Voltron Legendary Defender (Nightbreed) - From Past to Present [Shance | Jaith]

[scriveyner]

Title: From Past to Present
Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Lance, Keith/James
Rating: M
Length: 3004
Summary: It had started to snow again.



It had started to snow again; fat slow flakes that drifted lazily from a pitch-black sky. Shiro tucked his nose into the scarf Matt’s mother had given him and exhaled, breath steaming past the thick material as he trudged through the accumulated snow along the edge of the road. He could see the light from his cabin stretched through the trees, inviting and bright - it was still a wonder to him to come home to light, and warmth. How had he gone on so long in cold and darkness?

There was an additional truck parked beside Keith’s old red Jeep, and Shiro hesitated a moment but recognized the beater pickup, its dirty white paint streaked with mud and grayed with road salt. He shook his head and smiled, stomping his boots free of snow as he stood outside the front door, basking in the warmth of an unexpected, early homecoming.

The front door opened unexpectedly as he was still taking off his boots, and Keith leaned out, one hand on the knob as he looked directly at Shiro. “I thought I smelled trouble,” he said, but before he could say anything else Lance elbowed him out of the way, grabbing Shiro by the front of his jacket and half-pulling him through the door.

Shiro yelped, laughing in surprise as Lance kissed him aggressively. “You’re home early,” Lance said, accusatory, and Shiro smiled, knocking their foreheads together before lifting his gaze to look at Keith, standing just past Lance with his arms folded and wearing a slightly amused expression.

“Keith,” Shiro said, voice warm. “I didn’t know you were in town, we weren’t expecting you.” He was pleasantly surprised that both Keith and Lance seemed amenable to each other’s company, a rarity - and then James took a step backward from where he was out of sight in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and at work.

“Merry Christmas, Shiro,” he said, waving a knife in what he clearly hoped was a nonthreatening manner.

“So that’s why it smells amazing in here,” Shiro said, unwinding his scarf and shucking his coat. The tiny living area in his cabin was more crowded than it had ever been - sofa, chair, television stand and now the tree Lance had insisted upon earlier in the week, decorated with cheap store bought lights and frosted tinsel - but at the same time it seemed so much cozier. Keith retreated to the spot on the couch he’d clearly claimed, but Lance stuck like glue to Shiro’s side. “Good to see you, James.”

It was nice to have guests. Shiro always thought his cabin was the perfect size for one person, trying to isolate himself from the world - and then Lance promptly moved in and made it a better fit for two. There wasn’t a lot of room for entertaining, but Keith was close enough to him that he didn’t mind they were practically on top of each other - and James meant enough to Keith that Shiro didn’t mind his presence, either.

Lance sat curled up on Shiro’s lap like a cat, legs hooked over his thigh and head resting against Shiro’s shoulder, both hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea; while Keith and James sat on the couch together. They were still clearly hesitant to touch in front of Shiro, but Keith’s utter relaxation beside James, letting his guard down completely - that told Shiro all he needed to know about their relationship.

“I’m going for a run,” Keith announced after they’d had too much to drink and Lance had attempted to kick him for the third time; Shiro watched James follow Keith out the door and tilted his head against Lance’s before he too rose from his seat.

“Noooo,” Lance whined, pulling on his sleeve, and Shiro kissed his forehead.

“Won’t be long, love,” he promised.

James took a step back from Keith, startled and still gun-shy when he heard Shiro come through the front door. Keith gave Shiro a look that Shiro promptly ignored, and James retreated back toward the cabin, lingering on the porch for a moment before allowing the cold to get the better of him and returning inside. “Sorry to interrupt,” Shiro said, and Keith shook his head once, before lifting his gaze to the night sky visible between the bare branches of the trees.

“Let’s run,” he said, and Shiro didn’t argue with that.

They didn’t get to do this as often as they once did and Shiro always forgot how much he missed it; a white wolf and his shadow racing through the tangle of trees, down the sloping hills and through the underbrush toward the rocky shore. The snow had calmed but not cleared, the clouds breaking occasionally to show a subtle glimmer of starlight before the flurries began again.

The werewolves chased each other along the beach, Keith catching Shiro easily, tackling him and bringing him down in the sand, teeth in the fur of his throat but never hard enough to puncture; they went from wolf to man in a twinkling, Shiro laughing breathlessly as he caught a surprised Keith in an unexpected headlock.

Sitting side by side in the sand, panting, their bare shoulders pressed together for warmth, Keith said suddenly, softly, “I love him, Shiro,” and Shiro exhaled a laugh that steamed in the night air, putting his arm over Keith’s shoulder and holding him close.

Shiro returned to find Lance sleeping on the couch, head pillowed on James’s thigh as James dozed sitting up, an old holiday movie playing in black and white on the television.There was a small flare of jealousy from Shiro at how casually James’s hand lay across Lance’s side, but the moment he was through the door Lance was stirring, head raised sleepily. “Happy Christmas,” Shiro said, kissing Lance as he helped him upright.

“The motel in town is sold out the night,” James said to Keith with a stifled yawn, stretching his arms over his head and cracking his neck. Keith and Shiro exchanged a silent look look over James’s head.

“You’re welcome to stay here,” Lance said, hand in Shiro’s and leaned against his side. “There’s not a lot of room, but we can make it work.”

Lance was already asleep, curled up in their bed by the time Shiro got James and Keith situated with blankets and a pillow. He crawled into bed next to his husband, the lights from the Christmas tree twinkling brightly through the gap in the door. “Love you, Lance,” Shiro whispered. Lance cracked an eye open, smiling, as Shiro kissed above his eyebrow, before settling in to sleep.

“Love you,” Lance whispered back. “Happy Christmas.”

#

Shiro woke too early, a watery gray dawn filtering in through the curtains above the bed, and to the not-unpleasant surprise of Lance’s mouth on him, hot and velvety. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, savoring the furnace of Lance’s mouth before lifting the covers and glaring down his body. Lance’s mouth popped off his dick as he squinted at the unwelcome intrusion of cold air.

“We have guests,” Shiro hissed. Lance lazily stroked Shiro’s cock, thumb rubbing over the head and pressing against the slit.

Lance considered this for a moment, licked his lips, and took Shiro back into his mouth.

When Shiro crept out of the bedroom to put some coffee on, Keith’s tail started thumping against the floor. He had slept in his wolf form, stretched huge along the base of the couch. James wasn’t awake yet, one hand resting over the side of the couch and tangled in Keith’s coarse fur. Shiro eyed Keith, who didn’t raise his head. “Not a word,” he hissed, and Keith’s tail thumped harder.

It took a while to cycle everyone through the sole, tiny bathroom; Shiro took the last shower and was treated to roughly three minutes of lukewarm water before the hot water heater gave up entirely. At least it made for a quick shower, and when he emerged, damp hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, it was to find Lance sitting on the floor and staring in contemplation at a box in front of him.

Shiro raised an eyebrow and looked to Keith, who held an identical, smaller box. “What is this?” he asked, as Keith presented the box to him.

“It’s Christmas, you dumbass,” Keith said, logical as always.

“We didn’t get you anything,” Shiro said lamely as he looked at Lance. Lance was still contemplating the unopened box, as if trying to make peace with the fact his occasional self-described arch-nemesis had given him a gift.

“It’s okay,” James said, cradling his coffee mug in both hands. “Keith has been working on this for a while now, he was really proud to get it all done in time for Christmas, OW,” he complained as Keith not-so-softly punched him in the shoulder. He rubbed his shoulder and winced, and Keith folded his arms and refused to look at anyone for a minute.

Lance had given up his contemplation and lifted the lid on the box, squinting down at its contents before looking over at Shiro, slightly baffled, and then back down into the box. “What is it?” Shiro asked, sitting in the recliner behind him.

“Papers,” Lance said, and picked up an ID card, squinting at it. “Is this … me?”

“Now you exist,” Keith said, as Shiro leaned over, looking over Lance’s shoulder with interest. “All the paperwork you will ever need. One of our Blade members is an expert at forgery,” he explained to Shiro. “He created an entire person out of whole cloth - birth certificate and all - and inserted him into every official database. So, now Lance officially exists.” Keith looked proud of how thorough his coworkers were. “You could even get a real job if you wanted,” he added specifically to Lance, who was studying his license.

“Lance McClain,” he said, and wrinkled his nose. “Sounds weird. I don’t like it.”

“Lance,” Shiro said, and Lance shook his head once, setting the license back on top of the paperwork.

“No, for real this is amazing,” he said, looking over to Keith gratefully. “I can’t believe you did all this for me, thank you. McClain sounds terrible though, who the heck came up with that?”

“James did,” Keith said, and James sputtered into his coffee.

“You know we can always change it,” Shiro said slyly, and Lance, oblivious as always, half turned and looked at him, perplexed.

“You already exist,” he said, and pointed at the box Shiro still held. “So what did Keith get you?”

The moment lost, Shiro shook his head and sighed, smiling despite himself. He lifted the lid of his own box; it was not as big nor as comprehensive as Lance’s but he still stared at the contents for a long moment before looking up at Keith, stunned. “Keith,” he said. “How…?”

“The Blade has resources,” Keith said simply. “I’ve built up a lot of goodwill.”

Within the box was the property deed for the land the cabin stood on. Shiro had been squatting here for years, knowing the abandoned property was never his but fixing it up anyway; he’d never planned to make his permanent home here, but … he had never really planned for most of what had happened in his life, anyway.

“This is too much,” Shiro said softly. “I can’t accept this, Keith.”

Keith shrugged. “The Blade will hold the land if you don’t.” He knew Shiro too well, and Keith inclined his head and grinned. “It’s yours for as long as you want it. Besides, now you can add on to this old shack with impunity. Make some worthwhile improvements.”

“What’s wrong with our home?” Lance said indignantly.

Shiro put his hand on Lance’s shoulder and leaned forward, wanting to bury the incredulous laugh in Lance’s hair. “Keith wants us to build a guest room so they can visit more often.”

“Or at least a new water heater,” James added, having had the pleasure of the lukewarm shower before Shiro’s.

Lance wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want roommates.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, sitting back and looking to Keith. “These are amazing gifts, and we can’t ever hope to repay the Blade for all they’ve done for us.”

“You’ll never have to, Shiro,” Keith said, his smile confident.

“Will you be staying the night tonight as well?” Shiro asked casually as he helped James make lunch. It had snowed again in the early morning, and the ground outside was an unbroken sheet of white.

James shook his head idly, a faint flush coloring his features. “We’re going to head east,” he said. “My friends have never met Keith, and … I want them to.” He ducked his head and didn’t look at Shiro, and Shiro smiled at his bashfulness.

“Keith’s my family,” Shiro said, and James stilled. “And that makes you family too, James. You’re welcome here any time.”

James lifted his head slowly and looked to Shiro, then smiled back. “Thank you,” he said.

Shiro, still in the kitchen, caught James leaning down to kiss Keith out of the corner of his eye. He grinned, and finished putting on more coffee. Maybe, in time, they both wouldn’t be as reserved, here.

They left in the early evening, the shadows of the trees already long across the white carpet of fresh snow. “Be safe,” Shiro said as he hugged Keith, Lance lingering in the doorway behind him. He clapped James on the shoulder. “Keep him out of trouble.”

James said, “I’m a hunter, not a miracle worker.”

Alone at last, Shiro shut the door firmly as Lance bounced to the couch, flopping onto it and sprawling out, throwing his arms in Shiro’s direction. “Please come fuck me,” he said, and Shiro laughed, leaning over Lance and kissing him deeply.

“You can still see the exhaust from James’s truck,” he teased, and Lance whined as Shiro straightened, one hand on the back of the couch. “Hold that thought, love.”

Shiro went to the Christmas tree, picking up a small box that had been sitting beneath it, hidden mostly from view. “You still have a present to open.”

Lance blinked owlishly at Shiro, and then sat up, staring at the present in Shiro’s hands. “I thought we weren’t doing presents,” he said.

“I couldn’t resist,” Shiro murmured. “Open it.”

Lance squinted at him, then at the box, and sighed. “If it’s more paperwork,” he threatened, taking the box from Shiro. He tore the simple paper wrapping and paused, recognizing the shape of the box and opening the soft blue case slowly to reveal two plain, silver rings.

“I know we’re already married,” Shiro said as he sat beside Lance on the couch. “But I want everyone to know it.”

Lance closed the box and held it to his chest. He closed his eyes. “Lance…?” Shiro asked, suddenly worried.

“You better be naked by the time I open my eyes because I am going to ride your knot so hard,” Lance said, strangled. Shiro really laughed at that, and he rose off the couch, moving to scoop a startled Lance into his arms, whose eyes flew open anyway.

“Not naked yet,” Shiro said, as he carried Lance into the bedroom. “But let’s fix that, shall we?”

#

Lance held out his left hand, admiring the ring on his finger, the plain silver band catching the light from the Christmas tree in the other room. A realization settled over him and he rolled up onto his side, kicking Shiro under the sheets. Shiro grunted but didn’t raise his head, still recovering. “That’s what you meant by changing my name, isn’t it,” he said, and Shiro yawned, slinging his arm over Lance and pulling him back down into Shiro’s embrace.

“M’rry Christmas,” Shiro mumbled, tucking his face against the crown of Lance’s head. Lance sighed and consented to almost being suffocated.

“Merry Christmas, my husband,” Lance said, and closed his eyes.