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fic prompt song: 'worth the fight' by broods (it's one of my fav shiro songs). maybe some hurt/comfort?

Sorry about the wait on this one, something came up, but I’m back to writing some more again.

Haven’t heard this song either, but I like it. And I’m not very adept at hurt/comfort, but I gave it my best. Hope you like it!

Send me a song (and au if you want!) and I’ll write you a short shance fic.

Something brings me closer, to the sadder soundsBuilds the world around me, that once burnt to the groundA cavern for a body, the deeper darker kindFor all I hear are echoes, repeat inside my mindI thought the shade around me, was making me feel blindI thought I was a hero, but I was just a child

A shape settles down onto the ground beside him, but he doesn’t bother looking up to see who it is. He’s worried for a second that it might be -

“You know, you can be kind of a bitch to find when you really want to be,” Lance tells him. It isn’t the person he was expecting to find beside him, but he can’t say he’s disappointed. In fact, if he’s honest, Shiro doesn’t think there’s anyone else he’d rather be with right now, even if just minutes ago he thought he’d rather be alone.

Even still, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t grunt back so much as a hello, or turn to look at his companion. He can already picture what he looks like now, in this light, on this planet. He’s probably glowing in the setting suns (pink and orange), skin a shining copper, and the leaves above them must be casting shadows on the angles of his face, sharpening his cheeks and lengthening his eyelashes.

He must be nothing less than beautiful right now.

Still, Shiro can’t let himself look. He feels too raw now, too vulnerable. He knows that if he turns, he’ll get caught up in every memorizing detail, and when Lance calls him out of his head, he won’t be able to hold himself back from leaning forward to press his mouth to Lance’s.

God, how he wants to. The idea of it, the images his mind comes up with… it creates an even more intense craving he’ll have to learn to supress, just like the others.

(He craves so much; craves the mornings he can watch Lance come to life in their bedroom rather than out in the main hall, craves brushing his fingers through his hair when the fondness is too much to handle, craves kissing him through his laughter at one of his own bad jokes, craves hearing Lance use a line on him, even just once.

He craves what he knows he can’t have and he can’t tell what is worse - wanting and not being able to have it, or not even having these feelings and images (fake as they are) at all.)

Lance seems to know that he’s not really in the mood to talk, because he doesn’t seem bothered by Shiro’s lack of response, but he goes on anyway, “You know he’s not actually mad.”

Of course he is. If not out of anger, what does Lance think that yelling was about? Happiness? Sure, that sounds like Keith.

“He’s worried about you…” Shiro wonders if Lance knows how comforting his voice is. If he knows that it sounds just the way his mother did when she would talk him out of bad head spaces and guilt. If he knows that his voice sounds like it’s made of reason, like it knows everything, and that any wisdom he shares will be the truth. He wonders if Lance knows just how much Shiro trusts him and how much that doesn’t even bother him. “We all are, actually, but he doesn’t know how to show it through anything but being a brat.”

Shiro does know this, but he’s also never seen Keith that angry before. He didn’t puff up like he used to when they were in the garrison, or turn bright red with lack of oxygen. He looked dead serious, face cold and hard, like he believed what he was saying and didn’t care if it hurt Shiro to hear it.

Lance doesn’t even skip a beat, “It doesn’t excuse what he said, however.” He shuffles and out of the corner of his eye, Shiro can see one leg strech out, other probably folded beneath him. “That was some pretty harsh shit out there.”

Maybe it was, but Shiro doesn’t think he can blame Keith.

“It was all true.” So that’s where his words went.

“Bullshit,” Lance suddenly hisses, tone grave, and Shiro’s eyes snap to him in surprise. Lance looks scarily similar to Keith earlier, stance competely still, but there’s more to this moment than the other. Keith had looked almost dead when he had yelled, tired and apathic, but tone so, so angry. Lance is staring at him with a look in his eyes that’s so intense - like he’s trying so hard to convince Shiro that his words are the truth, like if he bores into him hard enough, he’ll have to believe him.

He’s beautiful like this, too.

“Nothing he said is true. He was just angry and he knows just how to hurt you and in a moment of pure insanity, he did just that. As much as his actions sometimes try to discredit him, he does love you.” Lance’s words don’t even waver the slightest, and even if his voice is firm, it still carries that almost softness that it hard earlier, that has Shiro listening to each and every word, has him almost believing it. “We all do. Hunk loves you, I-”

Now his voice does twitch, and Shiro’s heart drops straight through his gut and onto the ground he’s sitting on. Either something shows on his face, or Lance must realize the importance of his speech, because he quickly gathers himself again, and staring Shiro straight in the eyes, he continues, “I love you.”

He can’t help himself. “I love you too.”

He knows his statement was a little too sincere, a little too heartfelt, but he can’t make himself tear his eyes away. He has to see Lance’s reaction.

It’s worth it in the way his expression softens in surprise, the way his lips fall open just barely. He’s speechless, not even a hint of showing that he wants to say anything else, and surprisingly enough, it’s that that gives Shiro the courage to scoot closer. He moves in until he’s almost touching Lance and reaches out to place his hand over Lance’s own.

At the contact, Lance’s fingers twitch underneath his, but his gaze doesn’t stray even for a second. It builds on Shiro’s growing hope and he feels that maybe, just maybe this is the fabled right time. Maybe this is the perfect moment to confess, to let out everything he’s ever thought and felt for this wonderful hero, and so he opens his mouth to just that, “Lance, I-”

And gets interrupted by Lance’s other hand reaching out and taking the back of his head into his palm and using it to propel himself close enough to take the words right out of his mouth.

It’s actually a quick kiss, enough so that Shiro doesn’t even get the chance to let his eyes slide closed in contentment instead of bulging wide in shock, before Lance pulls back. His lips (soft, Shiro knows they’re soft now) are twisted into one of the most pleased grins (Shiro did that), and his eyes are bright, bright beacons of a happiness that echoes the rapid heartbeat in his own chest.

Lance’s fingers comb upwards through his hair, from the shorter hairs to the longer ones on top, and that’s then that Shiro’s eyes flutter shut. He pushes Shiro’s head to his shoulder, and Shiro lets him, pressing in close enough that his forehead grazes gently against the skin of Lance’s neck.

“Thank you,” he says, a second later, when he decides that Lance has probably finished with the startling movements. He wonders if they’ll get to kiss again later, but with the long fingers scratching soothingly into his scalp, he can’t complain.

Lance’s only answer is to brush his lips against his temple.

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