Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Can we go back to the ship?”

Keith’s super annoying question makes the curious, happy smile slide right off Lance’s face. He shoots Keith an irritated look.

“Seriously, man? It's barely been thirty minutes.”

Keith frowns. “It’s just a bunch of stores, Lance. And it’s boring. I could be training.”

“Training,” Lance repeats in disgust, shaking his head. Only Keith could treat a trip to an inter-galactic space mall—one they only get time for about once a year— like an inconvenience. Any other day, Lance wouldn’t mind giving Keith a Normal People Enjoy This Because lesson, but it’s a mall. You’re supposed to walk in and just get it.

The fact that Keith doesn’t? It’s enough to make Lance want to wash his hands of him.

“Why did I have to get stuck babysitting you?”

Keith immediately bristles. “I’m the one babysitting you! And I’m older,” he tacks on belatedly.

Lance rolls his eyes, but before he can tell Keith where to stick his one year age difference, a voice interrupts him.

“You there! In the blue!”

Lance, perhaps a bit conceitedly, looks up. Luckily, instead of looking like a self-absorbed idiot who thinks all things blue pertain to him, he meets the enthusiastic waving of a shopkeeper just a bit further down. When Lance meets her (several) eyes, she smiles wider and gestures him closer.

Perking up and curious, Lance jogs over.

“Like a puppy,” Keith mutters behind him, but he follows too, so who’s the puppy now?

“Hi!” Lance greets, looking up into the four glittering eyes of the alien. She’s tall, taller even than Shiro, and has four long, graceful arms. Her hair is a dark purple, so dark it almost looks black, styled elaborately with jewels and pins. The way she’s dressed is strange, even by alien standards, numerous swatches of cloth in bright, vibrant colors, wrapped around her in such a complicated manner Lance feels a headache starting up just imagining how she gets dressed. Her eyes are like opals with no discernable pupils but a rainbow of colors sparkling in their depths.

All-together, she’s probably one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen.

The moment Lance draws close she grabs him with her lower arms, the other two cupping his cheeks as she gasps.

“My goodness! You have the most gorgeous aura I’ve ever seen!”

“Oh. Um.” Lance blushes, not completely understanding the compliment but flustered that he’s been beaten to the punch, so to say. Plus, pretty people don’t usually just grab him and tell him nice things? It’s a little overwhelming. “...thanks?”

“What’s an aura?” Keith asks bluntly. Lance is thankful.

“Oh! Well! Hm…” She trails off, releasing Lance so that she can rest her hands on her hips and tap her chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never had to explain it before...let’s see, an aura is an extension of yourself, at your purest, rawest form. It’s a spiritual manifestation of your innermost being, reflected outwards.”

“So, you can, like, see my soul?” Lance asks, a little bewildered but no less intrigued. He shares a glance with Keith, but he looks just as confused as him.

“Essentially, yes.” Her face goes dreamy then, when she focuses back on Lance. “And it’s so beautiful. Such kindness and nobility,” One of her hands rises, tracing the air around Lance. “All this bravery and strength, not to mention your capacity for love. Whoever your lover is must be the luckiest being in the galaxy.”

Lance’s face is on fire. He’s feeling the oddest mix of embarrassment and pleasure, not to mention shyness of all things.

He laughs to cover the awkwardness that’s falling over him; Keith is right there and even though it’s silly, Lance suddenly feels like there’s a big flashing sign on his back that says HUGE EMBARRASSING CRUSH, RIGHT HERE . “Thanks, but there’s not...anyone. Not like that.”

The alien blinks, shocked enough that her smile falls.

“You are single?” The words are baffled. “That...that is incredible! I can’t imagine why someone hasn’t snatched you right up!”

Lance laughs, but it’s decidedly more deprecating. It’s just...the thought of someone ‘snatching him up’ before someone else can get him is—well, it’s ridiculous.

“Yeah,” he says, because he doesn’t trust himself to say anything else without sounding pathetic.

But something in his tone must betray him because he notices belatedly that Keith is watching him, lips thin and eyes dark with concern.

Yikes. Lance colors and hurriedly addresses the alien.

“Well, thanks again.” He reaches out dart-quick and twists Keith around (sighing in relief when those eyes are off him; Keith squawks, startled). He smiles, tossing a wave over his shoulder. “It was nice meeting you!”

“Wait!”

Before he can step away, all four arms land heavily on his shoulders and Lance is at the mercy of four beautiful, pleading eyes.

“I can see that I’ve upset you, and for that I’m sorry.”

Alarm flashes through Lance. “No—”

“Please, let me give you something, just as a parting gift.”

“That’s really not necessary—”

“You would be doing me a favor, really! I have surplus stock, not to mention how rare it is in my experience to meet someone with such an amazing aura. I feel it necessary to thank you for this memory.”

Lance tries to protest, but he’s always been the type to cave under relentless kindness, and he and Keith end up following back to her store, pushing back the thick, plush curtains that shield the entrance.

The alien—Lance is torn between learning her name and putting this whole thing behind him—leaves them to wander her little shop as she heads to the back.

The moment she’s gone, Lance starts to inch his way back out. Unfortunately, Keith’s hand darts out whip-fast and stops him.

“Kei—”

“You’re leaving? She said she had something for you.” Keith’s tone is uncomprehending, like he can’t tell this is literally too embarrassing to deal with.

“I don’t want it.”

“Well, I want to know it is. So suck it up,” Keith smirks, and Lance has to resist the very tempting urge to punch him in the face.

“Here it is!” They both startle and Lance uses the distraction to roughly jerk his arm out of Keith’s grasp, pretending that his skin isn’t warmer where Keith touched him.

The alien comes close, holding a tiny vial in her hand. A thin silver coil wraps around it, twisted in circles in a pretty, decorative design. Inside, a thick, dark pink liquid sloshes around. It’s no thicker or longer than Lance’s pinky.

“What is it?” Lance asks.

The alien smiles wider, excited.

“A love potion!”

“What,” says Keith, flatly. Lance is too surprised to speak.

The alien doesn’t pick up on his tone, nodding her head enthusiastically.

“Yes, well, when you talked about not having a lover, your aura darkened with such intense pain and longing…” her speech slows, seeming to dim before their eyes, but she rouses herself briskly, “So I surmised you had someone you loved, but perhaps it is unrequited? In any case, this should help you with your troubles.”

She tries to give Lance the vial but he backs up, alarmed and blushing. Keith is staring at him and Lance desperately wishes Blue would crash through a wall so he could fly far, far away from this awful situation.

“No—no wait, you’ve got me all wrong, I don’t—I’m not in love with anyone. That’s ridiculous.” Lance is shocked his pants aren’t catching fire.

“Yeah,” Keith says, and Lance perks up. Finally, Keith will put a stop to all this nonsense and actually stick up for Lance for once.

...at least, that’s what he expects. Of course, Keith has to be difficult, so instead what he says is:

“Love isn’t real.”

Just when Lance thought he couldn’t be shocked anymore.

“What?!” Lance exclaims. Right behind him is the alien, momentary potion-peddling forgotten.

“Excuse me?”

Keith darts an uneasy glance between the two, startled at the sudden attention, but his brows are furrowed in that way that means he’s in Stubborn Mode.

“What? It’s true! Love is just a lie people tell themselves. People don’t actually  fall in love with each other; it’s all just chemicals in their brain.”

Lance knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s actually...he’s actually hurt. Obviously, Keith doesn’t know about his crush, and super obviously he didn’t exactly have a lot of doting, loving relationships back on Earth, but still. To disregard the concept of love entirely?

It's sad, admittedly. And it makes Lance feel like if Keith knew his feelings, he’d think he was stupid or something. It’s not a great feeling.

“How can you—” the alien starts, but then she glances at Lance and jumps a bit, eyes darting all over him like she did earlier when she was looking at his aura.

“Oh,” she says, and Lance’s skin gets goosebumps, it’s such a heavy, loaded sound. Her eyes dart between the two of them, something like comprehension dawning in her gaze, and all Lance can think is:

That doesn’t sound good.

“I see now.”

That really doesn’t sound good.

Before Lance can do anything, she brings the vial just in front of Keith’s face and snaps it cleanly in half.

Immediately, all the liquid turns to a thick, noxious gas, swallowing Keith’s head in a cloud of pink.

“Keith!” Lance cries, immediately grabbing and pulling him forward. Even as he does, the mysterious pink smoke dissipates.

Keith coughs a few times, eyes dazed as he stares into the middle distance. Then his eyes flutter closed and he collapses. Lance barely manages to catch him, taking most of his weight as he goes down to one knee.

“What did you do to him?” Lance demands, coming off more panicked than intimidating.

“Oh, don’t worry!” The alien soothes, waving her palms before her. “He is completely unharmed. Just let him rest, and he’ll wake up perfectly fine.”

Lance wants to trust her, but mostly he wants to kick himself. This is all his fault. He just had to answer the call of the pretty alien.

What if this weird alien stuff mixes badly with humans? What about his Galra side? What if she mixed up the potion, and Keith’s poisoned right now? The fact that he’s not opening his eyes really isn’t helping Lance’s stress.

“I promise,” the alien stresses, laying a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “There was nothing harmful in the potion. Your friend will wake up no worse for wear.”

“I—I have to go,” Lance says, confused and upset, not to mention stressed out of his mind. How did things get to this point?

After a little bit of a struggle, Lance manages to get Keith into a fireman’s carry. Keith head hangs heavy on his shoulder, and Lance has to adjust his grip to keep him from sliding. He straightens to the best of his ability, picking two of the alien’s eyes to focus on.

“You’re not going anywhere, right? In case I have questions or something goes wrong.”

“I will be right here,” she vows. After an uneasy moment of staring, Lance opens his mouth, closes it, then spins on his heel and leaves.

Only once several ticks have passed and Lance is a good distance away does he allow a breath to escape him, relieved. But on his back, Keith is dead weight, silent, and it’s enough to remind Lance that he’s not out of the woods yet.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, at least mentally, he trudges on.

All Lance wanted to do was enjoy a day at the mall. Now? Now he gets to drag his teammate back to the castle ship and explain how he got Keith poisoned barely an hour into their arrival.

Shiro’s gonna love this.

Chapter Text

"Uh, Coran?" Lance had thought it overkill when the princess had insisted they keep their armor on even during a leisure trip, but now he's thankful.

"Lance, my boy! What is it?" Coran's voice easily conveys his curiosity through his helmet. "Did you find another Earth creature?"

Lance wishes. "Not this time, Coran. Um. So don't freak out, but I think you should get a healing pod ready."

"Oh, dear. What's happened?"

Lance shifts a guilty glance at Keith's head, inches from his own and still lolling around in a lifeless, disturbing manner.

"Keith kinda got drugged?" He winces at Coran's gasp. "Please tell me you're close to the transport ship."

"I'm already on my way, just sit tight! I'll alert the other paladins and the princess."

"Yeah, thanks." Lance, knowing that help is on the way, picks up his jog.

Almost immediately, his comm fires to life.

"Lance! What's happened to Keith?" Shiro's worry makes guilt squirm unsettlingly in the pit of Lance's stomach.

"I don't know! I mean, this alien chick made him breathe this weird pink smoke and now he's not waking up."

"You were attacked?"

"No, no! She was friendly, I promise. Just...eager."

"Are you sure, Lance?" Pidge, sounding skeptical. "Your judgment isn't really the best when it comes to pretty people."

Rude. Lance narrows his eyes. "Yeah, well, it's different when it's just me. I wouldn't ever endanger a teammate."

"Lance! I see you!"

Lance stops, looking around, and quickly spots Hunk running towards him, waving. Just behind him is Shiro and Pidge, all of their faces filled with worry.

"I got him," Shiro says when he draws near, pulling Keith into his hold. Lance lets him go without a word, eyes tracking Keith's slack features and forcing down the usual spike of inferiority whenever he sees them together. It's stupid to feel this way, but he can't help this overwhelming sensation of exclusion when he sees Keith and Shiro.

Well, he's sure Shiro never got Keith poisoned, so it's probably for the best.

"All right team, we're leaving. Coran? You ready for us?"

"Ready and waiting, paladins."

"Great. Lance? Start talking."

Lance, running after them all, swallows and follows orders. It isn't a long story. By the time they're all loaded up and heading to the castle ship, he's done and everyone's reactions are decidedly mixed.

"A...love potion?" Shiro echoes, looking skeptical. Lance shrugs helplessly.

"Well, that's just ridiculous," Pidge says straightaway, adjusting her glasses. "Stuff like that isn't real. I bet it's some sort of alien aphrodisiac."

Hunk, Hunk just stares. With this awful, understanding look, so much naked concern in his eyes that Lance can't even stand to look at him.

Eager to ignore that, Lance says, "I mean, she was really nice up until all this. She did it because Keith said he didn't believe in love. I think she took it personally."

"That still doesn't give her the right to drug someone without their consent. You said she would stay put?" Shiro's gray eyes darted up to look at him.

Lance nodded. "She promised." Shiro's mouth twisted in a sardonic approximation of a smile.

"I guess we'll see how much that's worth soon enough."

"Strange..." Allura's mumbling to herself but the whole team, Coran included, lean in closer to catch her words. Louder, she says, "Physically, he is fine. I can't find any traces of this, er, potion in his body at all." Allura darts her eyes from the holographic screens she's consulting to where Keith is lying prone on an observation table, breathing deeply and evenly, but still resisting all their attempts to rouse him. Her brows furrow.

"Then...why isn't he waking up?" Lance asks, having no issue voicing what everyone's thinking.

"I don't know," Allura says honestly. "For now, all we can do is place him in a healing pod and wait. Maybe the pod will pick up on something the scanners can't."

As far as game plans go, it really, really sucks, but it's all they have. Shiro and Lance both try to linger near the pod once Keith is in, but Coran bullies them out, refusing to have to turn around and put them in pods once they collapse of hunger and sleep deprivation.

Shiro gives the door one last look but is cowed into retreat by Coran's fierce glare of challenge. Lance slumps away without a peep, unwilling to be any more of a problem after this whole mess he's caused.

Because this is all his fault. If Lance--if he'd just kept his stupid little crush to himself, none of this would be happening. All he had to do was act normal and fool a complete stranger into thinking he didn't fantasize about kissing Keith's stupid face, and he'd failed, and now Keith is all but comatose.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berates himself.

Lance reaches his room and slides in, absently deciding that if Keith doesn't wake up tomorrow, he'll throw himself out of the airlock.

Then he notices Hunk and nearly has a heart attack.

"Jesus, dude! You scared the heck out of me!"

"Sorry," Hunk says sheepishly, "I figured you'd try to avoid me so I thought I'd wait here."

Uh-oh. Lance's eyes slide to the side. "Why would I avoid you, buddy?"

"Lance..."

"If I'm avoiding anybody, it's Shiro. I mean, I took his right-hand man out of commission. Did you see his face when I told him what happened? Boy, if looks could kill." Lance laughs, but it doesn't hide how upset he truly is, not fully.

"Lance."

All at once, Lance loses his energy. He drifts closer and sits next to Hunk, head hanging.

"Can we not, Hunk? I really don't want to talk about it."

"Dude, I'm sorry, but we have to talk about it. Keith just took love gas to the face. And you were the last person he really spent any time with. Odds are, if that stuff takes any effect, it'll be aimed at you."

Lance lets out a loud, distressed groan and falls backward, hands stretched on either side of him. His face screws up into a pained expression.

"I know," Lance says, the words punched out of him. "The universe hates me, man."

He feels Hunk's commiserating pat on his knee.

"I know, bud. How ya holding up?"

"Honestly? Pretty freaking terrible."

"I mean, I guess this isn't how you imagined the two of you getting together--"

Lance lurches up. "Hunk! I never imagined us getting together, period! I was hoping it would just--go away!"

"What? Why?"

"Why--?" Lance is actually at a loss for words for a full minute, staring Hunk in the face. But after a few moments, dawning realization doesn't drift across Hunk's face. He doesn't nod his head in sympathetic understanding and smoothly move them onto the next topic of conversation. He just. Keeps looking confused! Like it's not painfully obvious.

His heart twists, torn between love for his friend who can't seem to see it, and hurt that he's making him say it.

"Keith could never feel that way about me, and you know it. We're too different." Lance glances away, unable to make eye contact when he bares parts of himself like this. "He just thinks I'm annoying, whenever he does notice me."

"Lance. You know that's not true."

He throws his hands up in frustration. "How is it not?! This isn't me being down on myself, Hunk, I literally see evidence of this every single day. We're friends, I guess. But barely."

Hunk frowns. "I know you guys aren't close, but I don't think it's as bad as all that."

Lance shrugs in a jerky, uncomfortable move. "It's whatever," he mumbles, feeling even more depressed now that's he had to lay all this negativity out in the open. It feels awful.

There's silence between them a moment, and then, "What do you need?"

Lance releases a breath, relieved because that means this conversation is finally over.

"Sleep. I need sleep. And," he darts a look at Hunk then, a little shy. "A hug?"

Hunk beams. "No prob."

Hunk opens his arms and Lance sinks into them gratefully, drawing strength from it. He doesn't linger, but gives it just enough time to wistfully wish he could bottle up Hunk's hugs and save them for a rainy day. They really are the best.

Hunk gives him a soothing pat and they separate. Lance smiles.

"Hey, thanks, man. For putting up with me, especially."

Hunk straightens and stretches. "Happy to help." He pauses at Lance's door as it slides open. "You know you can talk to me, okay? About anything."

Lance loves him. "I know."

"Good."

Once Hunk leaves, it doesn't take long for his earlier dark feelings to resurface. But knowing he has someone in his corner...it's not as all-consuming as before. There's a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.

As Lance tucks himself in, too tired to do his usual nightly routine, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that everything will be okay tomorrow. That Keith will wake up, glare at Lance for getting him into this situation in the first place, and be back terrorizing the sparring bots in the training room before dinner.

Everything will be fine, is his last thought before he slips away into blissful unconsciousness.

The next morning, Lance surfaces from sleep in increments, unusually lethargic even though he's gotten more than enough rest.

It's just...he's so comfortable. He takes stock of himself, everything filtering into his drowsy mind one step at a time.

He's...on his side. Weird, since he usually sleeps on his back...he's warm, warmer than usual, but it feels heavenly in a constantly-drafty castle. The warmth is concentrated all along his front, against his chest and between his legs.

His arms are wrapped around a pillow, harder than what he usually likes but there's something about its weight that's really doing it for him. Not to mention the other pillow across his side and the languid, soothing caress through his hair...

...Wait, what?

Lance's eyes flutter open, confused, and meets a pair of eyes so deep a blue they almost seem black. They're also so intensely familiar Lance feels himself go rigid. He sucks in a sharp breath.

Keith, his legs tangled with Lance's, his chest pressed close and his hand stilling in his hair, watches him cautiously.

"Don't freak out," he says.

Lance screams.

Chapter Text

Lance isn't proud of it, but he pushes Keith. Hard. It's completely instinctual and a completely reasonable response to finding someone in your bed that wasn't invited.

Keith yells in surprise, then crashes to the floor in a hard smack that sounds painful. Lance doesn't have any sympathy to spare, however, because he slams himself against the opposite wall, tangled in blankets with his heart trying to leap out of his chest.

"What--Wha--What?!" Lance can't even string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

Keith's hand comes up to grip the edge of the bed and he levers himself up, rubbing his head.

"Ugh."

Before either of them can say a word, Lance's door slides open.

"Lance! Are you--Keith!"

Shiro lowers his arm from where he'd had it up in defense, taking in the scene with baffled eyes: Lance, tangled in his blanket and wide eyed, and Keith, still rubbing his head and blushing, avoiding Shiro's gaze.

"Uh..."

It's not often Shiro's at a loss for words, but today seems to be full of surprises.

He recovers himself as soon as the silence turns awkward with a visible shake of his head.

"Keith, you're awake," he establishes, relief plain. "But why are you--?"

"What are you doing in my b--room?!" Lance tries to say 'bed', but he just can't. His face is hot and he needs answers, now.

Keith has the audacity to shrug, so nonchalantly like this is just a thing people do. He has an admittedly adorable pink flush on his cheeks that Lance is not mentally cataloging. His eyes flicker to meet his.

"I dunno," he murmurs. "I just...wanted to be close to you."

Lance's mouth drops open, face redefining the term red because there is no way that just happened. Shiro blinks at him in shock, speechless once more.

"What's with all the yelling?" Pidge comes into view behind Shiro, tiredly rubbing her eyes, glasses dangling from her other hand. Hunk yawns explosively behind her, blinking rapidly as he peers into Lance's room.

"Are you guys having a slumber party?"

"Keith!" Pidge perks up a little, pushing her glasses on. "You're awake!" Her eyes dart over him, still in his pod-suit, and frowns. "I'm surprised you haven't changed already. It's like, the first thing you do." Pidge's gaze turns calculating and she finally takes everything in, to Keith's position on the ground, Lance, trying to meld with the wall, and Shiro, looking awkward and concerned in equal measure. "...And why are you in Lance's room?"

They all look at Keith, Keith looks at Lance, and Lance, panicked, looks at Shiro, pleading for him to help him.

Shiro sighs. "Team meeting. Right now."

In the common room the entire team is assembled, with Keith standing in front of them all and Shiro standing beside him for moral support. It's early enough that even Allura, ever the preacher of constant vigilance, is in a robe and nightgown instead of her formal dress. Coran's wearing what Lance assumes are his PJs, a bright orange set of tunic and pants, and slippers. He even has one of those funny caps with the fuzzy ball on the end, and Lance smiles at the sight; just seeing Coran makes the world seem just a bit more stable.

Then Lance catches Keith's eye, one of many glances Keith's sent his way since they all sat down, and Lance immediately loses that sense of normalcy. He breaks the contact and swallows. He'll be so happy when he gets a grip on all of this freaking blushing.

"All right, Keith." Shiro grips his shoulder. "Why don't you tell us what you remember. We can go from there."

"I...remember the mall," Keith starts, glaring at the floor as he recalls, arms crossed. "Me and Lance," Keith looks up; Lance looks away, "We were arguing about something."

"Big surprise," Pidge mutters.

"And then..." Keith frowns harder, squinting. "An alien girl. She was...really into Lance. She could see his soul or something?"

"See his soul...?" Coran questions, but Keith waves a hand impatiently, trying to focus.

"We went into her shop and..." Keith's eyes fly open, staring at Lance with a shocked look on his face. "She doused me with that love potion!"

Guilty, it's Lance's turn to study the floor.

"You passed out," Shiro finishes. "Lance called us and we took you to the castle. You wouldn't wake up, even though the castle scanners couldn't find anything wrong with you. So Allura put you in the healing pod just to be safe. But, after this morning, we clearly missed something."

"Yes, what exactly happened this morning?" Allura straightens slightly from her recline on the couch, watching them all inquisitively.

Everyone ends up looking to Lance and he jerks. "Don't look at me! Ask him!" He points at Keith, unable to keep the accusation from his tone.

"Keith, earlier you said that you 'felt like being close to Lance'." Everyone's definitely staring at the two of them and Lance tries to melt through the floor, mortified. Even Shiro sounds awkward, but he soldiers through like he does with everything else. "We need to know the effects of this stuff. Can you try to be more specific?"

"Uh, yeah..." Keith sounds so uncomfortable and Lance's heart goes to him, really. Out of them all, Keith isn't exactly the one you turn to when you need feelings explained. "When I came out the pod, I was pretty disoriented. But I remember this...pressure, I guess? Here." He presses his palm against the center of his chest, eyes distant. Concerned, Lance finally watches him and his heart stutters when Keith meets him immediately, voice soft. "It hurt, a lot. But I knew that if I were close to Lance, it would go away. And it did."

A charged silence stretches among them all, stretching taut, and Lance is never looking up. Ever. Again.

"And then, um, I fell asleep," Keith continues after a pause. "Sorry, Lance. I didn't mean to scare you."

Lance jumps. "Um, it's cool," he says, trying to sound normal. "I'm pretty irresistible," he jokes weakly, a smile tugging on his lips. To his relief, Keith smiles back and Lance thinks they just might survive all this embarrassment.

"What we need are answers," Allura says crisply. "Because it sounds like distance from Lance is in turn affecting your health. How do you feel now, Keith?"

"Okay? I felt better when I was touching him, but this is fine too."

"Hm." Allura turns on Lance. "Lance, would you mind leaving?"

"Er, sure." Uneasily, hyper-aware of everyone's eyes on him, Lance stands from the couch and leaves the room.

"W-wait," Keith starts. Lance looks back and sees Keith watching him with wide eyes, hand halfway stretched toward him. Shiro's hand on his shoulder looks a bit tighter, heavier.

"Keep going, Lance," Allura says firmly.

It's a little more difficult to walk away, but Lance does. He gets as far as the hallway just outside the entrance before a cry of pain stops him, very decidedly belonging to Keith.

He hears voices yelling ("Keith!" "Wait!" "Whoa, dude!"), a grunt, and the sound of feet landing heavily on the smooth castle floors. Lance twists around, alarmed, but doesn't have time to take a single step before Keith bursts through the archway, eyes narrowed. He sees Lance and in the next instant crashes into him, hands wrapping around him firmly as he buries his face in his neck.

"Lance," he pants, breath hot against his skin. His shoulders sink and he melts. Lance scrambles to brace himself in time to keep the both of them from crashing to the floor.

"Whoa!" Lance's hands come up, gripping his upper arms uncertainly. "Um..."

The others file out and take in the two of them, Lance with his wide, panicked eyes and Keith, slumped against him.

"Well. That was quite a severe reaction," Coran says brightly, eyes alight with interest.

"I'll say," Shiro grumbles, rubbing his stomach.

"I vote we never do that again," Hunk says.

"Seconded," agrees Pidge.

Allura watches them both with worry clear in her pretty blue eyes.

"This is worse than I thought."

After that incident, it's only a few minutes time before everyone's dressed and flying back to the space mall. Lance focuses very intently on the middle distance, pretending he can't feel Keith's thigh pressed against his own.

Apparently, until Keith gets cured, distance is a no-go. Lance feels like he's dying a slow, painful death.

When they're walking through the mall as a large, silent group, Lance and Keith leading the way, he notices Keith's downtrodden expression.

Lance nudges him and speaks when he has Keith's attention; it's the first time today he's initiated anything between them.

"Hey, man, relax. You'll be back to normal in no time."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then why are you all gloomy?"

Lance expects him to bristle, to snark back, but instead, he sighs.

"I attacked my teammates," he says, pitching his voice low so the other's won't hear. "I--I hit Shiro in the stomach and I knocked Hunk on his ass. I almost attacked the princess. What if I'd seriously hurt someone?"

"Hey, hey, stop. You wouldn't have, no matter how drugged up you might be. Besides, no one blames you." This is all Lance's fault, anyways. "You're not yourself right now, and they understand that. I know everyone's acting all stiff and stuff, but it's just because they're worried about you. So quit being a drama queen, okay? That's my territory."

Keith doesn't reply, but gives Lance a grateful smile, dark eyes soft. Their hands brush, fingers brushing for just a moment, but it's enough to snap Lance out of his trance and make him straighten with a smooth, loud clearing of his throat.

Get a grip!

"There it is," Keith says, pointing, and Lance is relieved, eager to put this whole mess, as well as the potential spotlight on his crush, firmly behind him.

They push through the familiar curtains and there she is, stirring a mysterious liquid in a large glass container. Her four eyes dart up to them, settle on Lance, and she grins wide.

"You again!" She immediately sets aside her spoon, drying her hands on a stray cloth. She comes close immediately, expression going dreamy like the day before. "And looking as beautiful as ever I see--"

Before she can reach him, however, Shiro is there, an arm blocking her progress.

"This isn't a social call," he says, voice hard.

"Yesterday you gave our friend a dose of what you called a love potion. We need the cure immediately, as well as an explanation as to why you thought this was acceptable."

The alien's eyes go wide, surprised and floored and Lance can't blame her. Being on the receiving end of Allura's wrath when she's genuinely angry isn't a position Lance envies at all.

"Cure?" she echoes, confused. "There...there is no cure."

"Um. Excuse me?" Probably not the most tactful response, but sue him, this calls for alarm.

"What do you mean there is no cure?" Allura asks, voice frosty.

"There is none!" The alien raises her four arms, finally reading the mood of the room and getting defensive. "At least, nothing that I've ever had to make. No one has ever come back with a complaint after using one. This is a first for me..."

"So I'll be like this...forever?" Keith asks, looking pale. Lance ignores the sting of hurt he feels and focuses on the practical side, how having two members of Voltron attached at the hip could hurt them tactically.

Oh, God. Voltron. If it hurts Keith for Lance to just be a hallway over, what would it do to him for them to be in their Lions? Could they even form Voltron?

"No, no!" The alien assures them before Lance can continue his downward spiral. "The only way it would be permanent would be if you took the potion regularly. With time, the effects should wear off."

"Well, that's good," Hunk points out.

Allura frowns. "But how long will that take?"

The alien shrugs apologetically. "I'm not sure. A few movements, at most, but certainly no longer."

Which is roughly over two weeks. Maybe even more. Of Keith, constantly at his side. Two weeks of Keith's sleepy face in the morning, of his soft hair within reach, of his kind smiles and devilish smirks. Two weeks of Keith's gorgeous eyes, of his focused expression when he cleans his bayard, of the casual way he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face when he's done training. Two weeks of pretending he doesn't want to hold Keith's hand, and kiss his lips, and just be with him.

There's...there's just no way. Lance can't do it. He's going to crack, he's going to slip up, and everything will be ruined.

Lance can't breathe.

Keith steps forward, along with Shiro and Allura to ask more questions, but Lance uses the opportunity to drift back to Hunk. He looks at his best friend and can't hide the naked fear on his face.

"Lance." Hunk's hands grip Lance's arms, rubbing up and down soothingly. He darts a quick glance over, but Keith and the others are distracted for the moment, either talking to the alien or curiously looking around her store. "Deep breaths, man, come on."

"I can't, Hunk, I--I--he'll find out! What do I do?"

Hunk winces, clearly empathizing with his distress.

"Try to stay calm, okay? You're not going to be able to hide anything like this."

Lance bobs his head up and down like a doll, only lets himself succumb to the dread for a little longer, then forces himself back from the brink. He doesn't have a game plan, aside from like Keith less, but if he could do that he would have already done it by now.

"How am I supposed to do this?" he asks himself, hopeless.

Something makes him look up and glance past Hunk's arm on him, and he looks dead straight into Keith's eyes, dark and narrowed and watching him with a look he can't begin to understand.

Hunk sighs.

"I don't know."

Chapter Text

Lance and Keith are alone, not looking at each other, and Lance isn't sure if he's thankful they don't have an audience or not.

Once they'd gone back to the castle they all agreed that since nothing else could be done, they would move on and continue their mission of helping rebels throughout the galaxy. They could only move in small teams until Lance and Keith could be separated, but it was better than nothing and team Voltron was still needed.

Everyone had drifted away with their own projects and duties to attend to, which left the two of them in the common room, embarrassed and awkward.

Lance kept stealing glances at Keith, feeling his face warm to see Keith had a bit of red in his cheeks too.

"So..." Lance scratches his head. They have to move on from this because he's going crazy already, hyper-aware of the meager distance between them and what expression he has. They need a distraction. "What do you want to do?"

Keith started slightly. "Oh. Um. What do you usually do around this time?"

"Well, nothing, really. I bother someone usually, or go hang out with Blue. But just because you're stuck with me doesn't mean you have to do what I want to do."

Keith frowns, crossing his arms. "Well, I don't want to make you do whatever I want. You're stuck with me, too."

Lance flaps a hand at him dismissively. "Yeah, but I told you I'm pretty much down for whatever. I bet you usually go and train anyway, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Great!" Lance claps Keith on the back and strides away, having to work a little harder to make his voice sound the usual amount of chipper. "Then let's do that."

After a moment Keith catches up, glancing at him a bit sheepishly. "You're really cool with this? I know you like your free time."

Lance shrugs, smiling easily. "Yeah, man, it's cool. Besides, we skipped training this morning because of this whole thing. I gotta keep my edge."

Keith smirks next to him, shaking his head. "Right. Your edge."

Lance pretends that smile doesn't make his chest feel tight. "Is that skepticism I hear in your voice, Kogane? I've got mad skills."

"Mad skills, huh? Is that what you call it?" Keith's tone is saturated in playful condescension and Lance's smile turns sharper.

"Oh, it's on now."

Keith tries to rush him, bayard poised to strike, but Lance dances away, firing at Keith's feet and forcing him to retreat.

Now this is more like it. No time to dwell on crushes when the guy you like is trying to cut your head off. They've been at it off and on for hours now, but neither have voiced an inclination to stop yet.

Lance won't ever admit it, but sparring with Keith is probably the most fun he's ever had. Every time they clash Keith gets this crazy-intense focus and single-minded determination that makes Lance respond in kind. It's all fight-or-flight, all instinct and reaction.

He can't think past his next hit, his next dodge, his next shot.

For the first time in nearly thirty hours, he can breathe.

"Gonna have to do better than that, mullet!"

Keith takes his words to heart, raising his bayard in a flashy, impressive spin. His voice is cocky and dangerous when he speaks.

"Try and stop me."

And then Keith is coming at him in a dead sprint. Lance lays out some cover fire, but Keith dodges with graceful ducks and spins, quickly eating up the space between them. Lance clenches his jaw, knowing that the moment he lets Keith close is the moment he loses.

Lance stops firing, sees Keith narrowing his eyes. With a deep breath, Lance closes his eyes and releases it slowly, letting his grip relax from its vice grip on his bayard. He opens them and Keith is barely a foot away, already swinging his bayard with victory bright in his eyes.

Lance's gun glows, then stretches, becoming a long barreled rifle. Lance's grin is filled with dark promise and he savors the sight of Keith's wide, shocked eyes right before he swings his weapon, the bayonet slicing through the air.

It's a near thing, but the tip of his blade just barely nicks Keith's shirt. Keith has to perform a complicated, last-minute dodge to avoid being sliced, sliding to his knees and then bracing his palm between his legs with enough leverage to flip himself up and over into a roll. He springs up, knowing that the move made him come close to Lance, but he's already firing, forcing Keith to retreat again.

Lance doesn't stop until Keith's a good eight feet away, and then worry makes him stop.

He lowers his bayard and calls, "Do you feel okay? Is this too far away?" Because up until now, Keith's always been within five feet of him, and so far, no freak outs.

Keith blinks, needing a moment to bring himself back from that adrenaline-induced rush, then straightens, a hand coming up to his chest.

"Huh. I hadn't even noticed, but," Keith winces. "Yeah, that definitely hurts."

Dismayed, Lance takes a step forward. "Jeez, sor--"

Without warning, Keith's eyes flash to his, viciously bright, and then he throws his bayard right at Lance with clear force, the sword cutting through the air like an arrow.

"Whoa!" Lance dodges sloppily, caught off guard, and out of the corner of his eye he spots Keith running towards him.

Lance swings his gun around, firing, but he's unbalanced, messy, and Keith calls his bayard back to toss the shots away like bothersome flies. In the next moment, Keith tackles him and they go down hard, the training floor without an ounce of cushion.

Lance groans, his entire backside aching, and peels open his eyes. Keith's are less than a few inches away, his expression smug. He's straddling Lance's hips, thighs a firm, burning pressure against him. Lance flinches immediately from the closeness but stills when he feels Keith's bayard pressing against the vulnerable, thin skin of his throat. He swallows, and Keith's smile widens.

"Yield," he commands, his voice a dark, gravelly thing. Lance's heart somersaults in his chest. His face is hot, but this time he can blame it on exertion.

I love you. It's a completely involuntary thought, with all the surprise and awe of a man seeing the sun rise for the first time.

Weakly, all he can manage is a nod, eyes trapped in Keith's, helplessly aware of how much he loves this man and praying, praying it isn't shining from his face like a painfully obvious beacon.

Keith doesn't move, just watches him for a long moment that Lance can't bare to interrupt because he doesn't know what might slip out if he opens his mouth right now. Then Keith lets his bayard dissolve. He stands and holds out a hand to Lance, his smile morphing into something smaller but no less sincere.

Shaken by his revelation, Lance grasps it, lets himself get hauled up. He's never felt so helpless in his whole life.

"That was pretty awesome, Lance," Keith says, releasing his grip. "You've been holding out on me."

The praise is infinitely more rewarding than anything he's managed to get from the garrison, Allura, and Shiro combined. Getting pinned, learning the depths of his crush, and a compliment?

No, Lance is sure now. He's definitely not going to make it.

But Keith is still watching him and the silence is getting dangerously close to straying into uncomfortable territory. He needs to keep up the act of goofy friend like his life depends on it, now more than ever.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises," Lance brags, and if his voice is a little weaker than usual, the boast a little hollow, Keith doesn't seem to notice. He chuckles and makes his way to where some towels and water wait for them against the wall. Lance follows, caught in his gravity.

He numbly catches the towel and water tossed his way, the both of them panting. Keith wipes the sweat from his brow, running the towel against his neck and sweeping the damp strands away and back. He's so freaking gorgeous.

Lance rips his eyes away before he can get caught staring, ignoring Keith's surprised sound when he upends the water over his head, desperate to cool off.

With all the vehemence he can muster, he fiercely swears, Quiznak.

Luckily, it's time for dinner by the time they've showered and dressed. They walk back to the kitchen in silence, both worn out, and Lance is grateful for it. His brain is still rebooting and other people will distract Keith from wondering why Lance suddenly doesn't have much to say.

"Hey, what's up, guys!" Hunk beams from the stove and Lance, despite his mental exhaustion, can't help but return it.

"Wow, I'm surprised you guys haven't killed each other yet. I thought for sure Keith at least would have just to get some peace and quiet." Pidge shoots them a sly look, the little demon.

Lance opens his mouth, a smart retort on his lips, but he's beaten to the punch.

"Lance has been great." Lance's mouth snaps shut, and he twists his head to look at Keith, surprised.

Keith has his arms crossed, nonchalant as he sits down right by the head of the table. Everyone exchanges looks over his head, but Lance doesn't know what to say. None of the other do either, it seems, and then Shiro walks in.

He greets them all with a smile, detouring to Hunk first to sniff appreciatively at his latest concoction and then to seat himself by Keith.

Or, he tries. Keith suddenly puts out a hand to stop him, looking abashed but firm.

"Sorry, but would you mind if Lance sat here?"

Everyone freezes in shock. Shiro glances at Lance and then Keith, then simply nods in understanding.

"No problem." And then he pivots and goes to sit opposite Keith, cool as can be.

Lance can't believe that just happened. Sure, the potion means they have to be within a certain distance of each other, but they don't have to be that close. Why would Keith insist on it?

Keith darts a look at him then, his blank expression cracking to show a glimmer of shyness, and that's all it takes to snap Lance from his reeling and go gingerly sit down beside him. Keith shoots him a look of such naked relief Lance gets embarrassed all over again. He doesn't have to act all grateful, jeez. Has he forgotten that Lance got him in this mess in the first place?

Annnnnnnnd that's when the guilt comes back. He wants to hit himself, dwelling on the fact that Keith just pushed away the closest thing he has to family because Lance went and got him poisoned.

I really am the worst.

Allura and Coran walk in just as Hunk announces dinner is ready, and the night finally regains some normalcy. Banter and jokes flow across the table, nudging and teasing rampant and the rattled, frazzled thing in Lance's chest smooths out. He lets his team unknowingly build him back up and tells himself he can get through this.

"Have you two learned anything more about Keith's condition?"

Everyone's focus is immediately on the two of them, but he's getting used to it so Lance just nods, swallowing his mouthful.

"Yeah, we can be a couple of feet apart without Keith going into berserk mode like he did earlier." Allura nods thoughtfully.

"That is good news. Perhaps that's how we can test the lingering effects. Each day, the two of you should see how far apart you can place yourselves."

Lance and Keith exchange a look and nod. "Yeah, sounds good to me."

"Worth a shot."

Dinner ends shortly after that. They all call goodnight to each other, but it's not until they stop outside Keith's room that Lance remembers that morning, waking up tangled in Keith. He blushes, hoping the dim lighting disguises it.

"We...we can probably sleep in our rooms since we're next door neighbors. I mean, I'm pretty sure the only reason why you came to me last night was that you were groggy from the healing pod and that stuff was pretty fresh in your system."

"Yeah...yeah, probably." Lance notices how reluctantly Keith looks at his door and ignores it.

"Okay, then...goodnight."

He turns and walks away before Keith can reply. His door is just down the hall and as he keys it open, he glances back.

Keith's still standing there, watching him with longing in his eyes.

Lance practically throws himself in his room, heart racing. He throws his head back against the door, cursing his entire miserable existence. He feels so bad, but this is for the best. Keith will want to walk away from this experience with as much of his dignity intact, Lance is sure. And since he's not in his right mind, it's up to Lance to make sure that happens.

Once again, Lance is feeling too drained to muster up the desire to do a face cleanser. All these negative emotions aren't making him too inclined to pamper himself, and it's just another thing to add to the list of things he's guilty over.

He slips into pajamas and goes to bed, promising tomorrow will be different.

Unfortunately, sleep doesn't visit him. He squeezes his eyes shut, flips his pillows, changes positions about a dozen times, but nothing works. He keeps thinking of Keith's sad, dark eyes watching him walk away, and he just can't relax.

After a while, he finally heaves a frustrated sigh and tosses his blanket away. Grumbling to himself, he decides he'll just slip out, check on Keith, and once he sees he's perfectly fine, he'll get some rest.

Lance's door slides open, but he gives a startled shout when someone, who had been resting against it, suddenly falls backward with a surprised yell.

This time, Lance doesn't scream bloody murder, although he's tempted. This time, he has some idea of what to expect, and quickly crouches down, hands hovering uncertainly.

"Keith? What are you doing?"

"I was trying to sleep," Keith grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. Lance hopes he didn't fall on the same spot as this morning.

"Yeah, okay, but why were you sleeping against my door?"

Keith's eyes pop open, and then he rubs his arm, self-conscious.

"I...it still hurts, when you're too far away. I couldn't sleep, and this was better."

I'm a jerk.

"Keith, why didn't you wake me up?"

"I didn't want to bother you," he admits, uncomfortable. He darts a look at Lance. "Why are you up?"

"I was going to check on you. I couldn't sleep either." Lance pointedly ignores Keith's surprised expression. "Come on, you don't have to sleep out in the hallway, man. You can bunk with me."

Keith darts up, practically wringing his wrists. "Are you sure?"

Why does he have to make this so awkward? "Of course I'm sure. Do you hog the covers?"

"Uh...no?"

"Then we won't have a problem."

Lance leads by example and gets into bed, sliding over until he's against the wall. He pats the spot next to him with much more calm than he feels.

"Come on, mullet, don't get shy on me now."

The challenge does the trick and Keith closes the distance, pausing to remove his boots, belt, and gloves. He wasn't wearing his jacket before, so he's just wearing his t-shirt, jeans, and socks when he slides in with Lance.

"You sleep in your clothes?"

Keith nods. "Just in case."

Lance just shakes his head tiredly. This is who he's fallen in love with, a heathen who sleeps in jeans.

God help him.

"You're so weird." Beside him, Keith sighs nasally.

"I know."

Lance lays on his back, closing his eyes and forcefully ignoring Keith lying inches away, their body heat mingling beneath the blankets, close enough to touch.

His eyes fly back open, however, when he feels a hand take his, bringing it up to lie between them. He looks at Keith with a jerk, but Keith's got his eyes focused on their clasped hands. He's blushing.

"Is this okay?" And his voice is so tiny and timid that Lance has to fight everything that's in him not to reach over and hold him tight and never, ever let go.

But that's the last thing Keith needs. Taking advantage of him like that is gross, and Lance would never stoop so low.

Mouth dry, he nods. "Yeah. It's okay."

"I'm sorry, Lance," Keith whispers, still not looking at him.

Confused, Lance asks, "For what?"

"That you have to deal with me like this. I know it's the last thing either of us wants."

Lance's eyes widen, then he shuts them tightly, blinking furiously up at the ceiling. He squeezes Keith's hand in his, feeling his heart break.

"It's fine, Keith. Don't mention it."

Chapter Text

Lance wakes up slowly and registers the warm body pressed to his, the firm hold around his chest and warm skin pressed to the back of his neck. He makes some half-awake noise, confused and curiously trying to place the weirdly soft, smooth touch brushing against his neck, not yet awake enough to determine anything other than how comfortable he is.

Then the touch moves from his neck to his ear and a low, quiet voice asks, "You awake?"

Lance's eyes fly open, but he must be getting used to this because he only tenses instead of flailing and screaming.

"Um." Lance clears his throat and rubs at his eyes, collecting himself and giving Keith the opportunity to release him without making a big deal out of it.

Except Keith is about as oblivious as a teledove lens and doesn't let go. He just keeps holding him, pressed all along his back, patiently waiting for Lance's response.

"Yeah, I'm up. Lights." As nice as this is, Lance isn't feeling too great about cuddling up with someone who sees being near him as a chore, so he turns as casually as he can and Keith finally lets go. On his back, Lance squints over at him. "How long have you been up?"

Keith doesn't meet his eyes and shrugs. He's got a serious case of bed head and from this close Lance can see his eyelashes shadow his cheeks when he looks down. He's so freaking cute Lance wants to die.

But he has to focus because Keith is definitely avoiding the answer.

"Dude, seriously, how long?"

"Not...very long," Keith says reluctantly. Unseen, Lance rolls his eyes.

"Keith, we talked about this. You don't have to change your whole schedule. If you want to get up at the butt-crack of space, that's fine with me. If you want to train or whatever, that's fine too. I'll bring a blanket and sleep there, no biggie."

Keith's eyes flick to his. "Doesn't sound very comfortable..." But he's tempted, Lance can tell.

Lance shrugs. "It'll be fine. Couple pillows and I'll be out like a light. You get to train like a crazy person, I don't have to feel like a jerk. Win-win."

"...I'll think about it," Keith says, and he knows that's as good as it's going to get.

Lance levers himself up, just squinting into the middle distance as he mentally prepares himself for the day.

So. His huge crush on Keith has fully moved into L-word status. Life-shattering, but he'll make do. And then his crush admitted he'd rather be anywhere else than breathing the same air as him. Completely devastating, but the truth has to come out sometime, right? Oh, and judging by how he woke up, the effects of the potion are still going strong, so Lance at least has a few more days ahead of him just like this.

Okay, so the universe hates Lance, what else is new? He can handle this, he's sure. He just has to come up with a plan.

Step one of the plan is get up and shower, and use the precious time away from Keith to get his head on straight. Lance looks at himself in his fogged-up bathroom mirror, still able to see a faint blush on his skin, and scowls.

"Don't be an idiot," he whispers. His chest hurts, has been hurting since he first looked Keith in the eyes and remembered the last words he said to him.

It's probably going to hurt a lot more as time moves on, and he's terrified he'll screw this up. And he can't. His team needs him and he can't let them down.

Showered and dressed, Lance steps out and spots Keith leaning against the far wall, also ready for the day and tossing his knife idly. At least he can manage the distance to his room and back before he starts to feel ill.

Lance forces a smile he doesn't feel and gestures to the door.

"Let's grab some grub, mullet, I'm starved."

The solution is so obvious that when it hits him Lance almost face-plants right into his food goo. Sitting at the table and eating with everyone, almost all of his tension disappears. Keith's dark eyes focus on the others and Lance can breathe. He already knew he'd get relief this way, but he's never considered it in the long term.

But it's such an easy, simple solution! He doesn't want to be alone with Keith? Then stick with the team, duh. As long as there's one or more people in the room, Lance doesn't have to focus so hard, doesn't have to live in a constant state of paranoia, micromanaging all of his words and mannerism to make sure his stupid feelings don't mess things up.

He puts it into practice immediately after breakfast when he offers to help Hunk with the dishes.

"Really? Thanks! That would be awesome."

Keith makes himself useful gathering up all the plates but drifts to sit at the table with nothing else to do. Lance and Hunk are side by side, washing and drying, and Lance releases a nearly inaudible sigh. The day's barely begun, but he already feels exhausted.

Hunk nudges his arm and when he looks up, those dark brown eyes are filled with concern.

"How's everything?" He asks quietly, so beautifully vague just in case they're overheard Lance could kiss him.

"Better, I think." Lance risks a glance over his shoulder, but Keith seems distracted, watching his blade with a little frown on his face. "I'm just going to apologize ahead of time because you're about to see a whole lot more of us."

Hunk raises a brow, handing Lance another plate to dry. "I am?"

Lance nods. "Yeah, I figured I could spend more time around the team, you know? Being alone with him...it's not really working out." Lance shrugs as nonchalantly as he can so he seems less pathetic. "But when there's other people around, he's pretty distracted. I think I can use that until this wears off."

"Hm," Hunk mulls the plan over, tongue peeking out when he scrubs hard on a stubborn piece of food goo. "Sounds good to me, I guess. I don't mind. But...you know you can't avoid him forever, right?"

"I know, I know," Lance says irritably, waving his hand. "But it's better than nothing. Plus, if I don't do something I'm going to eject myself into space."

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Holy crow!" Lance and Hunk both twist around in surprise, no doubt looking extremely guilty.

"Uh...sorry?" Keith crosses his arms, eyeing them both suspiciously. "Was I interrupting something?"

"Er, nope! Not at all! Right, Hunk?"

"Yep, nothing at all, just totally normal, regular conversation stuff."

Keith manages to look even more unimpressed, brow furrowing the longer they talk.

"Really. Because you guys are acting kind of weird..."

"Actually!" Lance grabs Keith by the shoulders and twists him around. He pushes him as he talks, loudly as if sheer volume can drown out Keith's suspicions. "We were just talking about how little we help Coran around the castle. Big place like this probably needs a lot of elbow grease to stay up and running. We should help him! Right now! Bye, Hunk!"

"Bye, guys!"

The door slides shut behind them and Lance drops his arms, twisting to head to the control room, the one place they're guaranteed to find Coran at any given time.

He starts walking, but Keith's call of his name makes him stop with a curious look, hands tucked unassumingly in his pockets.

"What's up? You don't mind, right? I know I kind of sprung this whole thing on you, but I really do feel bad." He's even sorta telling the truth. He didn't even know he was going to say Coran's name until it came out of his mouth, but he'd made a really good point and now he feels compelled to follow up.

"No, no, it's—fine. I'm just surprised, I guess. It came out of nowhere, but I kind of feel bad I never thought of it."

Guilt makes Lance wince. Great. Now he's tricking Keith into thinking he's a kind, thoughtful person.

"Ah, well, don't waste your time comparing yourself to me. Some people are just born overflowing with generosity."

"And modesty," Keith says dryly. Lance pretends he can't hear him and keeps walking.

"How nice to see the paladins taking an interest in the more technical details of the castle! A real show of maturity, I'd say!" Coran puffs out his chest, smiling at them with approval clear in his bright eyes. Lance feels better about this already.

"Actually, the two of you would be perfect for a diagnostics test I've been meaning to get to..."

Lance and Keith glance at each other. Sounds easy enough.

"Whatever you need, Coran."

A varga later, Lance is eating his words. And wondering if Alteans were a race of masochists.

His arms are screaming in pain and any minute now, they're about to do some very emasculating shaking, he can feel it. Across the room, Keith isn't looking much better, lips pressed thin and a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Both of them are still as statues, each holding a heavy satellite about the size of a serving platter straight over their heads, angled at an open panel on the ceiling. A forcefield keeps them from getting sucked into space, but it's clear so they can see the stars above them. Large, thick, extremely heavy cords flow from the metal, over their shoulders, and all over the floors, connecting to machines Lance only has the vaguest guess as to their purpose. There was nothing close to Altean tech at the garrison.

Sweat slides down the back of Lance's neck and under his shirt.

"Are you almost done?" Lance tries to keep the impatience from his voice but it's been a freaking hour of holding a five-billion pound satellite over his head. None of their past training has prepared him for this.

"Just a few more ticks, paladins!" Coran darts around the room, consulting several screens with thoughtful hums and adjustments. "Just need to adjust the polarity here, not accounting for solar flares of course, but that's to be expected..." He's been mumbling to himself like that on and off again, and when Keith glances at him in confusion, Lance just shakes his head wearily, not daring a shrug.

"The means are primitive, but after the Green Paladin hailed us with that dish I began looking into alternative forms of communications should the castle ever be incapacitated from its higher functions. It never hurts to have a backup plan, after all."

"Uh-huh," Keith says, not hiding his impatience at all. "And you're almost done with it, right?"

"Oh, heavens no! This is just a test to see if I can send a proper signal. They're going to be able to execute much more sophisticated commands once I'm through with them, but for now, I need to make sure they can perform the more basic functions."

"Oh my God," Lance whines to himself. His arms are shaking now and he doesn't even care. "If they can't do anything major right now, why do we have to hold them up like this?"

"These will have to be mounted in order to stay in optimum condition, but they can't be mounted until they're completed. But with the two of you standing in, I can get some very helpful information from an early diagnostic."

"Oh, well as long as it's helpful," Lance half-gasps, closing his eyes. He honestly hopes his arms give out and the satellite crushes him to death at this point. His whole body is starting to hate him.

Listening to Coran fluttering about the room, Lance tries to find his zen. He's a paladin of Voltron, of course he can do this, no problem! So what if his arms feel like spaghetti? He wasn't exactly feeling ship-shape when the castle was invaded by Galra goons, and he still came out of a coma to do his job. Or that time he made that impossible shot and saved Slav from the clutches of that Galra prison? Lance is a beast, a little weight isn't going to be his downfall.

Those facts don't stop Lance from wanting to cry when Coran says, "There we are! Red Paladin, you can lower your satellite now."

"Finally," Keith groans, carefully lowering the satellite down even though Lance can tell he wants to just drop it.

He's so jealous he has to look away so Keith doesn't see his bitter expression.

"Uh, Coran, buddy? You didn't forget about me, did you?"

"Apologies, Lance, just a few ticks longer! Yours is being a bit finnicky."

Of course it is. Lance sighs, a sharp, frustrated sound as he glares at the smooth white floor.

"Don't die," he tells himself. "Don't die, even though you really want to."

White-booted feet enter his vision just before Keith says, "Here."

Lance wants to protest, but Keith raises his arms and helps Lance hold up his burden, taking enough of the weight that Lance wants to weep in relief.

He sucks in a sharp breath, reacting as much to the sudden relief of the strain to the sudden surprise. He blinks, then meets Keith's eyes. Swallows, because the satellite isn't big, and they're standing pretty much chest to chest.

He licks his lips. "Thanks, man. You're a lifesaver." He tries to inject some lightheartedness into his tone, but his exhaustion, coupled with his sudden flustered state, turns his voice into a breathy, quiet thing, intimate and shy.

Keith glances down at his lips which really isn't helping anything. He looks away and darts his eyes back, like he can't keep them off Lance, and nods. He smiles, just a little.

"Anytime."

Lance scrambles for something to say because they're way too close to just be staring at each other.

"I guess I should feel special, huh?" He starts teasingly. Keith's eyebrows draw together. "You were home free, yet you came back for little old me. I'd swoon, but I'd probably kill us both."

Instead of rolling his eyes like usual, Keith just shakes his head, expression decidedly fond.

"Well, yeah," Keith says. "I'll always come back for you."

Lance stops breathing. Just--if Keith could see how he looked right now, kind and warm like Lance is the most precious thing in the galaxy--he'd never pick up his bayard again because what Lance is seeing, right now? It's quiznaking lethal.

Lance's face goes hot. He stares at Keith, mouth open, waiting for him to take it back, but it doesn't happen. Keith's dark eyes watch Lance with focus and contentment, as if there isn't anything wrong with this picture.

The potion, Lance has to remind himself. He's trembling, and he's pretty sure it's not just from exhaustion. Not anymore. He drops his head, trying to focus on the pain in his arms rather than his racing heart and Keith's stupid, beautiful face.

"That...that was pretty lame," he manages, absolutely wrecked and probably showing it. Hopefully, Keith just writes it off as shock and embarrassment.

Keith chuckles, such a happy, near-silent thing Lance is tempted to look up just to make sure it's real.

"I learned from the best."

Lance briefly considers releasing the satellite and crushing them both.

Chapter Text

"Okay, how's...this?" Lance slowly takes two big steps back, hands half-raised uncertainly.

Several feet away, Keith watches him with round eyes. "Um...good. I'm good." He sure doesn't sound good. Lance frowns.

"You're sure?"

"...Yeah."

Lance eyes him doubtfully, biting his lip. Ever since Allura suggested it, they've taken the time, once or twice a day, to test how much distance they can reach before Keith's negative reactions kick in. It's only been a couple of days, but about half the length of the training room is as far as they've managed, with progress only slowing as time moves on. Lance doesn't say anything, but inside he's panicking. What if it doesn't wear off?

As if in echo of his worries, Keith tries to take another step back, and winces, hand flying to his chest.

"All right!" Lance calls. He jogs over and claps Keith on the arm, relieved to see the tension in Keith's face start to smooth out. "I know you want this to be over as much as I do, but let's not push it, okay?"

"I know," Keith sighs, frustration clear on his face. "You're right."

Lance blinks and makes a show of looking around himself. Of course, the training room is empty and he looks back at Keith, expression exaggeratingly innocent.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me? I must have heard you wrong, what did you say?"

Keith's lips twitch into a smile and he rolls his eyes.

"I didn't say anything. You must be hearing things."

Lance smiles slyly. "No, no, I'm pretty sure you said I was right. Did it hurt to say that? I'm genuinely curious. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm always right, but--"

He breaks off with a laugh when Keith shoves him.

"You're impossible."

"I know I am but what are--"

He's cut off by Coran's voice, echoing throughout the castle.

"The Green and Black lion are closing in on our position! Let's hope their mission was a successful one."

Lance and Keith exchange looks, then make for the hangar.

Oh, thank God. Honestly, their timing couldn't have been better. For a moment there, Lance had started to slip into flirting with Keith. And Keith was flirting back.

I can't take much more of this.

When they finally arrive, Coran and Allura are already there, greeting Pidge and Shiro as they tug off their helmets. From their distance, they can't tell what's being said, but Pidge is staring at the floor, her free hand clenched in a fist. Shiro's hand is on her shoulder, and he's talking to her quietly as Allura and Coran nod along.

Lance and Keith share a bummed, understanding glance. Obviously, their mission was another failure and Pidge would have to search a little longer for her missing family. As much as Lance missed his own, he at least had the peace of mind of knowing they were safe. He'd be a nervous wreck if the Galra had touched them, and he had to shake his head, in awe of Pidge's strength.

"Hey, guys," Lance greeted when they drew close. Shiro nodded at them both as Pidge glanced up, her brown eyes sad. Lance's heart ached for her.

"I hate this," she confesses, mouth screwed up in a grimace. She shifts her hold, grasping her helmet tightly between her hands with enough force he's afraid she'll crack it. "All this searching, all this time--for nothing! The universe is so huge and I'm searching for two people out of the thousands, millions Zarkon's enslaved. This is--hopeless!"

Pidge throws her helmet, all of them flinching as it crashes on the smooth floor and ricochets across the room.

"Whoa, hey," Lance's hands come out, making vague, soothing gestures. "You know that's not true. Okay, yeah, it's going to take some time, but if anyone's gonna find them, it's you, Pidge. You can't give up."

"He's right," Shiro adds, his hold on her tightening with sympathy. "If there's one thing I know about the Holt's it's that they're fighters. Every last one of them. You'll see them again."

"You're not alone." Keith's voice is quiet but no less sincere. Her eyes dart up and he meets her look evenly. "None of us are quitting, so neither can you."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Coran says brightly. Beside him, Allura simply smiles, her support clear, and Pidge regards all of them gratefully.

"Thanks, guys." She sighs deeply, then squares her shoulders. "I'm not really going to stop searching for them, but it's hard not to feel like the whole universe is against me sometimes." Here, she smiles. "Guess it's a good thing I've got Voltron behind me."

She's greeted with cheers and agreement, smiles and affectionate head rubs, and that's when Hunk comes in, panting as the door slides shut behind him.

"Sorry I'm late, I had food in the oven and it almost burned." He jogs over and looks around, no doubt noting the lack of new faces, eyes going sympathetic as he turns to Pidge.

"No luck, huh?"

Pidge's mouth twists in resignation and she shakes her head. Hunk pulls her into a hug, patting her back.

"You'll find them," he assures her. After a moment, Pidge returns the embrace, eyes sliding shut.

"I know."

When Hunk moves away Lance notices the quick glance he shoots Keith, a weird, almost-blank expression crossing his usually-warm features for a split second. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees Keith catch it and look away to stare at the floor, closed off and mouth a hard, thin line.

It's utterly baffling. He first became aware of the weird tension between the two of them a few days ago, when they'd bumped into Hunk in the hallway one morning and the greetings they'd exchanged had been stilted and awkward. He's tried asking both of them about it, but Hunk just got nervous and sweaty, mumbling incomprehensibly, and Keith had simply shrugged and told Lance he was imagining it.

Imagining it, my butt, the thought stubbornly irritated as he watches them. He'd almost say they were fighting, but he and Keith have been stuck together so he knows that's out.

Well, whatever it is, Lance hopes they get over it soon. Not just for the sake of the team, but for his own peace of mind. He can't even guess what they'd fight over...

"It's good you arrived when you did," Allura starts, clasping her hands together in a brisk, come-together-now motion. "I've just finished a correspondence with the Blade of Marmora, and they want to rendezvous to plan our first attack against the Galra."

Everyone straightens at that, the mood shifting into a tense sort of anticipation. Pidge in particular looks focused, no doubt the most eager of them all to bring the fight to Zarkon. Lance, too, will be grateful to focus on work for a change. His situation with Keith will probably make his involvement limited, but he'll have something bigger than himself to concentrate on for once, and he's ready for it.

"When are we meeting them?" Shiro asks.

Allura look at them all in turn, eyes betraying her own desire for righteous, swift justice. "Immediately."

Lance is all for planning. Sure, he talks a lot, and flirts a lot, and generally never shuts up, but unlike some people, he occasionally likes to think things through when it comes to, say, freeing the universe from a power-mad psychopath and his overwhelmingly large army of angry cat-people.

That being said, he also thinks there's such a thing as over planning and any second now his brain is going to turn into a gray mush and leak out of his ears because they won't. Stop. Talking.

Honestly, Lance thinks they had everything settled hours ago. How they would split team Voltron to begin freeing planets according to the strengths of each lion and where they'd be deployed, each with their own detachment of Blades. They'd discussed proper routes, where the fighting would be thickest, brokering new alliances with new planets and drawing up official documentation for treatises--not to mention procuring supplies and establishing trade routes.

Then there were plans for recovery areas for rescued prisoners or war, where a home base could be formed, new equipment they could make that would verify distress signals before they responded--it was beginning to feel like they were planning out every single breath they took from the tick they stepped out of the meeting room to when they overthrew the Galra completely. And that was without Allura second-guessing and questioning everything that Kolivan said.

Lance doubts she's even aware of it, of her unimpressed expression and tendency to disagree almost instinctively, and if it had been anyone else he's sure the constant doubt would have been grating, but Kolivan seems to take it all in stride. Lance can't tell if it's because Kolivan's aware of the prejudices and distrust his people have caused, or because of his own natural inclination towards paranoia and caution.

Either way, when Allura finally stands and dismisses them an eternity later, he nearly weeps with relief.

Lance rises gratefully, stretching his fingertips for the ceiling. The rest of the team drifts away in small groups, still talking as the Blades move to leave the castle entirely. He turns to Keith, about to suggest a quick break, when one of the Blades steps forward with clear intent.

"You're with us," the Galra addresses Keith, the creepy mask adding double the intensity to his words. He jerks his head to where Kolivan stands with his arms crossed by the double doors leading from the meeting room. "You may carry the blade, but it would dishonor us if you lack the skill to wield it."

That was a challenge if ever Lance heard one, and, predictably, Keith faces him full-on, eyes bright with determination.

"I'm ready," he replies, his voice dark with promise. He recieves an approving nod and they both walk away.

Yeah, not like I wanted to nap or anything, Lance grumbles to himself, not at all bitter as he follows after them with a dirty look at Keith's back.

He's stopped however, with a large, clawed hand to his chest when he gets near. Another masked Blade regards him.

"Blades only."

Lance blinks, realizing that for all their discussing, one big, crucial handicap of team Voltron has yet to be addressed. He opens his mouth, but Keith beats him to it.

"He's with me," Keith says. He steps to the side and a bit in front of Lance, defensive. It's as if he's protecting Lance and the behaviour is so surprising he's rendered momentarily speechless.

"The Blades are a covert organization," they're told with an unnecessary level of condescension. "Our ways are not for the idle scrutiny of outsiders."

While no one enjoys being told they're not wanted, Lance doesn't take this too personally. They're a super-secret resistance group that's been fighting this war longer than any of them have been alive. So they want to keep it in the family? No big.

He goes to say as much, but no one's so much as looking at him, let alone Keith who's shoulders have gone up just a hair higher, his entire stance just a bit more battle-ready.

"He's not going anywhere."

Bewildered, Lance's jaw drops. He twists to look at Keith, almost positive this is a joke, but no, Keith's locked in a glaring match with one of the three glowing eyes on the Galra's mask.

"Keith--" Lance starts, ready to start a small lecture on picking and choosing battles, but the Blade raises a hand, looking between the two of them. His gaze lingers on Lance for a moment and he nearly breaks into a sweat.

"...I see," he says, and it makes Lance's hackles rise with unease. He's really starting to hate hearing those two words together.

The Blade faces Keith. "I didn't know."

Lance's demand for an explanation is completely derailed by the sight of Keith blushing. It's not the little hint of red Lance has occasionally been treated to since this whole thing started. It's honest-to-God, entire-face-is-red, blushing.

It's the cutest thing Lance has ever seen in his freaking life.

"It's fine," Keith says, his shrug an awkward, jerking motion. And just like that, the moment's gone. The Blades all file out with Lance and Keith pulling up the rear.

Lance, feeling like he just missed something big, leans over to whisper in Keith's ear.

"You wanna tell me what all that was about?"

Keith's still blushing, and he glares at the middle distance.

"No," he says tersely.

He picks up his pace, not really leaving Lance behind but creating space, and Lance throws his hands up, unseen.

What the quiznak is going on?

Since no one's inclined to make Lance an honorary member of the Blade, they decide to do some simple sparring on the vessel the Blades came in. The halls and doors are marked with the same glowing script as Keith's knife. Lance, waiting just outside the door to a changing room, has to use every ounce of willpower in his arsenal not to swoon the second Keith emerges wearing the uniform all the Blades possess beneath their armor.

Keith glances at him as he tosses his knife in his hand, looking utterly nonchalant while he casually devastates Lance's heart.

Lance shoots him a weak smile and a thumbs up.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Luckily, Lance doesn't have to die of internal combustion because the second Keith starts to fight, all of his attention is drawn away and Lance is free to admire all he likes.

Ever since Lance became aware of his feelings, he's tried his best not to be a creep about it, especially when it comes to the moony, dreamy-eyed stares he tends to fall into without realizing. But, well, he has to now, so he might as well enjoy it while he can, right? Keith in that suit is one thing, but watching him fight three Galra at once, flipping and slicing and smirking, his small knife tranforming into a full sword in a flash of light? Lance can't imagine a more enchanting sight.

He's so enraptured by Keith's performance, he doesn't notice he's not alone until someone beside him speaks.

"You should be proud of your lover. In such a short time, he has come very far," Kolivan comments, eyeing Keith critically.

Lance freezes for a moment, then sputters, his face as red as a tomato and blazing hot.

"I--We're--" His gaze is dragged to Keith once more and everything makes much more sense. This was what he'd missed and Keith must have just played along so he wouldn't have to explain Lance any more than he had to. Jeez, no wonder he'd been so embarrassed.

"Um. No. We're--we're not like that." Lance feels a stab of sadness as he speaks, watching Keith with longing. He scuffs his boot on the floor, crossing his arms. "He's not my anything."

He can feel Kolivan's eyes on him, narrowed. "I do not understand. Why then, did the Red Paladin imply you were together?"

Lance shifted, guilt crawling over him. "There was an incident, and he kinda got drugged. He's not hurt but it's making him a bit more...affectionate than usual. It should wear off soon."

They both watch Keith display some breathtaking skill, but when the silence draws out, Lance hazards a glance over.

Kolivan is simply regarding the match quietly. He doesn't look angry that Keith's compromised, or confused as to why Keith didn't just explain himself. He doesn't even look curious, and Lance curses Galra poker faces, impeccable with or without masks. He's just thankful his Galra isn't like that or Keith would drive him even crazier than usual.

A tick later, Lance's face floods with color all over again because he legit just thought the words 'my Galra'.

I'm in too deep, he thinks deliriously, kicking himself. He closes his eyes and rubs the space between his eyes. This can't go on much longer.

Kolivan keeps him company for a while longer, and it's enough time that Lance wrestles himself back under control and gets his skin back to a beautiful, smooth brown instead of splotches of telling red.

His stomach growls and Kolivan looks at him, brow raised. Lance chuckles, sheepish.

"Uh...That's probably a sign that we should go. Hunk gets preachy when we're late for dinner."

Kolivan considers him for a moment, then raises his palm. The Blades immediately stop and Keith straightens from his defensive crouch, wiping the sweat from his forhead.

"You've improved. Continue your training and we shall see you tomorrow," he says simply. Keith nods repectfully, his sword transforming into a knife once more. "Farewell, brother."

Lance pretends not to notice how wide Keith's eyes are when he hears this, nor the slight quaver in his voice when he replies, "Thank you."

It's been a long day of strategizing and emotionally-draining conversations, and Lance is more than ready to stuff his face and pass out. At the dinner table, that seems to be the plan. At first.

There's Allura's usual check-in for Lance and Keith's status, followed by an encouraging pep talk from Shiro and teasing from Pidge. Hunk's food is--as usual--delicious, and Lance and the others don't hold back praise. Conversation, inevitably, turns to the Blade of Marmora.

"I must admit, I was impressed today," Allura says, idly pushing food around her plate as she speaks. Everyone knows she's making more of an effort to be more considerate of the Blades and they know the admission must be costing her. "Kolivan and his team are certainly more than simple resistance fighters. They truly are planning for a future in which Zarkon no longer controls the universe."

"Well, they've had a lot of time to think about it," Shiro points out. Beside him, Pidge nods, swallowing her mouthful.

"Not to mention their intel. With them having people on the inside, it's going to make fighting the Galra much easier."

"They're also pretty awesome fighters," Lance points out, nudging Keith with a smile. "I'm just glad they're on our side."

Keith smiles back at him, pleased, and Lance can't help the warmth that spreads through his chest at the sight of him.

"Yeah, well, the most important thing is how tight they are," Hunk says, his voice louder than usual. They all look at him, but his gaze is fixed on his plate. "I mean, a group like that can't get far without trust. You look at them and you can just tell, they've got each other's backs. They might not tell us everything, but they're definitely honest with each other and they know that without honesty, there's no team."

A weird pause results from Hunk sudden, impassioned speech.

"...Right," Allura agrees hesitantly. "Like you, paladins, the bonds between members of the Blades are what gives them their strength."

Hunk regards her neutrally. "Exactly," he agrees blandly. "I couldn't imagine any of us keeping harmful secrets from our teammates."

Another loaded silence results, and Lance tries not to look too guilty, shooting Hunk a confused look.

He's torn between feeling hurt and just unsettled. While that speech sounded oddly specific and pointed, Lance didn't think Hunk was judging him this whole time. Hunk was his rock, and he'd never gotten the impression he was angry or anything during the few times he'd confided in him.

Maybe...maybe he thought Lance was taking too long to come clean. Maybe he thought Lance was being a coward.

Lance sinks a little lower in his seat. If that was true, then he can't even argue. Hunk's right.

Shiro valiantly turns the conversation to lighter topics, notably without input from half the table, but dinner is quick to end after that. Lance wants to pull Hunk aside and talk, but he's the first to leave and he clearly doesn't want company.

The mood's somber when Keith and Lance get ready for bed. Keith takes his hand again once they're settled, but Lance is too worried about Hunk to think of something funny to say to make the motion frivolous.

The seconds go by, silent but for their breathing, but then Keith moves. He snakes his arms around Lance and pulls him close, burying his head against his chest.

"Whoa--hey, Keith!" Lance's face warms. While Keith is always close, he's never pulled anything like this. "What are you do--"

"Please," Keith says, his voice small and unsteady. Lance freezes; he didn't think Keith was even capable of sounding like this--lost and desparate and...scared. "Just...just for a little bit."

"Yeah...yeah, okay," Lance agrees softly. Mystified, he simply returns Keith's hold, rubbing small, soothing circles on his back. "Is...is everything okay?"

For a moment he doesn't think he'll get an answer, but then Keith sighs.

"Are you ever scared?" Keith asks, so quietly Lance has to strain to hear him. Keith's grasp tightens on the back of his shirt. "Scared to lose something you'll never get back?"

Lance's eyes go wide as he stares into the darkness, stunned. Man, that potion really did a number on him.

Whether or not his feelings are real in this moment, Keith deserves the truth, or at least as much of it as Lance can bear.

Steeling himself, Lance nods.

"Yeah. My place as the Blue Paladin."

Lance has never been the type to find comfort in confessions, and this time is no different. An insecurity laid bare, Lance all but squirms, wants to pluck the words out of the air and swallow them.

Keith suddenly rips from him, bracing his hands on the bed beneath them. His expression, what Lance can make of it, is incredulous.

"What?"

Lance winces and jerks one of his shoulders in a deprecating shrug.

"Look, I'm just saying. I'm not--I know I'm not vital to the team, okay? I don't bring much to the table and I'm not kidding myself into thinking the Blue Lion won't pick someone else the second someone better comes along." Keith just keeps staring and Lance speaks faster, eager to move on. "I mean, it won't feel great, obviously, but I can deal. I love being a paladin but I'm not going to stand in the way of Voltron, either." Lance really wishes he hadn't opened his big fat mouth. "Can we--can we just move on?"

"I...had no idea you felt this way," Keith says, baffled. He moves, and then Lance feels a firm grip on his shoulders. "Lance. The Blue Lion chose you, just like all of our Lions chose us. It's not--it's not waiting for someone better to come along, because it already has someone better. You."

"Oh my God," Lance says, embarrassed. He brushes off Keith's grip and raises up far enough to sit, anything to get away from the vulnerable position he was in before. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" Keith sounds frustrated, which is fine because that's how he's starting to make Lance feel.

"Make a whole thing out of this, all right? You don't need to coddle me, I can handle the truth."

"But that isn't the truth!" Keith grabs him again, around his upper arms. "You're being stupid!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!" Keith insists, giving him a little shake. "I don't know what's gotten into that thick head of yours, but you don't know better than ancient, psychic, tranforming robots! I mean, if you weren't the real Blue Paladin, why wouldn't we have found them by now? Why were you the only one it lowered its shield for back on Earth? Why were you able to hear it when the rest of us couldn't?"

Lance opens his mouth, but Keith steamrolls him, visibly insenced by the sight of Lance's protest.

"No. You have to know how important you are, to all of us. We're a team, all right? And we wouldn't be one without you."

Lance flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing, but he's got...nothing.

He'd expected a weak denial, maybe a joke or two about letting him stay on the castle-ship. Not this. Not anger on his behalf, not firm assurances and--and validation.

To Lance's utter horror, he can actually feel tears stinging his suddenly burning eyes. But he can't stop, touched to be hearing such comforting words from Keith of all people. He hangs his head, overwhelmed.

For a moment, there's silence. And then Keith ventures, "Are...you crying?"

He sounds so timid and uneasy after all his angry yelling that Lance chuckles brokenly, breath hitching.

"M-me? Crying? Ha! A-as if..." He sniffs, still smiling, feeling warm and so full of love he could die right then and there. He hadn't even realized how much those doubts had been weighing on him until Keith brushed them all aside like they were nothing.

Keith's quiet for a few seconds, and then he touches Lance's cheeks, tilting his head up and swiping his thumbs underneath Lance's eyes.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he says quietly. Lance gives a minute shake of the head.

"You didn't. I mean, you did, but in a good way." Lance tries to clear his throat. "Thanks."

"I meant it," Keith insists.

"I know." Lance can barely make out Keith's shoulders dropping.

"Good," and that's when Lance belatedly notices how close they've gotten, that Keith is still holding his face and tracing his skin with his thumbs.

Lance holds his breath, eyes falling half-shut as they drift closer, as if pulled in by gravity.

"Keith..." Lance starts, but his voice is weak and thready, and neither of them stops moving even when their lips are a breath away.

The ship suddenly rocks, throwing them both from the bed as the alarm sounds, drenching the room in harsh, bright red light.

"Catastrophic Event Imminent," the ship announces. "Please Evacuate Immediately."

Chapter Text

It takes Lance and Keith almost twice as long as usual to run to the control room because the ship won't stop moving. Every few steps the ship gives a sickening lurch that throws them against the walls or ceiling, crashing into each other as blinding, nauseating red lights flash urgently.

By the time they burst onto the control deck, Pidge and Hunk behind them, Lance feels like one giant bruise.

"What's going on?" Shiro calls at their heels, looking just as rough as the rest of them. The ship gives another lurch and the metal doorway groans in protest when he tightens his grip with his prosthetic.

At the center console, Allura's barely hanging on, hands like claws on the controls. She looks at them unsteadily, hair down and still mussed from sleep. Like the rest of them, however, she's wearing her armor.

"We have an emergency," Allura tells them unnecessarily, expression pinched with worry. Before she can finish, Coran bursts in, nearly falling on his face.

"Princess! Communications are down and the ship is losing power at an alarming rate!"

"I know, Coran. I'd attempted to call you but I've had to use all of the ship's remaining power just to keep castle systems online. Coran, can you perform a diagnostic?"

"Uh, I don't think that's necessary," Pidge says, sounding nervous. She points unsteadily to the ship's vid-screen, just as the ship circles into another roll.

They all look, and Lance's heart drops out of his chest.

At first, all he can take in is the glowing, glaring, fierce white light. It burns, an afterimage imprinted in his retinas that he doesn't think will ever leave. It spreads like webs out into space, pulsing and rippling with force Lance can almost feel. As they watch, it only grows larger, insidious and thriving, and that's when he sees the colors.

Red and pink and blue and green and orange and purple--all of it bleeding from the white in waves of bright saturation, tendrils stretching out into space like some sort of cosmic disease.

It's beautiful. And terrifying.

"What is that?" Keith asks, voice sounding as awed and scared as Lance feels.

"Oh my God," Hunk says. "It's a supernova." That snaps Lance right out of his stupor.

"Whoa, whoa!" He cuts in, waving his hands in agitated gestures towards the vid-screen. "Like, a star just exploded kind of supernova?!"

"I'm afraid so," Coran confirms from where he's just accessed the ship's controls. "Normally the ship's navigation plots our courses around this sort of phenomena. But our charts are several thousand years out of date and we've only been updating our sectors as we pass through." Coran pauses, absently scratching his mustache. "I'm honestly surprised this hasn't happened sooner!"

The ship gives another jerk and they all scramble for something to keep them all upright.

"That must have messed with the castle's power grid," Pidge says. She's managed to get to her station, accessing the terminal. "The sudden influx of radiation probably threw everything out of whack, but that still shouldn't be stopping us from accessing back up power..."

"But!" Hunk cuts in, holding onto the back of Pidge's seat. "What if the ship's staying drained because it's still getting those high doses of radiation?"

Pidge pushes up her glasses, frowning up at him. "But that doesn't make any sense. After the initial wave, it should have dissipated. There would have to be a way for it to not only be concentrated, but localized to our location."

Hunk nods, like any of this makes sense. Lance glances around, but everyone looks as blank as he is, just waiting out the conversation until one of them decides to translate.

"Exactly! So...maybe some kind of debris?"

"A remnant!" Pidge exclaims.

"Yeah! Pushed out far enough by the explosion, and then encountered the ship?"

"So it's more physical, like our theory classes back on Earth, with the Big--"

"--The Big Bang! Which means organic, highly volatile, still in a reactive state--"

"And caught on the ship! Coran!" Coran straightens automatically, losing the glaze to his eyes they were all developing. "I know the ship is still pretty low on power, but can you manage a scan?"

"I can certainly try!"

"Wait," Keith suddenly says, eyes wide. "What about the Blade of Marmora? Where are they?"

"I'm sure they left the system as soon as the star began to collapse," Allura responds, grimacing. "No doubt they assumed we took the same evasive maneuvers. For now, we're on our own."

"I am picking up a strange radiation source on the starboard side of the ship," Coran interrupts, sounding confused yet intrigued. "That could be what's draining all of the power."

"Definitely a remnant," Pidge crows proudly. She and Hunk high five each other.

"Care to share with the class?" Shiro only sounds slightly impatient, but Pidge winces all the same.

"We think it's raw matter from the supernova."

"Yeah, remember the Big Bang theory?" Hunk adds, "Our entire universe was supposed to be formed from that, and the supernova from that explosion left behind all these elements that went on to form Earth and all the other planets in our solar system."

Pidge nods in agreement. "So the ship probably has some of that stuck to it, and it's still in a radioactive state and draining the ship of its resources."

"Then we need to remove it," Shiro concludes, voice in full-on command mode. "We have to stabilize the ship and get out of this area. Hunk and Pidge, the three of us are going out in the lions. We're going to push the ship out of the way until the power's restored. Keith and Lance? Suit up and investigate that...remnant. See if you can't detach it from the ship, otherwise, we're dead in the water." Shiro looks to Coran. "Coran, will the radiation be too dangerous for them to get close to?"

"As long as they're in their suits, and don't touch it directly, they should be fine."

"All right. Team Voltron? Let's go."

Lance can just make out part of the Green Lion as it nears the castle, and the resulting jolt makes him scrabble for purchase, desparately clutching the suction-cups that keep him attached to the ship.

"This sucks," Lance says vehemently, with all the loathing he can muster.

"Quit complaining. Pidge was the last one."

Lance shoots Keith a glare. "I know that. And it sucked just as much as the first two times. Also, I'm allowed to complain, especially when we're crawling on the side of the castle and the only thing that's keeping us from flying into oblivion are ancient alien suction cups!"

"Are you done?" Keith asks dryly, just beside him. Like Lance, he has two white ovals in his grasp, both with glowing Altean lettering. They're like super-magnets, easy to detach as long as they press their thumbs on a small button, but completely immovable the second they're released. Coran had lent them out, citing they were used for just such occasions when quick repairs were needed on the exterior in emergency situations.

Beneath his helmet, Keith's expression is one of calm exasperation, like they aren't currently hanging on for their lives here, making their way towards radioactive space goo.

Lance takes a moment to consider the question. Has he mentioned that this whole thing is ridiculously dangerous? Check. Reminded Keith that the odds of one of them contracting some weird alien disease from radiation is almost guaranteed? Double check. Pointed out the injustice of having to use the suction cups in the first place, since the loss of power--which their suits are tied to, apparently--means they can't use the jetpack at all? Triple check.

"Mm, yeah."

"Good. Let's go."

Lance sighs but follows Keith's lead, making their steady, painstaking way to the side of the ship, where, indeed, there is a large, gelatinous-looking orange...goop. They stop for a moment, just looking at it, and watch as it glows brighter for a moment, dulls, and repeats.

"We found it," Keith says on the comms.

"Great," Shiro says in that grim way he has when he's focused. "ETA on removal time?"

Lance, with great reluctance, releases one of his grips and pulls out his bayard. It takes a little longer to force the shape to take on a blade instead of a gun, and he can't help but note with annoyance that it's smaller than Keith's.

Lance pokes at the goo, then tries to stab it. He yelps when his sword gets stuck immediately and has to wrestle a bit to get it free.

"Um...a while," Keith replies, his tone betraying his doubt.

"Copy that. Good luck."

"This sucks," Lance repeats succinctly.

"Yeah, it does," Keith agrees, glaring at their project. Then he pulls out his own bayard, sword materializing in a flash. "Let's get this over with."

It's hard work. Stupidly hard work. Keith quickly learned that slicing at an angle made clean cuts, but even then the slices have to be small; too deep, and they're back to a frustrating tug of war to reclaim their bayards.

They don't speak, the only sounds being what they can hear in their helmets, which is mostly just their breathing since they'd both switched off comms the moment Pidge and Hunk started up with more of their space-phenomena talk, idle since pushing a ship through space doesn't take much exertion.

Lance isn't ashamed to say that he's jealous.

It's only when they've whittled the goo to the size of a plate that Lance makes a critical mistake:

He gets impatient.

"Here, let me try this," he says, stopping Keith from following through with another shallow slice. He stabs just underneath the mass and slowly but surely slides his blade forward.

"That's not going to work."

"It's going to work."

"It's too much, Lance. You won't get any lift."

"It'll work," Lance repeats through gritted teeth.

And it does work. After a long moment of struggling, Lance's blade suddenly shoots forward and the last of the goo separate in a sudden, violent jolt.

Which would be great and all, but because Lance used so much force behind that last cut, the sudden loss of that grounding object causes him to jerk forward. It catches him off-guard, and his other hand twists harshly. The sharp pain makes him reflexively try to straighten it out, and--a second too late--he realizes that releasing his grip was the worst thing he could have done.

Because now there's nothing tethering him to the ship.

Lance cries out, the sound half-shocked, half real, mortal terror.

"Lance!" Keith shouts, but he already sounds far away and Lance can't right himself, spinning in space and helpless.

"Keith!" He reaches out but he's still in motion, the view beyond his helmet a confusing blur of ship, blackness, and the creeping supernova.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no...

It's so much worse than that near-miss when the castle was being possessed. Back then, being alone and vulnerable, at the mercy of a cold universe, was just a possibility. Now? Now he knows what it feels like to be adrift, to have no control over even his own body; his ears only filled with the sound of his panicked breaths while an entire galaxy swallows him whole.

Fierce panic and abject horror makes his eyes burn and his throat close.

Please, he begs, to his team or a higher power he doesn't know. Please, help me!

Like the scorching heat of the sun, Lance gasps when a firm, unyielding hand grips his own.

The sudden hold arrests his progress, making his arm jerk in its socket, screaming pain radiating from his shoulder.

But Lance doesn't care. The second he stops spinning, he looks to the hand holding his own and sees Keith, bayard stabbed halfway through the ship, hanging on by the very edge of the handle and stretched as far as he can manage to reach Lance.

His eyes burn when Lance meets them, so intensely determined and righteously outraged Lance's heart stops.

"You're not going anywhere," Keith commands.

Lance can't even begin to imagine what his face is doing right now, but all he can think, past his intense relief, over and over is:

I love him. I love him so, so much.

Lance forces himself to move when he realizes what a precarious situation Keith is in, how one wrong move could send them both careening away. He pulls himself down the length of Keith's arm, unresisting when Keith's arm comes around him in a vice grip, so hard Lance can hear their armor creaking.

"You idiot," Keith whispers, furious.

Lance just shivers and doesn't disagree.

By the time Keith tows him back to the suction cups--sticking right by Lance's side all the way to the hangar--Lance has had enough time to calm down, rationalize, and even get a little embarrassed.

Honestly, it had all happened so fast--probably only ticks in real time--but that only highlighted how quickly Lance devolved into near-hysterics. Of course, he'd been aware that he'd developed a certain fear of space, but this? This pushed it straight into phobia territory, with a side of crippling incapacitation of his higher brain functions.

Even if Keith hadn't caught him, obviously Shiro, Hunk, or Pidge would have simply detached their lions and grabbed him the second Keith turned his comms back on and told them what happened. Or even short that, Coran or Allura would have shuttled out to grab him. There was no need for his panic, but the emotion had been instinctual and all-consuming, and he couldn't think past the terror.

So, logically, he knows he was never in any true danger. It still doesn't change the fact that the second they're back inside the castle hangar, Lance rips off his helmet and falls to all fours, breathless with relief.

"Lance!" Keith takes a knee beside him, dark eyes worried as he searches Lance for some invisible injury he thinks he missed.

Lance waves him off, internally luxuriating in the comfort he's drawing from Keith's hand on his shoulder. He'll hate himself for it later; right now he needs it.

"I'm fine," Lance says, his voice unconvincing to even his own ears. "Just...appreciating gravity. I love it. So, so much." Lance meets Keith's eyes, wants him to see his sincerity. "Thank you, Keith, seriously." Keith sucks in a breath, eyes widening. "I mean, it was super reckless of you, but..." Lance pauses, eyes slipping closed in a moment of pained remembrance. "Today I'm really, really glad you're more of an act first, think later kind of guy." His next words come out quiet, stripped of any and all of his typical bravado. "...I was so scared."

"You were scared?" Keith asks, sounding a lot less confident and much more shaken. He gives Lance a little shake where he's holding him. "I thought--I thought I'd lost you," he breathes and Lance jerks, staring in shocked dismay because that particular waver in Keith's voice? It's one he's heard often enough growing up in a family as large as his, with several conflicting attitudes and moods running rampant in a house that always felt too small.

It's a prelude to something bad, and sure enough, Lance catches the shine of tears in Keith's pretty eyes.

"Oh, Keith, no," Lance starts, suddenly swamped with guilt. He hadn't even thought about how he'd affected Keith, drugged to his eyeballs and health pivoting on Lance's. But Keith isn't interested in apologies.

"Shut up," he says tiredly. And then he leans close, and kisses Lance.

Freeze doesn't begin to cover it. Lance doesn't even breathe, he's so shocked. And quick on the tail-end of that emotion is joy; warm, pure, ecstatic happiness because Keith's kissing him, he's literally spent months dreaming of this exact scenario and now it's happening and Keith's lips are surprisingly soft, his touch achingly gentle--

And then it clicks that Keith's kissing him while under the influence of some alien drug, and his mood plummets with the instant, absolute weight only guilt can deliver.

Of course, that's when the hangar door slide open, and the whole team sees them.

"UM."

"Well!"

"O-oh my..."

Distraught, embarrassed, and ashamed, Lance breaks the kiss, halfway to standing and scrambling away in a desparate attempt to create some much-needed distance. Heart racing, face glowing, his eyes dart from the team, all of them hovering near the entrance and staring, to Keith, his dark eyes suffused with so much distress Lance feels sympathy pain in his own chest.

He only gets a few feet away before he remembers to stop, distance hurts Keith, remember?

"I--sorry, you--are you okay? Is this--too far?" Nothing is coming out right--God, he's never felt so pathetic in his life.

Keith opens his mouth, looking just as awful as Lance feels, but is interrupted.

"Okay, that's it!"

In a voice so hard and angry Lance hardly recognizes him, Hunk comes stomping over. Without another word, Lance watches, baffled, as he approaches Keith, ignores his flinch, and grabs him by the neck of his suit, slipping beneath his armor and jerking him like he's seen people do to misbehaving dogs back on Earth.

"Hunk, what the heck? What are you--Gah!"

Hunk grabs him the same way, then proceeds to drag the both of them towards the entryway, where the rest of the team's jaws have hit the floor.

"Hunk, wait--" Shiro starts, but when they come to a stop, it's a pause that only lasts a few ticks, and then their boots are dragging along the floors again, sans one Shiro-shaped block in their path. Lance and Keith are forced to stare beseechingly at their friends for rescue, but only receive helpless expressions and one pale Shiro in response, getting smaller and smaller in the distance.

Just before they turn the corner, Lance spots Pidge try to take a step towards them. Shiro lays a hand on her shoulder and simply shakes his head.

"Leave it. Trust me, you don't want to get in the middle of that."

With those foreboding parting words ringing in his head, Lance shoots Keith an uneasy glance, only to be floored once again.

Because Keith looks terrible. Pale and silent, wide-eyed and lips a thin, bloodless line. If Lance didn't know any better, he'd say Keith looked...scared.

Lance swallows, and is grateful Hunk doesn't keep them in suspense long. He drags them to the nearest empty room, one used for conferences if the over-long table and chairs are any indication. The second the door shuts, Hunk lets them drop, armor crashing harshly on the pristine floors.

They're both quick to right themselves, and Lance--he doesn't know what to think. The last few minutes of his life have gone completely bananas and he'd really, really appreciate enough time to make sense of it all. It doesn't help that Hunk plants himself right in front of the door, arms crossed and feet shoulder-width apart, as if only an act of God could move him.

And the glaring--Lance has never seen his best friend so furious. If his eyes could start fires, Keith would be a tiny pile of ash right now.

He absolutely doesn't understand what's going on between them, but Lance can diffuse a tense situation with the best of 'em.

Hands up in a calming motion, Lance takes a step towards his friend.

"Okay, Hunk, let's talk this out--"

"Tell him. Right now." Hunk doesn't acknowledge Lance except a deepening of his frown. He's glaring at Keith like he's seconds away from discarding his 'gentle giant' persona. "Tell him now, or I swear, Keith--"

"Tell me...what?" Lance asks reluctantly. He's definitely lost, but the way Keith's avoiding both of their eyes, how it's clear he's missing some crucial information--

Lance suddenly has a very bad feeling about this.

Hunk glares at Keith. Keith glares at the floor. No one cares that the stress is turning Lance's hair prematurely white.

The silence drags on when Lance takes the hint that no one wants his input, but when time seems to lean towards minutes instead of ticks, he sighs, tired.

"Look, guys, I don't know what's going on between you two, but it's been a pretty rough week, especially for Keith, so how about we--"

"He's faking it, Lance," Hunk tells him brutally, heavily. His dark brown eyes finally meet Lance's own, and while there's still an undercurrent of anger, the apologetic sincerity is much clearer.

A pin dropping in the ensuing quiet would sound like an atomic bomb, it's so thick. Lance refuses to think, refuses to process the words because there simply is no reality in which they make any sense.

Lance's eyes dart to Keith, who's still ignoring them both, to Hunk, who's watching him worriedly.

Weakly, almost silently, he asks, "What?"

The single words shatters Hunk's hold on his anger and the tension drains out of him, arms falling loose, shoulders sagging, warm brown eyes meeting his own with reluctance. It's the look of someone who knows his words will hurt but must say them anyway.

"I caught him a few nights ago, sneaking into the training room. I thought the potion had worn off since he was so far away from you and he wasn't, like, dying, but Keith, he made me swear not to tell you." And here Hunk adopts a look of contrition. "I went along with it because, well, it wasn't my business, and I thought maybe he had his reasons." Hunk's eyes go hard again, on Keith. "I also thought he would have come clean by now, but obviously I was wrong. It's not fair to you. This is cruel."

Hunk...Hunk knows how Lance feels about Keith, he knows--so, Hunk has to be telling the truth, because his friend would never make something like this up.

But...how can it be true? What would Keith gain from being stuck with Lance for days on end? What would be the point pretending to be under the influence of some alien drug?

Reeling, trying to make sense of a reality that suddenly seems flipped on its axis, Lance spins to face Keith. He's staring miserably at the floor like there's nothing more he'd love in the whole universe than for it to swallow him whole.

It's telling, but Lance wants to hear him say it.

"Is it true?" he whispers, wanting to snatch back every word as he says them.

Keith winces but after a pause, he gives a tiny jerk of his head. A nod.

Lance actually stumbles back as if from a physical blow, devastated absolutely. Keith finally meets his eyes, expression wary, but is surprised when he sees the tears pouring down Lance's face.

Lance can barely feel them. His emotions are whipped into a tumultuous frenzy, and all he can focus on is the hurt, the anger.

He can't think clearly. All he can see before his eyes is the boy he fell for, who pretending to be hurt, who played with Lance's emotions, who holds the blame for every moment of self-loathing, of misery and aching desire Lance has had to smother so that Keith would be okay.

The boy he's fallen in love with.

"Why--why would you do that?" His voice is choked and ragged, betraying the maelstrom within.

"I--it wasn't--I didn't mean--"

Keith trips over his words, flustered and upset, but Lance can't spare him any sympathy. If he truly has done this cruel thing and he can't even explain himself, doesn't it only prove that his actions were so thoughtless he didn't even think of the consequences, of having to explain himself later?

Pain, fiercer than he's ever felt before, slices through him. He thinks his heart is breaking.

Angry, Lance takes a step forward, throwing his arm out and thumping his own chest. "Was this all just a joke to you?" A horrible thought occurs to him. "Am I just a joke to you?!"

His voice breaks, and he sucks in a sharp breath, the sudden image of Keith mocking Lance this whole time playing before his eyes. It hurts, worse than anything; it's every one of his insecurities laid bare, and Lance. Can't. Take it.

He runs for the door and Hunk all but jumps out of his way. Someone shouts his name, but he doesn't let himself register who it is. Doesn't want to know.

He blocks out everything around him, feeling like the biggest idiot in the universe.

Chapter Text

Blue, unfortunately, is out of the question. He'd love nothing more than to run to his hangar and sink into the comfort of his piloting chair, but it's literally the most obvious place anyone would look for him. And he wouldn't put it past someone to camp outside the particle barrier, provided he could even convince Blue to raise it in the first place. His lion had a bad habit of deciding what was best for Lance, and a big, public unpacking of his emotions might just fall into that category.

He stops running once he loses himself in a random hallway, confident he's put enough space between him and the others, forcing his thoughts from him as he focuses on the simple task of obtaining uninterrupted isolation.

But no easy answer is forthcoming. It's easy enough to find somewhere to hide in such a labyrinthine castle, but the second someone recruits Allura or Coran for the search, it'll be over. A simple scan would reveal him easily.

Of course, his lion could shield him, but, again, that point is null, since the barrier would just give him away.

After a long moment of deliberation, in which he can see precious ticks slipping through his fingers, Lance has an epiphany and realizes he really only has one choice; and it's a long shot at that.

But what choice does he have?

Nervous and feeling small, Lance cranes his neck and stares up at the Red Lion, swallowing.

It really is his best bet. No one would think to look for him in a different lion, and he could sit quietly and process everything until he was ready to face the team.

"Hey..." Lance starts, taking a deep breath. After a moment of hesitation, he gingerly steps closer and gently touches one of the Lion's arms. The metal is cool and still beneath his touch, without any of the accompanying warmth and welcome Blue typically embraces him with. He's not surprised.

"I know we don't know each other well, but I was hoping you could help me out. Just this once." The lion is silent, which is no more than what he expected. "Everyone's just going to make me kiss and make up, and I really just want to be mad, at least for a little bit." His free hand clenches into a fist as the anger grows. "...It's not fair," he says quietly, his anger now a tired, stubborn thing. "If this had happened to literally anyone else, they'd be allowed some space. They could take a break. But for some reason, I'm always the exception."

Lance despises himself for sounding so selfish, sure he's not ingratiating himself to the Red Lion, but firmly believing his words to be true.

Unbidden, the image of Keith glaring at the floor, stiffly nodding as he confirms to lying to Lance flashes through his head and his heart aches.

"No offense, but your pilot's a stupid jerk." Hunk was probably giving him one hell of a lecture even now, and Lance can't find it in him to pity Keith. Instead, he feels a surge of dark satisfaction. "He deserves to suffer for a little bit. He's so―so―selfish! He needs to start learning to think of other people's feelings for once in his life!" Lance recounts numerous times in the past when Keith only saw his own turbulent emotions as important, yelling at Pidge for wanting to quit the team, making Hunk swear secrecy despite knowing the toll it would take on him, getting up in Allura's face when she expressed hesitance for not wanting to pilot the ship into two black holes to meet the Blade of Marmora.

The Red Lion probably finds all of Lance's complaining beneath it, but right now, it's the only audience Lance has.

His own hurt can't be ignored, and he wearily shakes his head. "He's part of a team now. He just―He can't pull stuff like this if we're supposed to form Voltron," he insists, helplessly upset and confused by the entire situation. "I know I have to talk to him. I know I have to make this right, for the sake of the team. And I will. I know being able to form Voltron at any moment is crucial for the team. But he deserves to stew for a bit and think about what he's done. His actions have consequences, and if no one's willing to teach him that lesson, I will."

In the ensuing silence, Lance focuses all his efforts on steadying his breath. He'd worked himself up with that little passionate speech, but when it comes to Keith, what else is new?

With a sigh, Lance leans away from the Red Lion, wondering what he'd hoped to accomplish. All he's done is make himself feel worse and probably made it a lot easier for the ship's computer to find him. The team's probably on their way over right now.

What he needs to do is calm down and come up with a plan. Maybe he could stay on the move? It'd be exhausting, but worth it if he could go a couple of vargas without seeing Keith's fa―

Sudden movement from the Red Lion makes Lance yelp, and he scrambles a few feet away, suddenly terrified. The Lion rises to all four legs, its massive head leaning towards Lance, yellow eyes glowing bright, and all Lance can think, ridiculously, is that Keith had trained it somehow to kill him on sight, a thought he feels confirmed when those large metal jaws opened wide―

And then it stops. Lance hardly dares to breathe for a moment, thinking perhaps the Lion had Keith's matching set of cruelty and is simply toying with him, but nothing happens. It simply sits there, waiting, the dark cavern of its entrance beckoning.

Lance stares, disbelieving. "No way..." he mutters. But he gets a hold of himself, remembering that time really isn't on his side.

He jogs to the Red Lion and inside, brushing a hand against the metal as he goes.

"Thank you," he says quietly, humbly.

Once he approached the cockpit the interior flickers to life, the entire space filled with soft, glowing red light. He has to grab hold of the chair to stay upright when the Lion moves, back to its upright, stationary position.

Lance can't help a sudden wave of unease because it's so different from being in Blue, mostly for one obvious reason. Where being in Blue was calm and soothing, not unlike the feeling of being home, all this red makes Lance feels just the opposite, like he should be doing something.

It reminds him of a color theory class he'd taken, before joining the Galaxy Garrison. He'd learned red was used in a lot of marketing techniques, to incite an emotional response and urge shoppers into buying more stuff. The sight of it alone could enhance metabolism, raise heart rates, and even increase blood pressure.

And that passionate, raw color saturates the control deck. Lance shakes his head. As if Keith needs any more help being a hothead.

Keith. The thought of him is more than enough to send another wave of painful flashes through Lance's mind, memories of his smile, his kiss, the resigned way he'd nodded in the face of Hunk's accusation. The look in his eyes that said, It's true.

Lance sinks heavily into the pilot's chair, covering his face with his hands. His breath comes out uneven and his chest heaves with a shudder.

Finally, Lance allows himself to cry. Not the few overwhelmed, scalding tears of shocked hurt, but a deeply pained, sincerely upset outpouring of his embarrassment and sadness and anger. He wants to stop, but his mind keeps replaying what feels like an infinite amount of memories behind his closed eyelids, all the smiles they'd shared, the quiet, whispered conversations they'd had late at night, each and every time Lance must have looked so, so stupid.

God, he can't even imagine what he must have revealed. Was his crush obvious? Does Keith know, even now? The thought makes Lance want to curl up and die. It makes him wish he was still careening through the endless vacuum of space.

He can only pray Keith doesn't choose to share his observations with someone. Or, even worse, Shiro.

The feeling of helpless vulnerability fuels another spark of frustration and Lance lashes out, punching the console.

"Why would he do that?" Lance yells, his confusion and distress making his voice unsteady.

His thoughts continue in this vicious cycle for a time, ticks or vargas, he doesn't know and doesn't care. Keith isn't a cruel person, Lance knows, but while he has a few theories for why Keith would think it okay to treat him this way...Lance shies from them. He doesn't want to absolve Keith, not just yet. He shouldn't have to.

What eventually calms Lance, though, is a feeling, not unlike the blanket of otherness he gets from Blue when they connect. Except this time, it's coming from the Red Lion. It's a tenuous, barely-felt thing, without any of the intent or communication he's used to, but he does get a faint sense of...something warm, relaxing his previously tense muscles and reminding him that even now, when he's never felt more isolated, he's never truly alone.

With a dry, exhausted chuckle, Lance raises a weak hand and wipes his face. He pets the console.

"Sorry for hitting you," he rasps.

The Red Lion doesn't respond and, after a moment, Lance slumps back in his seat, tilting his head back and letting his eyes slide shut. He takes several deep breaths.

Okay. Okay, he's better. A little, anyway. Enough that he doesn't feel like a stiff wind will make him burst into tears.

But he's not ready to face the music, he knows that much. He rises and searches Red's compartments until he finds a stash of emergency rations. He cracks open a protein bar, and, after wolfing it down and wistfully thinking of Hunk's cooking, he settles himself back into the pilot's chair with a shock blanket he'd found amongst the supplies.

Lance closes his eyes against the warm glow of the red lights and hopes he wakes up strong enough to deal with all this.

Chapter Text

Lance wakes up, feels a crick in his neck, and moans as he stretches—all with a grimace. He feels like he's only been asleep for a tick at most, and has the faint thought that neck pain—as awful as it is— isn't what woke him up.

He's proven right a second later when that same warm feeling from earlier washes over him, this time heavily coated with insistence.

Yawning, Lance uncurls his legs from where he'd awkwardly tucked them into the chair, irrationally stroking the console like it could soothe the Lion.

"Whuh—What? What's happening?"

For a disorientating moment, Lance has the thought that they're under attack, and he half-rises from his seat, ready to sprint to his hangar.

Then, the viewscreen springs to life, opening before Lance's sleep-blurred eyes in time for him to take in the spectacular scenery of the ground at the Red Lion's feet.

And then Keith walks into view, looking right up into his eyes.

Lance sucks in a sharp breath, instantly awake and tense all over. In that moment, Lance hates Keith; hates him because even now, in the wake of everything he's done to hurt him, Lance still loves him.

I'm pathetic.

Lance stays still, waiting for Keith to give the command for his Lion to dump Lance out. Or come inside himself. He knows, He found me, and now I have to kiss and make up and pretend that dumb jerk didn't rip out my heart.

But as the ticks draw out neither Lion nor pilot move. Keith just keeps staring up, and his Lion stays regally rigid.

Then, Keith speaks.

"You chose the wrong Paladin," Keith says flatly, his voice dull.

At first, the words don't make any sense to Lance simply because they're so far from anything he expected Keith to say. But, when Keith continues, Lance belatedly realizes Keith has no idea that Lance is there. He's down there baring his thoughts and emotions to the Red Lion a lot like Lance tends to do with Blue.

The thought to make himself known doesn't come, but he does feel a little twinge of guilt since he's essentially eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Sue me. Lance thinks he's earned the right to be a little petulant. Besides, maybe he'll actually get a straight answer.

Below, Lance can see how Keith's expression cracks, thawing from blank to upset. It shows in the furrow of his brows and the thinning of his lips. How he crosses his arms defensively, shoulders bowing in.

"I'm a coward, and I don't deserve to be a part of this team."

Lance's mouth drops open, speechless from shock. What is he hearing? There's feeling guilt for hurting a teammate, and then there's...this.

The Red Lion does nothing but accept his words passively. Keith sighs, the sound layered in frustration.

"I messed up. Big time. I just—" Keith pauses, clearly struggling with his words, and Lance catches himself leaning forward in his seat as if it'll make a difference.

"Lance is missing," Keith starts, laying out the facts. "We've looked all over the ship but he must be really mad because we can't find him anywhere."

No, you can't, Lance can't help but think with a righteous sort of vindication.

The Lion's video quality is truly amazing because Lance can see when Keith's fingers minutely tighten, digging into his forearms hard enough to look painful. He's got this fiercely concentrated, vaguely constipated look on his face.

You big dummy. The fondness that washes over Lance is as unwanted as it is inevitable. Why can't Keith just—use his words? Is articulating his feelings truly so hard? Even when he thinks he's alone?

If he could just talk, maybe none of this would have happened. Whatever his motivations, Lance prides himself on being a good listener. Even if Keith ended up confessing a deep, unshakeable hatred of Lance, it still would have been better than this. Better than tricking Lance into feeling sorry for him and making him cry in the cockpit of a giant mystical robot lion.

Keith rubs his neck, looking back up at his Lion with a wry expression.

"I thought I had Lance all figured out, but I was way off. I've learned more this past week than I could have imagined..."

Lance tenses all over again with this admission, anxiously searching Keith's expression for some hint of what he means. If it's about his crush or something else.

Keith frowns and Lance stops breathing, sure Keith is about to say how disgusting Lance is, how pathetic he is.

"He pretends he's so confident, but he actually thinks really low of himself. It's disturbing he doesn't see himself the way the rest of us do...like I do. He doesn't realize we wouldn't be Voltron without him."

Weakly, Lance points out, "We wouldn't be Voltron without any of us, buddy..."

Of course, Keith doesn't hear him.

"We all have our place. Allura and Coran, they're our fire; they remind us why we're out here doing this and give us the confidence to do it." Keith's eyes, even through the feed, shine with a determination that Lance finds unfairly attractive. "Shiro's our leader. Pidge is like, the super-genius and tech expert. Hunk's a good engineer and the greatest cook in the whole galaxy, and I'm a skilled fighter and pilot. But Lance..."

Keith hesitates, clearly trying to find the right words. Lance has never been more desperate to hear someone finish a sentence in his life.

"I mean, yeah, he's the sharpshooter. We've all seen enough evidence to know he's earned that title, but he's so much more. He's...he connects us. He keeps us level-headed when we're on our missions and everyone knows that they can go to him if they're upset about something. I never did, but it helped just knowing I could if I wanted."

Lance squirms uncomfortably in his chair, blushing furiously. Words of denial desperately try to claw their way from his lips, but he can't release them without blowing his cover.

His late night talk with Keith resurfaces in his mind, but this is way, way more embarrassing. And now he knows Keith meant it.

Is this really the same person who's been deceiving him all this time?

"He's so funny, and likable, and spontaneous, and caring, and—and..." Keith sighs again, this time as if an incalculable burden weighs down his shoulders. "And I thought he knew that."

Keith stares up at his Lion as if searching for answers in its eyes. Lance's heart skips a beat; it feels like Keith is staring straight into the heart of him.

He looks so sad. "Why can't he see how wonderful he is?"

Lance can only stare, certain he's fallen into an alternate reality. It's the only explanation that makes sense in his overwhelmed mind.

It's...it's not fair, Lance's mind helplessly supplies. It shouldn't be possible for such conflicting emotions of love and hurt to swell and battle within him. How can Keith say such kind, wonderful things yet also be the one who's lied to him for weeks, who made him doubt every good moment between them in that time, made him wrestle with guilt and heartbreak?

Confused doesn't begin to cover it. He wants to let go of his anger and pain, but at the same time make Keith acknowledge it, make him see what happens when you play with other people's emotions.

Lance stews, caught between dual desires of spite and forgiveness, staring at Keith balefully. What can he even believe?

Abruptly and with a yell of frustration, Keith falls to his knees harshly, head bowed and hands fisting his hair.

"WHY AM I SO STUPID?!" Lance flinches in surprise, ripped from his sulking. Worry makes him twitch in his chair, but he doesn't know what to do. Besides,  despite the hair-pulling, Keith is...a variable definition of okay.

Keith groans. "I knew Lance was going to hate me. Hunk already does, and I deserve it!"

"Hunk doesn't hate anybody," Lance says quietly, watching Keith sadly. Even if he's been hurt, Lance just doesn't have it in him to enjoy someone else's pain.

"I didn't mean to hurt him," Keith says, voice small. Lance snorts and crosses his arms. Too late.

"It just sort of...happened. Then it got out of control and I was already in too deep to stop..." He trails off with a shake of his head, hands falling down to flop between his legs limply.

A tense silence stretches, one Lance is sure would never end. And then, without raising his hanging head, Keith whispers, "...I love him so much. I just didn't want him to leave."

Lance definitely isn't breathing this time, certain even a hint of air will shatter this illusion. And it is an illusion because there is no way that just happened. Never, ever, in a thousand freaking years, could Keith ever return his feelings. It just doesn't make sense. But before Lance can retreat from the moment and convince himself why Keith couldn't possibly mean those words the way Lance thinks, Keith looks up.

And he looks so utterly devastated and pained, beautiful dark eyes red-rimmed and swimming in tears, Lance feels his heart shatter into a million tiny, bleeding pieces. He feels love, so fierce and all-consuming, it's all he can do not to jump from the Lion right now and hold Keith and never, ever let go.

Keith takes a shuddering breath.

"How will he ever forgive me?"

The forlorn misery in his voice finally moves Lance into action. Feeling unsteady, he forces himself to stand, grasping the console in a desperate bid to keep himself upright, not once moving his gaze from Keith's.

Well. This certainly isn't how he expected his evening to go. But...he knows what he has to do.

He's a Paladin of Voltron, after all. And it's time he starts acting like one.

A feeling of proud agreement washes over him from the Red Lion, and then it moves, lowering its head so Lance can disembark.

Walking out, Lance wishes he could enjoy Keith's dumbfounded expression, but his nervousness prevents it. Besides, there's nothing funny about Keith on his knees and tears on his face.

Crossing his arms, Lance wipes his face of all emotion and looks at Keith.

"You start by saying,'I'm sorry'."

Chapter Text

Keith just stays there on the ground, frozen in shock. But after a few ticks of Lance watching him—waiting—he scrambles up.

"Lance!" He takes a few steps closer, eyes wide and reaching out, but then he stops abruptly, pulling his hand back as if he doesn't dare touch.

A pang of longing shoots through Lance, knowing Keith clearly doesn't think his touch would be welcome when it couldn't be further from the truth.

It's disgusting how much Lance craves Keith's attention, even when he's mad at him.

"Why—Why were you in my Lion?"

Lance shrugs, feigning a nonchalance he really doesn't feel. He looks away as he answers with, "Figured it'd be the last place anyone would check."

"Uh, yeah. You're right about that...," Keith agrees uneasily. Lance glances back at him just in time to see him flush lightly. He meets Lance's gaze meekly.

"So...I guess that means you heard everything?"

Lance hesitates, even more uncomfortable. "I--yeah. Yeah, I did. But I still want an explanation, a real one." Lance can't keep his voice from betraying his hurt. "Why didn't you tell me, Keith? Just—why?"

Ashamed, it's Keith's turn to look away, hugging an arm to his side and rubbing it. "It was all real...the first night. I woke up feeling awful, worse than any illness I'd had on Earth, and I just knew you were the answer."

He pauses and both of them blush, remembering that catastrophic morning of waking up in the same bed and everyone else learning about it quickly enough.

"A—anyways, it was pretty strong the next morning, but by the next day...nothing." He shoots Lance a wary, scared look, but Lance stays silent, patient. Keith swallows but plows on nonetheless. "When I woke up, I was going to tell you the truth, but..."

This time Keith stares at the ground, looking as if continuing is less palatable than fighting a hundred Galra armed only with a toothpick.

"But?" Lance presses.

Keith grimaces but opens his mouth reluctantly. "The way you looked...I'd never seen you look so peaceful. And I—I think I fell for you a little bit in that moment," and thump went Lance's heart, "and I—I realized I wanted to be closer to you." Keith seems to shake his insecurity, slowly but surely straightening his spine and meeting Lance's eyes.

"I wanted to know every other way you could look, I wanted to be the reason you looked like that."

Keith was on a roll now with his confession, moving on to say, "I honestly didn't do it with malicious intent, Lance. You were being so nice to me, it was like I was talking to a whole other person and I wasn't ready to give that up."

"Wait, wait—you're saying you kept all that up because you wanted me to be nicer to you?" Okay, so Keith's clearly confused, mixing up friendship with what he thinks a relationship is. It sucks, but Lance can work with this. At least this makes sense. "Dude, there are way easier ways than that to get some positive attention!"

"No...no, the...other stuff...the uh, kissing and stuff, I, uh, wanted that too," he mumbles, cheeks red.

Stunned, Lance points out incredulously, "You said you didn't believe in love!"

"I LIED!" Keith yells, face redder than Lance has ever seen it. "I was embarrassed! I've liked you for a while and all that lovey talk was making me nervous!"

Lance throws his hands up, struggling to articulate why Keith is a freaking idiot. He yells, "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! I THOUGHT I WAS TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOU!" Keith looks surprised and then guilty at that, and Lance angrily steps closer, jabbing his finger accusingly into his chest, a stab to punctuate every few words.

"Yeah, Keith, and it really freaking sucked. It felt super gross and I couldn't even enjoy all that time together because I thought the person I loved was basically my slave!"

And because Keith lives to make Lance's life miserable, he ignores everything else he says.

Instead, he stares at him, wide-eyed, and asks in a small, hopeful voice, "You love me?"

Lance can't believe him. This situation. His life.

His unintended confession replays in his mind and he feels himself blushing hotly.

Lance drops his head, utterly defeated by life.

"That's not the point, man," he groans, wishing he could keep his big fat mouth shut. He can't believe it; his big secret, blurted out after all those weeks of suffering. Way to go.

"No, no, that's definitely the point," Keith disagrees. He steps closer and Lance sighs.

"Keith..."

"I'm sorry," Keith interrupts quickly. Lance risks a wary glance at him and meets his eyes. Sincerely, Keith says, "I know it's probably getting old to hear, but I really never meant to hurt you, I swear. Please, please forgive me, Lance." His eyes go large and soulful, more effective than a million whining puppies on Earth. "Give me a chance to make it up to you."

Lance doesn't speak as he watches Keith's face, looking for even the slightest hint of dishonesty. When he can't find any, he finds himself torn between wanting to agree and denying Keith what he's asking for.

And it's not even really because of Keith himself. It's more because...it doesn't feel real. Lance has quietly pined for so long, just thinking about it becoming reality, of being with someone who thinks there's something worthwhile about him, who he's going to inevitably disappoint—it's terrifying.

Is he even worth this?

Sensing his hesitation, Keith steps a little closer. He slowly reaches out, giving Lance plenty of time to back up, but he doesn't. As much as he believes saying no to Keith is the right thing to do, he doesn't have the will to actively deny him when he wants it, too. So much.

With a few tugs, Keith closes the distance between them.

On most days, Lance will proudly claim his half-inch of height over Keith, but right now, it's like it doesn't even exist. He suddenly feels much, much smaller with Keith's arms around him, holding him, and his throat gets tight. He feels betrayed by his very skin, how it seems to react to Keith's proximity, how he wants Keith to keep pushing his boundaries.

"Lance." No one says his name the way Keith does. It's quiet, a plea and demand wrapped in one, and Lance reluctantly meets his eyes, suddenly shy.

Voice low, Keith says, "I know that you're scared. And that's my fault. But I promise I won't hurt you again. Just give me a chance."

The way he's holding Lance so surely, his voice so tender and his eyes so gentle—Lance has to close his, feeling seconds from shaking apart by Keith's love. Hot tears slide down his cheeks as he trembles, trying not to whine, and Keith's hand comes up to cup his cheek, warm leather smooth against his skin. His other hand slides to the back of his neck, erasing any remaining distance so that their foreheads meet and he doesn't have to be stripped raw by Keith's gaze.

And Lance thought he'd be the one comforting Keith. It's almost funny.

"I'm so, so sorry I betrayed your trust, Lance," Keith apologizes, breath warm, tone filled with regret. "You deserve better."

Lance tries to speak but right before his voice comes out, he instantly knows he'll just sob instead. He slams his mouth shut, trying to control his breathing while his shoulders hunch, eyes screwed shut.

"Hey, it's okay," Keith soothes. He starts rubbing his palm up and down Lance's back. He's thankful for the touch, for the assurance that Keith seems to get that being verbal isn't really in his wheelhouse right now.

"...Can you forgive me?" Keith asks, voice a whisper that ghosts across Lance's lips and makes him shiver.

Lance sighs, a fragile, shuddering thing. His eyes flutter, looking down at the way their chests press together, how they seem to rise and fall in time with each other.

Honestly? He never stood a chance.

He nods minutely, licking his lips.

"...Yeah. Of course." He sinks into Keith's hold, exhausted. "Always."

Chapter Text

Keith's day starts as typically as any other, but now there's the added bonus of having a boyfriend.

It's the small things, small things that nonetheless make a normally enjoyable morning routine infinitely better. He's used to sitting down with everyone, eating a nutritional yet bland plate of food goo to start his day. But between in-depth discussions with Pidge on the finer points of stabbing versus electrocuting, he can look up, catch Lance's eye, and share a smile—one that's happy and shy and flirtatious all at once. Sometimes Lance will send a kiss his way, or subtly indicate one of their teammates in the middle of doing something funny, and Keith gets that warm, cozy feeling of sharing an inside joke with someone who cares about his opinion.

Keith's never been in on the joke before and—not for the first time—finds himself thankful Lance refused to let him rescue Shiro by himself way back at the Garrison.

When he and Pidge have finished with their discussion (argument), they've all cleaned their plates. As usual, Keith is the first to leave, depositing his plate in the sleek basin Hunk has deemed for dirty dishes.

Usually, Keith just leaves, most often to the training room. But now he's gotten so used to drifting to Lance that he finds himself hesitating, casting a glance his way.

Feeling dumb, he drifts closer. Lance looks up when he draws near and smiles. He's so clearly pleased to see him and Keith's blind-sided by how beautiful he is; it's knowledge he's had for a while, but Keith is beginning to doubt he'll ever truly adjust.

"Gonna go train, babe?" Lance asks.

Flushing slightly, Keith agrees. "Yeah," he says, averting his gaze shyly. He hates how these stupid nicknames fluster him so easily. He also hopes Lance never stops. He can think of a lot of worse things than Lance claiming him so publicly and blatantly.

"Okay." Lance tilts his head up expectantly.

Keith inhales imperceptibly, steeling himself. It's only been a few weeks, but he's been trying hard to get used to these little moments of PDA when they come up. Lance is such an attentive partner and he never does anything that truly makes Keith uncomfortable. If all he asks for are these little gestures of affection, who is Keith to deny him?

Forcing down his blush and reminding himself that no one cares, Keith places a hand on the back of Lance's chair and leans down to kiss him, chaste and warm. Lance smiles at him, content, and the sight is tempting enough Keith has to resist the urge to kiss him again.

"Go get 'em, tiger!"

Keith shakes his head, smiling fondly. "You're ridiculous."

Smugly, Lance retorts, "It's why you love me." A tick later, he freezes, expression going stiff and awkward.

Keith freezes too, both of them sweeping their gazes around the room. Luckily, no one's paying them any attention, engrossed in either their various devices or each other, and Lance looks up at Keith.

"Sorry," he says quietly, sheepishly.

Keith is hardly ashamed of how he feels for Lance. But it's all so new, so wonderful, Keith can't help but consider those words—words he's never said to anyone—to be infinitely precious. And he's not willing to share them with anyone else.

He's explained this to Lance, but he can't help but feel like he's making him feel bad for expressing himself. And that's the last thing he wants.

Taking a deep breath, Keith blurts out, "That's exactly why I love you."

Shocked, Lance's mouth drops open. Keith immediately walks away to the doors, a scarlet blush glowing on his face. Just as the doors are about to close, however, he looks back.

Lance is still watching him, but his surprised expression has melted away to reveal a cute blush and a wide, beaming smile. Keith can feel his face contorting in an embarrassing mirror and he ducks away, eager to channel all these emotions through his bayard.

He can't help but reflect that expressing himself was much, much easier when he was pretending to be under the effects of some alien concoction. He could blatantly request attention, act out a bit more, and especially with Lance so accommodating, he suffered no judgment.

Now, though, it's all him and everyone knows it. He's reverted back to almost painful shyness, struggling daily to move past long-erected barriers that kept others from getting close enough to hurt him. It's proving to be a long, frustrating process.

His main frustration, however, lies in his inability to do something for him. Luckily, there's ancient Altean training robots ready for demolishing.

As Keith jumps and kicks, executing expert kills and precision cuts of his blade, he racks his brain for something.

Ever since that emotionally-draining day in the hangar, where Lance agreed to let Keith date him the right way, Keith's wanted to do something for him. Some sort of—of gesture, or gift, to show Lance that he's special, that he's worth the universe.

But Keith's never been in this situation, and anything he'd try to say wouldn't come out right. He'll have a whole speech planned out in his head, but the moment Lance turns those gorgeous blue eyes on him, he can't even remember his own name.

He'd like to take him on a date, seeing as how under different circumstances that would be the best way to show Lance how he feels, but that's basically impossible. Hard to take Lance out when they're fighting for the liberation of an entire universe. Asking Allura for a day off isn't even a question.

Keith takes down a training bot with a bit more force than necessary, sparks flying from its freshly-impaled chest, metal flaking off onto his sword.

He just wants to show Lance how much he appreciates how patient he's been with him, both before and after this whole fiasco; and especially for getting Hunk to be his friend again. He didn't think he was going to last much longer if he had to deal with more of Hunk's glaring.

Luckily, Hunk was quick to forgive once all the secrets were out in the open.

'I don't hate you, Keith,' Hunk had said, warm brown eyes watching him with understanding. 'I just don't like to see Lance being hurt. But everything's cool, now, okay? We're cool. I'm glad everything worked out.'

Hunk. The thought sticks in his mind, enough that he wraps up his training earlier than usual and grabs a towel to wipe off his sweat, forgoing his shower for the time being.

He's got a paladin to find.

He could ask Allura or Coran to track Hunk through the navigation, but he doesn't want to explain his reasons. Hunk's already going to know and that's embarrassing enough.

He finds Hunk in the third place he checks, after the kitchen and control deck: With Pidge, behind a half-dozen monitors in the lower levels of the castle. Both of them are talking a mile a minute, voices growing louder in their excitement as they type on opposite terminals. Keith couldn't decipher what they're saying if you paid him. He gets a few 'the's' and 'I's, even a 'proton', but everything else is as alien to him as, well...aliens.

As politely as he can, Keith calls, "Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt."

"Oh, hey, Keith!"

Pidge adjusts her glasses. "Lance isn't here."

"Uh, yeah, I know," Keith says, scratching his head. "I actually came to see you, Hunk. Can we talk for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure." Hunk rises then points a finger at Pidge. "Don't touch that until I get back."

Pidge holds her palm up, shrugging. "Hey, just don't get mad if my algorithm solves any irregularities before you have a chance to see them."

Hunk gives her a suspicious look, pausing so she gets the full effect, then walks away, face smoothing away into friendliness.

"So, what's up?" Hunk asks in the hallway.

Keith can't deny he's still a little nervous around Hunk; an angry Hunk is not one you forget easily. But for Lance, he pushes through.

"I want to do something for Lance," he says straight away. "But, being out in space, my options are kind of limited..."

"Ohhhhhh, yeah, no, I totally get that." Hunk looks to the ceiling, crossing his arms in thought. "You could...write him a song? Although that might not work if you can't play the guitar. Also, I don't know where we'd get a guitar..."

"I think I already have an idea, but to do it I'll need your help."

Hunk's brows raise, curious. "Sure, man. What do you need?"

"Well," Keith can already feel his face burning. "How close are you guys?"

His favor with Hunk only took half a varga. It could have been even shorter, but Keith got a bit obsessive, wanting to make sure everything would go perfectly.

Now he stands outside Lance's door, heart beating wildly, hard enough to fall right out of his chest.

I hope I don't look like an idiot.

With that rousing bit of self-motivation, Keith knocks.

"Yeah?" Lance calls.

"It's me."

"Come in!"

Keith enters Lance's room, the door sliding shut behind him. Sitting up on his bed, Lance holds a book in one hand, using his finger as a bookmark; it's an ancient thing Coran had lent him, and Keith knows he's been using the strange words to practice his Altaen.

Smiling, Lance watches Keith with a happy, playful expression.

"Well, hey, handsome. I haven't seen you all day. I was beginning to think you and Allura went on another field trip or something," he teases.

He stops speaking completely when Keith approaches and drops to his knees before him. Keith reaches over and takes his free hand, holding it in both of his own. In an effort to conceal his nerves, Keith raised Lance's hand to his lips, placing a kiss on his beautiful, smooth brown skin.

Lance's ensuing blush helps dissipate some of Keith's anxiety.

Keith parts his lips, and tells Lance he loves him. But this time is unlike any before.

Personally, Keith can't help but self-consciously worry he's probably butchered the Spanish something awful. No doubt he has a weird accent to boot, but it's so, so worth it to see the way Lance shifts from surprise from hearing his native tongue, to joy, smiling wide and teary-eyed.

Without another word, Lance tugs him up and close, kissing him. Keith instantly sinks into it, grateful to be doing something he has some confidence in.

By the time they part, Lance is panting and flushed, looking a bit dazed. Keith mentally pats himself on the back. He's not half-bad at this boyfriend stuff.

"Do you ever wonder if we're too young to be saying the L word yet?"

Privately, Keith thinks if they're old enough to give their lives defending the universe, then they're old enough to say 'I love you.'

But Keith doens't say any of that, mostly because he knows bringing up their mortality would be a definite mood killer. Instead, he simply says, "Who cares?" His tone is defiant. "If someone's got a problem with it, they can just try and stop me."

Lance chuckles, hugging Keith just that bit closer.

"Yeah, you're right. Who cares?" He catches Keith's eyes and smiles, happy and loved and so, so beautiful.

"I love you, Keith."

Keith smiles back, bridging the space between them and resting their foreheads together.

"I love you, too, Lance."