you're gonna go far, kid | ON HOLD

chapter 9

Keith's father didn't like talking about his former wife, Keith's mother, when he was still alive. He'd always look at the boy with an impossibly foreign sadness whenever Keith got the nerve to ask about it. Usually that'd be on Keith's birthday or on the third of August, which he'd once revealed as the day that they had first met. That and the fact that she just 'couldn't stay any longer' was the most that his father ever said directly. On that day his father would drive out to the middle of the desert and they sat in silence for the entire day before turning back and proceeding like nothing had happened.

After a while, Keith stopped asking. It was clear he'd never gain anything from it. But he didn't stop observing, his father's actions spoke rather loudly. As did the pictures in his wallet. And his unconscious muttering whenever he fell asleep after drinking a beer.

She liked to help people.

That was the strongest, most consistent thing that Keith collected about his mother. From the way that his father smiled bittersweetly as he tossed dollar bills into bright buckets during the winter and insisted that they drop off books from the basement to the library. How he sometimes ended up driving towards the shelter a few minutes away on Friday mornings instead of Keith's school, muttering about how she would be angry that we missed the eight o'clock soup shift and slamming on the brakes when he realized that his wife was not with him in the passenger seat, instead just his small, confused son looking back where they'd missed the elementary school parking lot.

Keith honestly didn't know what he was expecting, but whatever that might've been it was not this.

On the outside, the Voltron Headquarters looked just like one of those orphanages or shelters that his mother would work with. Like one of the places that Keith had been in for a short while. It was in the same neighborhood as he'd been stupid enough to go walking around in only twelve or so hours earlier, putting him on edge, but it also meant that this was the address he'd been following the book to.

For a minute Keith didn't move from his seat, just stared at the building, unmoving. Matt had wasted no time getting out of Coran's minivan‒ yes, Batman had the Batmobile, but Voltron had a sunflower yellow minivan. It didn't seem overly discreet in Keith's eyes, but it hadn't gained any attention as they drove here ‒ and headed through the boarded up doors, muttering something about preparing the lab for tests.

The door was pulled open and a large hand appeared on Keith's shoulder a moment later. In his surprise the boy didn't shrug it off and instead looked up at Coran, who was smiling reassuringly as he leaned into the car. "Don't worry, my boy, this is only an exterior. You'll find it rather comfortable once we're inside."

Keith nodded slowly and unbuckled his seatbelt. Before he could step out, a burgundy bundle of fabric was pushed into his arms. After unfolding it Keith observed that it was a jacket of faux leather with black accent, an atrocious number of inside pockets and an equally atrocious in size hood attached. It was beautiful, though he didn't understand why Coran had given it to him. Was his shirt offensive to prodigies? There wasn't anything printed on it, just a plain v-neck from Target, and being one of the few shirts that were clean at the moment there were no stains, but maybe it was against the dress code here. He was never around professional world-saving prodigies until Meticulous, and part of the main Cadre of Voltron or not he hardly counted. Keith tilted his head slightly in question.

"Think of it as a gift to welcome you to the team," Coran explained, waving encouragingly for Keith to put it on. Though he appreciated it, Keith couldn't help but cringe at the words welcome you to the team, like they already knew that he'd accept. He pushed away that thought and slid into the jacket. It fit surprisingly well, as if it were custom tailored for him‒ though Keith wouldn't have been surprised in the slightest if they'd somehow managed to do that.