Finding Home

A Voltron: Legendary Defender Fanfic

Galaya

Written: 12-17-17

Published: 12-21-17


This is fanfiction – I don't own anything. Unless you count the exact sequence of words comprising this fic.

So, this is my first story in a while. I've had a lot of trouble recently motivating myself to write anything, be it fanfiction or original work. I recently started watching Voltron: Legendary Defender, and decided I might as well write a story. I don't know how coherent this story will be. There might be a plot, there might not be. I'm mostly just focusing on motivating myself to write.

This is basically a combination of a lot of different ideas I've had and have liked. The beginning focuses primarily on Keith and Shiro. I love the idea that they might have been adoptive brothers, or that Shiro was Keith's legal guardian.

This will also explore what being part galra means for Keith, and what the circumstances behind his existence might be, and why he was orphaned. One of the things that irritates me most when stories have a non-human character who appears entirely human is that they don't show any significant differences. They're entirely human except for the fact that we are told they aren't. So, while Keith will appear entirely human (if I find a believable way to work it into the story later, he may develop more galra-esque traits, which I already have an idea for) but will have some subtle differences. Many of these will involve behaviour or sensory things, as they would likely be different, but also could easily be explained away as human. Things like certain instinctive gestures having a different meaning, or being able to see better in the dark.

Most likely, there won't be any pairings in this story. I don't hate romances, but I can't write them, and I like exploring platonic relationships more. If any pairings become canon, I will probably include them, but only if they make sense in this story and I feel they don't weaken a character in any way (like how a lot of female characters in fiction will go from being well-rounded to existing only to be a love interest). The rest of the team will appear eventually as I get into the events of the series, and I may show other perspectives.


Chapter One: Shiro


Keith watched Shiro carefully. The teenager sat on the bench, relaxed, and acting as if he didn't know Keith was there. Keith knew it was an act. They had done this… thing ever since they'd met – if it could be called meeting - a few days ago. Shiro pretended not to notice him until Keith couldn't stand it any longer. He always let Keith make the first move.

Keith wasn't sure how he felt about that. Life had taught him that people always expected him to act as they directed. Foster homes expected him to be obedient and happy. Therapists and behavioral counselors expected him to open up and talk about his feelings. Teachers expected him to listen and follow directions. Other children expected him to join them and play. If he acted outside of their expectations, he was punished. Even if he didn't understand why.

People always expected him to listen to them, to understand what they wanted without explaining. When he tried asking why, what did he do wrong, they chastised him. As if he should simply know. He didn't.

But Shiro… Shiro just sat there, on that bench. He didn't tell Keith what to do. He didn't even acknowledge Keith unless Keith chose to acknowledge him first. Keith had tested it. He sat there, reading his textbooks, or working on homework, or staring at the sky with a content smile. No matter what Keith did.

Today, Shiro had brought his lunch with him as well. Keith's mouth watered just staring at it. He'd hardly eaten in days. Food had never been a priority for Keith. If getting some time to himself meant missing a few meals, it didn't bother him too much.

He hadn't run away – he knew better, social services would track him down and punish him if he tried running away again – but Keith stayed away from the foster homes as much as possible. It wasn't hard. They probably appreciated his absence. People always seemed to instinctively distrust Keith.

Shiro looked up from his textbook.

Keith startled. In a single breath, he was under the shadow of the closest tree – which, being in the middle of the desert, wasn't particularly big or cast a large shadow. He crouched down with a hand on the handle of his knife behind his back. A low sound rumbled in his chest, even as he tried to swallow it down.

Freak, the countless, unnamed voices whispered from his memory. What kind of person growled like an animal?

"Do you want one?" asked Shiro, fetching an uneaten roll from his lunch to hold out toward Keith.

Keith stared. This was the first time Shiro had spoken since that first day, when he'd tried to introduce himself. He'd only gotten as far as his name before Keith had fled into the park.

Undeterred by Keith's silence, Shiro reached over to the opposite end of the bench and set the roll down. "I grabbed a bit more than I needed this morning. I'll probably puke in the simulator if I eat it all."

"Simulator?" The word dropped from Keith's lips before he had a chance to think about it.

His voice was rough from disuse. Keith couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to someone. Even in school, he did his best to never speak, despite any lectures or punishment he might receive from teachers for it. It was summer break now, and his current foster family had given up on trying to get him to speak. It had probably been… a month, maybe two, since he'd last spoken.

"The training simulator." Shiro nodded. "At the Galaxy Garrison."

Keith couldn't help the excitement that rushed through him at the words. He took an involuntary step forward, and his hand relaxed away from his knife. The Galaxy Garrison. As a kid, it was all he'd ever dreamed about.

But as quickly as the excitement had come, the disappointment crushed the life out of it. Keith's body sagged. How could someone like him, a kid with disciplinary issues and no home, no family, no money, possibly get into the Galaxy Garrison? He was smart and fit, but no one could ever tolerate him longer than a few days. Freak.

Keith had learned never to get his hopes up about the impossible from a young age.

Shiro checked the time on his phone with a sigh. He closed his textbook and stood up. Keith drew back into the trees, but didn't flee this time. Normally, at the first sign of Shiro moving, Keith would dart away and not look back. But today, he was curious.

"Well, I'd better get back." Shiro smiled at Keith warmly.

People didn't smile at him. Sometimes people would give him those fake, too-cheerful smiles, or the dark grins people would flash at him before they attacked, be it physical or verbal. But this warm smile…

"I'll leave that there if you want it. If not, I imagine the birds might enjoy it. Have a good day."

Keith watched Shiro as he walked down the path. He didn't move until Shiro faded from view entirely.

He pounced on the roll and darted into the trees.

It was the best thing Keith had eaten in years.

V

They didn't speak again for another week. Shiro kept bringing his lunch. Every time before he left, he'd reach over to the other end of the bench a leave a portion of his lunch. After he left, Keith would snatch it up and devour it.

At the end of the week, Shiro left an entire second lunch, complete with a juice pouch.

Keith was sitting at the bench the next day when Shiro returned. He retreated to the tree as Shiro approached, but no further. Keith leaned against the trunk as Shiro sat down.

Shiro smiled at him, content to read through his textbook as he ate his lunch.

"Thanks," Keith whispered.

Shiro paused and looked up from the book. "Your welcome."

Keith took a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, he stood up. Shiro raised an eyebrow, but returned to reading his book. He didn't react even as Keith approached the bench, and sat down.

"Why?"

Shiro lifted his head. "Why?"

Keith bit back a frustrated growl. "Why are you… The food. The…"

The smiling.

"You looked lonely. And hungry," answered Shiro. "And I've always enjoyed sharing a meal with someone."

"But, why?"

"Does there need to be a reason?"

Keith didn't have an answer to that. Part of him wanted to argue that there was always a reason. Another part remembered all the times people had shouted at him, or accused him of whatever, or cursed at him, all without a reason Keith could discern.

"Most people who see a kid alone in the park ask where their parents are." Keith glared at the ground. "Or contact social services. The police."

"True."

"So, why?"

"Because you don't look like a runaway." Shiro turned to face him now, and Keith tensed under his studious inspection. "You're skinny, sure, but your clothes are new every day. Your hair looks like it was trimmed recently. All I see is a lonely kid hanging out in the park who probably doesn't eat enough."

He pushed the second lunch over to Keith. "You look like you need someone to be quiet and listen to you, and not ask questions."

V

"What's the Garrison like?"

Shiro grinned as he set his textbook aside. He ended up missing his class that day, losing track of time as he enthusiastically told stories about his years as a cadet, and the first mission he'd been on.

He told Keith that he'd grinned the entire time his superiors told him off for missing the class.

V

Keith didn't move as Shiro sat down on the bench beside him. He stared at his hands sadly. Shiro set a bag of snacks between them and opened up his textbook. It wasn't lunch anymore. Keith was eating lunch at school now, and now they met up at the park after Keith's school let out and Shiro had a break between classes. And it had been a few weeks since Shiro had read instead of telling Keith about the Garrison, but he knew when to give Keith space.

Keith was going to miss the stories.

"They're sending me away," Keith said.

Shiro remained quiet. He never pushed, always letting Keith speak in his own time.

"My foster family." Keith elaborated. "This is my… I don't know. Sixteenth? I've stopped counting. I don't want to keep count."

They sat in silence for a while. Keith opened the bag and ate the food slowly. He savored every bite. He wished there was some way he could repay Shiro for this.

"I'm scared," he admitted as he finished the food. "The system isn't as bad as people like to make it out to be, usually, but… I always get unlucky."

Shiro pulled his phone out. Keith watched him, confused, as he scrolled to a contact. The phone rang twice before a masculine voice answered.

"I won't be at class this afternoon," Shiro told the voice calmly.

Keith stared. Shiro hung up after a moment, and turned to face Keith with a gentle smile. He pulled out a piece of paper, and tore off the corner. He jotted something down on the paper and handed it over to Keith.

"You don't have to call," Shiro said, "but I'll always listen if you do. I might not always be able to answer – missions and class might get in the way – but you can leave a message if I don't. If I can, I'll try to call you back."

Keith didn't know what to say. He stared at the slip of paper. Takashi Shirogane, it read. Someone actually wanted to keep in touch. Someone actually wanted to remember him.

His eyes stung.

"Keith."

Shiro blinked.

Keith met his eyes. "My name. Keith Kogane."

Shiro smiled. "Nice to meet you, Keith."

V

The next foster home lasted all of a week. He got into a fight with another kid over something stupid at school. On the way 'home,' his foster mother had been more focused on lecturing Keith about his behaviour than watching the road. She died on impact. Keith had to have surgery to repair his broken arm. Being ambidextrous was helpful at times like this.

Shiro took time off to sit with him in the hospital. Apparently, one of the paramedics had found Shiro's number in Keith's pocket, and had called him. Keith cried when he saw him. He blamed it on the pain medication.

The hospital added Shiro as an emergency contact.

V

After the hospital, Keith went to a group home. He called Shiro a few times. Shiro offered to drive him to physical therapy. They visited the park every weekend, even through the winter.

When Shiro turned twenty – or five, as he told Keith jokingly, leap year birthday – he spent the entire day with Keith. Keith gave him a small, cheap model of the spacecraft from the first mission Shiro had been on. He stared at the ground as Shiro opened it, ashamed that he couldn't get anything better. Shiro grinned and clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"It's perfect," Shiro said.

"It was the only one I could afford," admitted Keith.

Shiro shrugged, and set the model on his desk beside a framed picture of his family. "It could be a rock for all I care, Keith. It isn't the gift that matters – that's just a bonus. It's the person giving the gift that matters. I love it."

Keith wasn't sure whether to grin or cry at that. He settled on staring at the ground between his feet.

V

Keith was on the verge of panicking when the matron of the group home told him he was leaving. He knew Shiro would never let him get out of touch, but he'd grown used to seeing him at least every week. What if they sent him somewhere far away? They'd already taken him away from his father. He didn't want to be taken away from Shiro as well.

He slung his bag over his shoulder. There wasn't much in it. Just a few changes of clothes, an extra pair of boots, his knife, and the slip of paper with Shiro's number. Keith headed down to join the matron at the front door. He stopped as he saw Shiro talking with the matron.

At least he'd get to say goodbye in person if he was sent somewhere far away. That was something.

Shiro grinned as he caught sight of Keith on the stairs. He waved Keith down. Keith frowned as he joined them. The matron gave Keith a smile – fake and overly cheerful, as always – and said a quick goodbye before heading back up to talk to the other kids.

"So…" Keith's gaze dropped to the floor.

Shiro ruffled his hair. It was still a strange thing for Keith, but he didn't protest. He trusted Shiro, and he secretly loved the physical contact. Most of the physical contact he'd had in his life came from fights with other kids, or when an adult would haul him away by his hand. Shiro's touch was light and friendly. It felt safe.

Keith almost let himself think it felt like family.

"Do you know where I'm going?" Keith asked.

"I do," answered Shiro, still grinning.

This was strange.

"Where?"

Shiro untucked a folder from under his arm and held it out to Keith. "I've been working on this ever since the crash."

Keith took it hesitantly. "On what?"

He opened the folder. It was the normal documents for–

Takashi Shirogane. Legal guardian.

Keith stared.

"I had to work it out with the Garrison." Shiro continued. "It's a bit of an unusual situation, but-"

Keith tackled Shiro in a hug. The folder fell to the floor in a mess. Shiro stood, frozen, for a moment, as Keith's arms tightened around him. Slowly, gently, Shiro returned the hug.

Keith couldn't tell if the vibration in his throat was from crying, or laughing, or the strange 'purring' thing he vaguely remembered having done as a kid. For once, he didn't care. The voices shouting "freak" and "monster" and "unnatural" were silent, chased away by Shiro's gentle smile and warm presence.

It felt familiar. He didn't feel out of place. He'd finally found a home.

V