Lance dreams of failing.

He dreams of telling Keith, do the math, dreams of Keith telling him that he should leave the math to Pidge, then he dreams of failing even when they believed in him.

He dreams of getting in his lion and he dreams of fighting. He dreams of being the sharpshooter, and he dreams of failing.

Because everyone knows what the sharpshooter does. The sharpshooter's job is to cover up everyone else's messes.

Except, if the sharpshooter messes up, the team is done for.

Lance dreams of failing, of missing his shot (he never misses), he dreams of Keith screaming as he's cut down, dreams of Allura trying to fight them off even as they swarm all over, he dreams of Pidge trying to run and Hunk telling him he doesn't blame him even as his head falls off his body.

He dreams of Shiro telling him he failed, he dreams of Red putting up the particle barrier, dreams of Blue shutting him out, dreams that the lions would never let him near them.

Dreams that they tell him he's a failure, that he's off the team, and he was just a placeholder.

But the placeholder is alive, and the team is dead, and Voltron is done for, and it's all Lance's fault.

Then he wakes up, sweat and tears and sobs as he stares at his hands and closes his eyes and tries to pretend that he doesn't believe it's true.

He finds his way to Shiro's door, somehow, and he just sort of stands there, staring at the door and trying to convince himself to get the guts to knock. He can't, though, so Lance just stands there and stares at the door and tries to figure out why his feet brought him here and why he's not leaving.

Then, a light, confused voice, "Lance? What are you doing here so late?"

Shiro.

He has a cup of something dark... coffee? So late?... in his hand, and he's dressed in those old pajamas that Hunk bought for him a few weeks ago, a loose grey shirt and pastel pink pants with little spaceships on them, his head cocked to the side so that his white tuft of hair doesn't cover his eyebrows like they usually do.

Lance wants to run. To gasp and turn tail and run, and just leave Shiro thinking it was a dream or something. Instead he blinks and says quietly, "I had a nightmare," just like when he was a kid and didn't realize that nobody quite cares about your nightmares.

Shiro blows out a heavy breath and runs his free hand through his hair, flesh fingers tangling with white curls, and his eyes flicker up to Lance speculatively as Lance waits for Shiro to say something like you're being stupid, go back to sleep and just deal because they're just nightmares, not real, but then Shiro says, voice weary and much older than it ought to be, "Come on in, then," and Lance just kind of blindly follows, still surprised that Shiro hasn't really scolded him yet.

When they get in, Shiro gestures to the bed and Lance obediently takes a seat as Shiro drops beside him, putting his coffee (or maybe not coffee? He's still not sure) on the ground next to his feet.

"Sorry, I, um," Somehow Lance manages to find his voice, but he can't quite find it in himself to crack a joke, his hands are still shaking, so the best he can do is grin brightly at Shiro. "I must have sleepwalked here or something! That's so cool, right? Sleepwalking is like, totally insane. It's, like, so weird, right?"

Shiro stares at him like he's grown two heads, and Lance turns bright red as he lowers his gaze to his hands, and he tries to will them to stop shaking, but they just won't do it.

"Lance," Shiro looks awkward but his voice is soft and comforting and lulls him into an odd sense of calm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope, I'm good!" Lance replies brightly, standing up and hiding his hands behind his back. Maybe Shiro hasn't seen them shake. Doubtful, but a boy can hope. "Sorry about the disturbance, see you!"

He makes a move to go, but Shiro says quietly, "Your hands are shaking," and well, Lance already knows that, but it's enough to stop him anyways, and his hands fall to his side, still shaking, the little traitors. Shiro closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "You don't have to stay," his voice is still as quiet as before, kind and gentle. "But if you want to, I'd welcome your presence."

System Lance somehow manages to reboot properly, and he tosses Shiro a cocky smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest replies arrogantly, "Of course you'd welcome my presence. I am the awesome Lance, after all."

Shiro tilts his head to the side, and his eyes are a bit too dark and knowing for Lance's preference, and his hands fall to his sides once again as Shiro repeats, "If you want to."

Lance hangs his head and rubs a hand against his arm as he asks quietly, "Was I meant to be a paladin of Voltron, Shiro?"

"What?" Whatever Shiro was expecting, it was definitely not that.

Lance bites his tongue and thinks I messed up but Shiro just looks confused and still isn't saying anything, so Lance plows onward and says, "I'm just... I'm only a placeholder, right? For, like, the real paladins to come in. Like how Blue, she didn't really connect to me, did she? She likes Allura better. And everyone knows that Red is Keith's, so I'm just, like, there to warm the bench, right? So I was just..."

Just what, Lance wonders. Just staying here, selfishly enjoying the time that he gets to spend with the other paladins, even if he doesn't deserve to be there?

"You deserve to be here," Shiro snarls, and Lance realizes with a start that he'd said it out loud. "Don't think otherwise, Lance."

Lance chews on his tongue and lowers his gaze and lifts a shoulder into a shrug. "Sorry for bothering you, Shiro," he murmurs quietly, and takes a step back, his smile lost again.

"No, stop!" Lance freezes, wonders how he messed up, and then Shiro continues, "You'd never bother me, Lance, why would you say that?" and he just sort of. What.

Maybe his brain is fried? Maybe he's still dreaming?

"Come here," Shiro bends a finger and Lance pulls forwards like he's drawn by an invisible string, somehow ending up sitting beside Shiro again. "Alright, Lance. We're going to sit here and you're going to just listen for a while okay?"

"About..."

Shiro raises an eyebrow, and Lance shuts up.

"Alright," Shiro's face sets in something determined, and he says, "The first time we met, you and Keith and the others saved me. A few days later, on the ship, you helped me to..."

"Wait, wait, wait." Lance protests, leaning forwards. "What are you..."

Shiro narrows his eyes, and Lance falls silent, hanging his head.

"I remember clearly this one time where I was fighting and getting overwhelmed, and the others were too busy to help, but you managed to help me because..."

"But..."

"No talking, Lance. You managed to help me because you had my back, and I..."

Lance makes a few more protests, but eventually he just shuts up as Shiro tells him tale after tale after tale about how he's helped the team, and a few hours later, Shiro is still going and Lance has fallen fast asleep, head on Shiro's shoulder and hand intertwined with Shiro's as Shiro keeps talking, telling him as much as he can think of and then forcing himself to think of more.

He still has more to tell, Shiro thinks as his eyelids grow heavier and he yawns. But Lance is asleep, and Shiro wants to sleep, so he tucks Lance in and ends up curled next to him on the bed, both fast asleep.

I'll continue in the morning if I have to, Shiro thinks, but he's done his job, judging by the way that Lance whispers a quiet thank you in the morning and goes back to acting like normal, promising Shiro that he gets it now.

(Shiro's still not convinced, but Lance returns to his room a few weeks later with two cups of an odd Altean drink in hand and a hesitant smile on his lips as he shrugs helplessly and asks if Shiro minds, but he had a nightmare. Shiro pulls himself up from his push ups and smiles fondly at Lance as he responds, always.)