#vld secret santa 2017

[loverboy-lancemcclain]

A Galaxy Garrison Christmas (Sort of)

It feels like I’ve been waiting to post this for ages, and the time is finally here! For this Secret Santa gift exchange, I wrote a little something for @feministhotline! 

You told me to write something I would enjoy writing, and I considered a couple different ideas before settling on an AU I’ve been thinking of for a little while, now. The background is a little vague, since it’s just a short one-shot, but it takes place in a reality in which the Galaxy Garrison is a huge university that’s open to the entire universe. Keith is a Galra half-breed (with the fluffy ears and purple fur!) that moved back from Daibazaal to get away from his mother’s purist relatives and live with his dad and his half-brother, Shiro, Matt never went missing with Shiro and his dad, the Galra aren’t a race mostly made up of murderous assholes, and Lance is head-over-heels for his catboy Keith. I really hope you enjoy it! The fic is under the cut :)

PS: this isn’t even mentioned in the one-shot, but Slav is probably one of those really annoying professors that just keeps talking and doesn’t even realize he’s held you back for an extra twenty minutes until someone finally has the heart to cut him off. 

Every December, the spirit of Christmas latches on to the Galaxy Garrison - sinks its candy cane claws into the enormous campus and remains unshakable all the way up until the season ends. Everywhere you went, your senses were assaulted by the borderline oppressive presence of the Christmas Season. Every room smelled like gingerbread and hot chocolate, every available surface was dripping with colorful baubles and shimmering decorations, every window was framed with twinkling lights, and loud, joyous music echoed up and down every hallway. It was, after all, one of the only Earthen holidays that could be enjoyed by every student attending the Garrison, human and alien alike. The administration of the university knew that opening their doors to the entire universe would create a little friction regarding holidays, but it quickly became apparent the this holiday in particular — one celebrating pure, unadulterated joy and the happiness of sharing what you have with those around you — could be enjoyed by all walks of life. Granted, many of the alien races taking part in the festivities on campus were unaware of the spiritual and religious aspects of the holiday. However, that does not mean that they did not enjoy themselves just as much as their human schoolmates.

Today, the smell of peppermint and pecans was particularly strong, and it seemed to be wafting from the Garrison’s largest communal kitchen, which was located in the largest dorm building on campus. Lance followed the scent with a small smile on his face. He could recognize this particular recipe anywhere.

Just as he had predicted, his eyes landed on a large, dark body hunched over in front of one of the kitchen’s ovens (each of the Garrison’s three kitchens have a multitude of ovens, stoves, and sinks so that there would never be too long of a wait for people who wanted to make their meals by hand) the moment he rounded the corner and stepped into the room. The sweet smell of peppermint pecan cookies assaulted his nose and he all but floated along towards the table on which Hunk had set them down to cool. He plucked small one off of the tray and popped it into his mouth, his taste buds singing their praise as the perfect balance of sugar and peppermint graced his tongue. He didn’t acknowledge anyone else in the room until after he had savored and swallowed the treat.

“I still don’t understand how you make these cookies so good every year, Hunk.” Lance sighed, batting his eyes dreamily at his best friend. Honestly, Hunk would make the perfect spouse. Caring, doting, loyal, and an excellent cook. Almost as good as his mama, really. It’s almost a shame that Lance is spoken for. Keith can’t cook for shit.

“I bet it’s some kind of Samoan magic.” Pidge said, loudly munching on their own handful of cookies snuck from one of the trays.

“Actually, I don’t think the kind of magic my ancestors subscribed to works on food.” Hunk laughed, pulled the last two trays from the oven once they were browned enough. He slid them up onto the counter next to Pidge, gently knocking their crossed legs over so they wouldn’t burn themselves on the hot metal. “I think it was more like, natural magic? But I’m really not sure. My parents never really told me much about the old stories. I heard some of it from my tinamatua, but even she doesn’t know very much.” He explained, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. It always did bother him that he didn’t know very much about his heritage and culture, but there isn’t much he can do about that from the Garrison. If there are any other full blooded Samoans on campus, he’s yet to meet them.

“Well either way, they’re always amazing.” Lance said, picking up on the slight droop in his best friend’s shoulders and hurrying to make him feel better. He racked his brain trying to think of something that could help before a light flickered on in his head. “Hey, I don’t think Keith and Allura have tried these yet, have they? Why don’t we bring some over to them once they’re all cooled off?” He suggested, a dazzling, hopefully infection grin spread across his face. He nearly huffed a sigh of relief when Hunk shook off his lingering sadness and returned the smile with his own.

“Yeah, you’re right! This is Allura and Coran’s first year here, and Keith is usually back home by now.” Hunk said, jumping into action at the prospect of sharing his creations with his friends. Up until now, Pidge, Matt, and Lance have been the only people he could hang out with up until they go back to their respective homes for the holidays, but now he’s got Keith, Allura, Coran, and Shiro to spend time with, too! Not that anyone can really know they’re friends with Shiro, considering he’s a teacher and he could get in trouble for spending time with his students outside of the classroom, even if one of them is his half-brother. Regardless, the prospect of finally being able to share his Christmas creation with even more of his friends was enough to get him shuffling all of his slightly more cooled off cookies into several baggies.

“You just wanna see your boyfriend.” Pidge taunted, their eyes gleaming with mischief as they swung their legs over the edge of the counter.

Lance stammered over his indignant squawk, but he didn’t bother denying the truth. He and Keith are still very… new. They had been tiptoeing around one another for months since they first became friends, but Lance had only recently gotten off his ass to formally ask Keith out. They’ve been officially dating for about three months now, but the mere thought of the fluffy eared, purple menace still sends Lance into a dopey, delirious, love-struck state-of-mind. Pidge’s constant, merciless teasing doesn’t help one bit. Ever since Matt had gone off to investigate another small moon that had been discovered near Kerberos, Pidge’s full attention had been focused on their default big brother, Lance. He can’t say he’s very fond of the teasing, but he deals with it because it helps keep Pidge’s mind off of how much they miss Matt.

Finally, he managed to recover from his flustered state enough to fire back with a weak, “Yeah, well… at least I have a boyfriend!” Admittedly, it was a lame shot considering Pidge isn’t even all that interested in pursuing anything with anyone. Lance has the sneaking suspicion that they might be aromantic, but he doesn’t want to label it if Pidge doesn’t feel the need to. Pidge didn’t even bother to grace him with a response.

“If you two are done arguing, we can bring these cookies up to Allura’s apartment.” Hunk said, strategically placing himself between his two best friends as a human wall, of sorts, to keep them from continuing their petty bickering.

Lance all but raced for the exit. He didn’t even bother looking back to see if Pidge and Hunk were following, as most of his attention was focused on pulling up a message to his boyfriend to tell him to meet them at Allura’s place. The princess had been gifted the spacious apartment by the Garrison’s president when she first arrived on Earth to attend the university (apparently, her father had been adamant on her experiencing as much as possible before she must ascend to the throne). Since Allura and Coran stumbled into Lance’s group of friends (along with Keith, who had moved to Earth from Daibazaal to get away from his mother’s puritist family and live with his father and older half-brother Shiro, around the same time), the princess’ apartment had become their most frequented hang-out. After all, they can’t really hang out with Shiro on campus and, even if they could, anything beats trying to stuff seven people (eight, when Matt isn’t away on a mission) into one little dorm room.

Lance stopped abruptly right in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring Pidge’s annoyed shout as they crashed into Lance’s back (he didn’t even budge, and he’s pretty sure Pidge’s small body ricocheted right off of him) and Hunk’s resulting uproarious laughter. His eyes were zeroed in on the little white bubble that had popped up in his message thread. It was nothing really special, but it was enough to make his eyes water and his cheeks burn.

“I’ll see you there. Merry Christmas, baby. xx”

It wasn’t very long and Keith had obviously mixed up the dates, since Christmas is still about a week and a half away and Lance really, probably shouldn’t be welling up with tears of absolute fucking infatuation joy, but in his defense, he’d always been a sucker for sweet messages — especially if they’re from a certain fluffy Galra that he might just be falling in love with.

[sixofclovers]

...I’m Hunk

Happy holidays @whyarewehereman !! I’m ur secret santa for the @vldplatonicsecretsanta :D! Not holiday themed but I was psyched for a Lance and Hunk friendship pic so pls enjoy a little comic type thing abt their first meeting and all that destined to be bros 4 life garbage I adore

((commission info))

[dracoryss]

My gift for @pretty-princess-eren for the @shancesecretsanta!! I hope you like it! ヽ(　･∀･)ﾉ

[horrorhxe]

Here’s my @shancesecretsanta for @catfishofoldin99colours! I really hope you like it and have a very merry christmas and/or joyous holiday~

[oligreyart]

This is for @peacein-space for the @shancesecretsanta event.

I wrote a little drabble for this under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

They had spent the whole day shopping for gifts for their family and friends. After the fifth store fatigue started to settle in Shiro's bones. With Lance's enthusiasm and the crowds all Shiro wanted to do was curl up on the couch with Lance pressed up against him while they watched all of the holiday movies that would be playing nonstop through out the weekend. However after the eighth store he realized that wouldn't be happening after all. Lance keep changing his mind whenever he thought he had found the perfect gift for his mom. Shiro just wanted this day to be over.

After some time he pleaded to at least take a break to grab some food and they stored their bags in their car that was parked in the underground parking lot. Lance suggested taking a walk to enjoy the fresh air after being stuck inside the mall the whole day. Shiro agreed with some relief. He wanted to escape from the mass of anxiety filled strangers trying to find the last of their gifts.

After a quick meal and on the way back to the hectic life of retail the glide of blades on the lake drew his attention. Lance pulled his boyfriend over to the center of the park where a few people were enjoying the rare good weather that had finally broke the on and off of the constant snow that had been falling for days. Lance's eyes filled with delight as they landed on him with an unspoken question. Shiro hid a fond smile as he let him wrangle him into the temporary shelter to rent a pair of ice skates.

He hadn't been on the ice since he was a kid so once his feet hit the slippery surface he almost wiped out. His hands landed on Lance's shoulder to steady himself while Lance laughed as he guided Shiro around until he found his balance. They went about slowly, hand in hand as other people passed them. An overhead speaker played distorted Christmas music and Jingle Bells seemed to be on a constant loop.

The other skaters bled into the background as he solely focused on his boyfriend. Their relationship was still new and fresh but at that moment he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. They continued to slowly dance across the ice all other thoughts and worries fading away.

After they exhausted themselves they returned the skates. They held hands while they walked around the lake before pausing. Lance gazed up and turned to him with a grin playing at his lips. He pulled Shiro so they were pressed against each other and placed a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. Shiro smiled in confusion before Lance pointed up and Shiro glimpsed a mistletoe thrown on one of the branches of a tree they were under.

Shiro pulled him closer and could feel the cold dissipate as Lance wound his arms around him. Shiro kissed him fully on the mouth and he could feel Lance smile against his lips. Now all he wanted was this day to never end.

[artbygenesis]

“I wish I could have known you.”

An AU where a fragment of Zarkon’s personality is trapped on the astral plane and the Black Lion facilitates a relationship between the two paladins...

Featuring Shiro’s patented Shoulder Hand(TM). It’s my @galrasecretsanta gift for @xblackpaladin!!! An awesome creator of quality Galra content <3 I hope you like it!

[pretty-princess-eren]

Perfect like Snow Globes [Shance Secret Santa ‘17]

Yes! I am the secret Santa for @cata-strophes for the @shancesecretsanta! I hope you enjoy, dear! I really loved so many ideas on your list, but I’m a sucker for Galra!Shiro and flower shop AU just-- I had this idea, so I hope you enjoy.

~*MERRY SHANCEMAS!*~

--

Earth is a fascinating, if archaic planet whenever Lance thinks upon his home of Altea.

Transferring to this planet of oceanic blues and verdant greens had been a necessity for the alliance rather than for his own good. For the sake of his beloved son and second in line of the throne, King Alfor simply chose a route of diplomacy for Lance rather than pluck his beloved eldest child from her post. Allura was bred and raised to reign over Altea and the surrounding planets of the coalition, so Alfor’s decision was a simple one. Lance did best to not rebuke his father’s decision of his son’s fate, but the slight still aches at times considering.

When told of how he would live his days from then on, all Lance asked was his presence not be heralded, not be announced, as he wanted to immerse himself into another world without fear of his royalty being used against him. It was a grand excuse, maybe, to believe that he could learn to love outside of his duties, and to be adored for himself, not for the circlet affixed with a gem of the royal family.

For the years— years, yes, a fun concept though confusing at first for deca-phoebs makes more sense— that the Altean has listened and has watched, he has found that Earthlings are terribly funny. Whenever the humans of this planet perform their unpredictable actions, it warms Lance all over. No, they are not always so funny, these members of the reigning species of the planet, cruel and greedy, war mongering that took a long time to learn to treat others in their own race with respect. Yet, Lance has seen it, has seen how the humans have progressed with his time on this water laden sphere that rotates around a hot star.

Humans can be so endearing, brimming with altruism and kindness in a myriad of manners that leave onlookers such as the Altean prince a little befuddled. One manner in particular, of course, has come around once again in jolly yuletides of tinsel and sleigh bells.

Earth is particularly traditional in all fares holidays, humans laborious in their decorating the industrial structures that house matters mercantile and medical. There are more of these holidays that can be counted on fingers and toes of just one human, with blacks and oranges of the ghouls and goblins of Halloween or with the pastels of Easter to beckon forth a bunny that hops with loads of baskets. Then, though, there is Christmas, a season-long holiday that has lit a hearth of warm tidings in Lance's heart the most, especially with such fascination with gift giving.

Humans, however, take gifts to such boundless extremes that Lance is certain that it behooves the alliances with Altea and Daibazaal to not cater to such events. Gifts are a natural occurrence, supposedly held out with such profound significance as they are given out of selflessness, but poor humans, they feel more obligated at heart than otherwise.

Gifts, to Lance, can be simple and elegant, finding that the presentation of flowers are as symbolic in their receipt as any box with a bow slapped on could be. Flowers pronounce meaning far beyond words, imparting sentiments that flourish in petals of whites and blues and yellows. Pinks are of hearts aflutter, and reds are of passions aflame. Flowers lack sophistication yet remain proficient, and that is how it should be.

Christmas is a tremendously hectic time in the shop, but there is a lull this time after human career getters partake of their lunch hour. He has spruced up from a morning rush of orders, and the Altean with his flowers as his only audience sits at the counter to arrange subliminal bouquets for all alike.

The bell chimes from the door, and Lances ears perk at the arrival of a customer. He grins, tilting his head around the vase filled with baby’s breath and poinsettias. "Hello, welcome! Can I--?"

He stops short, two Galra patrol standing in his doorway with expressions drowning in sobriety.

The Galra Empire and Altea had been strange partners in vigilante crime for longer than Lance has ever been told, several deca-phoebs even before Lance's elder sister had ever been a thought. While there is comradeship, to see two patrols out on earth is foreboding.

"... May I help you?" Lance asks, implying their authority despite his own nestled in the bud of a gem affixed on the circlet that sits on his forehead. From their grim countenances, he can only assume that their presence in his florist shop is not one of partaking of advice for flower-gifting.

With a brief glance between each other, the two shift their weight in unison, a pair of motions that are apparent indications of how in sync the Galra are before the taller of them speaks, voice like thick chocolate poured from a steaming cup on wintry evenings.

“My partner and I are looking for a prisoner who broke out from their cell that was under more surveillance than the attempted assassin of your King Grogory." Oh, and Lance is lost, tips of his eyes perking at the melodious baritone that simmers in his veins, keeps him on his toes and makes him think how interesting this tall, black-furred Galra is.

That this patrolman knows some simple verbatim on Altean history is also flattering.

"I haven't seen anyone that would catch my eye. Maybe a picture would help?" Lance offers with a tilt of his head, personally a little more enthused by the sight before rather than some convict on the run.

Instead of Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome, the shorter Galra pulls out a tablet from his bag, tapping the screen to brighten the image before revealing to the Altean an Olkari female with a sassy smirk that drips with the disdain of the asinine. “Name’s Pidge-- she was being questioned for her involvement with hacking the her planet’s government systems in an act of rebellion against Olkarion’s king.  As you know, none of the governments have sided with either side in their civil war, so we have to detain and return."

Lance frowns. Rebellions are common place in an universe that is more connected with each rise of an Altean sun and the fall of its two moons. Altea has been fortunate, but its time is assuredly inevitable when interplanetary peace crumbles like the wet sands that falls from his palms to rejoin the washing waves of sea water.

But, Lance has not seen this hacker Olkari who is wanted by the Galra authority, so he will speak truthfully, “I’m sorry, but she isn’t familiar. I haven’t seen an Olkari since I was back home on Altea.”

The shorter Galra groans in frustration, scrubbing the side of his jaw with the heel of his hand as he works his fangs into a gritting fashion, “another dead end. C’mon, Shiro, we might as well look in another quadrant.”

The one called Shiro, the man that has caught Lance’s eyes with his sleek, ebony fur, a trademark sign of a Galra hybrid as Lance has yet to meet one that was not purple, stands at his place unmoving. His gaze, a golden glow of eyes that search the flower shop for some kind of secret meaning, glow in the afternoon sun, an assured sign that the day is ticking by and soon night will be upon them.

That this fellow alien on this humble blue planet has found pause in his quaint shop has puzzled the Prince of Altea greatly, but if he were to stay a little longer, he surely would not argue. No, instead, he feels an itch to make a grand impression, the little nuances of his character wanting to bloom in cumbersome wafts as it used to when he was growing up. Awkward, yes, to be a rambling flirt with an overzealous attitude towards all affairs romantic, but time has a wise way of molding one into a better mold of a past life.

Lance must have missed the memo, perching his elbows on the counter and leaning his chin into his hands, “is there anything else I can do for you two then? Tea? Flowers for your mothers? Lovers?”

With a twitch of a wince, Lance is slapped with the sad thought that Mister Brooding and Tall might have a little thing waiting at home, someone more his type that cooks all those meat-filled meals that Galra are fondly ravenous over. The answer would be dreadful, so when nothing is mentioned, not even receiving a scoff of derision for his tease, Lance determines to take it as there is no one to warm his bed and his heart.

For all the hesitancy that weighs the Galra patrolman to his place, he barely manages a smile, not once glinting his fangs to the Altean that waits for his reply as though the sharpness of canines would impose a darker intent.

"If... you would not mind, might we exchange contacts? The warrant for the Olkari's arrest is a pressing matter, and any help would be appreciated."

Lance blinks, dead-panning at this poor sap that is too large and too imposing, a beast of his species known for brute strength and obstructive justice. At the obtainment for permission to have such information, Shiro has seemed to shrink before him, now a shyer, fluffier shadow within his decorated armor. It is no surprise from the gray bars that he is highly-ranked, and more so that he was assigned to this case due to the severity of the target. However, this adorable bashful gesture of ‘might we’ tickles Lance’s ribs.

"I don’t see why not!" The Altean chirps, snatching a post it note from its stack to scribble down the main digits to the shop, humming at his sheer, dumb luck. Who would have thought that there would be a ravishing Galra figure of authority that would ping all of his soft weaknesses would come into his store today of all days, let alone ask for his number? What a score.

Once he’s satisfied with the legibility of his writing, Lance shuffles over to Shiro with a grin bright with sincerity as he hands the number over before offering a pen and paper, “call me for anything, okay? The line’s always open.”

Shiro stumbles with writing, grumbling under his breath over these archaic means to exchange contacts. Digital conveyance is more expected with civilizations of the universe that have achieved masterful advances in technology, but the man manages and it warms Lance through and through.

With a pluck of the note from Shiro’s fingers, Lance’s eyes roam the paper, barely able to read the scrawls of lines and loops. but he can manage-- he will make sure he can manage.  “I’ll be sure to call if anything comes up, sir!”

Shiro nods, and not even a tick later, turns to his companion, “you ready?”

Time must have passed far too soon as the red of the other Galra’s armor glows a burnished copper in the setting sun, “yeah, let’s get these rounds finished up before we’re off shift.”

Curtly, Shiro turns about face, or tries to, stopping short a half step before tipping his head politely to Lance. “Er… thank you for your cooperation.”

"Any time, cutie," and yes, notch down another point for Lance as that black fur bristles in a display he knows is a batting fluster of the heart, and the bell is all Lance hears when the two exeunt.

Silence crawls back into the crevices of his world, this little florist shop light years away from his home, chipping away at the excitement that now chills over like the frost on the windows. Blue eyes stare out, an ocean gazing at the few people that are walking around in the cityscape, enraptured with the grandeur of urban bustle.

There are still a few hours, so Lance spends them best he can, fortunate to have a customer base that soon keeps him busy until it’s time to close. Closing up for the night is a moment that relaxes him, especially after dealing with the evening patrons all a-flurry with their holiday party needs for bouquets and gifts galore. There is no one else but him and his only company now, a little cat he has lovingly named Blue after his sister’s lion-- the one he wishes he could have piloted in the Alliance fleet, but sadly was not chosen to.

A queen and a soldier, that is Allura. He, known either as Allura’s brother or Alfor’s son, could be neither, only second in line and considered too sprightly for war. Allura is sturdy and quick on her feet, ponderously merciless yet ferociously compassionate all the same. She is a leader born and bred with a pedigree that far outweighs all others, and yet her brother is away from her, living in secret on Earth to determine the longevity of the alliance with this new planet located in the Milky Way Galaxy.

Still, Blue listens to him at least, though that is not fair to his family to thrust his wayward opinion upon them. Alfor and Allura are simply busy bodies, too engrossed in the work to be done rather than the time that could be spent with family and with friends. Lance understands now the importance of hard work and listening to the reality of situations abound, but joy is still what makes a heart beat, not how stressed a king or princess could fret themselves in.

“By Grogory, he was so good to look at, Blue,” he tells her while the cat eats away at her food from her dish and he is carefully setting empty vases up for tomorrow’s arrangements, "makes me miss the dances we used to have in the castle ballroom."

Blue chomps along a bite of dry cat kibble, her long tail draping along in pleasant curls while he goes on and on with his rambing over the daily news he has for her, possibly finding a strangeness in the things that beings of higher intelligence fall into quandaries over. She purrs happily away nonetheless, an avid listener while through the shop windows, the city falls into the veil of night scenes, of humans rousing up for another thrill of dancing to bass beats or visiting friends and families for gift giving and cookie eating.

Just like balls, but grittier. Just like parties, but calmer. The city will never sleep, yet it will droll on all the same.

With all of the evening’s preparations for tomorrow completed, Lance revels in the sigh that floats him down until he’s kneeling next to Blue to watch her eat. He wonders, as he usually does, if his pretty girl surmised that he is just a human with funny ears and cheeks mark. Then again, she is more than likely just satisfied with a good meal to be found in the same place every night with someone that gives her scratches under her chin that she likes best.

Idly, his fingers stroke her fur, loving the softness that keeps her warm in spite of the temperature drop of nightfall, that keeps her comfortable when there is no blanket to curl up into while on her prowls. Blue rewards his gesture with an adorable chirp and a languid curl up into his palm, tail flicking about in delight at his soft chuckle.

"I am happy you are my friend, Blue," he whispers to her, "for being overpopulated, Earth is a terribly lonely place.”

Purring, Blue pads around his arm to perch her front paws on his thigh to watch him, her eyes so brilliant, fractals of sapphires that are molten with the essence of life. There is wisdom found in those eyes, of tales that he will never know, of lessons he must learn on his own, and though he is no cat, Lance has been taught more from this tiny, fluffy creature more than he could have ever fathomed.

Strangely, Blue perhaps blesses him with a sense of nostalgia, reminders of his father as her eyes are so reminiscent of that or even of the Queen of Daibazaal, as Honerva herself would dote upon a feline companion that would rub along her ankles as she talks of science and of discovery, husband in tow for a show of might rather than intelligence.

Lance, if ever told that he could be homebound to beloved Altea tomorrow, would be sure Blue would accompany him back, nestled in the crook of his arm he would sleep the whole journey long.

For in the end, Earth is a temporary place to rest his head while he dreams of home like the crooners on the radio sing of. How exciting it would be to be counted upon in the ranks of his family, respected in both royal blood and prestigious character, to fill in his seat once more.

Instead, his dreams of the Altean castle shift along the reds and golds of the holidays, holly leaves hanging from the doorways while garland ties his wrists to a throne that is not his anymore. The color dampen in their tints, no longer resplendent like the Christmas trees and wreaths that bounce in his visions like carousel horses until a certain Galra adorned in his best armor fills the prince’s thoughts. Those eyes, golden like the lanterns that glow in wintry moonlight, would offer his hand for a dance, for a waltz with the bells of silver and Christmases of white tingling in their heads.

A snow globe fantasy shaken with childlike awe and delight, but all the same, Lance wakes up each honeyed morning with a goofy smile plastered on his face and a wistful sigh that exhales from beneath the sheets.  

(He fiddles each day with the paper with Shiro’s number every morning while his tea steeps in a cup that tells him ‘good morning, gorgeous.’

He never calls, and he is not called in return.)

—

Christmas Eve comes with a whoosh of gingerbread wafting along the velvet ropes that jingle with the inevitable flight of reindeer. Lance would have counted the days as he is apt to do, crossed out the day on the calendar in some menial routine to hasten the end to his time here one way or another, he has hardly had a thought to do so. Ever since the moment two Galra patrol entered the florist store, the weeks that have passed have since been a blur, a flurry of ruby bows and verdant vases, of begging, pleading patrons that are in their doomsday hour.

For the pleasantries that come with the Altean court, Lance is fortunately on part with the essential social graces required to be at the forefront of ‘customer service.’ It is one mask to be cordial, but wear another with true comfort for frantic ladies suffering with the disparaging chains of Christmas parties lackluster weighing down their tides of good cheer.

“You’re an absolute sweetheart, a real life saver,” one portly woman muttered through her lips, and Lance regrettably gazed along the creases of her make up askew with her lack of time to correct with all the details she could squeeze in, “you have an eye for flowers, dear, and my monster-in-law can’t say one bad thing about that.”

With a smile and acceptance of her tender, he had wished her a happy holiday with a murmur of genuine concern. It was with purse of his lips as the poor lady bristled for the onslaught of cold that he determines that there is no need to ever have one of these ‘monsters’ come to his home, into his life here, as they sound like grisly visages of degradation endless.

It’s all bustle and tussle, all bartering out goods and services for the currency to pay rent and pay vendors, but finally, the eve of the Christmas is upon him, and with three in the afternoon ticking past, the customer fall short in their coming and going, leaving Lance to clean up for the last few hours of operation before he turns the open sign to close.

It’s methodical, a pacifying sliver of space and time that is all his own even as Blue comes to her food bowl, even while he sweeps in tempo to the silver bell ode that croons from the radio from the counter. There is no such issue of home away from home, or even just dreaming of the hums of Altean exploration ships as they float though the dusts of ice and rock. He misses the helm, misses the lights that glow blue from their curves and the scaffolds, misses each star map and each palm of hand that would cup the teladuv transmitter to make the ship really fly.

Reveries, of course, are flimsy nuances, broken by the tinging of bells of an opening door. The snap of thread that tethered Lance into his fantasy void of being with Allura and Alfor as they stand on the helm’s platform as was their due right is a shuddering jolt throughout his joints.

Put on a cheerful face. Smile. Be jolly. Be the bearer of prosperous intent, and the universe is a pearl in your hand.

Even now, Coran’s lessons echo in his thoughts, and yes, this is an act that Lance can play, one role that he is so adamant to perfect. It would be this, where he regals in a threadbare tenacity of articulated welcome, despite how profoundly he longs to be home.

“Hello!” and Lance pertains to remain chipper despite the ice water drowning his vein, spiking along his blood to keep him poignantly aware of the lack of his family’s presence, “may I help—?

Breath escapes him, drains from his lungs as he realizes that Shiro, the Galra patrol that has caught his fancy enough to waltz in cloudy dreams of ballrooms and fountains gilded in golds and sapphires, has walked through that door.

It’s entirely unsuspected, unprecedented even, for a visit from the other would have only occurred in a daydream or two— yet, there he is, ironically there when Lance is certain that the Olkari hacker in question from weeks ago was caught recently before being deported back to her home planet. News, however, burns through the airways fast, and he also is certain that the target is as slippery as she is stealthy, smarter than the average Galra or Altean sentry as just mere few quintants away from Olkarion, Pidge managed to board a pod for another galaxy.

Pouting was a too sensitive reaction to hearing that the hacker’s location had changed, thus eradicating any excuse to call the number now slightly faded from all the mornings he spent rubbing his thumb over the barely-legible scribble. Fate must have felt a pang of sympathy for him for here is now the object of his affections, there in his shop to speak with a voice of nutmeg and cinnamon.

“Ah…” and Shiro is as undoubtedly stunned at this Christmas miracle as Lance, a mockery of a holiday bounty dropped into the Altean’s figurative lap with snow ribbons lacing over his dark armor and black fur.

With a wisp of an inhale, Lance fills his lungs with the intent of formulating words to embark upon a series of inquiries, but Shiro shakes abruptly before the prince has a second to utter one syllable. Grumbling, the Galra trembles and shakes again, and it hits Lance that despite all that warm fur, much like his sweet Blue’s sleek coat, that Shiro is experiencing cold.

Another breath, and Shiro stills entirely, barely breathing as his yellow eyes scour the flagrant petals of reds and ivories before settling in on a sight of two identical blues.

"May... I help you?" Lance asks with precision that stems from the unsure because for all he knew with the breaking news cast of the Olkari’s recapture, this moment should have never should have an inkling of hope.

Yet, Shiro’s gruff response is simple, tinged with a blush as he hunkers down in his armor as the wind howls along the snow outside, tucking into every inch of the city winter’s strange fluff, “I remembered that it was warm here…”

Oh. Oh… that does not make much sense at the first tick, but when Lance mulls over the statement, picks it apart with that ingenious observation of character that he has managed to build into a talent, he cannot help but smile consolingly.

"Daibazaal does not have winter, does it?"

Shiro snorts out a light chuckle, ears flicking up in amusement before tilting back as Earth children run down the street, boot prints the only evidence they were even there. “No, Daibazaal does not have this wretched white stuff.”

Lance steps closer with a fidget of his fingers, but his grin is bright and tender, “It’s ‘snow.’ The humans call it snow.”

“Oh, I am aware. The humans think it’s quite funny that us ‘overgrown cats’ even show the slightest bit of chill,” Shiro huffs with a kinder regard to Lance than he might would show any Earth native at the moment, “but home does not prepare me for this… ‘winter’ climate.”

With a hum, Lance skirts over to a display table, tilting a flower stem to and fro until it meets his satisfaction. “For the deca-phoebs I have been here, I have gotten quite used to it. It isn’t too terrible, and it’s quite pretty.”

Silence seeks to gain a prominence in the ambiance, and with a curious turn of his head over his shoulder to glance back at Shiro, all Lance sees is a bit of worry and pity. It is a disconcerting hiss that twinges inside his ribs, and he is near offense before Shiro inches further inside of the warm store so that he can thaw out under a vent puffing out hot air.

To see the bliss that flowers along the creases of Shiro’s mouth at the heat that buries into his fur blooms a bud of rosy warmth that creeps in gossamer threads along Lance’s chest.

“You have been stationed on Earth for a long time, have you not? “

For the small, once infinitesimal hope that the seasons of his time here on Earth were simply not as countless as they seemed, not as many notches that etch into the wall of his psyche as morbid reminders that he is too long and too far from Altea.

He has been spoken to, and oh, Lance wants to talk, wants to piece together a thrilling conversation, one that would woo and would entice any person regardless of species. Yet, he cannot, and he is bare of all his constructs to say in forlorn atonement, “yes, I have.”

Shiro might would have wanted to thrash open a book of things he may comprehend, but possibly lacks experience, but he is cut short by a purring that weaves between his ankles.

“Ah, speaking of cats,” and if Shiro were in blissful warmth before, he is exhilarated to see Blue, a wonderment in his eyes as he leans down to pet along her head to all the way down her back. Lance chokes, hiccups at how tender the Galra is with such a tiny, frail creature in comparison to claws, fangs, and sheer size alone.

“Her… her name is Blue,” Lance offers, watching as Blue curves up into the heel of Shiro’s hand before slinking around his ankles with a chirp. She loves attention, loves how her looks alone beckons forth offerings of pets, brushings, and food from feeble mortals that cannot fathom the omnipotence of her influence upon them.

Lance is slightly envious for what she is receiving.

“Blue, what a good name,” though it really isn’t, the prince-turned-florist is befuddled by how perfectly the puzzle pieces have slotted together to bring the patrolman back into this shop. There has to be more to this story, more to the tapestry woven by a goddess from lores of old with her golden cheek marks and her silver eyelets all aglow with the mischief she is up to.

Blue is undeterred by Lance’s overthinking, just overly friendly to the point of criminal as she mewls about the store at her new prospect— no, her new property.

“She’s friendly— humans tell me cats are not usually so,” Shiro basks in his knowledge, scratching right under the cat’s chin as if to soothe what naysaying humans claimed under the guise of sentient beings versus not so much. All in all, Lance is falling hard, too hard, too fast, jet streams of atmospheric drops that are burning his flesh too much, adrenaline spiking higher, higher.

When does not speak, those ears perk, black fur on edge as sunrise eyes meet Lance’s oceanic irises that most assuredly reflect the tides churning with the onset of storms over the horizon, “are you well?”

“Y-yes! Yes, definitely, more than well, better than well, I’m good!” Lance blathers out, cheeks flushed with his embarrassment rather than the hot blood rushing at the sound of that voice that adds a tinge of sensuality to the air. It’s stuffy in the storefront suddenly, just chides Lance into tugging at the collar of his turtleneck, “I am being a horrible host, I know, and I haven’t even offered tea or coffee—.”

“I love coffee,” Shiro rolls over, toothy grin as he rises to his full height, shoulder line so broad that Lance would measure his own at least twice along it.

It is such a quirky little reply that Lance blinks once, then probably four more times, before he relaxes, all that tension leaking from his lips as he sighs at how limber Shiro appears. The armor cannot lie even then, and that the Galra is making himself more comfortable takes Lance’s heart off of the rollercoaster and sets it right back down on solid ground.

“Coffee it is,” is muttered softly with a whisk over to the steaming coffee pot to pour out a cup of brew, “do you prefer it black?”

With a turn towards Shiro, Lance is stopped when he has an eyeful of Galra patrol armor, the lit vents filling every inch of his vision. His blues, inquisitive with a spice of concern, trail up to find Shiro’s eyes.

“Might I… indulge in something, your highness?”

Oh, Lance must shut his eyes tight at that, sighs out his misgivings for a title that is not his to hold on this planet, has not been his to tell the masses since he was at home. He still wears his circlet, a problem that he can see has been coming from miles and miles away with Shiro’s coming, but the proximity is nice, this residual heat that builds up in the spaces where they do not touch with hands but with souls. “I suppose? You’re throwing me a bit off.”

Shiro chuckles, and there is no repulsion, no sinister attack of the underhanded sort hiding in the ripples of his laughter, “you were more open when I was hear last time. Have I caught you on the wrong footing?”

“Wrong footing is an understatement…” and it’s more or less feasible to lean on the side of caution though, well, Lance did call Shiro a ‘cutie,’ and that hasn’t changed, hasn’t been dulled by the hours apart. No, if anything, that yearning is an ember that has sparked yule logs burning into a tempered crush that will inevitably lead to disgustingly infatuated pining.

With a twitch of his ears, Shiro croons deep in his chest, and that’s definitely bourbon smooth, bergamot spiced, “my apologies, but… I am still a little new at this ‘flirting’ thing. Galra, well… you know—.”

“You’re flirting with me?!”

No, no that wasn’t the correct outburst to have as Shiro’s ears have drooped, “I, yes? That is what Keith said it was called after he said he was tired of me talking about you. I simply wanted someone else to discuss you as I was unsure why I wanted to do so.”

“Me? Me. I mean, please, I am more than flattered,” but Lance is not on Altea, he is not in his silk robes of azures and creams, not in his royal vestiges that would deem him befitting to have his hand kissed by someone looking to court him, to learn him. No, he is in a simple turtleneck, denim jeans, and an apron that has been soiled by the dirt and fertilizer that he uses for the flowers. He is not the epitome of prestige, the epicenter of focal point for the glitter and the shine that flutters with each step he takes.

Though a once known prince, Lance is not the gem he wants to be, not the treasure encased in a snow globe perfection of shimmer and of snow that would forever be a display of his beauty. Here, other than the distinction of features that are so garishly not of Earth, he is normal, just a person of business that has two legs, two arms, but just one heart.

Shiro abides him with a gaze that is delicate, his countenance thoughtful in a manner that just bursts forth the blooms of roses that wrap around Lance’s ribs in a fool’s hope of romance that he has sought after in repose. With a gentle touch, the Galra takes the cup of coffee for a sip, grinning ear to ear after the heat of the drink burns its course down his throat.

“See? Keith mentioned I should ask you out for coffee— he said that the humans are very much into courtship that include this coffee, and with you with more knowledge of Earth’s customs…”

Lance snorts, and Keith sounds like a really good buddy, a true-blue with a badge looking out for his partner in taking names and stopping interplanetary crime. How quaint that on this little water planet that this root into their paths, tighten holds until an Altean prince and a Galra patrol would happenstance come upon each other.

“Yes, your buddy would be right, coffee dates are definitely a big deal,” Lance sighs with a shake of his head, all humor and sweetness, “but we already have coffee here, and it’s dreadfully cold outside, isn’t it?”

“Is there not a song that the radios are playing concerning asking a presumable mate to stay in accordance to the cold? I have heard it many times. The humans must very much like it.”

Ancients help Lance, help him for Shiro is too adorable, too innocent of the commonality of wooing qualifying mates with drinks and silly songs. Garla are indeed perceptive, a highly intelligent species capable of assimilating into any culture they see fit, yes, but for the sake of songs that declare homage to winter and Christmas, well. Lance will just have to teach him, won’t he?

And strangely enough, it begins all over again, more of a beginning of a journey than even before when a little Olkari that wanted to take her place in a war would help these two find their way to each other. How the ancients would have concocted this one, Lance cannot be sure, but for the time spent with Shiro, for their laughter while sipping coffee on the night of Christmas Eve that fades into Christmas morning, it is a maniacal plot that Lance appreciates.

Years later, they will slide their fingers together as the snow floats from the overcast sky, coffee cups sitting empty on their kitchen table. Shiro will listen to Lance singing with the radio, will sit back in his seat as Lance harks heralding angels and jingles bells for one more open sleighs.

What they will have will be grander than any present that could be wrapped under their funny pine tree decked in tinsel and ornaments, even if home for them are planets galaxies away. They will make their own home in the little garden apartment above the florist shop, will kiss and will laugh together with each winter that they spend hanging stockings over a homey fireplace while Blue sleeps curled up in Shiro’s favorite chair.

[mizulekitten]

A Prince and His Knight

A pitch hit for the totally awesome @spacekilly!!! You should check out their art its great :3

Check out other people’s stuff over at @shancesecretsanta!!!

Lance stared down at the scattering of pages in front of him. The dark text was blurred, mixing together to form a mess of black ink that Lance couldn’t decipher even if he tried, and he had been trying. He’d been sitting at the desk ever since his embarrassment at dinner. He had reviewed the many reports days prior, and had already memorized percentages and statements. It was better to rest then keep reviewing.

That had been Lance’s thought process until dinner. The Altean diplomatic party had arrived that day, and Lance had already screwed it all up. He was going to need every last bit of studying to restore his honor among the Alteans. This treaty was important, and his mother had entrusted him with organizing it. It was his time to shine, and he was balking under the pressure. He let out a groan before letting his head fall onto the table with a thud. He was doomed.

“That bad?”

Lance perked up. His eyes went wide as he turned to look towards the doorway. There, in all his glory, stood Sir Shirogane. He was still wearing his leather armor as if he had arrived not moments ago, and the first place he had gone was to Lance.

Read More On AO3

[n00dl3gal]

Puppy Dog Eyes (Shance Secret Santa)

Hi @strawberrylovely! I’m your @shancesecretsanta! I took your request for fluff literally, I hope you enjoy- and happy holidays!

Read on AO3 here.

Shiro liked animals well enough. There were undeniable therapeutic benefits to owning a pet, many species were adorable, and they didn’t ask invasive questions like “how’d you get that scar on your nose?” or “why is your arm metal?” He’d probably have gotten a pet sooner if he wasn’t busy at the Garrison all the time.

Lance, on the other hand, adored creatures of all kinds. He constantly talked about the golden lab his family had when he grew up. He cooed and stopped to pet every dog they passed on the street. The “subtle” hints he was dropping about visiting the local shelter were getting more passive-aggressive by the day.

“You’re gone all day, Shiro, and I work from home, and I get lonely,” Lance moped, laying his head in Shiro’s lap. His lower lip shook, and the words “puppy dog eyes” were never more apropos.

Which is why he found himself being dragged along by his boyfriend through the local shelter, browsing the dogs up for adoption.

Personally, Shiro would’ve gone for a cat- much less maintenance. Sadly, Lance had skipped the felines entirely, opting to scour the selection of canines. “Aww, look at this one! Who’s a good boy?” Lance laughed as a large Samoyed lumbered over and licked his chin. “Who’s a good, fluffy boy?”

Shiro smiled and knelt to let the dog sniff his flesh hand. A pink tongue snuck out and lapped at his knuckles, earning a chuckle. “He’s friendly, I’ll give him that. But a dog this size wouldn’t do too well in an apartment,” he said. “You’d need a nice, big yard to run around in, wouldn’t you?” Shiro scratched the dog’s neck.

Lance sighed. “Yeah, you’re right… I’m sorry, buddy. Maybe some other ti- SHIRO, LOOK!” He jumped up and pointed to another cage. Inside was a small mix breed with black and tan fur and bright blue eyes. But what struck Shiro was the left back paw- or lack thereof. The pup was missing a limb, just like him.

“Her name is Molly, she’s a one-and-a-half-year-old Corgi-Beagle mix,” Lance read from the placard by her cage. “Apparently, she lost her limb in some sort of accident.”

“Hmm, something I can sympathize with,” Shiro said to himself.

A worker came over and clapped her hands when she noticed the mutual interest between Molly and Lance. “She’s a feisty one,” she warned, unlocking the cage to let Lance in. “Either she adores you or tolerates you, no in between. But it seems you don’t have to worry about that, do you?” Molly was already snuggling up to Lance, burrowing in his lap. “Now, her breed is pretty active, and would need both physical and mental stimulation. That said, she would be just fine in an apartment.”

“Shiro, pleaseeeeeeee? I promise to take her on walks, and feed her, and make sure she doesn’t poop in the house!!” Lance pleaded.

Shiro scratched the back of his neck and grimaced. “Don’t beg like a little kid, Lance,” he muttered, “it’s awkward.” Lance’s look of want and affection didn’t waver, though. “Well… let me see how she reacts to me, first.” He bent and stuck his hands out towards Molly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “I just want you to get to know me.”

Hesitantly, Molly left Lance’s lap and padded over to Shiro. She sniffed his fingers, human and metal, and took a nibble of the prosthetic. She regarded him with a gaze that Shiro could only describe as “distaste.”

“Looks like she likes you, too!” Lance chirped gleefully.

Inwardly, Shiro groaned. This wasn’t going to end well for him, was it.

. . .

He was right. It didn’t go well for him.

True to the volunteer’s words, Molly was extremely affectionate towards Lance and downright distrustful of Shiro, constantly shielding him from the former. It would be laughable, having such a tiny and crippled dog act as a guard, if it wasn’t for the fact Shiro couldn’t spend time with his boyfriend.

“Molly, please move.”

Lance shrugged. “Good luck, babe. She’s been stuck to me all day.”

Shiro bent down and looked Molly straight in the eyes. “Molly, I’ve asked you nicely. I’ll do it again, but then I will move you by force. Please move,” he said sharply.

Molly stood, took one step to the left, and sat back down. Shiro grabbed at his hair in frustration and Lance burst out into laughter. “Oh- oh my God, she has a sense of humor, I love her,” he sputtered between chuckles.

“Yeah, a real comedian. Molly, c’mon, I’ve had a long day and I just wanna snuggle with Lance.” She blinked a few times before resting her head on Lance’s knee, baring one tooth towards Shiro.

They did eventually get her to move- using a bribe of peanut butter, but the glare Molly gave Shiro every time he reached over to hug or kiss Lance was burned into his mind by the time he fell asleep.

. . .

She kept giving him that glare. Whenever he kissed Lance on the forehead, or rubbed his back, or even looked in his general direction. Molly would let out a low growl and plop herself on Lance’s feet, trapping him. Lance found it horribly endearing, for some reason. Was he really that oblivious?

“She’s just protective of her papa, aren’t you, baby girl?” he said, rubbing her stomach. “Protects her papa just like her daddy protects him!”

“Lance, I’m fairly certain Molly would be mortified to have me as a father,” Shiro said, pinching his nose and exhaling.

Lance snorted. “Yeah, anybody would, babe. You’re not even a real father yet and you still make all the shitty dad jokes.”

“I- but- what does that- you love my jokes!” he protested, face flushing crimson. Lance snickered and pressed his lips to Shiro’s cheek. “Just- ugh, get going before you miss your appointment. Good luck, sweetheart.”

Lance grabbed his keys from the armchair and beamed back at him. “Alright, you two get along while I’m gone, I’ll be back in a couple of hours!” The sound of the door shutting echoed across the apartment.

Shiro sighed and went to grab the jacket laying across the couch. “He forgot his coat again… one of these days, it’s gonna cost that man.” But before he could take it, Molly jumped up and burrowed herself in the fabric. “Wa- Molly, you’re not allowed on the furniture without permission! Get down right now!”

She didn’t budge, instead rolling her gums up to reveal her canines. Shiro repressed a gulp. “Molly. I need to hang up Lance’s coat. Please get off the couch,” he tried, keeping his voice calm and level. No movement. Shiro snatched the arm dangling off the side and tugged. “If you don’t move, I will pull you down with the coat and it will hurt. You have to the count of three. One.”

She lifted her leg and started grooming herself. Shiro dug his heels into the rug.

“Two.”

Molly yawned.

“Two and a half- and if this jacket gets ruined, Lance is going to be so pissed at you- three!” Just as the word left his mouth, Molly rolled across the couch, leaving the leather coat to be yanked by Shiro’s full momentum. He tumbled backwards, banging his head against the floor. He groaned, reaching his prosthetic arm to his head. “Ow…”

Molly limped over and eyed him carefully before barking twice. If Shiro didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was laughing at him.

. . .

Forgetting his coat, oddly enough, did have consequences for Lance.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Lance coughed, burrowing deeper into the blankets. Shiro sighed. “I’ll remember my jacket next time, I promise.”

“You’ve said that at least a dozen times so far, hun,” Shiro reprimanded him, grabbing Lance’s glass to refill it. “It would be nice if you would actually stick to your words.”

Lance sneezed before shrugging. “Maybe getting sick will make me remember?”

“I hope so, Lance.”

Shiro walked briskly to the kitchen and filled the cup with water, carefully adding three ice cubes (just the way Lance liked it). By the time he’s returned, Molly had curled up next to Lance. Shiro exhaled through his nose as he sets the glass back down. “Molly, please move. I need to take Lance’s temperature to see if it’s gone down.”

She didn’t, of course. Shiro wasn’t sure why he even bothered. “Lance-”

“Molly, you gotta move, this is important,” Lance said, nudging her lightly with his arm. She growled and bared her teeth. “Molly!” he chastised. There was no response from the dog. “Why are you so mean to Shiro?  He’s just as much your owner as I am!”

“I’m not so sure that’s true, sweetheart, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Shiro knelt beside the bed and reached for Lance’s hand to squeeze it. Their fingertips just managed to touch when Molly snapped and tried to dig into the flesh. Fortunately, with reflexes honed from life in the military, Shiro withdrew just before blood was drawn. “ALRIGHT, THAT’S IT!” He stood up, back straight, towering over the tiny dog. “Molly, I understand that you are protective of Lance. But you have to understand that so am I. We love each other dearly, so when you try to attack me for being near him, you’re hurting both of us. Is that what you want?”

Lance gasped a tiny bit, eyes shining. “Babe…”

Shiro knew that the words likely meant little to Molly, if she could even comprehend them, but it was no matter. He needed to get this out in the open. “Molly, we have a lot in common. We were both injured dramatically, which resulted in lost limbs. We both love lounging on the couch on Sunday morning. There’s a shared fondness for bacon, and sunny days, and walks in the park. But most of all, we have our love for Lance. So please, at least try to get along with me. For his sake,” he finished, voice dropping.

For a solid minute, the apartment was quiet. Only Lance’s coughs punctuated the silence. And then, Molly stood, waddled over to Shiro, and licked his hand.

“M-Molly?” Lance croaked, struggling to sit up. Molly glanced back at him before pawing at Shiro. “I… I think she wants you to pet her, babe.”

Gingerly, Shiro reached out his flesh hand and stroked the fur on Molly’s head. She let out a low mumble of contentment, wagging her tail all the while. “Was that all it took?” Shiro asked, mostly to himself. “Me losing my temper?”

“I think it was you declaring your love for me,” Lance joked, rolling over in bed to join them. “C’mon, I wanna snuggle the two people who love me most in the world!”

“Lance- Lance, you’re still sick- I’m not going to kiss you while you have a runny nose-” Shiro’s protest were lost in a whirlwind of joyful barks and giggles.

. . .

Three months later, and it was Lance’s turn to complain.

“But babe, I’m the one who saw her first! I should be the one to attach her prosthetic!” he whined, lower lip quivering.

Molly barked and Shiro nodded sagely. “We came to an agreement, Lance,” he said sternly. “It’s only right that I, the one without an arm, would be the one to attach it. After all, you did say that’s why we matched.”

“Yeah, but that was back when she hated you-”

Shiro and the vet sealed the clasp as Lance spoke, and Molly bounced off the table to run in circles properly for the first time. Lance tried to protest, but Shiro ignored it and focused on their dog, finally enjoying life with all four limbs. Maybe Lance did have a point, not that Shiro would ever admit it.

But he could withstand puppy dog eyes a lot better now.

[ki-sanna]

MERRY CHRISTMAS @roshxm!

For the @klance2017secretsanta event this year

I hope youl like it!

[thatonegayturtle]

Merry Christmas @mad-freakin-genius !! I’m your Secret Santa for @shancesecretsanta I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun with Shiro being the blushy one. So cute! 💜💙✨

[tha-pumpkinqueen]

my secret santa is for my friend, Audrey, on discord! Merry Christmas/happy Holidays, sweetie! 

voltron (c) dreamworks, studio mir

art (c) sarah hill, me, pumpkinqueen1313

you can reblog/like/whatever! But please do not repost without my permission and credits. Thanks! ;)

[imsosorryshiro]

Hello @demonic-angels-inmyhead I’m sorry I’m late, but I was your secret santa for @shancesecretsanta so i hope you enjoy this.

[idanchou]

Klance Secret Santa Time (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I was a part of the @klance2017secretsanta this year! This present is for @the-fandom-dork

I really hope you like it! I had a lot of time drawing it, especially playing with the lighting :D 

Please do NOT use/repost anywhere or remove the caption!

[cldjendis66]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)

Characters: Lance (Voltron), Lance's Family (Voltron), Allura (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Nyma (Voltron), Rolo (Voltron), Original Characters, Lance's Siblings (Voltron)

Additional Tags: Bread Baker AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, Sorta since this happens the summer before they beging their first semester, Pining, Crushes, Crush at First Sight, Mutual Pining, But they're too dense that it takes their siblings to bring them together, Bonding Moments Server Exchange 2017, klance, Laith, Y'all can judge all you want with that ship name, but I don't care I love it as much as the first one, Fluff, Like it's absolute cheese, oblivious boys, Santiago OC (aka Lance's older brother in this AU), Allura is Lance's sister in the AU, Rolo and Nyma are dating but it's like super subtle and briefly mentioned, Shiro and Keith are brothers, Lance's siblings and Nyma watch him hopelessly pine, Allura and Nyma are best friends, Kluff, Bread Baker Lance, Rock Climbing Keith, First Kiss, Cute, Bread, What are tags? Quiznak if I know, Lance's parents are in the background, but they're nice people, Timing is terrible as in these boys keep missing their opportunity to talk to each other, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Bread Bakery, Café

Summary:

Lance is a bread baker at the Blue Lion Bread Bakery and Café and during the summer before his first semester in college, happens to catch the attention of certain boy without knowing it.

Keith is a rock climber that just moved into town and during the summer before his first semester in college, happens to catch the attention of a certain boy without knowing it. (Bonding Moments Server Secret Santa 2017 gift for @cinnamonecho)

[klance2017secretsanta]

Hello! You’re all invited to participate in this year’s Secret Santa Event! Interested? Keep reading~

Dates

Sign-ups will run until November 25th

Emails will be sent out November 27th

For more information, click here!

Rules

Fics have to be at least 1,000 words long (that’s a little over a page in MS Word, single-spaced; this also means no outlines!)

Fanart have to be a full illustration (no sketches unless submitted with the full illustration -- whether that’s black and white or color is totally up to you!)

Fanmixes have to be at least 50 seconds long!

No matter what you do, it has to be new. Like how the previous event organizers explained: it cannot be a continuation from an old work, in any way, shape, or form. It’s gotta be new; be creative! :D

Does this sound like fun? I sure hope so! SIGN UP HERE!!

----

Questions? Please don’t hesitate to ask :)