Langst Oneshots

★alex <part two>★

Saying that Lance's reunion with his family was emotional was an understatement. It was more than that, with millions of hugs and even more tears, the reunion was something straight out of the movies. Once the family of nine (god, Shiro couldn't imagine living in a small house with nine people in it) had finished their giant group hug, Lance introduced Shiro to his family.

"Mamá, papá, este es Shiro. Es el paladín negro y el líder de Voltron," he said in Spanish. He leaned down so just his mother could hear him and whispered, "Por favor, no me avergüences delante de él. Es un poco mi héroe."

His mother leaned her head back and laughed, her dark brown curls bouncing off her shoulders. "No hay promesas, mijo!" The woman said, ruffling Lance's hair.

She walked straight up to Shiro and grabbed his prosthetic hand with both of her real hands without hesitation. She looked straight into his wary, confused eyes with her sure blue ones. There was a certain way about the way she held herself that reminded him of Lance. "It is an honor to meet you, Shiro." She spoke, not once breaking eye contact. "Thank you for taking care of my son."

Shiro couldn't help but laugh and shake his head - Shiro hadn't taken care of Lance. If he was a proper leader, he would've noticed Lance hurting as they stayed for weeks on end visiting the other paladins families when all he could think of was his own. If he was a proper leader, he wouldn't have worried Lance when he woke up screaming from nightmares about the Galra, about Earth, about Voltron, about Adam.

"I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, Mrs..." He trailed off once he realized he didn't even know Lance's last name. (Could he even consider himself the former team leader if he didn't know what Lance's last name was?)

"No, I will have none of that Mrs. Serrano nonsense," she huffed. "Just call me Rosa."

"Of course," Shiro laughed. "I'm afraid you've got it all wrong, Rosa. It was Lance who took care of me." The two smiled and Rosa wiped away a stray tear.

"It's too late in the night to be crying," she sniffed. "Now come in and wash up for dinner. Lance will introduce you to everyone." Rosa declared, wiping her hands on her apron and heading inside to finish cooking dinner without another word.

"Well, you heard her," Lance muttered with a nervous smile. "I'll introduce you to everyone."

•★•

Dinner was absolutely delicious, to say the least. Conversation flowed easily, even though Shiro had trouble understanding some things Lance's abuela said with her strong accent and he just couldn't seem to remember anyone's names. (There was Abuela, Abuelo, Rosa, Mr. Serrano, Marco, Luis, Veronica, and Rachel. He knew the names, but he didn't know who the names belonged to)

Though dinner was fantastic, Lance seemed...off. Shiro couldn't quite put his finger on it - Lance was joking around like his usual quirky self. He seemed overjoyed to be with his family again at last, nor did he seem sad or mad. The only way Shiro could explain Lance's behavior was of a child who knew they did something wrong but wouldn't admit it. He was tense.

•★•

After dinner, Shiro was sent up to Lance's room, where the two would be bunking for the night. The room was tinier than Shiro had expected, but that's not what surprised him. What surprised him was how dull the room was. There was an old wood twin-sized bed with faded blue sheets (Shiro would bet anything that Lance hadn't been able to fit in that bed since he was about thirteen years-old), yellow peeling paint on the walls, one wood desk with nothing on it but a guitar book and a giant box, a guitar in the corner, the smallest closet he had ever seen, and a small corkboard. The only exciting thing in the entire room was one polaroid picture on the corkboard.

As Shiro got closer to the polaroid picture, he realized it was a picture of Lance and another boy at some sort of parade or festival. Lance looked about 16 in the picture, so it must've been during spring or winter break at the Garrison. Even though Lance's skin was noticeably darker in the picture, his millions of freckles were somehow more prominent than they are today. His eyes were closed and his smile was wide - he must've been laughing at something the other boy said. His cheeks and ears were flushed and rosy and he wore a light pink sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up.

The other boy in the picture had his arms wrapped around Lance's shoulders, his pale skin contrasting Lance's darker tone. He was an inch or so shorter than Lance but was definitely stockier. He had dyed icy blonde hair with his natural brown hair color poking through at his roots and dozens of freckles scattered across his face (even though he had a lot of freckles, it was barely any compared to Lance). His dark brown eyes were looking at Lance with pride or admiration, Shiro couldn't tell. He had a T-shirt on and was wearing -

No, that didn't seem right.

He was wearing that army jacket that Lance wore at the castle?

Against his better judgement, Shiro plucked the suspicious polaroid photo off of the corkboard and flipped it over, taking a sharp inhale when he saw what was written in Lance's handwriting on the back: Me and Alex at my first pride!

Shiro had so many thoughts running through his head that he didn't even hear Lance enter the too-tiny room.

"Shiro?"

A/N: its been a hot minute since i last updated this story.... lmao sorry ive been really stressed lately because friends  suck sometimes ya'know. and yes, i do know that the little note is supposed  to be "Alex and I" not "Me and Alex" but this is Lance, not  Merriam Webster. anyways, exciting stuff happening! there will definitely be another part with (drumroll please,) a picture of the polaroid!! that's right, ya girl is making her own art for this dumb oneshot and posting it online. wish me luck.

Translations (please be easy on me i am but a mere english speaker i needed to use google translate):

Mamá, papá, este es Shiro. Es el paladín negro y el líder de Voltron  - Mom, Dad, this is Shiro. He is the black paladin and the leader of Voltron.

 Por favor, no me avergüences delante de él. Es un poco mi héroe - Please, don't embarrass me in front of him. He's kinda my hero. (this translation is a bit rough but whatever)

No hay promesas, mijo! - No promises, my son! (okay so mijo is kinda a term of endearment for sons or daughters i guess? there's no direct translation for it)

Abuela - Grandma

Abuelo - Grandpa