Wait what about an au where instead of getting kicked out of the garrison Keith focused all his energy into his work to honor Shiro. Keith knew that Shiro thought he was capable of so much and he wanted to prove it to him. So Keith becomes one of the best. He keeps himself in line and tries to do well to make Shiro proud, even if he’s gone…
But then Shiro crashes back to Earth. Pidge, Hunk and Lance are the ones who find him and somehow they escape to an abandoned shack they find. Shiro needs to focus on finding this “Voltron”, but there’s almost nothing they can do. And none of the others know how to approach Shiro since no one knew him well.
Then Shiro asks them about Keith. If Shiro goes back to the Garrison they’ll capture him again. (Only Lance and Hunk seem to know Keith.) So the two of them hike back and convince Keith to step away from his work to go with them. When they get back Shiro and Keith see each other for the first time in a year and Keith can’t believe it. All this time he thought Shiro was dead but now he’s standing right in front of him. They have a tearful reunion (especially on Keith’s part) and soon they explain the “Voltron” ordeal to Keith. Maybe Keith can feel that something in the desert is off? And Hunk is able to build a sensor and they find the Blue Lion.
summing up my obsession with @crispykrimi‘s sweater weather OTL this time also featuring the leggings, bubble butt, cattitude pyjamas, tea and Todoroki accidentally setting himself on fire, which is now my favourite thing ever
“Blaise,” Draco fumed, storming into the living room, “what happened to the chest of drawers in my room?”
Blaise looked up from the paper he was reading and grinned at Draco.
“Do you like the new one? You’ve been whining about it so much, I thought I’d just replace that awful old-timer.”
“What did you do with that old-timer?”
“I sold it,” Blaise shrugged.
“You sold it,” Draco repeated flatly.
“Who did you sell it to?” Draco asked frantically.
“No idea,” Blaise said. “I didn’t get a name. Two people came by to pick it up. I think they were Muggles.”
Draco felt like he was about to faint.
“Did you take everything out beforehand?”
“Of course! What do you take me for?”
“Everything?” Draco insisted.
Blaise raised an eyebrow at Draco’s tone and studied him.
Draco took a step closer and narrowed his eyes.
“Even what was under the secret false bottom in the second drawer, nobody but me knows about?”
Blaise paled and his mouth opened.
“Oh,” he simply said.
“Yes, oh,” Draco growled. “Great, now I have to hunt it down. You’re a lousy flatmate.”
“Hey, I just wanted to do you a favour,” Blaise said defensively.
“You better hope they haven’t found what’s inside it, or I’m going to kill you.”
Doing the locator spell was easy enough. Draco had feared it wouldn’t work, but it seemed there were no wards guarding the flat the chest of drawers had ended up in. Draco apparated to the flat, his heart hammering as he knocked.
When the door opened, Draco was sure he had to be dreaming. Of all the people in the world. Of course. Of course.
“Malfoy?” Potter seemed stunned. He was holding a toothbrush and was only dressed in a green t-shirt and pants. “How did you find me?”
Draco shook his head, willing his mind to work properly again.
“You have something of mine,” he said curtly.
“And what might that be?” Potter responded, a grin beginning to form on his lips. It took Draco off guard for a moment.
“Can I just come in and check something?”
Potter stepped aside and gestured for Draco to come in. Draco wasted no time and quickly found the chest of drawers in the corner of Potter’s bedroom. He opened the second drawer and took out the little book he had been so desperate to get back.
“What’s that?” Potter asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“Nothing of your concern. It shouldn’t have been in there,” Draco huffed.
“Hmmm,” Potter hummed. “You know, I never would have thought you kept a diary.”
Draco blushed, quickly hiding his hands behind his back.
“It’s not a diary,” he said lamely.
Potter nodded, but he had a mischievous smile on his face.
“You want a drink?” he asked, turning around and heading back into the living room. Draco blinked and tried to find his voice again.
“Um, no thank you. You were obviously getting ready for bed. I won’t disturb you any longer,” he said hastily.
“You sure? It might be a great opportunity,” Potter grinned. Draco gave him a quizzical look.
“I don’t know,” Potter shrugged, “after two Firewhiskeys you might get the chance to run your hands through my incredibly infuriating, magnificent head of hair.” Potter tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t suppress a snicker. “I might even let you touch my strong and marvellous jawline.”
Never had Draco wished more the ground would open and swallow him up.
“You read it,” he said through gritted teeth. “You had no right.”
“True,” Potter replied, nonchalant. “I’d let you read mine in return, but I don’t keep a diary.” He stepped closer to Draco, studying his face intently.
“You look rather cute when you’re flushed.”
Draco made a sound that was something between a weird gurgle and a high-pitched squeak. Whatever it was, it was highly embarrassing.
Potter chuckled, coming to a halt right in front of Draco.
“I mean, I could just show you what kind of fantasies I’d be writing in that diary,” he said in a low whisper.
Draco gulped, not quite grasping what Potter was saying.
“Like what?” he breathed.
“Hmmm.” Potter’s eyes flickered down to Draco’s lips. “Like how I want to grab you right now and kiss you until you can’t breathe.”
Draco’s mouth opened involuntarily. Breathing was already hard with Potter standing so close to him.
“And then,” Potter continued, deliberately breathing on Draco’s lips, “I’d want your hands on the most delicious and perfect arse you have ever seen in your life.”
Draco groaned loudly. This was just too much. But then again, Potter really seemed to be teasing him in a rather flirtatious way. Trying to conceal his nervousness, he raised his chin and fixed Potter with a glare.
“These better not just be empty promises,” Draco said haughtily.
“Oh, they’re not,” Potter smirked, his eyes gleaming as he started pouring their drinks.
As time passes, the bonds between the IPRE increase and that probably increases the power of the engine. Right at the beginning, though, as they’re racing away from one of the early worlds, Davenport has the sinking realization that it’s not enough. The engine is not running on enough power to outrun the apocalypse again, and of course it isn’t, because it was designed for a leisurely two-month exploration and not a high-speed chase. They’re not going to make it. And he thinks his crew must realize that, too, because they’re all nervously glancing out of the windows as he narrowly evades another deadly blow.
Damn it all, they’re his responsibility, they look to him for guidance and he’s going to get all of them killed because he couldn’t do the one thing he’s best at well enough. They’re good people and they don’t deserve this. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly it’s vital that they all know that they’re more to him than just strangers.
“If we don’t make it out of this,” he calls over his shoulder, “I want you all to know that it was an honor to travel with you.” He can’t turn his attention away from where they’re going, but he can feel their stares on his back. And, because he’s the best at what he does, he can feel the ship shudder slightly under him, gaining the smallest surge of extra energy in the engine.
The bonds engine, which runs on bonds. Fuck.
Davenport calls out again, this time with far less gravitas: “If any of you want to, I don’t know, hug it out or something now would be a great time.”
It takes a moment for them to catch on, but they’re his crew, so of course they do.
“I think you have beautiful eyes!” It’s Barry, suddenly the approximate complexion of a tomato, and he’s got his face in his hands seconds later so it’s not even clear who he was talking to but the outburst sets the rest of them off.
“Lucretia, you have lovely handwriting even though I can’t read a damn word!”
“Magnus, for the love of whatever gods are watching, you are very brave but please stop getting yourself killed?”
“Those cupcakes without the icing that you made are kickass, Taako!” (And, somewhere in the background an indignant shriek of “Muffins? Do you mean muffins, Magnus?”)
“You make the best coffee at three in the morning which is some kind of fucking lost art, and that’s the only reason you’re allowed to correct my notes even though I was absolutely right about that last equation you erased, wasn’t I?”
“That was an accident, Lup - Merle I think your approach to both horticulture and religion are… uniquely inspired.”
“Davenport, you are a very brave leader and I appreciate all of the difficult decisions you make.”
They’ve almost got it. They’re almost there, they might make it after all, they just need a little more power.
It comes from a very unlikely source.
“That’s just our luck, right?” Taako is looking out of the window, and he sees what Davenport sees, that the force chasing them is still just a little too fast. “Finally get used to having these chucklefucks around and now we’re gonna get eaten. Finally find some people worth keeping and boom, apocalypse. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
Everyone is staring again. Taako’s ears twitch lower as he realizes what he’s just said, aloud, at a clearly audible volume and obviously unintentionally. Magnus sniffles a little, clearly moved, and mutters “Aw, dude.”
Lup sneaks up on Taako and hugs him from behind, holding him firmly in place as Magnus and then the others join in. Davenport is the only one who notices the moment when they outrun the Hunger one more time, just barely slipping through its grasp.
(Davenport considers organized bonding activities after that, but he watches his crew make a mess of breakfast together the next morning, and he realizes that isn’t necessary.)