Work Text:
See, Keith would do anything for Lance. He wasn’t even exaggerating one bit, Keith would genuinely blow up the moon if Lance said the word. It was unfair that Lance even knew the power he had over Keith. The answer was no until Lance looked at him with that pleading, pitiful little gaze and he had no choice but to say yes.
That was exactly why, the day he walked into the kitchen only to see a fostering pamphlet strewn across the dining room table, did he know he was fucked.
When the kid arrived, he looked so miserable that Keith thought that he was looking in a mirror for a minute. The boy was only thirteen, and in Keith’s opinion, way too young to look that upset. The kid’s name was August, which threw Keith off a bit. I mean, who names their child after a month? But then again, Keith’s mom was an alien, so who was he to judge?
Lance took the teen's guarded attitude with stride, probably because he had a lot of experience with Keith being exactly the same. Lance was good with him. He always knew what to say to smooth over the situation. Keith on the other hand, was utterly useless. Sure, he could relate to the very obvious trust issues, but that was almost never helpful.
Sometimes, Keith would see things Lance missed. Like the way August would take an extra granola bar and keep it in his room or the way, he looked genuinely puzzled that he could access the fridge freely, without having to pick a lock. The kid had problems with a lot of things that a kid shouldn’t have problems with and Keith got it. He understood because he had been in his position before.
So he and Lance were patient with him. They would let him take food that wouldn’t spoil to keep in his room. They would let him lock his door and let him scream when he felt like lashing out, especially when he was done and he would have the most bemused face when he didn’t get in trouble for it.
So overall, Keith would say that they were doing a pretty good job together.
Then Lance left, on a two-day mission in space.
And Keith was lost.
So much so, that August knew it too.
The first morning, after Lance left, Keith walked into the kitchen and paused at the sight. His jaw hung slack as his brain caught up with what he was seeing. Upon seeing the kitchen quite literally covered in cornstarch, his teeth clenched in poorly hidden anger. He caught himself before he yelled at the culprit, who mind you, still had the now empty bag of cornstarch clutched in his hand.
Breathing in, Keith calmed himself. Ask the reasoning before you get mad. So Keith asked; he asked what kind of problem would cause this monstrosity.
Then the little shit- August, answered. “I was making Oobleck.”
He was-
He was making Oobleck…
Keith was sure a blood vessel was popping out of his forehead at the bleak answer.
Another breath, just to clear his head and it was enough- just enough, to control himself enough to not vault the counter and send the kid into space with Lance.
Keith took one look at August’s face and understood. This was a test for Keith, to see what he would do when he got mad. It was a test to see if he would yell, or scream, or hit. Keith recognized the signs. August was masking his guarded expression, feigning a look of amusement.
After all, Keith had done the same thing to Shiro. He did a little worse than August, actually.
So, Keith sighed and calmly asked August to go to his room who mutely obliged.
Then Keith called Shiro.
“How’s your kid?” Shiro asked as soon as he picked up the phone.
Keith, who sat in the living room and refused to even look toward the kitchen despite having had nothing to eat, sighed into his hand.
“Not good?” Shiro concluded, a bit amused.
“How did you-“ Keith paused, honestly embarrassed to be asking this. “Deal with me?”
Shiro chuckled at the question. “I honestly didn’t have to deal with you, Keith. I just guided you.”
“Shiro, I was about this close-” Keith pinched his fingers together, even though Shiro couldn’t see them. “-to repeating ‘patience yields focus’ in my head and it isn’t even nine in the morning yet.”
Shiro apparently found that hilarious too, which did not mull over Keith’s bad attitude well. “Look, Keith. I have to go. Just do your best. Remember, patience yields focus.”
Then he hung up and Keith felt the need to hurl his phone right into a nearby pile of cornstarch.
Patience yields focus, yeah right.
Fuck, Shiro and fuck this stupid cornstarch. Keith was never going to buy cornstarch again.
He closed his eyes to level with himself and slowly got off of the couch to walk over to August’s room. He made sure that he wasn’t walking quietly because despite how angry he was, he didn’t want to scare August.
Keith lightly knocked on the door, with no particular pattern, unlike Lance who always made a song out of it. August slowly opened the door as if he was scared that it would cause a hindrance. Keith’s heart panged.
“August,” Keith began, trying his hardest to keep the frustration out of his tone. “I’m going to go to the store. While I’m there, I want you to clean up the cornstarch to the best of your ability.”
August fixed him with a puzzled look like that was the last thing he had expected Keith to say. As if he expected something worse from Keith.
“What if I don’t?” he answered and Keith instantly knew it was an empty threat.
This was a plea and Keith knew exactly what he was probably thinking. What happens when I go too far? What happens when I do something really bad and you can’t control your anger and you hit me? Keith’s blood ran cold at the thought. Sometimes it hit a little too close to home for him.
“Then I’ll be upset with you.”
August furrowed his brows and he may as well just yelled, liar, to Keith’s face.
“That’s all?” the boy asked.
Keith nodded, serious as ever. He needed him to know that it would only escalate emotion-wise, never physical. “That’s all,” he confirmed.
Then he left for the store.
Keith took the break with stride, using it to his advantage. He didn’t exactly have time to prepare for a grocery list so he just went down all of the aisles and grabbed whatever looked good.
Then it kind of struck him as he walked down the chip aisle.
Can a thirteen-year-old be left home alone?
Keith had no idea, which was probably worrying. He was used to being home alone starting from a young age. Then it turned into not just home alone but just straight up alone. It was stupid, and he knew it was stupid, but Keith stopped in the middle of the aisle and Googled it.
Surprisingly, Google didn’t have a concrete enough answer. It basically said if the kid was mature enough, they could. Would you consider a kid who bathed a kitchen in cornstarch mature? Maybe. Excluding the fact that August never did make Oobleck. Or maybe that hadn’t been his goal at all. So by that fucked up logic, yeah, Keith was considering him mature enough to stay home alone, just to soothe his heart.
Just as he threw a bag of nacho chips in the cart, he texted Lance.
10:12 am
Keith: How’s space?
Lance responded quickly, far too quick for anyone who should be busy on a mission.
10:13 am
Lance: What happened
Lance: Keith I swear to god
Lance: Please tell me we aren’t going to get our fostering privilege revoked
Keith: What are you talking about?
10:14 am
Keith: Can’t I just ask you how space is?
Lance: No you can’t. Maybe at night you would but not in the middle of the day
10:15 am
Keith: fine
Keith: I’m dealing with it don’t worry about it
Lance: I’m worrying
Lance: Like right now
10:16 am
Keith: August is fine. He’s just going through a phase
Lance: If I come back and he has a mullet, Keith
10:18 am
Keith: Get back to work, Lance
Lance: I’m serious
Keith: Love you
Lance: Considering flying back home right now
10:20 am
Lance: ily 2
Keith grinned like an idiot in the middle of the grocery store, shaking his head fondly. He considered giving August a mullet, just to piss Lance off, but he decided against it. Maybe next time.
After his successful shopping mission was over, he got in the car and tried to manifest a clean kitchen when he walked in the door. The more he mulled over it, the more worried he became. He hadn’t even told August where the cleaning supplies were. What if he wanted to clean up the kitchen but he couldn’t find what to clean it with? What if he didn’t know how to clean at all?
Keith pushed his worries aside as he arrived home. Taking a deep breath, just in case, he opened the door and looked at his kitchen.
His kitchen-
Well, you honestly couldn’t call it that anymore because-
Instead of cornstarch-
God, help him.
-it was Oobleck.
And no, not just the remnants of Oobleck, as if one tried to clean up the cornstarch with water. No, this was purposeful, deliberate amounts of Oobleck that replaced the cornstarch entirely, in fact. It was smeared across the cabinets, flung onto walls, pooling on the floors, you name it. It was everywhere.
Keith’s keys dropped onto the floor and made a sharp clanging noise, startling August who was in the middle of smearing Oobleck all over the island kitchen counter.
The deep breath couldn’t ground him this time.
“August,” Keith bit, a little louder and vice-like than he meant to. “Go to your room.”
Because if August didn’t leave right now, Keith was probably going to yell and he really didn’t want the kid to go through that. He knew what it felt like to be yelled at; he knew it was scary.
August scrambled to his room, even when he was covered in cornstarch and water, some traces of Oobleck splattered on his shirt.
Then Keith carried all of the groceries inside, shoved all of the cold stuff into the fridge, and cleaned.
He had to Google how to clean up Oobleck. It told him to let it dry but Keith, at his wit's end, was not going to wait for the mountain of Oobleck to dry because that would take hours. So he had to scoop it up slowly, because- oh my god -if he tried to scoop it up quickly, the substance hardens and becomes really fucking solid and heavy.
By the time he was done, it was well into the afternoon, closer to dinner than lunch. Keith’s stomach grumbled and he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. So he got himself a snack and let his mind twinge over August probably not eating anything until he remembered the mass amount of food he had saved in his room and deemed him pretty damn prepared.
As soon as he scarfed down the last bit of dry cereal he had a handful of, he was still hungry and just accepted that it was going to be an early dinner. It was easier to make than most nights because Keith was used to making portions for two after living with Lance for so long.
And it was probably easy because it was grilled cheese. With broccoli, mind you, but still. Maybe he was just throwing things together.
Either way, he set the two plates down on the table and walked to August’s room. He gently knocked on the door muttering “dinner” before turning around to take his spot at the table. When August walked out, he looked confused, like he didn’t understand what was happening.
Like he didn’t expect to be given dinner.
Something nauseating washed over Keith’s stomach at the thought. It was obvious that the kid had been punished with food before so despite how angry Keith was, he still felt horrible.
August quietly pattered up to the table, just standing. He didn’t try to sit down, even when he eyed the grilled cheese as if it was a five-course meal. Keith motioned for him to sit at the chair and he had never seen August sit down so abruptly in his life.
Then he briefly pondered. What if he hadn’t eaten anything all day? What if he was only keeping the granola bars in his room for actual emergencies and he had just been sitting in his room all day, hungry?
August still didn’t take a bite of food until Keith told him he could, like a dog with a release command. This kid acted like he was trained. Whoever fucked him up did it recklessly and it worked way too well.
August gulped down his food so quickly that Keith couldn’t even chide him for it and all it did was confirm his thoughts.
After Keith finished eating, they sort of just sat awkwardly at the table, staring at each other.
Well… Keith was staring at August who was looking at the floor as if it was a five-star movie.
“August,” Keith began, gentle as ever, yet it caused the kid to flinch violently. Keith had to gather the courage to continue speaking. “Do you want to talk about anything?”
“I want Lance,” August whispered, so quietly that Keith almost missed it and-
Oh.
It made sense and he had expected it but-
He didn’t expect it to hurt that bad. It felt like something was chewing through his chest, swallowing his heart whole and dropping it into his gut to become a victim to his stomach acid.
“Oh,” Keith answered, dumbstruck, just to say something back to him instead of letting August panic.
He expected August to take that as his leave but much to his surprise, he kept talking.
“I- I can read Lance,” August stammered, voice thick but cracking at the edges. He looked close to tears. “I know when he’s feeling mad, what he likes and- and what he doesn’t but-“
Keith couldn’t tell where this was going.
“You,” August continued. “I can’t read you. You look mad but then you- then you talk softly. When I think I’m in deep shit, you don’t do anything. You just- you- I don’t know. You make dinner, as if that’s a normal thing to do for a kid who’s in trouble!”
That was… the most he had ever heard come out of that kid’s mouth and also the most heartbreaking.
Keith made sure to stay seated, even while August was standing up. He didn’t want to crowd over him.
“So that’s why you made a mess in the kitchen,” Keith began, more of a statement as opposed to a question. August nodded anyway.
Then Keith, very slowly, rose from his chair and stepped closer to the boy, eyeing his movements for any visual discomfort. He got about two feet away before August flinched, so he froze.
“I need you to listen to me, okay?” Keith said, firm, but not mad. Of course, he wasn’t mad.
August nodded, once, but still nodded nonetheless.
“You will always get dinner. You could have two dinners if you wanted, alright? It doesn’t matter if you’re in trouble or if me and Lance are fighting. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t come out of your room to eat. I will leave it outside of your door.”
August looked like he didn’t believe him, as if Keith was saying something so preposterous and that he wasn’t talking about something as simple as dinner.
“But-“ August’s voice cracked, face crumpling while he gasped for a breath.
Despite his sentence being cut off by no one but himself, he didn’t continue to speak so Keith took that as a signal to talk himself.
“I know it’s confusing sometimes. It used to be confusing for me, too.”
August gasped, stuttering with his breath before finding his voice. “You were- you were in the system?”
Keith nodded. “You know that feeling, when you get to a new home and you don’t know how anything works? You don’t know what the rules are yet.”
August’s eyes widened because he understood and Keith knew it too.
So he kept talking. “So, when you finally know the rules, they become so ingrained in your brain that you can’t stop following them. Then you get moved from that house and you have to start all over again. So you bend the rules a little bit, just to see what will happen.”
The kid was nodding so furiously, with bundles of tears rolling down his cheeks, one after the other like the constant in a math equation. At first, Keith thought his shoulders were hunched because he was scared but he quickly realized it was relief. He was relieved that someone finally understood.
Then August spoke and it shattered Keith’s heart.
“I just- I want to be good. I don’t want to be- to be scared anymore,” he confessed, choked up and folded in on himself as if the words were painful to get out of his chest. They probably were.
Keith opened his arms. An offer.
August took it, barreling into him so hard that if Keith hadn’t fought in an intergalactic war, he would have probably fallen backwards. Keith could feel the boy’s chest stuttering and shaking in all the wrong ways. Now that you mention it, the kid was actually shaking all over, bones clattering together. Keith held him tight, providing enough pressure to ground him.
As soon as Keith thought his heart could finally take it, August started spewing out apologies, clumsily and broken. So evidently, his heart could not take it.
“I’m sorry- I’m- I didn’t- I’m so sorry, so, so, so, sorry.”
Keith shushed him, carding a hand through his hair. They stayed like that until August only hiccuped occasionally; until his whole body stopped shaking and he could take a breath without making a noise that was so sad, it gutted Keith.
“Keith?” August whispered his name so small, so childlike.
“Yeah, bud?”
The kid took a deep breath like he was preparing for something so Keith prepared himself as well. It was probably “When is Lance going to be home?”, so Keith braced himself for the blow, taking in a breath of his own and-
“Can I have a second dinner?”
-and Keith let out a startled laugh that was choppy and a little bit choked. Then August started laughing, nothing big, nothing more than a chuckle but it was still a laugh. Soon, the two were just laughing in a silent house, shoulders subtly shaking, and to anyone else, they probably looked crazy but to Keith-
To Keith, it was one of the best feelings to see this kid, who looked a little too much like him, laughing about dinner.
“Yeah, August. You can have a second dinner.”
______________
Lance arrived home days later, pleased to find no one dead to which Keith rolled his eyes to. August looked sheepish when Lance asked what happened while he was gone but Keith swooped in with a stupid excuse about grocery shopping that Lance didn’t buy one bit but left it alone anyway.
That night, while August was asleep, Keith told him everything.
“Lance, it was so bad. The whole kitchen, head to toe in cornstarch. Then I told you I would deal with it and came home to Oobleck.”
Lance had the audacity to chuckle but kiss him on the forehead as a silent apology. Keith wasn’t picky, so he took it.
“I wouldn’t even have noticed,” Lance praised. “The kitchen is the cleanest I’ve ever seen it.”
Keith groaned, sinking his head into the pillow below him. Lance laid down too, but his breath hitched just as he did, causing Keith to look over with worry. Lance had a serious expression covering his face.
“But that was all?” he questioned, grabbing for Keith’s hand. “Nothing else bad happened?”
Keith pleasantly shook his head, melting away the tight expression on Lance’s face. “The rest was actually good. Especially all four dinners.”
Lance turned to him, puzzled. “Four? Are you sure you didn’t get brain damage from accidentally ingesting Oobleck? I was only gone for two nights.”
Keith smiled so genuinely that it got Lance to smile too, despite not knowing why.
“Nope. Four dinners,” Keith responded in complete confidence.
Lance rolled over and rested his head on Keith’s chest. “I’m going to pretend I understand because I’m tired,” he whispered, words dragging on and falling quiet at the end.
Keith closed his eyes.
Now, Keith would not only do anything for Lance, but he would do anything for August as well.
So, the next time Lance asked him to blow up the moon, he would do it.
And if August asked him for two dinners?
They would have two dinners.