Keith’s thumb was slowly sneaking up to his mouth. “They don’t like it. So I gotta be quiet.” He repeated.
Shiro felt his heart break in his chest—he couldn’t bear to hear Keith say these things now. He bent his head down to kiss the child on his forehead, trying to give Keith any comfort that he could.
“Keith, sweetheart, you know that’s not true here, right?” Shiro almost sounded desperate for the little one in his arms to believe him. “No one here’s going to hurt you if you’re too loud, or for any other reason. We want to hear you laugh, or cry, or tell us anything you want, as loud as you want. We all love you so much.”
Shiro thought they were over this. Keith had always been so silent and reserved when he first started regressing around Shiro, and then again when the rest of the team had found out. Shiro hadn’t necessarily been so surprised—a big Keith was a man of few words, and Shiro was sure being so little around so many new people had only made him even more hesitant and shy. It had taken a long time, but eventually as the team grew closer and got used to seeing Keith cope with his stress, he’d gotten a little braver when he was in headspace. He was a little more open—a little less afraid. More willing to giggle emphatically, or throw a wild fit, or to run up to the others in screaming excitement to show them his new favorite toy.
Shiro knew it had taken a lot of trust from Keith to lay himself so bare and earnest in front of them, especially when he was so vulnerable. It had taken his little boy so much courage to be so honest with the team, and Shiro was incredibly proud of him.
It hurt to see him so doubtful now. So uncertain. Shiro could only think something must’ve happened—something that had wrecked his confidence in the others.
Shiro was shaken from his wondering when the toddler muttered again, cheek squished against his front.
“Not Lance…” Keith argued.
The older man nearly jolted up had he not caught himself. Immediately his suspicion was raised.
“What did Lance do…?” Shiro asked with a false sense of calm.
At the mention of the other paladin, Shiro was immediately reminded of a conversation he’d had with Keith a few weeks prior. His former mentee had complained—only in passing—about his annoyance with the other boy for always trying to drop Keith against his wishes when he was in a bad mood. How Lance had taken offense when the older had told him to stop, because Lance had claimed that Keith just needed to “chill out” and that he was “only trying to help.”
Keith had made it out to seem like only an occasional irritation, and one that wasn’t often successful on Lance’s part—for which Shiro was grateful. Keith was reluctant to go into headspace even on the best of occasions, but the only thing he hated more than letting himself indulge in it was being forced into the role involuntarily. Shiro was the only person Keith had given express permission to to drop him if necessary, and Keith’s caregiver had taken that role very seriously. He’d only ever done so a handful of times, and only during situations where Keith had been extremely distraught, but was otherwise safe.
Now, Shiro could only imagine the way Lance would abuse such a power, knowing just how much the other boy liked to antagonize Keith.
And considering how much Keith had been struggling this morning, and the fact that Lance had actually been successful in dropping him this time, Shiro had a feeling Keith had been on the edge of his headspace—and had been trying to suppress it—since he’d woken up.
Keith was silent for what felt like hours, but when he finally spoke, his wet, warbling words were preceded by a sniffle.
“He-he said that, that if I can’t reg’late my ‘motions good, that means I-I-I’m too little to be a paladin! He said I’m too little to, to h-help people if somebody gotta take care’a me too!” Keith sobbed into Shiro’s side. “An’ he also said that…” the little boy choked on the words, “…that nobody wants to deal with a b-baby when it’s time for training.” Keith’s face crumbled as he recounted just some of the mean things Lance had said to make him drop.
Shiro’s tone was sharp enough to cut, “What?” He said, expression flat, his voice dripping with vitriol. “What did he say to you?”
Keith, despite his age, was hyper-aware of the anger with which Shiro spoke, but was too young to realize who Shiro’s fury was really directed at. All he had was the experience to know that angry words usually led to angry actions—to violence, to beatings…to pain—and so Keith cowered away from Shiro, covering his head with his arms like he was bracing to be hit.
The action immediately jarred Shiro out of his outburst. His face and his voice quickly turned soft and gentle with remorse.
“Oh no, I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry—Bubba’s not mad at you, I promise. He’s just upset with Lance, not you. Bubba would never, ever hurt his baby.” He apologized, very cautiously gathering Keith back into his embrace. He was relieved when the younger boy didn’t flinch at his touch even though he kept his eyes squeezed shut and stayed in the protective ball he’d curled into.
Keith was still upset. Still trying to do damage control, just like he used to when he was an actual child.
“I didn’t mean to!” Keith wailed desperately as tears fell and began to soak into Shiro’s shirt. “I was tryin’ really hard to be big, I swear! I-I didn’t mean to get little! I didn’t wanna be, but he kept, kept saying I was and, and…I’m sorry!”
“I know, I know, it’s okay, pumpkin, I know.” Shiro whispered sympathetically into his hair. “You’re alright. You’re safe. I know you didn’t want to be little, and that’s okay. Whether you are or not, Bubba will always be here for you.” Shiro gave a few comforting pats to Keith’s diapered bottom, knowing it made the toddler feel safe and loved.
The caregiver continued consoling the little boy in his arms, murmuring more words of compassion and reassurance at the same time as he smoothed back his fringe, squeezed him just a little tighter, and delivered repeated kisses to his face and hair. After minutes of quiet sobs and sniffles, Shiro was relieved to see the way Keith slowly relaxed against him, body going limp and face going slack as he eventually fell softly into sleep. Shiro was grateful to see it.
When he was sure Keith was deeply under, he carefully extricated himself from the grip the other had on his shirt before gently tucking the toddler in for a nap. He gave Keith one last kiss to his forehead, then opened the door and headed down the hall.
He had a certain blue paladin to find.
He found Lance and Hunk easily enough in the yellow lion’s hangar, soup bowls sitting empty, discarded on the ground.
“Lance,” Shiro said curtly, getting both boys attention. “I need to speak with you out in the hallway.” The older man turned and left through the door to wait just outside.
Lance, confused, got up and followed him out after a shrug to Hunk’s questioning look.
Standing in front of the other, Shiro looked stern—arms crossed and expression closed off.
Unfazed, Lance asked, “What’s up, fearless leader?”
Shiro didn’t beat around the bush. Quick and to the point he asked, “Why is Keith dropped?” It was obvious by his tone that the question was rhetorical. Lance’s face fell for a moment at the accusation, but quickly changed to one of annoyance.
“I was just trying to get him to loosen up.” He defended. “He’s always so uptight and moody. I mean after his outburst on the training deck, you can’t tell me he couldn’t have stood to relax a little. What was with that, anyway?”
Shiro ignored the question.
“So, in order to get him to relax, you told him he was too little to be a good paladin and that nobody wants to work with a baby during training?” The older paladin didn’t sound impressed.
Lance crossed his arms, seeming to shrink in on himself. “Well, it sounds kind of mean when you put it that way—”
Shiro spluttered in disbelief. He could’ve smacked Lance upside the head.
“That’s because it is!”
Shiro didn’t get a chance to pinch the bridge of his nose or take a deep breath before Lance was interrupting.
“But!” He called out, “In my defense—you can’t deny it’s true. We can’t exactly practice the simulation the way Allura wants us to when everyone’s so focused on making sure Keith doesn’t get his ass beat that everyone else’s backs are exposed. Like, how am I supposed to actually practice shooting when everyone’s so crowded around Keith and the gladiator that I can’t get a clear shot? It’s a danger to everybody!”
This time, Shiro did let out a deep sigh.
“Okay.” He let out, sounding like he was about to lay down ground rules, or some kind of punishment. “You’re right that Keith’s littleness has the potential—” Shiro emphasized, “—to be a liability on missions. And he’s done a remarkable job of not letting that happen so far, especially now that we have him on schedule.” Keith’s regressions had been remarkably more stable once Shiro and the rest of the team had started making drops mandatory, instead of something Keith had to struggle to always hold off on. “But did you ever stop to think that maybe, if it’s so dangerous, we ought to practice what to do in that situation? Anything that happens in practice could happen in real life, Lance. We need to practice contingency plans. We need to be prepared for things to go wrong.”
“So what? Keith just gets to quit in the middle of a simulation if he wants?” Lance protested.
“Yes.” Shiro said bluntly. “If Keith drops during a mission, then it’s our job to protect him until he can be extracted from the field. It might suck, but it’s just something we have to deal with. No one’s perfect. We all have our weaknesses, and any of us could be taken out at any time.” He reminded the other.
Lance stood, still wrapping his arms around himself. His gaze was pointed to the floor, feeling properly scolded.
“Fine. I guess you’re right.” Lance admitted, sounding sheepish.
“And that’s not the only thing.” Shiro continued, getting the younger paladin to look back up at him. “Lance, you’re not allowed to drop Keith anymore, especially without his permission. You shouldn’t have even done it in the first place.”
“What? Why? You do it all the time.” Lance complained.
This time, Shiro did pinch the bridge of his nose.
“No, I don’t. There’s a big difference between me helping guide Keith down into a smaller headspace when he knows it’s time for him to drop, or when he wants to, versus forcing it on him when he’s not ready for it. For one thing, he trusts me more. I’ve been his primary caregiver for a lot longer than the rest of you have even known this about him.”
“Okay,” Lance acknowledged petulantly. “I still don’t get what the big deal is.”
What difference did it make in how Keith was dropped or who did it? A baby was a baby, what did it matter how Keith got there?
“The big deal, Lance,” Shiro explained scathingly, “is that Keith was scared of you.”
“Yeah, right.” Lance joked in disbelief. “Keith? Scared of me? What planet have you been living on?”
Lance was sure Keith harbored a lot of emotions about him. Annoyance. Irritation. Begrudging friendship. But fear? With how reckless Keith was, Lance wasn’t sure he even knew the word.
“No. Listen to me—” Shiro scolded. “—why do you think Keith regresses?”
Lance gave him a questioning look. He repeated the answer Keith had given them when he first explained everything to them. “…to relieve stress?” He wasn’t sure why Shiro was asking.
“Yeah, but why do you think he chooses regression, specifically?” He pressed harder.
Lance just shrugged. He didn’t understand what Shiro was trying to get at.
“Keith regresses because his childhood, quite frankly, was shit.” Shiro explained. “He grew up without any real parents. The people that were supposed to take care of him saw him as a burden more than they saw him as a person. He was hurt, he was neglected, he was left to take care of himself more often than not, but he was a child. He was helpless. And when you ignore what he says, when you force him to regress—when you force him to depend on someone else—you take away all the power and autonomy he has. Just like all the other adults in the past who abused or exploited him.” Shiro seethes, both at Lance’s thoughtlessness and at the childhood Keith never should’ve had to go through.
Lance withers underneath Shiro’s anger, and at the damage he only now realizes he’s caused. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Jeez,” is the only thing he can think of. “I didn’t—I didn’t know any of that.” He mutters weakly.
At this, some of Shiro’s righteous anger seems to deflate.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I just—I just don’t want him to have to go through that anymore. He doesn’t deserve it. No one does.”
Lance nods meekly in agreement, feeling far guiltier than he has in a long time.
“Just—don’t do it again, okay?” Shiro asks tiredly, suddenly sounding far older than his actual age. “I know you didn’t know, and I’m sorry for getting angry. Next time, just let me handle him. Agreed?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Lance assents.
He’s much quieter than he usually is.
Shiro had been surprised to find that Keith was still dropped when he woke up from his nap. Upon hopping out of bed, it seemed as if Keith had completely forgotten about the incident that had caused him to get smaller in the first place. Instead, he was extremely energetic and, apparently, ravenously hungry.
The caregiver took the toddler back to the kitchen, where most of the paladins were already gathered. He brought Keith’s small box of toys with them, letting the little play by himself on the floor while Shiro attempted to make him a healthy snack.
Unfortunately, ‘healthy’ was often difficult to define up in space. Shiro did his best.
As Shiro tried to cut up an alien fruit into bite size pieces for his little boy, he looked over to the rest of their friends. Immediately his heart warmed.
He’d missed most of the exchange, but he saw Lance, crouched in front of Keith, looking solemn and remorseful. Shiro had no doubt then that Lance was doing his best to apologize to the other, and to both of their great relief, Shiro watched contentedly as the toddler reached up to give Lance a big hug.
It was the same big hug that Shiro always gave Keith after the little boy had misbehaved and served his sentence in time-out, apologizing and promising not be naughty again. It was the hug, Shiro knew, that meant Lance had been forgiven.