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It is with a heavy sigh that Shiro enters the showers. The lights brightening as he steps into the room, illuminating the brushed steel walls with soft blue green light that should make the room look cold yet somehow makes it look almost ethereal instead. Like some futuristic kind of water temple.
Shiro had known from previous experience that no amount of late night training would ever be enough to clear his head of whatever nightmare was keeping him up, but he still carried some feeble hope that maybe this time .
But no. It hadn’t worked this time either so now he was exhausted, uneasy, and covered in the rapidly cooling sweat of an intense workout. Again.
Out of all the rooms on the ship, it was the showers that looked the most like something out of a gritty, futuristic science fiction. Light gray steel walls, floor and ceiling, everything with odd angles and covered in a myriad of buttons and glowing teal lights. The showers were placed in the middle of the room, various water sprouts installed in the ceiling and the stalls arranged in a kind of four leaf clover formation with round, chest high walls on the outside but open towards the middle.
That alone wouldn’t have been too bad. Locker room rules are easily enforced by simply facing outwards and never turning around, even though the lack of anything remotely resembling shower curtains makes it very easy to splash someone. But the shower controls, with their millions of buttons and levers, are placed on a column in the middle of the four leaf clover. If you wanted to adjust the water pressure, temperature, or initiate the next sequence in the shower routine, you had to turn around to do it. Add to that bench like structures lining the room and you get a shower experience that vaguely feel like some kind of spectator sport.
Which apparently it had been, back on Altea.
Coran had happily blathered on about it while he showed them how to work the showers on the surprisingly aggressive insistence of Lance, who stormed out of the facilities on one of their first days there, highly upset over the complexity of the set up. He was dirty, hair a mess, and he “ wanted a shower, damn it! ” (Well, he hadn’t been swearing. Verbally at least. Shiro had amusedly observed that the boy was highly adept at somehow conveying swear words by using nothing but his body language.)
The whole showering sequence was exceedingly long and intricate, almost ritualistic in its entirety. Even the “quick” settings lasted at least half a varga. And, as Keith had discovered on his first use of the showers, could not be cut short without the shower putting up quite a fuzz. Cleanliness was next to godliness, accordingly to the Altean customs, and cutting corners was simply not done.
Apart from speed and thoroughness, the showering contestants were also judged on technique, flow, and how adept they were at anticipating the shower prompting them to initiate the next stage (if there was more than just the one chirp, points would be deducted, further chirps would result in the shower itself punishing the contestant and make it harder for them to stay in the “flow”). It was all quite riveting, Coran had explained with stars in his eyes, a talented Showerer would appear to almost be dancing as they cleaned themselves. There was also a small stage set into one of the walls where an actual live band would provide accompanying music for further entertainment. Or added difficulty, depending on what kind of showering and what level thereof they were competing in.
Because there is no such thing as “just a shower” in Altea.
Shiro isn’t exactly feeling up to a whole shower, but there was no way he was going back to bed all sticky with sweat, so he had to submit to the whole experience before he could make another attempt at sleep.
Stepping up to the central column, he initiates the first stage in one of the stalls, allowing the shallow basin to fill up before walking into it. The water is warm and feels amazing against his skin as it slowly heats up to a temperature just shy of too hot, exactly the way Shiro likes it.
The next step is just starting, a torrent of what looked suspiciously like food goo but purple rather than green, when he hears the whirring of a door opening over the splattering gelatinous cleaning agent.
Wiping goop out of his face, Shiro looks over to the entrance. Standing there, in his robe, is Lance, looking surprised to find someone else in the bathroom this late.
“Oh, heeey, Shiro. What’s... up?” Lance makes a face at his own awkward words and Shiro has to stifle a smile.
“Hey, Lance. What are you doing up at this hour?” He says, pretending not to notice Lance shifting uncomfortable in place.
“Couldn’t sleep, figured it was better to get up and do something instead of just laying there, staring at the ceiling, you know.” his eyes flick around the room, looking at everything except Shiro.
“Yeah. Good idea”, Shiro says, carding goo out of his hair. Lance remains frozen a few steps into the room. “Well, don’t let me stop you. There’s more than enough space for both of us.” he finishes with a smile and a gesture at the remaining stalls.
Lance starts at the movement, looking at Shiro with wide eyes before whipping around and stalking towards the bench closest to him. “Right. Hah, yeah I’ll-. Uh. I’ll just get undressed then.” he stutters, ears burning. He turns his back to Shiro and grips the bottom of his sleepshirt and pulls it over his head. Along with the robe. Which immediately gets tangled up around his head and arms. Lance freezes for a second before he begins to furiously struggle against the fabric trapping him.
He look absolutely ridiculous in his desperate, frustrated wriggling.
And absolutely, breathtakingly, beautiful.
And for once, Shiro allows himself to look.
Shiro has always found Lance attractive. In the beginning it was in more of an absent minded, observative kind of way. Like how you see a stranger in public and acknowledge them to be pretty, before moving on with your life. So Shiro hadn’t really thought about it. He had other things on his mind. They were in space, on an alien ship, chosen to pilot gigantic robotic lions and lead fight against an evil space dictator, and Lance was pretty. It was just how things were.
But then, when things cooled down enough for them to breathe, to have some time to unwind, Shiro started to… Appreciate Lance. In a completely different, more active way. He got to know his fellow teammate better and discovered that beneath that loud, confident, flirting persona was a truly kind, caring and fiercely protective man.
The type of man who would rush to be there for someone, to fill an uncomfortable silence with blabber, ease the tension with a joke or a snarky comment. Even just to offer a hug or a listening ear to whoever needed it.
He’d seen Lance go out of his way to take care of their small, hodgepodge family. How he would calm Hunk down in the middle of an anxiety spiral with soothing words and touches, how he’d fling around the kitchen with great joy, acting as Hunk’s sous chef slash kitchen assistant when Hunk set about figuring out a new batch of foreign ingredients.
How he’d challenge Keith with meaningless dares to make him socialize, and how he’d make Pidge eat when she was so focused on some coding or research that she forgot her very human body had needs. How Lance would encourage Coran to talk about Altean culture and Allura about her family whenever they grew too quiet, the weight of being the last ones to remember becoming too heavy.
He would even come up to Shiro himself and start prattling on about random things, or even what he missed back home, whenever the dark things in Shiro’s mind started to get too loud and he needed a distraction.
Lance always seemed to know what they needed, and he was always willing to give it to them, even if it meant it would cost him himself to do so.
That latter part was a worrying at times. Lance seemed all too willing to put himself in harm's way as long it meant none of them get hurt. Shiro had no doubt he’d jump in front of a gun for any of them. Something Shiro really needed to talk to him about, at some later point. He couldn’t stand the idea of Lance thinking of himself as replaceable, or somehow less than any of the others. They needed him just as much as anyone. He was the glue that held them together. Without him they’d drift apart in bits and pieces, lost.
Lance is beautiful, inside and out. A good soul and a caring heart to go with his stunning looks.
In the dark of the night, laying alone and lonely in bed, Shiro could maybe admit to himself to carrying a small torch for Lance. It wasn’t as if anything would ever come from it. There were way too many obstacles in the way, even disregarding the galactical war they were somehow in the middle of. But Shiro couldn’t stop himself from nursing that small flame, in the quiet of his own heart. It just felt so nice. This soft feeling inside him when Lance smiled. The butterflies fluttering in his stomach whenever Lance complimented him (which he did often and grandly. Shiro had grown quite skilled at forcing away his blush out of sheer power of will).
But Shiro knew, in the cold harsh light of day, that his feelings for Lance were never to become anything more than that. And he was okay with it. Really! He was. He took special care not to encourage himself, to avoid looking at Lance more than would be proper, to never speak to him more than he does any of the others or to even be alone with Lance for any significant length of time.
A small crush was okay, in the grand scheme of things. He could indulge in a little dreaming. Appreciating Lance wouldn’t hurt anyone, especially if it took place entirely inside of his own mind. But more than that would only lead to heartache and broken trust. And as the fate of the universe quite literally rested on their shoulders, they couldn’t afford distractions or failing team bonds.
But tonight, Shiro is tired. He’s lonely. He wants more than what he’d allowed himself so far. Denying his attraction takes more energy than he has at the moment.
So Shiro looks.
And appreciates how the blue pyjama pants cling low on Lance’s slim hips, a twist and shimmy displaying the sharp hip bones and flat tummy with a light dusting of hair leading down underneath the waistband.
And Shiro wants .
He wants very much.
But he can’t have him. He knows that. Even if they land back on earth tomorrow, the war won, leaving them free to go on with their lives however they see fit, there was no way Lance would want him. Not as broken and messed up as he was. If Lance even liked other men to begin with, Shiro had never seen him give any clear indication of doing so. Lance had declared himself a lover of any and all forms, but somehow “dick” never seem to enter into the broad definition, and Shiro would loathe to force his silly, gay crush on an unwilling victim. Lance deserved better than that, better than him .
Not that any of that even mattered, in the end. Shiro couldn’t. Even if Lance fell into his lap, gift wrapped and enthusiastically consenting, Shiro couldn’t even give him that . Literally couldn’t . He wouldn’t be able to perform. To get it up . Hadn’t been able to in ages.
At first, he didn’t even notice. To be honest, Shiro couldn’t even remember the last time he had an erection. The memories from his time with the Galra are still fuzzy and full of lost time, but he speculated it was sometime during that period, probably early on if not before his capture all together. He had no way to know.
And then, after he escaped, got back to earth for a hot second before ending up back in space as the Paladin of the Black lion, there wasn’t really been time to think about it. He hadn’t even been aware that something was wrong until a good few weeks in when they’d finally been able to get some proper free time.
Shiro was relaxing in bed, idly stroking the skin on his stomach, enjoying his own touch. He realised that hey! He finally had some time to himself! He could afford the luxury of masturbation.
But when he started to touch himself with intent, nothing happened. Not even his favourite go-to fantasies had any effect. Nothing.
After a few minutes of desperately trying everything, from focusing on the best memories of previous sexual encounters, picturing them clearly in his mind, to rubbing and squeezing and pulling at every erogenous zone he had, to even pinching himself on the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, hoping that maybe the flash of pain would stir something.
But no. His dick remained soft where it rested on the crease of his thigh. And Shiro gave up. Not even this little flash of normality was allowed him.
He tried a few times after that, but with the same results. The subsequent feeling of frustration and dejection made the result the exact opposite of what he was hoping to achieve in the first place. So he stopped trying all together.
He’d come to appreciate the fantasizing since then. While it never led to anything more than a thread of low level arousal curling through him, warming his tummy and sending tingles through his arms and legs at most, it was still rather nice. Like getting to taste test Hunk’s latest culinary creation before it is served, but never getting to enjoy the full meal. Just a tasty morsel.
And, when it came down to it, it was also safe. There were no emotions or interpersonal relationships to get tangled up in and ruin, and it wasn’t as if he was able to physically respond and truly risk getting caught. Or get interrupted in a precarious situation.
So he indulges. Perhaps more than he should. Especially after he came to the realization that Lance wasn’t merely pretty. He was hot . While feeling a bit guilty about it, Shiro found the Blue Paladin taking a leading role in his fantasies more and more.
Some times, it was just the casual appreciation of how he looked. The way his leanly muscled forearms looked with the sleeves of his baseball shirt rolled up to his elbows, strong yet graceful. The sparkle in his blue eyes as when made a joke that made everyone laugh. How long his legs were, how soft his beautiful brown skin looked, his broad shoulders, his hair.
And sometimes, it was how he would look, how he would feel. Under Shiro and above him. If his skin was as soft, and his shoulders as strong as Shiro imagined. How would he sound? Would he be loud? Near silent? Would he talk? Shiro thought he would. Lance would say the sweetest things. He’d be full of praise. It was just in his nature, and Shiro was sure it would carry over into bed. He enjoyed thinking about it, contemplating what Lance would say to him. Would he say he was good? Would he be proud?
A grunt and the ‘fwump’ of fabric hitting the floor pulls Shiro out of his thoughts and he hurriedly tears his eyes away from where they’d gotten stuck, studying the way Lance’s back muscles flex while he wrestled with the clothing trapping him.
Shiro catches Lance glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye, probably checking to see if Shiro had noticed his struggle with his shirt. He tips his head back into the rain of goo flowing over him, now firmer in substance as the cycle neared its end.
He’s listening so intently for the approaching sound of Lance’s footsteps while scrubbing the stuff into his hair that he misses the chirp of the shower announcing the completion of the goo stage, and is rewarded with a huge lump of firm, jell-o like goop landing straight in his face.
Shiro sputters and scrubs furiously at the bits clinging to his face with one hand while fumbling at the central column to initiate the next stage.
A poorly muffled giggle to his side alerts him to Lance’s arrival.
“I hate when that happens. I once got blinded by the stuff and failed to press the right button until I’d gotten buried up to my armpits in goo blocks.” He says, as Shiro finally manages to hit the switch, taking one more hit of the surprisingly firm goo to his back before the shower relents and moves on to the cleansing waters.
“Really though”, Lance continues, “I don’t get why the Alteans felt the need to make a sport out of it. What’s so wrong with just enjoying a simple shower? Is getting punished for not pressing a button fast enough really necessary?”
“Mmh,” Shiro hums in agreement, waiting for the fizzy water to disintegrate the goo covering his face before attempting to speak, “It’s not really surprising though, is it? Alteans never seem to do things the easy, relaxing way”.
“Hah, I know, right? Did you know that the easy, child friendly level on their language learning program repeatedly tries to eat Pidge whenever she messes up a verb conjugation?”
Shiro chuckles, answer already on his tongue, but makes the mistake of looking over at Lance’s stall and almost swallows his tongue.
Lance is… currently very naked. And wet. He is standing angled away from Shiro, his eyes closed and head tilted back with a small smile on his lips as the water gently mists down on him like a warm summer rain. Lance is breathtakingly gorgeous like this and Shiro is helpless to stop his eyes tracking the water droplets as they roll down Lance’s body. Down his long neck, curving over his shoulder blades, following the dip of his spine all the way to his ass and down those long, slender legs.
“Uh, they-” Shiro’s swallows around a suddenly dry mouth, “They do?” he chokes out, trying to sound casual, hoping Lance won’t notice the slightly too long pause before Shiro manages to regain control of his vocal cords.
“Yeah! She told me that this one time, when-” and Shiro stops paying attention to Lance’s enthusiastic blabbering.
Really, whoever designed these showers clearly had it out for Shiro specifically. Why, oh why did the Altean culture have a seemingly complete absence of modesty? Or were they all massive perverts with a strong penchant for exhibitionism? Because Shiro could see everything. The shower stalls, if they could be truly called that, did absolutely nothing to cover Lance’s form. He was right there! Only a few feet away, completely soaking wet! And the few inches of clear wall that did cover Lance’s body enhanced the view rather than obstruct it.
Oh, this was a terrible idea.
Shiro shouldn’t have offered Lance to join, communal showers or not.
He should have… Something! He should have done something, anything! To prevent Lance from getting undressed and wet in his presence. While Shiro had most definitely thought of Lance in such a state before, that was in the privacy of his own mind. It was a completely different thing to actually experience it in real life and it was getting too much for Shiro’s mind to handle.
Shiro hurriedly turns around, scrubbing furiously at his skin with the sparkling water. Maybe if he got clean super fast, the shower would somehow know and let him leave early, before things get awkward.
But, a cautious glance reveals that Lance is keeping his eyes closed, chattering on, seemingly oblivious to Shiro’s lack of response.
Maybe he… Maybe Shiro could look? Just a little? If he was super careful? If Lance caught him it would be… bad, doesn’t really cover it. Supremely awkward and bound to make the immediate future really uncomfortable for both of them. The Team would suffer for it. Definitely. Forming Voltron would be an exercise in mortification (Shiro) and disgust (Lance, and most likely the others too, once they found out what Shiro had done, how he’d disrespected a member of their team and family). If he’d even be allowed to stay on the team at all!
But even though he knows the possible consequences, Shiro still can’t stop his eyes from sliding over.
Lance is pulling his fingers through his hair, slicking it back from his face before letting his hand slide over the back of his head and down his neck. With a sudden, graceful move, he twists his torso and hits the button on the column to switch to the next setting, startling Shiro badly in the process.
Shiro breathes out and tries to calm down the hammering of his heart in his chest. That was close. Too close. Thankfully for Shiro’s continued career as the Black Paladin, Lance kept his eyes closed and face turned away as he did so.
Shiro really should stop looking now. He already almost got caught twice, he should quit while he’s ahead. But… Oh no. Lance had apparently picked one of the programs that Shiro dubbed as the ‘Spa experiences’ as they were more angled towards luxurious treatments rather than actually getting one clean.
So now Lance was standing in a gentle stream of sweet smelling oil, making his brown skin glisten in the light.
And Shiro could not look away.
“-ro? Shiro!”
“Huh? What? Is everything okay?” Shiro tears his eyes away from were he’d been gazing at Lance’s calves like some kind of victorian gentleman spotting a skirt coyly hiked up a little too high to be proper. Pssh. Shiro was no gentleman. He was a dirty rube at best. A full on debaser.
“Yeah, are you though?” Lance is looking at him with worried eyes. Fuck, why is he worried?
“Yes of course, shouldn’t I be?”
“Well, your shower has been beeping at you for a while now, isn’t that water getting uncomfortable?” Lance asks and Shiro becomes fully aware of how the fizzy water has increased in potency to a point where it’s basically bubbing on Shiro’s skin, long past the light tickling it had once been.
With a startled shout Shiro whirls around and slams the button combination to set off the next stage and, with some reluctance, the shower switches over to a calming deluge of soapy suds.
Too close. Far too close, Shiro thinks and leans his head against a clear patch on the column.
“Oh... Uh. Do you-. Should I... Uhm. Do you want me to leave?” Lance stutters.
“What? No, why? Is something wrong?” Shiro straightens up and looks over at Lance, taking in his embarrassed expression and very red face with concern.
A quick downwards flicker of Lance wide eyes has Shiro looking down as well and he is greeted by the view of his cock is standing proudly erect, curving up against his stomach.
“Oh”, Shiro gasp softly.
His dick is hard. He can feel it. It’s thick and hard and the foreskin has pulled back over his glans just as it should. It’s the first erection Shiro had in forever and he can’t believe it. It works! It actually works!
Shiro moves his hand up to touch it before he remembers himself and jerks it away as if burnt. Lance is still standing right there!
“Oh my god, I am so sorry Lance! This is so improper, really I didn’t mean for-. I am so sorry! You shouldn’t have to-! I’m not-!”
“Hey, hey it’s ok Shiro! It’s not a big deal, it happens to all of us.” Lance interrupts Shiro’s apologetic rambling, “I mean, we’ve all been unwilling visitors to Untimely Bonertown at some point, right?” he says with an awkward laugh.
“Yeah, I…” Shiro starts, “It’s just…”
He’s not sure he wants to tell Lance this. It’s private and embarrassing and not something teammates really need to know about each other. It’s a need-to-know basis kind of thing.
“It’s just what?” Lance asks, gently.
“It’s just-”, Shiro tries, “it’s the first time…”
But, out of all the castle inhabitants, Lance feels like the one safest to talk about these kind of things with. Maybe Coran too, if absolutely necessary. Not that Shiro wants to tell anyone, but he feels like he kind of owes Lance an explanation for acting so weird about having a hard on. Something that he should, by all accounts, be completely blasé about at this age.
“The first time?”
“The first time it’s”, Shiro gives up at trying to say it and instead gestures towards where his dick is still hard, the suds from his shower not covering anything. Lance looks down at where he’s pointing in confusion.
“What? Oh. Ooh…!” Lance face clears in understanding, “Since the Galra?” he asks, and Shiro nods with a sigh.
A beat passes, the awkwardness hanging thick in the air, before they both turn their heads away to look at anything except each other. Silence reigns for a few moments, only broken by the sound of the showers still running.
“Soo”, Lance clear his throat, “I should leave so that you can…” he trails off.
Shiro whips his gaze back up with a jolt.
“What? No!” He yells, Lance twitching in surprise at the volume and Shiro coughs and tries again, lowering his voice this time so that it doesn’t bounce around the room, “No, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna do anything. It’ll go back down on its own soon enough. I’m just going to finish my shower and go back to bed. It’s late”.
“Oh, okay then. If you’re sure. I’ll just. Do the same, I guess”. Lance shifts uncomfortably on his feet before seeming to catch himself and whirling around to face away from Shiro. “Right then!”
“Right”, Shiro agrees, and turns around as well while cursing himself. First he had to invite Lance to shower with him, and then he goes and pops a boner. And then , after Lance discovers said boner, he asks Lance to stay. With him and his boner. In the same shower. This is terrible and Shiro has nobody but himself and his stupid fantasies to blame.
To make matters worse, his dick seems to be having way too much fun rediscovering verticality and hasn’t wilted at all during the awkward conversation. In fact, if anything, it seems to be straining harder up against Shiro’s tummy.
In a somewhat belated effort, Shiro scoops up a pile of suds and places it in a not at all suspicious pile over his groin, hiding it from view.
Well, this had all been delightfully mortifying. Shiro scrubs his hands harder over his skin, still holding on to the hope that maybe if he gets clean faster he’d get to finish his shower quicker and can slink back into the privacy of his own bedroom, perhaps hide under the bed like a man, and forget that this whole thing ever happen. Maybe later he might even recover enough to be excited about being allowed to enter Boner City once more. If this doesn’t turn out to be a fluke of course. Which would be needlessly cruel of the Universe and right on course for how Shiro’s life has been going lately, so he’s not going to be holding his breath on that. He’s not.
It is with refueled resolve that Shiro rubs the soapy suds over his body, and it’s completely by accident (honest!) that he brushes against the head of his cock with the side of his hand. A shudder runs through him at the contact. Had it always felt this intense?
A peek at Lance, still completely turned away, head fully under the spray, and Shiro decies to touch. Just a little. Just to see. A finger stroking up the length has goosebumps breaking out all over his arms and legs. A palm sliding round his thigh and up to cup his balls and he’s breathing harder.
Careful, careful.
Another finger sliding down, touching the frenulum oh so lightly. A thumb rubbing over the head and he shivers. Could he? A quick check, Lance is still turned away, slightly hunched, not paying attention. Shiro wraps his fingers around his cock, barely touching. Checks again. Lance is not looking. The oily water cascading over his broad shoulders, highlighting his lean muscles with a glowing sheen. Shiro squeezes. Can’t stop the moan that bubbles up his throat and out of his mouth.
Freeze.
Did Lance hear? No, he hasn’t moved. Shiro should stop. He should stop right now. He squeezes again. Chokes down the moan this time. He can’t do this. Definitely not with Lance there. It’s not okay. He-. He needs to stop, let go of his dick. Finish his shower and get out.
And Shiro tries. He relaxes his fingers, tries to remove them. But the movement ghosts his fingers against the root of his cock and it feels so. Fucking. Good.
He gasps, quietly, it shouldn’t be audible over the sound of the showers.
Lance moves.
Shiro stills, breath caught in his throat. Did he hear?
No, Lance just lifted his hands to his face. Is he scrubbing his cheeks or something? Shiro doesn’t know, can’t think. Blood is pounding too hard in his ears to hear his own thoughts. Too close. Should stop, need to stop. He will get caught. By Lance. Lance will catch him touching himself. His dick jumps in his hand and Shiro moans.
Loudly.
The sound echoes around the room.
Fuck.
Shiro freezes. Screws his eyes closed hard. Fuck fuck fuck. This is bad. Lance definitely knows now. There’s no way he won’t know what Shiro was just doing, right there beside him.
“Shiro”. Lance says, quietly.
Fuck, here it comes. Lance will yell at him, tell him he’s disgusting and that he needs to leave. How dare he? Has he no shame? This is not how the leader of Voltron should act! Get the fuck out and never come back!
“Shiro, it’s okay.” Lance says, voice soft and wavering slightly.
He isn’t looking at Shiro. He has his head turned to the side but eyes locked at some spot on the floor. He… doesn’t seem outraged? He doesn’t sound disgusted. If anything, he sounds…
“I get it, it’s alright. You can do it, I don’t mind. Touch yourself, Shiro.”
And Shiro does.
He wraps his fist around his cock and pulls. Pleasure explodes through his body and he does it again, and again. His hands works quickly over his length, desperately. The sensation so intense he can barely breathe.
The world narrows down to the fire in his gut, the ripple of electricity running through his veins.
And Shiro moans . Long and loud. He doesn’t try to muffle it. There is no point, Lance already knows.
Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro catches Lance turning around. Lance is watching him touch himself.
And Shiro sees stars.
The orgasm rips through him with such a force it buckles his knees. Shiro catches himself, grabbing onto the top edge of the shower stall with his prosthetic. The world turns into white noise. And Shiro falls.
A splashing sound and a hand on his shoulder brings him back to himself.
“Holy fuck, Shiro, are you ok?” It’s Lance. He’s kneeling next to Shiro, touching him. A shudder runs through him at the contact. “Shiro!”
“Y-, Yeah, I’m okay.” Shiro chokes out, voice sounding wrecked.
“Are you sure? Even you knees? It looked like you slammed them into the floor pretty hard.” Lance is rubbing a hand against Shiro’s back and it is as equally comforting as it is distracting.
“Hmm?” Shiro does a system check. His knees feel like they might be bruised tomorrow, but it barely registers over the humming of his nerves.
“Not feeling up to talking? That’s okay. You just catch your breath, yeah?” Lance settles down next to Shiro, causing a splash of water to slush over Shiro’s thighs where he’s sitting in the shallow pool.
There’s silence for a minute while Shiro’s pulse goes down, grounding himself in Lance’s hand on his back and the gentle drizzle of water raining down on them.
The quiet is interrupted by the sound of Lance stifling a chuckle. “It’s really been a while for you, hasn’t it?” he asks, voice full of mirth as he raises a hand and points at the clear wall in front of them.
A wall which is painted with Shiro’s release, a borderline alarming amount of spunk slowly sliding down the surface in thick globs.
“You could say that,” Shiro agrees and laughs, Lance joining him and together they fill the space with peals of laughter.
After the amusement moves from bubbling to something more warm and content, Shiro leans against Lance’s shoulder with a sigh. He probably shouldn’t lean on Lance like this, but he feels like they left the town of Proper Behaviour in the rearview mirror a long time ago, and seeking further comfort that Lance seems happy to give him doesn’t really seem like the big of a deal right now.
“Thank you, I needed that,” Shiro says, “And thank you for, you know…”
“Not freaking out and calling you a pervert while clutching my pearls and whacking you with a slipper?”
“Yeah, that.” Shiro chuckles.
“No problem buddy, I get it. Lance is a safe space, 100% customer satisfaction guaranteed!” Lance declares with a triumphant fist thrust up in the air.
“Good to know,” Shiro hums and tilts his head down to rest more comfortably against Lance’s shoulder.
Something catches his eyes and Shiro blinks at it for a moment.
“...You’re hard,” he says, incredulously.
“Well, duh. What did you expect? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and it was a live performance too! I’m pretty sure even a dead guy would get a boner from that.”
Shiro huffs a laugh. A part of him entertains the thought of asking Lance if he wants some help with resolving the situation in his currently missing pants, but Lance really doesn’t seem bothered by it, like he’s perfectly content to just let it be.
So Shiro lets the thought go (but not before filing it for later perusal. He has a feeling building a fantasy around it would prove satisfying in the near future).
They remain sitting in the shallow water for a few more minutes, not saying anything as Shiro basks in the afterglow, Lance never stopping his gentle sweep of his hand over Shiro’s back.
“We should probably get up,” Shiro says after a while, reluctantly straightening up from where’s he’s been bonelessly slumped against Lance.
“Yeah, we should. My toes are definitely pruning,” Lance replies, “Oh, how about we get dressed and then go raid Hunk’s secret pantry in the kitchen? I know he has a new blend of almost space chocolate that I was planning mixing with some space milk, see if I can get a decent mug of space hot chocolate going. Maybe you could join me?”
Lance’s words sound light and casual, but his expression looks unsure.
“I would like that,” Shiro says and smiles.
Lance smiles back, relieved, and together they get up from the floor, Shiro sparing a few moments to wash away the stains of his release from the wall while Lance watches, amused.
Shiro flicks off the shower while resolutely ignoring the embarrassed burning of his cheeks and stubbornly pretending that he can’t feel the way his knees ache. Yeah, that is definitely gonna bruise.
They dry off and get dressed in comfortable silence before they go to leave, Lance already by the door when something niggling in the back of Shiro’s mind has him pausing his steps.
“Lance,” he says, a feeling of disquiet stirring through him, “Lance, did you switch over my shower from the foam wash to the final rinse?” he asks as Lance turns to look at him.
“No?” Lance looks confused before a horrible dawning of realisation enters his eyes, “No I didn’t. And I also didn’t turn off my own shower.”
Simultaneously, they turn around to look where the shower stands, deactivated and silent, looking for the world like a perfectly innocent, if complicated, shower stall configuration.
“You don’t... You don’t think it’s…. Sentient, do you?” Shiro asks quietly.
“You know what? Nope, I am not even gonna go there,” Lance declares, as he whirls around and strides out the door, voice growing quieter as he walks further away down the hallway, “That’s my limit. I’ll accept flying magical robot lions and princesses sleeping for ten thousand years and wormholes , but I draw the line at sentient showers! Space is already too gosh darned weird, I refuse to-...”
Shiro throws one last glance at the shower, surely he is imagining how it almost seems to be leering at him, before he hurries out after Lance.
He definitely needs a drink now.