Listen, nobody would ever accuse the rest of the Paladins of being mature. Okay, maybe Keith, but even he gives in to the gremlin antics of the others sometimes.

Why do I bring this up, you ask. Why? Because these Defenders of the Universe, Paladins of the Lions of Voltron....had a food fight. In the dining hall of the Castle of Lions.

There's smears of mysterious green Altean food (food-adjacent?) goop everywhere. On Pidge's glasses, in Keith's hair, all over Hunk's shirt, on Lance's face....you get the picture. Of course, you're covered in it too.

Shiro, who is somehow the only one unscathed, stands from his seat and surveys the scene with a fond-but-slightly-disappointed amusement.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, fingers rubbing the scar there idly. "Nobody move." Shiro warns, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he's holding back a smile. "Before you get goop on everything. Just.....wait where you are, until I can get you cleaned up." Like the space dad he is. "Because frankly, I don't trust any of you to know how to wash this gunk out of your hair." The remark is a teasing scold, as he steps away from his seat and walks towards you.

You. The youngest Paladin. The one most likely to be a rascal. And judging by Shiro's determined stride and the set to his jaw....probably the first one he intends to get washed up.

Before you can back away, up you go! Hoisted over Shiro's shoulder like a sack of flour as he heads out of the dining hall, ignoring any squirms or protests as he gives you a firm pat, walking towards his quarters. "C'mon, lil' lion. Bath time. You look like one of Hunk's failed cooking experiments right now." The tone is fond - he's really quite a sap over you, you being the baby of the team - but him being soft on you is not going to save you from a good old-fashioned scrubdown.