Chapter Text
"Shit!—"
Lance pulled the controls back, stopping Red from charging straight into a laser. The alarms were blaring around him; Red had taken damage to one of her legs earlier in the fight, so her speed was decreasing ever so slightly. Lance sighed and turned on coms. "Alright guys, I'm having trouble gettin' Red up to full speed. Pidge, what's your situation like?"
Pidge's voice crackled to life. "I'm all clear in this sector," they announced. "If you want me to come help you, I'm on my way."
"Good," Lance shifted gears and thrusted the controls forward, motioning Red to meet Pidge and Green halfway and to also escape the two Galra fighter planes that were closing in on him.
"Fuck—Hunk, Allura, I've got two fighters behind me," Lance shouted. "Can you get them off my tail?"
Allura's and Hunk's voices came in synchronized: "On it!"
Lance weaved his way in and out of floating debris caused by the other Lions wrecking ass. Lance smirked as Red gracefully flew threw two crashed ships, while the fighter planes on him got torn up by Allura and Hunk. He wondered, absentmindedly, if Keith had felt this way about flying Red.
Keith... a subject him and the other paladins hadn't touched in a while. He was still with the Blade, had been with them for almost nine years now. Lance had remembered sending him off to the Blade with a smile and a hug, saying that Voltron wouldn't be the same without him mullet. Keith had laughed and said that he would miss him too. As he had walked through the door, raising his hood up to be escorted by Kolivan, Lance had felt something dark in his heart grow a little bigger.
That was nine years ago.
The last time Keith had gotten into contact with Voltron, he was talking about a mission he may not return from. He told each of the paladins not to weep over his body if he did die, but Allura stopped him before he touched a bad subject. And so Keith simply had said, "Just make sure to get something of mine if I do."
And then Kolivan had sent them a message that stated that Keith was not answering his coms. And Lance's heart was suddenly full of the dark something he had felt before. It festered and boiled his blood, contaminating his soul and thoughts until he felt nothing but anger and sadness.
He had stormed out of the main room with blurry eyes and a taste of something vile on his tongue.
Lance then spent the next few years training. He started training like Keith did, and after unlocking his broadsword form of his Bayard, following his routine was easier. Lance never thought of I before, but Keith's training routine was actually very effective; after nearly a week of training Lance felt like he was melting off the fat like butter. It was easier to not focus on him when he was doing something, and training was something the Red paladins all seemed to have in common; whenever Lance would get sad, or mad, or depressed, he'd go train harder and longer than the day before.
It wasn't like the other paladins hadn't been training as well; Hunk's arms were now like tree trunks, Pidge moved without making a sound now, and Lance himself had become leaner and less beanpole and more athletic. After upgrading their suits and unlocking the other forms of their bayards (Hunk's blaster now shifted to a large buster sword, and Pidge's could shift into a crossbow), Allura had announced that they would be training even harder than before, but this time, they trained by themselves more than with each other, honing their skills until they had come up with their own special attacks; then, Allura wold get them to train with each other all the time, getting the feel for each of their newfound abilities.
But even with all the training, it still hurt. After a year of zero contact from Keith, Lance started crying himself to sleep. He missed Keith and the way he would place a hand on Lance's shoulder when he went to bed; whenever he did that, Lance knew that he should be getting to bed as well. Without the warm hand to remind him of the late hour, Lance's sleeping schedule was going all over the place. And then the crying had started.
God, where on Altea was Keith? Nine years was too long to go without any contact, any sign that he was alive. Lance needed to know that he was alive; he thrived on their bickering, their teasing words and sparring sessions that them breathless and wanting more. It was the little things Keith did that made Lance miss him: the way he'd flip his knife in his hand whenever he was anxious; the way he'd tie his hair back when he would get ready for a battle; even the way he sounded southern in certain words. Something about Keith made Lance's blood boil in more ways than one.
Sure, Keith was attractive. Like, really attractive. Soft black hair, supple skin, strong muscles—he was undoubtedly more attractive than Lance had originally though. What set him off though was when Keith was angry. When he got angry, his eyes seemed to become engulfed in a purple fire, hotter than any other fire Lance had been around. It was so beautiful, so when he riled up Keith, it was a bonus to see those violet eyes glow brighter.
Another crackling of a com coming on startled Lance out of his thoughts. "Hey, Pidge, you here yet?" Lance joked, expecting their voice to respond with sarcasm and a slight tinge of anger.
"How did you know? I thought my defense shields were strong."
The voice that responded was deeper than Pidge's, way deeper than their past-puberty voice; it sounded almost like Shiro, maybe a little younger. There was something teasing and guarded about the mystery voice, something Shiro hadn't had in a long time.
"Who the hell are you?" Lance started. "How did you get this com-line; this is a private—"
The voice laughed, and Lance's chest suddenly tightened, like it was trying to squeeze the dark from his heart. He knew that laughter. He may have only heard it a few times in his life, but that laughter had been imprinted into his brain since he first heard it. It was breathy and deep, more like a chuckle than an actual laugh, perfect for a man who didn't laugh out loud.
"N-No way—" Lance felt the tears streaming down his face already, like a waterfall leading to the ocean; to home.
"Lance? Hey, are you—" He heard Hunk ask, and he turned off the group com, needing to hear his voice alone.
Lance gulped, almost scared about what he would say. "Is it really—"
"Did you miss me, Sharpshooter?" Keith asked, and Lance sobbed loudly, a smile blooming onto his face like a rose; a rose who hadn't had water in a decade, and was just showered with the purest water he had ever tasted.
"F-Fuck yeah I did, Mullet," Lance responded, voice heavy with happy tears. "Where are you? I'll contact Coran to let you into the ship."
"I'm right beside you," Lance turned and saw a small ship next to him, only the size for two or three people.
Lance turned back on the group com and said, "We've got a guest, guys."
Hunk sounded concerned. "Who? And why do you sound like you're—"
"I may have made him a little emotional." Keith's voice now echoed through all the Lions, and everyone minus Lance collectively gasped, though Lance did smile wide.
Pidge spoke first. "Keith? I-Is it really you?"
"You know it, Pidge. How's it been?"
And the sounds of crying paladins with words of happiness on their tongues suddenly filled Lance's ears, bringing about a bigger smile onto his face.
Suddenly, the truth hit him in the heart.
Keith was home.