He's back with his younger sibling, he's surrounded by human faces all day and night (even the Altean's slightly different features are more humanoid than he's seen in months), he's allowed to sleep when he wants, eat what he wants, do what he wants. He's safe.
Matt should be over-the-moon ecstatic, unable to contain himself, leaping for joy. But he's not.
He's not, because there are so many things he hasn't told anyone about, not the Blades, not the Paladins, not anyone. That it wasn't all torture and torment with the Galra. That he didn't always go to bed hungry or scared or alone. That there were things there, people there that he misses.
In fact, there's one thing that he's even afraid to admit to himself, even when the signs are clear as day, because admitting it might change everything. He sees the hatred in Allura's face when she speaks of the Galra, senses the tension between the Paladins in light of recent developments with the Red one, knows that if he came out and said what he knows is true that it might change everything. They might offer a solution, thinking they're doing him a favor. They would regard his situation with disgust and loathing, would think it impossible that he could find something good and exciting and joyful about what's been done to his body, what's happening inside him.
Matt doesn't think he can handle hearing that name (Thace) spoken with hatred.
So he's hiding it, for now. He's wearing bigger clothes, pretending he isn't craving bizarre Galran delicacies, reciting periodic elements to distract himself from how acutely he wants to be with someone, wants to touch and hold and be touched and held.
And he's also currently doubled over the toilet in the bathroom, puking up his breakfast. Hopefully nobody comes in and finds him like this. That'd be...difficult to explain.]
finding out that he's galra, making allies of a powerful resistance group, defeating zarkon, losing shiro, finding matt-- it feels like everything happened all at once, and keith is still reeling from it. he wears the black paladin's armor now because it's what shiro wanted. he tries his best to lead the team because it's what shiro wanted. he tries to keep up good relations between the blades and team voltron because it's what they need, and because he can't stop thinking about the galra soldier that gave his life for shiro, and the other galra soldier that gave his life for him.
allura's taken over piloting the red lion which seems uncomfortable for both of them, keith was only just getting used to the deeper bond with his lion and now he's trying to take shiro's place and bond with a lion that was still struggling with a connection to zarkon. he wonders-- quietly, of course-- if it wouldn't have been better for allura to take black, if their personalities wouldn't have been a better match, but shiro wanted keith to lead.
they can still form voltron. it doesn't feel right, and they can't maintain the synchronization for as long as they used to, but they can manage. and they've won themselves time to regroup and reorganize, all the news out of the galra empire is rumors about zarkon being injured, and squabbling military commanders that can't agree on anything, and even a few daring planets declaring independence from the empire. zarkon's heir, lotor, has yet to make an appearance on the battlefield. it's a respite the paladins desperately needed while they try to figure out what happened to shiro.
the black lion has to know what happened somehow, and they were all mentally connected up until the very end. keith's sure the answers are just beyond his reach in the lion bond, and he's lucky that no one questions his determination to spend time every day trying to meditate and bond with the black lion on top of all his other duties as fake-shiro.
one of which is checking up on their new arrival. it feels like decades since keith last saw matt holt. he remembers being a little jealous, back in the day, he remembers envying how comfortable shiro and matt seemed around each other. the darling of the garrison pilot program and the child prodigy of the science world seemed to have so much in common, and they joked with each other, smiled at each other, even expanded their little social group to include keith sometimes for reasons he never understood. keith knew he wasn't good company, he could get that shiro was trying to encourage his talents for the garrison but he'd never figured out why matt bothered to be polite to him, unless he was just humoring shiro.
keith had never managed to summon the courage to talk to pidge about her brother, figuring that was better left in shiro's more tactful hands. all keith could ever think about was how things might have been different if he had been the one captured with shiro.
anyway he doesn't mean to intrude, but he hears the telltale sound of retching and assumes that lance made good on his stupid bet to eat five plates of food goo to get out of sparring with allura. ]
Lance, I swear, if you think that making yourself sick is going to get you out of training--
[ oh and that's. not lance. he freezes, uncertain, guiltily thinking that maybe he should call pidge to handle this, and then shakes himself and steps forward. ]
[The noticeable void that Shiro's left is something else Matt doesn't allow himself to think about. The fact that he'd been so close to being reunited with his (friend, teammate, crewmate, whatever they'd become in those endless months in space, something special and sacred and unable to be described) with him was almost as painful as the other gaping absences in Matt's life.
(He'd talked about Shiro, about the mission, about his father and sister and mother and earth. Perhaps that had been the tipping point, the thing that had turned him from dutiful slave to something else, because rather than scoffing or eye-rolling or teasing, he'd gotten nothing but intent, curious attention, a clawed hand playing with his hair or smoothing down the line of his bare back, tangled in cooling sheets, still breathing heavy and shaky, body shivering with aftershock and the slick and seed drying between his thighs and they said he was dead, he was dead Thace was dead--)]
I'm fine. [He knew it was Keith, on some subconscious level. Maybe he'd recognized the smell -- though whether that's because of Matt's changes or Keith's heritage isn't for sure -- or maybe the footsteps. Maybe he'd been praying on some level for Shiro and Keith was the closest thing.
That's a strange thought, and Matt rocks forward, gags and chokes, comes up with nothing. His stomach is spasming, empty.
Well. Not quite empty.]
I'm fine. [He croaks it again, curling up tighter, away from the familiar voice, the familiar scent. Keith smells Galra, so strongly that Matt wonders why he never noticed it, back on Earth.]
[ guilt stabs him immediately; he should've been checking up on matt more regularly instead of assuming that pidge would report something wrong. that's what shiro would've done.
he resists a weird urge to crowd closer, maybe sniff at matt's neck, trying to pin down that strange smell-- not the sour stench of sick, he can smell that just fucking fine. ever since he'd gone through the trials he'd noticed weird little things like scents being stronger and more affecting. he could find most of his obnoxious teammates by following his nose.
matt doesn't smell like a paladin, though. he smells upset, although keith doesn't know how he knows what 'upset' smells like. ]
[Matt grumbles a little, lifting his head and wrinkling his nose at Keith -- and in that moment he looks almost identical to Pidge. He's about to insist again that he's fine, because for the first time the presence of another living creature isn't making him want to run and hide, curl up and protect his stomach, the way having Allura or even Lance nearby does. He knows what they'd think, what they'd want to do. He knows and it terrifies him.
Keith is the first person who Matt doesn't feel like he has to protect himself from. He smells human, he smells Galra, he smells, underneath it all, like Shiro, a faint scent that speaks of an intimacy that Matt remembers from their Garrison days. It's strange, but he can remember that closeness without the old stab of jealousy. Just something like fond nostalgia.
So instead of snarling and retreating, he just sighs, rests his cheek against the cool metallic toilet bowl.]
[ he's not expecting the capitulation. he was expecting a fight, an argument, and the lack of resistance puts him off-balance. ]
What do you mean, 'not well?' If you're sick, you need to go down to the infirmary or the healing pods. You're--
[ he clenches his fists, picturing an awful prospect. ]
You're safe here, Matt, you should feel safe here. I'm... we're not gonna let anything happen to you, your sister will never let anything happen to you. You won't be captured again.
[Matt interrupts with a short, frustrated, weary sound, glancing up at Keith sideways. That intensity, that passion -- it's all very familiar. It's from another life entirely, but it hasn't changed a bit.]
That's...not what I'm afraid of. [He trails off, shudders against another nauseous heave, shudders as there's a different sort of movement entirely under the skin of his abdomen.] ...and I can't go to the infirmary. I can't -- nobody can know. Nobody can know.
[Matt slowly stands up, hand over his mouth, moving closer, close enough for Keith to smell past the acrid smell of sick. If he's any part Galra, he'll know. Of course he'll know.]
Tell what? You're throwing up, you're acting like you're hurt--
[ hunched, ever so slightly, protecting his core. protecting his stomach, and now that keith's looking...
he pulls in a deep, involuntary breath, full of something so familiar he can almost taste it on his tongue. his brows knit, uncertainty flickering across his face. ]
[Matt waits, hands drifting down unconsciously, splaying over his stomach. Protectively. He has his hopes, his hunches about how Keith will react, but if he's wrong, if it's anger and confusion instead, he's ready to defend himself.
His face is impassive. Stony.]
The Galra can change people. You know that. [It's unclear if he's talking about Shiro and his arm or Keith and his...everything.]
[ he controls a flinch. he doesn't want to believe that learning the truth about his heritage has changed him, he's still who he was before. he still likes the same foods and has the same memories and everything. it's everybody else that's side-eyeing him, looking for some big visible difference when there isn't one.
warily, ]
Are you saying-- what are you saying. The Galra changed you?
[ his gaze flickers again to matt's stomach, the way he's holding it. shielding it. if matt were a woman, it might be pretty obvious what that gesture implies.
except that's ridiculous. he can't bring himself to say it aloud, it's too bizarre. ]
[By this point Matt is tired of dancing around the subject -- he's aching all over, his stomach is still clenching unpleasantly, he's starving and horny and lonely and just so, so tired. So he's blunt, to the point, almost humorously so:]
I'm pregnant. Knocked up. Expecting. In the family way. In a delicate condition. Bun in the oven. Eating for two. [A pause, one hand pressing a little on his stomach, thoughtfully.] ...six. I'm pregnant and I'm two weeks along which doesn't seem like very long until you learn Galra gestation periods are only about four months. So, in three and a half months, more or less, I'm not going to be able to keep this a secret anymore and the entire galaxy is going to hate me.
[Matt stops, catching his breath, throat tight, eyes burning as they fix on Keith.] Are you going to be one of the ones who does, Keith? Are you going to hate me too?
First: there are dragons. But no, that's a given, everyone knows that. There are dragons, they exist and they have riders, and that being a dragonrider is like being born with a sixth sense, a kind of gift that's evident right from infancy. Prodigies, dragonriders, cozying up to dragon eggs in the crib, trying to find that spark, that connection. Dragons and their riders know each other, recognition like a long-lost sibling or parent or child. It's instantaneous and unmistakable.
So instead, first: there are dragons and dragonriders and you are one. You, son of a sky-charter, city boy, unremarkable in any way. You, who grew up with dragons and their riders nothing more than brilliantly colorful specks of light swirling around the mountain peaks while you kept your eyes and your feet on the ground where they belonged. You, Matt Holt, a dragonrider.
A lot to take in, right?
Secondly, the dragon is no hatchling, no long-necked, rough-scaled draconian youth. It -- she -- is regal and wild and fearsome, fully grown and suddenly appearing at the edge of town one day, like she'd been summoned. Maybe she had. Maybe Matt had, since it wasn't like him to stray so far from home. Maybe they'd been expecting each other.
Whatever the reason, whatever the line of fate that had brought them together, the minute he'd set eyes on the white-and-gold dragon, that had been it. Like recognizing a long-lost family member, right? There was before and there was after, and Matt could no more part himself from his dragon than he could from his arms or legs or heart itself.
So that was that, and now the riders garrison had the unusual task of dealing with a dragonrider who wasn't born or raised to be one. Fortunately, they had just the expert to turn to, a rider who seemed born to be a leader. That's who Matt was waiting for now, leaning back against his dragon -- Cirrus, her name was, a placid, harmless word for a being who was just the opposite -- and twiddling his thumbs nervously.
Cirrus picked up on the anxiety, leaning over and resting her enormous chin atop Matt's head, rumbling low in her throat. ::worried why::]
I'm not. [Blatant lying, like she wasn't literally in his head.]
[He'd said in defense of the situation. In defense of the young man foisted onto their ranks. Into a world and a system the poor guy didn't seem even remotely prepared for. Some people thought it'd be best to separate them, somehow -- that this was clearly a mistake, that it could be reversed since the circumstances were so different.]
[It's not that big of a problem.]
[He'd said when the more official types were busy trying to find a solution. Trying to find room and training times and scramble for more space overall, for an unexpected rider. Usually, you got the basics even before you walked into the ring and found your other piece -- you knew how to look after the giant creatures, how to care for your gear, how to hold on without falling to your death. But here was this stranger, with none of this. Expected to slide into the ranks with ease.]
[We can do this.]
[He said when eyes turned to him. The person who'd been flying stunts on his mount since the day the big, black beast could fly. The risk taker. The one who made this all look effortless. Who rarely asserted himself without reason, worked with their hardest riders, could bring out the best in anyone.]
[That is who ends up heading Matt's way. The black speck in the distance flying in lazy circles. Ones that gradually get sharper, deeper. Until it rises up toward the sun in a nearly impossible angle... only to dive down, flaring out huge wings, lined in deep purple, to stall the descent.]
[:: too easy ::]
Showoff... [But he's hopping to the ground, anyway. Shucking off black and white helmet to look at the nervous young man with the most winning smile he can muster up.]
[Listen, it's not like Matt's never seen Shiro before. Everyone knows who he is, heard about him holding the wild borders up north or fending off raiders from the south or even just training the next generation of the best and brightest. Even Matt's dad utilizes the information and maps brought in from Shiro's expeditions to chart out air currents and wind patterns. Anyone on foot could map out the terrain, but for a society that depends on winged protectors, they need to know where unexpected peaks could throw off a dragon's sense of direction, or a heavy headwind could send rider and beast both plummeting to the earth.
Shiro's a teacher and a warrior, but he's also an explorer. An adventurer. He throws himself headfirst into danger that would make the most seasoned rider nervous. He's also --
::beautiful:: Matt immediately turns beet-red, even though Cirrus's reaction is only privy to the two of them. Dragons and their riders can pick up on one another's emotions and thoughts, but only mated pairs can exchange with anyone else. He whips around to glare at his dragon, who isn't paying him the slightest bit of attention, lifting her enormous head and cocking it at the black dragon in obvious interest.]
Ohhhhh no. [Matt mutters this, turning even redder. Usually dragons and their riders pair up same to same -- men with male dragons, women with female, etc. It's not unheard-of for a female dragon to have a male rider, but it does lead to some...awkward situations. i.e., when your dragon is a huge enormous flirt.
Cirrus is fluffing out her wings a little, letting them catch the light, white and gold scales glittering. She knows she's pretty. She also wouldn't be quite as interested in the other dragon if there wasn't a similar spark between Matt and the rider.
Sorry, Shiro, the new guy is going to be turning crimson and shrinking in on himself like he wants to crawl into a hole somewhere, even as he manages:] Hi.
[And by extension, he sort of knows who Matt is. In general. He's spoken to his father often enough. Mapped out a few things specifically for him, for the expeditions he's been on. It shouldn't be a surprise to see his son here. But... it is.]
[It's also sort of a surprise to see him all grown up. All grown up and standing tall despite the situation. There's an odd sort of pride in his chest, something adding a bit more depth to the smile he's flashing Matt's way. He's... really cute. Really, really cute. Something he hasn't allowed himself to notice about anyone for a long time now.]
[::you want to kiss him::]
[Stop.]
[::you want to court him::]
[Oh my god.]
[He digs an elbow into the heavy, scaled chest behind him. Which doesn't do anything more than produce a low, amused rumbling noise. He can see that blush. Part of him hopes it's due to something else. He'd hate to be... he doesn't know. Projecting or something. Even though he knows perfectly well it doesn't work like that. Instead, he steps forward, still holding out his hand.]
[His left hand.]
It's okay. I know it's a lot to take in. But we're here to help. [The smile is encouraging, even as it tugs on the cut across his face -- it's still healing.] You'll get used to it all, I promise you.
[Matt may spend most of his time lost in his books and charts, but everyone knows about Shiro's injuries. Those months he was missing up North, it was all people could talk about -- was he alive, was he safe, was he captured or being tortured somewhere. The rider's garrison had done a fairly good job of keeping things under wraps, even when Shiro was recovered, but they'd made a mistake trying to keep him grounded. Even if Shiro had agreed to it, his dragon hadn't, practically tearing the medical building apart to get to it's rider.
So, still healing, still recovering, Shiro was flying again. However, the fact that he was on new-kid-duty probably meant he wasn't going on expeditions again just yet. Matt keeps his eyes away from the cut, from the streak of white in Shiro's hair, keeps them on Shiro's eyes instead.
::smitten fledgling:: Cirrus teases, amusement coloring the mental picture. Dragons, especially wild-born ones like her, tended to speak more in images than in actual words, which somehow made it worse. Matt chose to look down at Shiro's hand, shaking it with his own slightly shaky one.]
Thank you. I mean, both of you. I mean -- thanks. It's. Yeah, it's a lot. Thanks.
[So smooth. Cirrus leans over for a greeting as well, gently nosing at Shiro's hair, then letting out a soft huff of breath, scented like pinesmoke and singed toast. Then, to Matt's ever-heightening embarrassment, she coos, an almost birdlike sound, rubbing her scaly chin atop Shiro's hair.]
I-I'm so sorry! She's -- she doesn't normally -- Cirrus would you stop--!!
[For his part, Shiro remembers... very little of what happened. Which is probably a good thing. He doesn't try to dwell on it, only to have it appear in fits and starts. In nightmares and sudden flashes. If it weren't for the big, black presence always in his thoughts, he probably wouldn't be standing. He might not even be alive.]
[Keeping them apart, while his body recovered, hadn't been an option, either. Both his dragon and another, sleek, red and too quick for its own good, had been there to pull him out again.]
[But that's in the past. Now he's got an impression to make and a new recruit to adopt. To take under a literal wing. He'll do anything he can to help, because that's the right thing to do. Because --]
[:: because you like him ::]
[Please stop talking.]
Really, it's okay. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, I'll answer whatever I can.
[He brings his right hand up, the fingers moving a little more stiffly than the left, in an attempt to brace Matt's trembling arm. Trying to broadcast that it's all right. There's no reason to be nervous around him.]
[... he even appears to take the sudden dragon head on top of his in stride. Matt and his own dragon are the only ones taking offense. With a big, black nose nudging the offending presence off him. Radiating indignation.]
Uh, yeah, tons. Mostly about...boring biology-related things that Cirrus won't tell me.
[Matt relaxes a little, looking down at both Shiro's big hands on his own, getting an inaudible huff of amusement from his dragon, to whom all humans are tiny, but ::you especially::.
Cirrus then turns her attention to the big black dragon, fluffing out her wings in a display that could be threatening, if it weren't for how her tail is flicking back and forth in play. She feels that indignation, and is amused by it, like the big scaley flying cat she is.]
I mean, I'm standing here. That's...pretty darn weird, huh?
Ask away. I'm yours for the entire day -- or however long it takes to get you settled in.
[::you'd like that::]
[STOP.]
[He takes a breath, visibly settling himself though his own dragon's very unhelpful commentary. There's one more reassuring squeeze to Matt's hand before he steps back, letting him go. As much as the smug voice in the back of his head informs him he'd love to keep holding on.]
[His elbow digs into black scales again.]
It can be, yeah. It's not often we get people in your situation... but that's why I'm here.
[The last word is trailed off as Shiro slowly turns, looking behind him. To where his own dragon is... preening? Of all things? Gleaming eyes on the white and gold.]
[His hand is very warm, hot almost, like dragon-scale in flight. Matt lets his own hand drop, the twinge of disappointment acute enough to echo through his link with Cirrus. She glances away from her flirting long enough to huff down at the humans, then nudge at Shiro's back.
::closer:: she suggests, mildly.
Matt clears his throat, quickly, trying to ignore his dragon's not-at-all subtle matchmaking.]
Not often? "Not often" isn't "never". That's encouraging.
[He... notices it. Notices the way the dragon is nudging, shoving. The way his own is responding. It's almost impossible not to. But Matt? Matt looks hideously uncomfortable.]
[Shiro lets his hand drop, stepping slightly to one side, as Cirrus butts up against his back.]
It's rare, but it's happened, and it's nothing we, or you, can't handle.
[He trails off.]
Look, I... should probably tell you. If these two haven't made it painfully obvious. [This is not easy.] I'm ... interested in men. If that's a problem for you, I'll do everything I can to find you another trainer. I promise you.
You have a lot of confidence in someone you just met. [Matt sort of mumbles this, looking down at his feet. Then he glances up, making a face at Cirrus.] Someone whose dragon has no manners.
[Cirrus chirrups happily, turning and playfully bumping her nose to the big black dragon's, twitching her tail, instigating him into playing. Matt is so distracted by them, by the swell of curious, teasing joy that swoops through their link that he almost doesn't hear Shiro.]
Huh? [His face is blank, confused -- and then it hits him, the blush back so ferociously that Cirrus feels it, skitters away suddenly, grumbling at the wave of embarrassment.] Oh! Oh god, I -- I mean -- it's -- me too, but -- but that's -- this is a -- I can maintain a professional -- I mean, not that you're not very -- but it -- uh. Um. Uhm.
I have confidence in anyone chosen. You're here for a reason. No matter how awkward your partner might be.
[Seriously, he's known a lot of people with worse behaved dragons. Remind him to introduce you to the guy with the red one sometime -- he's pretty sure she didn't stop chanting at him to kiss the first person poor Keith was remotely interested in.]
[The big black dragon's attention flicks from preening his scales to the twitching tail. Batting a big paw at it. Come here. He'll play.]
Breathe a second here... [He'll hold his hands up. Waiting until Matt sorts himself out enough to speak coherently again. But there's a slight smile on his face.]
I didn't want you to get caught off-guard. That's the only reason I bring it up.
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timeasmymeasure
sad tragic kitten au
Date: 2017-01-24 06:27 pm (UTC)He's back with his younger sibling, he's surrounded by human faces all day and night (even the Altean's slightly different features are more humanoid than he's seen in months), he's allowed to sleep when he wants, eat what he wants, do what he wants. He's safe.
Matt should be over-the-moon ecstatic, unable to contain himself, leaping for joy. But he's not.
He's not, because there are so many things he hasn't told anyone about, not the Blades, not the Paladins, not anyone. That it wasn't all torture and torment with the Galra. That he didn't always go to bed hungry or scared or alone. That there were things there, people there that he misses.
In fact, there's one thing that he's even afraid to admit to himself, even when the signs are clear as day, because admitting it might change everything. He sees the hatred in Allura's face when she speaks of the Galra, senses the tension between the Paladins in light of recent developments with the Red one, knows that if he came out and said what he knows is true that it might change everything. They might offer a solution, thinking they're doing him a favor. They would regard his situation with disgust and loathing, would think it impossible that he could find something good and exciting and joyful about what's been done to his body, what's happening inside him.
Matt doesn't think he can handle hearing that name (Thace) spoken with hatred.
So he's hiding it, for now. He's wearing bigger clothes, pretending he isn't craving bizarre Galran delicacies, reciting periodic elements to distract himself from how acutely he wants to be with someone, wants to touch and hold and be touched and held.
And he's also currently doubled over the toilet in the bathroom, puking up his breakfast. Hopefully nobody comes in and finds him like this. That'd be...difficult to explain.]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-24 06:40 pm (UTC)finding out that he's galra, making allies of a powerful resistance group, defeating zarkon, losing shiro, finding matt-- it feels like everything happened all at once, and keith is still reeling from it. he wears the black paladin's armor now because it's what shiro wanted. he tries his best to lead the team because it's what shiro wanted. he tries to keep up good relations between the blades and team voltron because it's what they need, and because he can't stop thinking about the galra soldier that gave his life for shiro, and the other galra soldier that gave his life for him.
allura's taken over piloting the red lion which seems uncomfortable for both of them, keith was only just getting used to the deeper bond with his lion and now he's trying to take shiro's place and bond with a lion that was still struggling with a connection to zarkon. he wonders-- quietly, of course-- if it wouldn't have been better for allura to take black, if their personalities wouldn't have been a better match, but shiro wanted keith to lead.
they can still form voltron. it doesn't feel right, and they can't maintain the synchronization for as long as they used to, but they can manage. and they've won themselves time to regroup and reorganize, all the news out of the galra empire is rumors about zarkon being injured, and squabbling military commanders that can't agree on anything, and even a few daring planets declaring independence from the empire. zarkon's heir, lotor, has yet to make an appearance on the battlefield. it's a respite the paladins desperately needed while they try to figure out what happened to shiro.
the black lion has to know what happened somehow, and they were all mentally connected up until the very end. keith's sure the answers are just beyond his reach in the lion bond, and he's lucky that no one questions his determination to spend time every day trying to meditate and bond with the black lion on top of all his other duties as fake-shiro.
one of which is checking up on their new arrival. it feels like decades since keith last saw matt holt. he remembers being a little jealous, back in the day, he remembers envying how comfortable shiro and matt seemed around each other. the darling of the garrison pilot program and the child prodigy of the science world seemed to have so much in common, and they joked with each other, smiled at each other, even expanded their little social group to include keith sometimes for reasons he never understood. keith knew he wasn't good company, he could get that shiro was trying to encourage his talents for the garrison but he'd never figured out why matt bothered to be polite to him, unless he was just humoring shiro.
keith had never managed to summon the courage to talk to pidge about her brother, figuring that was better left in shiro's more tactful hands. all keith could ever think about was how things might have been different if he had been the one captured with shiro.
anyway he doesn't mean to intrude, but he hears the telltale sound of retching and assumes that lance made good on his stupid bet to eat five plates of food goo to get out of sparring with allura. ]
Lance, I swear, if you think that making yourself sick is going to get you out of training--
[ oh and that's. not lance. he freezes, uncertain, guiltily thinking that maybe he should call pidge to handle this, and then shakes himself and steps forward. ]
Matt, are you okay?
no subject
Date: 2017-01-25 03:42 pm (UTC)(He'd talked about Shiro, about the mission, about his father and sister and mother and earth. Perhaps that had been the tipping point, the thing that had turned him from dutiful slave to something else, because rather than scoffing or eye-rolling or teasing, he'd gotten nothing but intent, curious attention, a clawed hand playing with his hair or smoothing down the line of his bare back, tangled in cooling sheets, still breathing heavy and shaky, body shivering with aftershock and the slick and seed drying between his thighs and they said he was dead, he was dead Thace was dead--)]
I'm fine. [He knew it was Keith, on some subconscious level. Maybe he'd recognized the smell -- though whether that's because of Matt's changes or Keith's heritage isn't for sure -- or maybe the footsteps. Maybe he'd been praying on some level for Shiro and Keith was the closest thing.
That's a strange thought, and Matt rocks forward, gags and chokes, comes up with nothing. His stomach is spasming, empty.
Well. Not quite empty.]
I'm fine. [He croaks it again, curling up tighter, away from the familiar voice, the familiar scent. Keith smells Galra, so strongly that Matt wonders why he never noticed it, back on Earth.]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-27 06:19 am (UTC)[ guilt stabs him immediately; he should've been checking up on matt more regularly instead of assuming that pidge would report something wrong. that's what shiro would've done.
he resists a weird urge to crowd closer, maybe sniff at matt's neck, trying to pin down that strange smell-- not the sour stench of sick, he can smell that just fucking fine. ever since he'd gone through the trials he'd noticed weird little things like scents being stronger and more affecting. he could find most of his obnoxious teammates by following his nose.
matt doesn't smell like a paladin, though. he smells upset, although keith doesn't know how he knows what 'upset' smells like. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-01-27 05:29 pm (UTC)Keith is the first person who Matt doesn't feel like he has to protect himself from. He smells human, he smells Galra, he smells, underneath it all, like Shiro, a faint scent that speaks of an intimacy that Matt remembers from their Garrison days. It's strange, but he can remember that closeness without the old stab of jealousy. Just something like fond nostalgia.
So instead of snarling and retreating, he just sighs, rests his cheek against the cool metallic toilet bowl.]
I'm not...well. But you. Can't tell anyone.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-27 08:52 pm (UTC)What do you mean, 'not well?' If you're sick, you need to go down to the infirmary or the healing pods. You're--
[ he clenches his fists, picturing an awful prospect. ]
You're safe here, Matt, you should feel safe here. I'm... we're not gonna let anything happen to you, your sister will never let anything happen to you. You won't be captured again.
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Date: 2017-01-28 05:49 pm (UTC)That's...not what I'm afraid of. [He trails off, shudders against another nauseous heave, shudders as there's a different sort of movement entirely under the skin of his abdomen.] ...and I can't go to the infirmary. I can't -- nobody can know. Nobody can know.
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Date: 2017-01-28 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-29 05:17 pm (UTC)Can't you tell?
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Date: 2017-01-29 08:27 pm (UTC)[ hunched, ever so slightly, protecting his core. protecting his stomach, and now that keith's looking...
he pulls in a deep, involuntary breath, full of something so familiar he can almost taste it on his tongue. his brows knit, uncertainty flickering across his face. ]
I don't understand.
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Date: 2017-01-30 05:08 pm (UTC)His face is impassive. Stony.]
The Galra can change people. You know that. [It's unclear if he's talking about Shiro and his arm or Keith and his...everything.]
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Date: 2017-01-31 07:09 am (UTC)warily, ]
Are you saying-- what are you saying. The Galra changed you?
[ his gaze flickers again to matt's stomach, the way he's holding it. shielding it. if matt were a woman, it might be pretty obvious what that gesture implies.
except that's ridiculous. he can't bring himself to say it aloud, it's too bizarre. ]
Just tell me.
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Date: 2017-02-01 04:54 am (UTC)I'm pregnant. Knocked up. Expecting. In the family way. In a delicate condition. Bun in the oven. Eating for two. [A pause, one hand pressing a little on his stomach, thoughtfully.] ...six. I'm pregnant and I'm two weeks along which doesn't seem like very long until you learn Galra gestation periods are only about four months. So, in three and a half months, more or less, I'm not going to be able to keep this a secret anymore and the entire galaxy is going to hate me.
[Matt stops, catching his breath, throat tight, eyes burning as they fix on Keith.] Are you going to be one of the ones who does, Keith? Are you going to hate me too?
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From:what if psychic dragon au
Date: 2018-11-02 03:15 am (UTC)First: there are dragons. But no, that's a given, everyone knows that. There are dragons, they exist and they have riders, and that being a dragonrider is like being born with a sixth sense, a kind of gift that's evident right from infancy. Prodigies, dragonriders, cozying up to dragon eggs in the crib, trying to find that spark, that connection. Dragons and their riders know each other, recognition like a long-lost sibling or parent or child. It's instantaneous and unmistakable.
So instead, first: there are dragons and dragonriders and you are one. You, son of a sky-charter, city boy, unremarkable in any way. You, who grew up with dragons and their riders nothing more than brilliantly colorful specks of light swirling around the mountain peaks while you kept your eyes and your feet on the ground where they belonged. You, Matt Holt, a dragonrider.
A lot to take in, right?
Secondly, the dragon is no hatchling, no long-necked, rough-scaled draconian youth. It -- she -- is regal and wild and fearsome, fully grown and suddenly appearing at the edge of town one day, like she'd been summoned. Maybe she had. Maybe Matt had, since it wasn't like him to stray so far from home. Maybe they'd been expecting each other.
Whatever the reason, whatever the line of fate that had brought them together, the minute he'd set eyes on the white-and-gold dragon, that had been it. Like recognizing a long-lost family member, right? There was before and there was after, and Matt could no more part himself from his dragon than he could from his arms or legs or heart itself.
So that was that, and now the riders garrison had the unusual task of dealing with a dragonrider who wasn't born or raised to be one. Fortunately, they had just the expert to turn to, a rider who seemed born to be a leader. That's who Matt was waiting for now, leaning back against his dragon -- Cirrus, her name was, a placid, harmless word for a being who was just the opposite -- and twiddling his thumbs nervously.
Cirrus picked up on the anxiety, leaning over and resting her enormous chin atop Matt's head, rumbling low in her throat. ::worried why::]
I'm not. [Blatant lying, like she wasn't literally in his head.]
MY BRAND
Date: 2018-11-02 05:13 am (UTC)[He'd said in defense of the situation. In defense of the young man foisted onto their ranks. Into a world and a system the poor guy didn't seem even remotely prepared for. Some people thought it'd be best to separate them, somehow -- that this was clearly a mistake, that it could be reversed since the circumstances were so different.]
[It's not that big of a problem.]
[He'd said when the more official types were busy trying to find a solution. Trying to find room and training times and scramble for more space overall, for an unexpected rider. Usually, you got the basics even before you walked into the ring and found your other piece -- you knew how to look after the giant creatures, how to care for your gear, how to hold on without falling to your death. But here was this stranger, with none of this. Expected to slide into the ranks with ease.]
[We can do this.]
[He said when eyes turned to him. The person who'd been flying stunts on his mount since the day the big, black beast could fly. The risk taker. The one who made this all look effortless. Who rarely asserted himself without reason, worked with their hardest riders, could bring out the best in anyone.]
[That is who ends up heading Matt's way. The black speck in the distance flying in lazy circles. Ones that gradually get sharper, deeper. Until it rises up toward the sun in a nearly impossible angle... only to dive down, flaring out huge wings, lined in deep purple, to stall the descent.]
[:: too easy ::]
Showoff... [But he's hopping to the ground, anyway. Shucking off black and white helmet to look at the nervous young man with the most winning smile he can muster up.]
Hey -- you must be the new guy.
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Date: 2018-11-02 07:36 pm (UTC)Shiro's a teacher and a warrior, but he's also an explorer. An adventurer. He throws himself headfirst into danger that would make the most seasoned rider nervous. He's also --
::beautiful:: Matt immediately turns beet-red, even though Cirrus's reaction is only privy to the two of them. Dragons and their riders can pick up on one another's emotions and thoughts, but only mated pairs can exchange with anyone else. He whips around to glare at his dragon, who isn't paying him the slightest bit of attention, lifting her enormous head and cocking it at the black dragon in obvious interest.]
Ohhhhh no. [Matt mutters this, turning even redder. Usually dragons and their riders pair up same to same -- men with male dragons, women with female, etc. It's not unheard-of for a female dragon to have a male rider, but it does lead to some...awkward situations. i.e., when your dragon is a huge enormous flirt.
Cirrus is fluffing out her wings a little, letting them catch the light, white and gold scales glittering. She knows she's pretty. She also wouldn't be quite as interested in the other dragon if there wasn't a similar spark between Matt and the rider.
Sorry, Shiro, the new guy is going to be turning crimson and shrinking in on himself like he wants to crawl into a hole somewhere, even as he manages:] Hi.
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Date: 2018-11-02 09:22 pm (UTC)[It's also sort of a surprise to see him all grown up. All grown up and standing tall despite the situation. There's an odd sort of pride in his chest, something adding a bit more depth to the smile he's flashing Matt's way. He's... really cute. Really, really cute. Something he hasn't allowed himself to notice about anyone for a long time now.]
[::you want to kiss him::]
[Stop.]
[::you want to court him::]
[Oh my god.]
[He digs an elbow into the heavy, scaled chest behind him. Which doesn't do anything more than produce a low, amused rumbling noise. He can see that blush. Part of him hopes it's due to something else. He'd hate to be... he doesn't know. Projecting or something. Even though he knows perfectly well it doesn't work like that. Instead, he steps forward, still holding out his hand.]
[His left hand.]
It's okay. I know it's a lot to take in. But we're here to help. [The smile is encouraging, even as it tugs on the cut across his face -- it's still healing.] You'll get used to it all, I promise you.
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Date: 2018-11-04 04:13 am (UTC)So, still healing, still recovering, Shiro was flying again. However, the fact that he was on new-kid-duty probably meant he wasn't going on expeditions again just yet. Matt keeps his eyes away from the cut, from the streak of white in Shiro's hair, keeps them on Shiro's eyes instead.
::smitten fledgling:: Cirrus teases, amusement coloring the mental picture. Dragons, especially wild-born ones like her, tended to speak more in images than in actual words, which somehow made it worse. Matt chose to look down at Shiro's hand, shaking it with his own slightly shaky one.]
Thank you. I mean, both of you. I mean -- thanks. It's. Yeah, it's a lot. Thanks.
[So smooth. Cirrus leans over for a greeting as well, gently nosing at Shiro's hair, then letting out a soft huff of breath, scented like pinesmoke and singed toast. Then, to Matt's ever-heightening embarrassment, she coos, an almost birdlike sound, rubbing her scaly chin atop Shiro's hair.]
I-I'm so sorry! She's -- she doesn't normally -- Cirrus would you stop--!!
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Date: 2018-11-04 05:23 am (UTC)[Keeping them apart, while his body recovered, hadn't been an option, either. Both his dragon and another, sleek, red and too quick for its own good, had been there to pull him out again.]
[But that's in the past. Now he's got an impression to make and a new recruit to adopt. To take under a literal wing. He'll do anything he can to help, because that's the right thing to do. Because --]
[:: because you like him ::]
[Please stop talking.]
Really, it's okay. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, I'll answer whatever I can.
[He brings his right hand up, the fingers moving a little more stiffly than the left, in an attempt to brace Matt's trembling arm. Trying to broadcast that it's all right. There's no reason to be nervous around him.]
[... he even appears to take the sudden dragon head on top of his in stride. Matt and his own dragon are the only ones taking offense. With a big, black nose nudging the offending presence off him. Radiating indignation.]
It's fine. Really. Weirder things have happened.
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Date: 2018-11-04 06:33 am (UTC)[Matt relaxes a little, looking down at both Shiro's big hands on his own, getting an inaudible huff of amusement from his dragon, to whom all humans are tiny, but ::you especially::.
Cirrus then turns her attention to the big black dragon, fluffing out her wings in a display that could be threatening, if it weren't for how her tail is flicking back and forth in play. She feels that indignation, and is amused by it, like the big scaley flying cat she is.]
I mean, I'm standing here. That's...pretty darn weird, huh?
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Date: 2018-11-04 07:06 am (UTC)[::you'd like that::]
[STOP.]
[He takes a breath, visibly settling himself though his own dragon's very unhelpful commentary. There's one more reassuring squeeze to Matt's hand before he steps back, letting him go. As much as the smug voice in the back of his head informs him he'd love to keep holding on.]
[His elbow digs into black scales again.]
It can be, yeah. It's not often we get people in your situation... but that's why I'm here.
[The last word is trailed off as Shiro slowly turns, looking behind him. To where his own dragon is... preening? Of all things? Gleaming eyes on the white and gold.]
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Date: 2018-11-07 03:59 am (UTC)::closer:: she suggests, mildly.
Matt clears his throat, quickly, trying to ignore his dragon's not-at-all subtle matchmaking.]
Not often? "Not often" isn't "never". That's encouraging.
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Date: 2018-11-07 07:20 am (UTC)[Shiro lets his hand drop, stepping slightly to one side, as Cirrus butts up against his back.]
It's rare, but it's happened, and it's nothing we, or you, can't handle.
[He trails off.]
Look, I... should probably tell you. If these two haven't made it painfully obvious. [This is not easy.] I'm ... interested in men. If that's a problem for you, I'll do everything I can to find you another trainer. I promise you.
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Date: 2018-11-11 02:36 am (UTC)[Cirrus chirrups happily, turning and playfully bumping her nose to the big black dragon's, twitching her tail, instigating him into playing. Matt is so distracted by them, by the swell of curious, teasing joy that swoops through their link that he almost doesn't hear Shiro.]
Huh? [His face is blank, confused -- and then it hits him, the blush back so ferociously that Cirrus feels it, skitters away suddenly, grumbling at the wave of embarrassment.] Oh! Oh god, I -- I mean -- it's -- me too, but -- but that's -- this is a -- I can maintain a professional -- I mean, not that you're not very -- but it -- uh. Um. Uhm.
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Date: 2018-11-11 05:04 am (UTC)[Seriously, he's known a lot of people with worse behaved dragons. Remind him to introduce you to the guy with the red one sometime -- he's pretty sure she didn't stop chanting at him to kiss the first person poor Keith was remotely interested in.]
[The big black dragon's attention flicks from preening his scales to the twitching tail. Batting a big paw at it. Come here. He'll play.]
Breathe a second here... [He'll hold his hands up. Waiting until Matt sorts himself out enough to speak coherently again. But there's a slight smile on his face.]
I didn't want you to get caught off-guard. That's the only reason I bring it up.
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