Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

Lance hadn’t meant to end up here. His parents probably hadn’t meant to meet Ulaz either. But here he was sat across from his Galra Dad? Parent? Relative? He still was unclear on how Ulaz came into how he was born but he was too scared to ask the stoic Galra and mortified to ask his parents which one of them got busy with an alien.

            One thing was certain, that was, his teeth were a little too sharp to be a human and his body, at the ripe age of twenty-six was ending some weird and inexplicable Galra puberty. That left him slightly too tall to match the lanky McClain clan (and other strange and unspeakable changes like kind of pointy ears or a tail that Lance preferred to keep wrapped up under his pants, most concerning about this was that Ulaz did not appear to have one).

            There was a loud hiss as the ship docked in the station hidden amongst the asteroid belt.

            “Haha, this is crazy…”

            Ulaz doesn’t speak.

            Lance likes Ulaz, sure he’s a gigantic alien. Yes, he’d been the absentee parent that Lance hadn’t known was absent in the first place but there was a space war going on and he’d had two loving parents and lots of siblings to grow up with. Sure, he’d been blindsided when the war ended, and a giant blade member approached him to reveal he was…well. Lance sees it in the way Ulaz tilts his head to glance out the windows. Something in the curve of his jaw. Like looking in a mirror.

            The point is, Lance thought Ulaz was fine, pretty cool even, but these moments of empty silence seemed so hard to fill. Lance desperately wanted to fill them.

            “Are you nervous Lance?”

            He looks up from where he’s been picking at the Blade Flight-Suit and finds Ulaz staring him down. Lance shrugs in return.

            “You finished the trials more than enough during the war, you’ve already proven yourself. The garrison in one of our strongest allies to the Blade. Lance McClain is an acclaimed pilot. You are welcome here.”

            Lance nods and unbuckles to collect his things from the ship.

            The thing about an intergalactic war is that it exists across galaxies. Cleanup was difficult. For the Blades, there was still work to be done.

 Lance doesn’t like to think about the war on Earth much. When it started, he was a cadet fast tracked to higher ranks because everyone in the higher ranks didn’t survive the first waves. 

            Back on Earth he’s Captain McClain. Here he’s just Lance.

            Lance still wasn’t sure what compelled him to take the opportunity to join the Blade. The offer had come just after the war ended. But it took him years to say yes.

            For a long time after the war ended, he hadn’t wanted anything to change, even after meeting Ulaz. Even when his body hit the Galra growth spurt.

            Now looking out at the stars, empty space, he remembers fast test missions to the moon and back. Laying in his old bunk and dreaming of missions as far as Kerberos. Back in the days when Pidge and Hunk weren’t on opposite ends of the galaxy but in that same tiny room dreaming too. Before the war came to Earth.

/

            “You’re leaving!?” Lance tries to keep the panic out of his voice.

            “Yes.” Ulaz has his back turned to Lance as he places the small box of Lance’s affects that he’d been carrying down on the bunk.

Lance barely has time to even look at the room, he’s too busy panicking.

            “You can’t just leave me here!?”

            Ulaz frowns.

            “I thought you wanted to be here?”

            “Well, yeah, but I thought you’d at least show me around?” Lance tries not to sound like a petulant child. Its hard when Ulaz is still a head taller than him.

            There’s a metallic tapping noise. Ulaz palms the access pad and Lance’s door slides open to reveal a scarred Galra.

            “I will give the job of showing around to Kolivan, leader of the Blade. I believe you’ve met before.”

             Lance straightens up so fast he almost falls over.

            “Uh, yes hello.”

Kolivan doesn’t reply, only gives him a curt nod before saying something in galran to Ulaz. Lance tries to listen and is proud that he can understand about a third of what they’re saying.

Although he feels less proud when he realizes that the gist of the conversation is about Ulaz’s mission.

“It seems I must leave Lance. Kolivan will tell you everything you need to know.” He says something again to Kolivan and with a nod to Lance he’s gone.

Lance is alone millions of miles from the earth on a base full of aliens.

/

Chapter Text

Lance was one of the few Garrison pilots during the war to work closely with the Blade during Earth’s liberation. There were too few pilots and fewer not so scared of the Blades that they were willing to do the complex maneuvering needed during their missions.

Lance spent a lot of time running Blade missions. The person who assigned him each mission and partook in many of them was Kolivan. It was likely that Kolivan was the main reason Lance had been accepted into the Blade.

Judging from his last interaction with Ulaz it sure as hell had nothing to do with nepotism.

Lance couldn’t tell if he felt good about that.

Kolivan was thorough with his tour. Lance was allotted a room with a bunk. Because he was not a fresh recruit and high ranked with the Garrison his room did not also include a roommate which he was thankful for.

He’d had enough of that at the Garrison. He was used to living alone now. At this point in his twenty-six years of life he could appreciate alone time.

The halls were all identical which would probably be a problem. Also, everyone wore the same outfits. They still had ranks but apparently the only clothes that indicated rank was formal wear which was only worn for the rarest of occasions. Hence, Lance was pretty much lost by the time they’d walked five minutes.

When Kolivan opened the door to the gym he saw large groups of the Blades sparring with some very sharp looking objects.

There was a library, a pool, an observation deck and multiple hangars. Lance would have two weeks to train and get settled before being assigned missions. However, because Lance was a pilot, he would be joining in on briefings with other pilots effective immediately as well as be invited to strategy meetings with Blade higher ups.

That was the most exciting part of the tour, the rest turned into a Blade history lesson. By the time they made it to the mess hall Lance thought he would faint from exhaustion. He and Ulaz had been flying for over eighteen hours before the tour.

“Lance,” Kolivan looks at him gravely.

“Yes,” Lance tries to return Kolivan’s stare with the same level of intensity.

A heavy hand falls on his shoulder and he supresses a full body shiver.

            Sure, Lance hasn’t been touched much in the last few months. And yes, he did like to cuddle enough that he always had a pillow to act as surrogate when Pidge, Hunk or Lance’s family weren’t around. Which was most of the time. But he’s going to keep it together god damnit.

            “You’re going to do fine. I am glad you are here.”

            Something loosens in Lances chest that he didn’t know was tight and now he really feels like he’ll pass out.

            “Oh, uh, thank you.”

            “Now enjoy some food and get some rest.”

            Then Kolivan turns and leaves Lance stood in front of the door to the mess without another word.

            Lance gapes at the spot where Kolivan stood and curses under his breath.

            He almost considers just going back to his room, but he’s not certain he even knows where that is in his sleep deprived state.

            Okay Lance. Pump it up. You are the positivity master. You can do this. Its just a mess hall filled with beefy Galra who all can crush you underfoot.

            Then he opens to door.

/

            Apparently, every mess hall in the galaxy looks exactly the same. Both a relief and a curse. The place isn’t that full of Galra which is good, and most don’t look up at Lance when he enters.

            He tries not to stare at the Galra so instead he scans the wall to find trays or plates. He head s to the right side of the room where food appears to be set up self-serve style.

            Nothing but net. Lance thinks to himself as he makes a confident and speedy beeline for the food.

            He picks out a plate and finds a spork-looking utensil then heads to serve himself.

            This is where he runs into a problem.

            Not only are the placards in galran but the food itself looks like nothing Lance has ever seen. The first bowl is purple and looks a bit like pulled pork, the next is small gelatinous looking cubes haphazard on a tray. The rest of the food looks equally confusing.

            Lance stands stock still.

            He considers grabbing the first things he sees and forcing whatever it is down. But now he’s here his body is sore, his tail shifts where it’s wrapped around his thigh making his lower back sting.

            He can’t bring himself to get sick on top of it all. Food poisoning might be a worse first impression on these Galra than Lance walking into the mess and then walking out again. But everyone already saw him come in.

He’s standing and trying to make it look like he’s deep in thought when a voice speaks behind him and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

            “Go for the Vrikeye and the Borzonian grass.”

            “The uhhhh,” Lance feels embarrassed and relived all at once.

            “The purple one and the leafy looking one three down, Vrikeye tastes a bit like salmon. The grass is pretty much like salad although strangely cheesy.”

            “Oh wow, thanks!” Lance scoops out a heap of both onto his plate, “didn’t know anyone would know what salmon was here—" he turns to thank his saviour and finds himself staring into the midnight eyes of a decidedly human face.

            The man laughs and sweeps a long black braid over his shoulder.

            “You’re in luck. When I first got here, I picked food at random.”  

            This man is gorgeous, Lance’s sleep deprived and starving brain feels like it’s about to short out.

            Then the man in front of him crosses his arms and starts to look weirded out and less welcoming. Lance panics.

            “uhhh… Lance,” the main raises a brow, “I’m Lance, nice to meet you.”

            The man laughs again and takes Lances hand.

            “I know, Kolivan told me.”

            “oh.”

            “I’m Keith, if you want to grab a table, I’ll join you.”

            Lance picks and empty table near the windows. He sits down and digs in. Keith is right, the Vrikeye does taste like salmon. The salad looking food is a bit bitter but not so much that Lance can’t eat it.

            He’s so enamoured with the food he barely notices Keith sit down across from him. The man places a cup in front of Lance.

            “It’s juice don’t worry I won’t poison you.”

            Lance takes a small sip and the taste blooms on his tongue its almost floral but there’s a tang to it like a grapefruit.

            Lance chugs the whole thing and leans back with a sigh.

            “Thank you.”

            “So, I hear you’re the best pilot the Garrison has to offer.”

            “Ha, I wouldn’t say that.” There had been a time when Lance desperately wanted that title, but that was when his biggest dream was to pilot a research mission. Then the war happened.

            Now he wasn’t sure what he was dreaming of.

            “Well, I would,” Keith nonchalantly slid his cup of juice over to Lance and Lance tried to pretend he didn’t notice.

            “I ran most of my missions with a Captain Griffin when I was on Earth, but I did run one with you and Kolivan.”

            “I ran a mission for you?!”

            “Yeah, you probably wouldn’t remember it, my mask didn’t come off, but you did a lot better than any other Garrison pilot I’d worked with.”

            “Really? Well thanks.”

            “Race me.”

            “What?” Lance wonders if he’s mishearing things.

            “You’re the best the Garrison has to offer and I’m the fastest pilot this side of the galaxy. I’ve got to uphold my title.” Keith stabs into a strange looking block of greying flakes and takes a massive bite as if he was making a point.

            Lance, sleep deprived and travel sore felt a burst of competitiveness he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager.

            “Okay, bring it. Name the day spitfire and I won’t go easy on you.”

            Keith fumbles his fork and turns pink.

            Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Why did I say that.

            Keith grins.

            “You’re on.”

            There’s an awkward moment of silence when the electricity between them sputters out and Lance yawns.

            “Not today though, you look exhausted. We don’t need our new recruit crashing on day one. How long were you flying?”

            “About twenty hours. Don’t worry, I’ve had longer days than this.” Lance casually picks up the other cup of juice that Keith offered. He spills a bit of it down his chin and Keith laughs.

            “What’s that you’re eating,” Lance tries to redirect attention from himself.

            “Oh, this?” Keith points to the greyish brick, “you don’t want any of this it made me puke the first time I had it.” He punctuates his words with a bite.

            Lance is gobsmacked. They spend the rest of their meal discussing food. Keith seems to be genuinely excited to be teaching someone who wouldn’t already know.

            By the time they’re finished Lance has almost forgotten how tired he is. That is until he stands and the headrush forces him to clutch the table. Keith doesn’t say anything which he’s thankful for.

            “Well, it was great to chat Lance. Want to train together tomorrow? I can show you around.” Keith offers.

            “Sure, I’d like that.”

            They part ways at the doors of the mess when suddenly Lance realizes he doesn’t recognize the halls.

            “Wait! Keith!” Keith rushes back as if Lance may be dying.

            “What is it?”

            “I don’t know where my room is.”

            That ends up being the loudest laugh hears that day.

Chapter Text

            Keith wakes Lance the next morning, he taps loudly on the door three times tells Lance to meet him at the mess and is gone before Lance rolls out of bed.

            His head feels all fuzzy like he has a hangover. He glances out the small circular window in his bathroom almost expecting daylight.

            He takes his time appreciating the shower cube, bigger than the ones he’s seen on his handful of stints in space. It’s almost luxurious to have a full five-minute shower. But that’s alien technology for you.

            He finds his small bag and puts on the casual version of the blade uniforms that Ulaz gave him. It’s loose fitting and airy, made for training. He has two pairs of boots to match, one pair of black combat boots not unlike his own from the Garrison, and another made of a looser mesh with a flexible sole. When he puts on the latter, he finds his footsteps are muffled.

            It’s nice to be in something loose-fitting. It’s easier to tuck down his tail that way. With the way his lower back twinges he knows it’s probably not good but he’s not sure what else to do. It’s not like the Blade clothes he was given even had a hole for a tail. All the Blades Lance met didn’t have one.

            Lance find the small box of personal effects on its side at the foot of his bed. He can barely remember but he must’ve kicked it off the bed when he passed out the night before. Inside are picture of his parents, siblings, Hunk and Pidge as well as a few photos of Lance with coworkers.

            He also brought a role of tape. It’s weird to hold it in his hands on a space-station lightyears away from earth.

            It works all the same as he carefully sticks the pictures up right beside his bunk so he can look straight at them when he falls asleep.

            Then he makes his way out into the halls.

/

            He’s surprised when he finds his way to the mess without getting lost. Even more surprised that Keith is real and not a sleep deprived hallucination.

            Most surprising of all is that Keith is already up and making up a plate of food for Lance as he’s coming through the doors. He just waves him towards the table and Lance goes to sit down in the same spot he sat in the day before.

            Keith places a plate in front of Lance and sits down heavily across from him.

            “You must be starved,” Keith says as Lance digs in. He’s a little embarrassed about his sleep addled conversation with Keith. So, Lance just nods.

            Keith takes a sip of his steaming drink and leans his chin in his palm. Lance can see the glint of a galra-fang as Keith chews on his lip pensively.

            “32 hours comes close to the record of hours down after arrival, I was kind of worried you’d died in there.”

            Lance spits out the scrambled egg textured slop he was shovelling down and stares at Keith.

            “THIRTY-TWO hours!?”

            Keith laughs.

            “Are you kidding me, jeez what’s wrong with me.”

            “Hey, don’t worry it’s not unheard of around here. You look shockingly put together for your first real day on the base.”

            Lance rubs the back of his neck, feeling the eyes of multiple Galra on the back of his neck after his outburst.

            “Thanks…” He eats again while Keith watches him.

            “So, Kolivan told me to show you the ropes so I was thinking we could spar a bit to figure out your level and then I’ll take you out in one of the cruisers so you can get a feel for the tech. The cockpits are a little different than what you’ve probably seen on Earth.”

            Of course, Lance thinks, this beautiful man isn’t talking to me because he’s interested in me. He’s my babysitter.

            “…are you up for that?” Lance looks out the window at the stars and feels out of place. He wonders if Keith knows what Ulaz’s mission is.

            “Yeah.”

/

            Lance already feels like he sticks out. It’s not something he’s never felt before. He was the first garrison cadet to begin running missions during the war, fast tracked through the ranks to sit in meetings with people twice his age— he was all they had.

            The gym is packed with Galra. Most of them lifting weights or running but in the center of the room there are five pairs sparring on mats.

            He watches as one Galra throws another down like a sack of potatoes and he tries to look calm about it.

            It’s not that he’s never fought or sparred before, but most of these Galra (other than Keith) were at least a head taller than him. There was no way he could win a match with any of them. No way to prove himself.

            “I know what you’re thinking, don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.” Lance jumps when Keith plants a hand on his shoulder.

            “That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Lance can already feel eyes on him as Keith leads him to an empty space on the mats and begins stretching.

            The Galra are sizing him up.

            He’s kicking himself for quitting yoga when he can barely do a downward dog with how his lower back twinges. But what would you do if you spontaneously grew a tail?

            He glances at Keith whose stretching out his toned legs and catches Lance’s eye with a sharp grin. Lance focuses back on the mats with his face burning.

            “Where are you from Lance?”

            “What?”

            “Where are you from? My Dad was from Texas.”

            “Oh! My family is from Cuba,” he copies Keith as he does lunges, “I lived there through my childhood, but we ended up moving to a farm in the States.”

            “You’re farmers?”

            “Yeah,” Lance rolls his shoulders back and forth.

            “Ready?”

            Keith bounces on his feet like a cat ready to pounce.

            “Say yield if you need to stop.” Keith says.

            “Same to you,” Lance tries to look confident. But, his newly minted Galra hearing can pick up the whispers of every onlooker in the gym. He tries not to focus in on the critical words and focuses on Keith.

 Keith laughs and then throws himself forwards.

            Lance blocks the first blows easily. Keith makes to grab him around the waist and Lance slips out of his arms and to the floor shooting up again before Keith has him pinned.

            They twist and dodge around each other like that for about ten minutes. Lance can feel sweat beading on his forehead, Keith still looks elated.

            The twinge of Lance’s lower-back is a dull burn, but he ignores it as Keith tries to kick his legs from underneath him and Lances bounces away.

            Then with a quick turn Keith is behind Lance, this is when he resigns himself to the fact that the fight is over. Keith’s arms tugs him back fast and Lance loses his balance. His back hits the mat first, then his legs with a zing of pain through his curled tail.

            Keith moves above Lance, sitting heavily on his chest with a forearm to his throat. Keith grins, and his eyes seem to flicker yellow.

            “Yield,” he growls.

            Lance is flabbergasted by how beautiful Keith is—this close he can see the faint purple freckles across his cheeks. He almost struggles just to prolong the moment, but there’s no way out of the pin, and his tail is screaming for relief from the pressure.

            “I yield.” Keith smiles and tugs Lance to his feet.

            “You’re a bit off balance, I can’t tell why though.” He steps back to look at the way Lance stands. Lance tries to not look away under the scrutiny.

            Although with all Keith’s attention he had mostly forgotten about the audience in the gym.

            “Hey, can you walk for me? Maybe it’s your stance.”

            Lance walks back and forth and shows Keith his fighting stance a few times.

            Keith mostly looks confused.

            “Well, lets go again and just try to think about being rooted through your feet to the ground.”

            “Alright,” Lance still feels exhausted from the first spar, still sore from where he landed on his tail.

            Keith flies at him without warning this time. Lance barely dodges but takes the offensive in retaliation.

            He ends up catching Keith’s thigh when he goes to kick Lance. He thinks he might be able to down him. Then Keith throws all his weight to the floor. Lance is dragged down by his grip on Keith’s leg. Lance rolls to avoid hitting the floor headfirst and Keith uses the momentum to roll to land on top of Lance.

            The way they land Keith’s weight goes to the leg Lance wrapped his tail around. The impact causes something to crack in Lances lower back and he barely holds back a yelp.

            “Fuck! I yield, I yield.”

            Keith rolls off faster than Lance had seen him move during their whole match. Leaving Lance panting up at the ceiling and wondering why he hadn’t slept for another thirty hours.

            “Sorry, sorry, I heard that. I think you might need the medbay, can you stand?” Keith doesn’t immediately confront Lance about what he probably felt when he was straddling him. 

            Lance stands up through the pain.

            “Yeah I think I just pulled something,” he takes a few steps and they burn up his spine.

            He can hear Keith behind him as he makes his way to the door. He can also hear a room full of Galra pretending to not be paying attention to him. When he makes it through the door, he places a hand on the wall outside and breathes through the pain that rolls over him.

            He hears the soft shunk noise as the door shuts behind them.

            “You’re a good actor, haven’t seen someone walk with a dislocated tail since wartime.”

            Lance doesn’t reply, he wishes Keith would shut his stupid beautiful face for a minute.

            “Do you think you can walk to your room? If I lift you it might make it worse.”

            “I’ll walk,” Lance grunts through grit teeth as he starts to walk with a hand on the wall.

“Just make sure I don’t fall over.”

            /

            Lance falls onto the bed when they make it to his quarters.

            “Wait, weren’t we going to the medbay?”

            “We can, but I thought you’d want to get out of those clothes, do you have sweatpants or something you can wear with your tail untucked?”

            “Yeah…” Lance heaves himself up again and starts to undress.

            He hears Keith’s inhale at the sight of his tail.

            He knows how it must look. Strange, like a lion’s tail, ropey and short furred all the way down to the fluffy long hair that’s grown out about five inches to just sweep the floor when he stands still.

            The dark brown of the fur matches his hair but at the base fades to a deep purple. Markings of the same colour run up and down his hips all the way to his armpits.

            He gets his soft sleepshirt over his head and finally turns to face Keith. He mentally begins preparing to walk through the base and have his first impression be defined by walking through the halls with his tail out and pyjamas on.

            Keith looks a little nervous.

            “Look Lance, if you want, I can probably relocate it?”

            “You can?”

            “Yeah, I’ve done it a few times for other Blades, yours really doesn’t look too bad.”

            Lance doesn’t really know Keith, but he knows him more than any medical staff on this station. Moreover, he would do anything to avoid the walk of shame to the medbay.

            “I’d really prefer you did it then.”

            “Okay, can you lay down on the bed,” Keith doesn’t seem phased, so Lance tries to keep his cool as he lies face down on the bed. Keith places a hand on his lower back and gently presses down.

            Okay, I am going to hold your tail. Is that okay?”

            Lance nods.

            “Have you ever dislocated a joint before?”

            “Yeah, I’ll bite down on something.”

            “Please do.”

            Lance rolls the edge of his blanket up and shoves it into his mouth. Then he feels Keith’s hand on the upper part of his tail just below where it connects to his back. It would be an intimate position if it didn’t hurt like holy hell.

            Its over with a crack much like the one Lance heard when it started. For a moment of silence, he feels nothing. Then pain rolls up his spine and he yowls.

            /

            Lance remains face-down as Keith uses medical wrap tightly around the base of his tail. It’s uncomfortable but not unbearable after Keith used some numbing spray on the joint. Apparently, the medicine cabinet was filled with all sorts of medical gear that Lance had yet to explore.

            “Okay, this should hold. You probably won’t need to wrap it for too long since Galra heal fast, but it will ensure you don’t accidently dislocate it again.”

            “Thanks,” Lance mumbles.

            “How does it feel now?”

            “Sore but better,” Lance says.

            “Good, now where are the rest of your clothes. I can probably get them altered for you by tonight if I get them to the techs soon.”

            Keith starts to move about the room digging for Lances things.

            “Wait!” Lance jolts up and almost rips his clothes out of Keith’s hands before realizing what he’s doing. He stops short, embarrassed, Keith stares at him in shock.

            Lance doesn’t know what to say so he repositions himself to lay on his stomach facing Keith. Keith folds the suit he was holding neatly and sets it down before sitting on the floor to face Lance.

            “Why were you hiding your tail?” Lance flinches, right to the point then.

            “I…uh.”

            “I know its probably been rough, going through the change on your own. But there’s nothing wrong with being proud of who you are.” Keith says with a very serious face that makes Lance feel like a fool.

            “But none of the Galra have tails, Ulaz definitely doesn’t, you know it’s not a normal thing for humans, right? I didn’t even know having my clothes altered for it was an option.”

            Keith gapes at Lance, and then shakes his own head.

            “Lance, lots of Galra have tails, it’s a dominant trait. During wartime when Zarkon was in power every Galra who worked for his armies was expected to dock their tails to show their fealty. Most Blades did it to blend in or were forced to before defecting. Ulaz must have had a tail.”

            “So that’s why I haven’t seen any Blades with tails…”

            “Lots of younger Blades still have their tails Lance, didn’t you notice a few in the gym?”

            “I…Ulaz never said anything.”

            “He should’ve, there’s no way you could’ve known Lance. He might’ve thought you didn’t have one. There’s only one other Galra-Human so it’s hard to know what to expect.”  

            “Oh really? Me and who? You’ve got to introduce me to them Keith.”

            Keith laughs.

            “Sorry I ended up getting hurt… thanks for your help Keith.”

            “It’s really not your fault, I remember when I started to go through the Galra growth spurt, and I couldn’t fit into anything. It sucks.”

            “Adult puberty was kind of a nightmare.”

            “Right?” Keith laughs again and moves to collect Lance’s clothes.

            Lance watches him move about the room, careful to only pick up clothing items and not disturb anything else.

            “I’ll bring these back tonight. If you’re up for it then I can take you for a ride.”

            Lance’s brain shorts out again and picks back up when he realizes what Keith means.

            “Yeah! That would be great.”

            “Rest well,” Keith says, and then he’s gone.

            Lance stares at the walls before pulling his communicator out of his bag beside the bed. He opens it up and begins sending messages to Hunk and Pidge.

/

Chapter Text

4.

            Space is breathtaking. The controls make a dull hum, almost a purr, when Keith flies.

            Lance can already imagine how it will feel in his own hands.

            “It’s wow…”

            “C’mon it can’t look that different from when you were last out here.”

            “It can! It’s different. We’re out here for leisure not travel!”

            “I guess so,” Keith makes a smooth turn and Lance barely feels it.

            He eases the ship into a slow glide before turning to Lance, the dull red glow under the controls reflecting off his face.

            “Do you want to try?”

            “Am I allowed to?” Keith nods, already sliding out of the pilot’s seat.

            Lance slides into the seat as Keith takes his position behind him held up behind the pilot’s seat by a sort of mesh netting to allow for him to observe Lance.

            “Alright, show me what you’ve got.” Keith says.

            Lance tries to keep his laugh cocky rather than manic as he clutches the controls.

            They’re more sensitive than he expected and there are a few embarrassing jolts before he gets them on a smooth trajectory forward.

            “You’re good.” Keith says with a hum.

            “Just good? Not astounding? Showstopping? The best this side of the—” Keith scoffs and leans into Lance’s space and begins detailing each of the controls including galran names.

            Lance never had been one to get flustered by other languages. Already fluent in English and Spanish himself as well as having dabbled in a handful of other languages after the war.

            But galran was a league of its own. Keith spoke with such fluency, switching from his English with a hint of a southern drawl to the rough language effortlessly.

            Even worse is the way Keith brushes up against Lance’s shoulders and arms. The cockpit too tight for the two of them.

            Lance’s tail, still sensitive, is having a field day with the contact. Waving back and forth while Lance tries to keep it still and keep his poker face as he gets an even stronger whiff of Keith’s scent. It’s clean, soapy with a hint of ozone.

            By the time they land, Lance feels ready to melt. And by the time he makes it to his sleep cycle he realizes he’d forgotten his anxieties about his tail completely.

            The next morning his heart soars when Keith meets him to walk to the mess together and that’s when he realizes he’s already in too deep.

…

            Lance tries to keep it professional; he really does. But it’s hard when Keith is so pretty and also so competitive. If he was any younger, he’d probably treat Keith like a rival but instead it’s just exhilaration and companionship that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

            Lance spends his days in debriefings with pilots, learning the histories of the organization and meeting and memorizing the faces of his compatriots. But the rest of his time was all Keith.

            He’s sitting down in the mess at a full table across from Regris and Vrek with Keith beside him when he slips up.

            “Ulaz was left with no choice, he had to detonate to avoid capture and losing precious information which could mean the end of the war.”

            Lance leans forwards, rapt by the story. To hear how close Ulaz came to death. What would’ve happened to Lance if he had? What would’ve happened to the Blades? To Keith?

            Regris finishes the story with a flourish describing Ulaz’s narrow escape.

            The story makes Lance feel shaky with what ifs.

            He tries to brush it off with a laugh and an excited sound to sate Regris before focusing back in on his food.

            He’s shattered out of his thoughts when a warm palm smoothes up his back.

            “Are you feeling okay?”

            Keith’s face is far too close as he rubs his hand up and down Lance’s back while Lance tries not to lean into it too hard.

            “Yeah,” he tries to keep his brain functioning with the hand moving slow circles on his back, “just thinking about…things.” Keith’s mouth quirks up into a smirk.

            “I can tell.”

            Lance glances down and reels back when he sees his own tail is wrapped around Keith’s waist. He jumps back with so quickly he nearly topples the pair of them off the benches.  

            Lance rights himself with a squawk and unwinds his tail with careful focus.

            “Sorry! It’s like it has a mind of it’s own sometimes.” He folds it around his own forearms to try and keep the wild limb in check.

            “It’s okay Lance,” Keith pats his back again and Lance’s face heats.

            Vrek smirks though a bite of that grey vomit cube across the table. 

…

            He tries to pay more attention to his tail, but it seems adamant to wrap itself around Keith whenever it can. It’s mortifying every time it happens but eventually Lance gives up on trying.

            Keith doesn’t seem to mind, and Lance has noticed the Blades are quite tactile so maybe no one can tell that his feelings towards Keith are more than friendly.

            It’s comforting. Keith will sometimes lean into Lance if Lance’s tail wraps around his waist. It’s heavenly to feel the warmth of another body on his.

            Ever since the incident with his tail Keith has been touching him more and more.

            Lance would often research in the library as preparation for his first mission. He had the flight training down, was practicing sparring on the daily as well as weighing in on strategic meetings with Kolivan and other Blade leaders.

            The library was silent, and also had the most windows out of any area in the base.

            When Keith enters, he barely hears him coming. He’s the quietest of the Blades, lighter on his feet than any of the massive Galra like Antok —who mind you were also scarily quiet.

            Lance looks up from the holoscreen as Keith stops at the table.

            “Hey sharpshooter.”

            Lance grins, it feels good to be so close with someone. He feels so welcome here and he hasn’t even gone on his first mission.

            “That’s my name! Don’t wear it out. What can I do for you spitfire?” The nickname never fails to make Keith blush faintly purple in the dim lighting of the library.

            “Studying?” Keith reads aloud the galran words off the holoscreen and it makes Lance feel squirmy inside.

            He hasn’t felt like this since he was a teenager. Since before the war.

            “Yep,” he pops the p before scrolling down further on the screen, “trying to get in my language skills. Don’t want to accidently fly away when I’m being asked to land.”

            Keith laughs, it’s nice, and slides into the other cushioned chair beside Lance.

            Lance lets his tail curl around Keith’s ankle once it’s in range. He’s honestly not sure if it’s the tail or him that’s doing it anymore

            “I’m sure you’ll do fine. You learned all the basic words during Earth’s liberation, didn’t you?”

            Lance nods.

            “Then your fine. Don’t worry about the conversational stuff.”

            But Lance wants to worry about the conversational stuff. Making an effort is the least he can do after the Blade gave him such a nice job and let him live his dreams of flying amongst the stars. Plus, if he could speak galran maybe he could talk to Ulaz.

            “Why do you want to be part of the Blades anyway? You were already a high-level officer back on Earth, weren’t you?” Keith’s brows are furrowed in concern now. Lance releases the squeezing grip his tail had been giving Keith’s ankle.

            “Well…” It’s a big question Lance isn’t sure he can answer, “why did you leave Earth?”

            “My Dad passed when I was a kid. I was in care since I didn’t have any other family. Once I was old enough to take care of myself and have a job I moved out to Dad’s old shack in the desert near the Garrison. My Mom came back one night hoping to find me. Then she told me about the war and the Blades and well,” Keith shrugs, “it was an easy decision after that.”

            Keith gets a sad sort of look as he stares out at the stars.

            “I always dreamed I would be able to fly someday, but I didn’t think I’d make it this far.”

            Lance feels at a loss for words when Keith turns his smile back towards him.

            “Wow, we could’ve crossed paths before the War even happened.” Lance chuckles nervously.

            “Yeah…” Keith trails off and instead turns his near purple gaze onto Lance. The way he stares makes Lance feel like Keith is peeling away his layers.

            “I left because I did all I could there. They wanted a leader not a pilot and being a pilot is why I started flying in the first place. I want to see the galaxy and to be there on the ground providing aide, not just cooped up in and office.”

            “I wouldn’t want to feel chained down either.”

            “Exactly, and I don’t know if it was like this for you, but I didn’t know…about Ulaz. My parents never said anything and with the way human reproduction generally works I never would’ve guessed.” He glances up when he realizes he’s been staring down at his hands. Keith nods and Lance continues.

            “I didn’t know something was missing but when Ulaz came up to me at the Garrison after the final battle on Earth I wasn’t really blindsided you know?”

            “Like ‘no wonder I’m like this I’m not even fully human.’” Keith offers.

            “Yeah! It was like I already sort of knew and I wanted to learn more, especially after I started to change. That’s why I’m worried about the conversational stuff,” he gestured to the language lesson on the holoscreen, “I want to know my culture, know where I’m from and who I am.”

            Keith presses his warm hand to Lance’s bicep.

            “Believe me Lance, I get it.”

            “I know you do.” Keith smiles then, and it makes Lance’s heart do a flip.

…

            “What in the universe are those?” Antok looks disturbed when Lance approaches the table in the mess. Keith snorts and then coughs as he chokes on some leafy greens.

            Lance had just returned from his first ‘mission’ which was less of a mission and more of a cargo run. He wasn’t complaining though, flying was better than desk work. Even though many different peoples had come to earth post-war, the short run to Olkari had been his first time post-war on an inhabited planet other than earth.

            It was fantastic.

            Sue him if he was feeling good and wanted to put on a pair of jeans and runners to kick back and relax a bit.

            “What Antok? Can’t handle these fire looks?” Lance hams it up, rolling through a few poses to show off his pants, even kicking up a knee and holding a hand up as if he’s looking at something in the distance.

            Keith laughs harder now, wheezing at Antok’s increasingly worried expression.

            “Ho-man fashion,” Vrek chimes in from down the table.

            “Those can’t be comfortable,” Lance squeaks as Regris appears behind him to tug on a belt-loop.

            “Hey! These are perfectly comfortable, tell them Keith.” Lance sets his own tray down and settles in between Regris and Acxa (who carefully ignores them).

            “I’m more of a leggings guy,” Keith chuckles again before finally calming down, “jeans are pretty durable though. They really aren’t as bad as they look Antok.”

            Antok grumbles something about ‘kits’ and continues to eat.

            “Human fashion gets way worse, you should see the hats.” Lance pulls out his communicator pad from his pocket and tries to search up some images.

            “How come we’ve never seen you in these je-aans Keith?” Regris waggles his eyebrows and Keith looks nervous—rightly so.

            “Oh, I’d enjoy that,” Acxa suddenly joins the conversation, leaning forward to tease Keith.

            Lance closes the pad to join in. Keith gives him a look, as if he could stop what was coming.

            “Fashion show!” Lance exclaims slightly too loud for sensitive Galra hearing and the whole table winces—himself included.  

            “No.” Keith says.

            “C’mon Keith, show us your casual outfits. Even just one? You must have some Earth clothes laying around.”

            “Yeah Keith!” A whole chorus of affirmatives ring out so loudly that other Blades turn to watch curiously.

            Keith growls and huffs before standing, and Lance tries to ignore how that growl makes him feel all squirmy. He guesses Galra are just big cats at the end of the day.

            Keith turns to walk away. Then he turns back with a serious face and leans close to the table.

            “Just one. Then not a word. You understand me? Silence.” He adds on in galran at the end before sweeping out of the mess.

            The tables falls back into idle chatter and Antok grills Lance about the stealth capabilities of his shoes. Of which there are none.

            Then with a woosh of the sliding doors Keith reappears and Lance’s jaw hits the floor.

            The leggings leave nothing to the imagination, much like the Blade flight suits but instead of panelled and armoured these leggings are mesh on the sides and as Keith walks Lance can make out the purple Galra markings along Keith’s muscular thighs.

            “I didn’t think he’d actually do it,” Regris whispers to Lance while the table all takes notice of his approach.

            The jacket is a deep red, shiny leather that accentuates his strong shoulders. He’s wearing a soft looking black shirt underneath. But most heart-stopping is the dark combat style boots that make a light clunk on the hard floors with each step Keith takes. They lace up to just below his knee.

            Regris puffs up and Lance jumps when Acxa lets out a wolf whistle so loud the whole mess goes silent.

            Then Vrek starts whooping and the whole table joins in making noise as Keith stalks over.

            Lance’s face feels hot.

            “There! Happy!?” Keith crosses his arms and he blushes pinkish purple.

            “I am blown away!” Regris complements.

            “No stealth whatsoever,” Antok grumbles.

            Acxa responds only by snapping photos.

            “Wait wait! Get Lance in the pictures Acxa.”

            “What no I’m fine here,” but Regris’s tail is already tugging on Lance’s arm.

            “Yeah Lance, get in on the photos,” Keith drawls with a hand on his hip.

            Lance stumbles into Keith’s space while the man eyes him warily, still holding himself uncomfortably.

            “You, uh, you look good.” Lance fumbles over reassuring Keith but he still gets a sweet smile in return. Although it turns devious as Keith begins to actually pose for the camera—popping a hip and propping an arm on Lance’s shoulder.

            Lance tries to muster a few poses to show off his jeans, but his tail has other ideas as it wraps itself around Keith’s leg.

            He tries to disentangle himself as Regris guffaws at them, but Keith swings an arm around Lance’s shoulder and holds him in frame while Acxa snaps pictures at all angles.

/

            Lance wakes from a nightmare.

            It happens. This one is not as bad as a full episode can be.

            He takes his blanket with him to the library viewing deck.

            Although he often doesn’t hear the other Blades coming, Lance can be stealthy if he wants too.

            He creeps through the halls, heart still pounding in his chest, as he avoids all contact with other Blades.

            The library is dark when he arrives. It’s always dark—y’know cause space, but no one is reading or even perusing the stacks.

            Lance is wired.

            He settles down on the hard floor to feel grounded, although it’s hard to feel grounded when you cannot really touch hard earth beneath you. He knows the metal under him is sturdy but it’s not the same.

            There’s the light whooshing noise of the library doors but he thinks nothing of it. He continues to stare into space and attempt to even out his breath. He keeps his blanket over his head and shoulders like a cloak for some semblance of privacy.

            He knows that the Galra all have a very keen sense of smell—one of the few traits he did not inherit. Even if he was well hidden, they would probably know it’s him.

            “Aren’t you cold sitting on the floor?”

            Lance’s tail is already curling around Keith’s calve before he speaks.

            Lance doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what to say, and looks up at Keith.

            Keith looks tired, bags under his eyes and an obvious muss of bedhead.

            “Here, come sit with me.” Keith moves away to some of the windows hidden within the stacks. They’re smaller, but each has an alcove with a soft padding meant for reading.

            Lance never uses them, he hates trying to focus on reading while also on something the consistency of a bed.

            He follows Keith without question and joins him on the small seat. Each of them has a back against the hard wall of the reading alcove so they are facing each other with their legs tangled up in the middle.

            Lance rearranges his blanket to cover their legs.

            “What are you doing up?” He asks Keith.

            “Insomnia,” Keith offers, visibly snuggling his legs further into Lance’s space under the blanket.

            Lance is too drained to get flustered. He focuses on the feeling of a warm body touching his own.

            Keith yawns.

            “You don’t have to stay up with me,” Lance offers without looking at Keith, waiting for the man to grill him about the trauma keeping him up at night.

            Keith makes a sort of humming sound and then all Lance hears is the even slow breaths of someone falling asleep.

            With the weight of Keith’s legs tangled with Lance’s makes him want to cry. He feels guilty taking advantage of the moment. Keith’s face already gone slack with sleep.

            But it’s warm, and the stars are right there, and Keith has fallen asleep on top of Lance like it’s the easiest thing in the universe.

            So, Lance falls asleep too.

Chapter Text

            “They look like crumpled napkins.” Lance says, crushing another failed attempt at a folded flower.

            “It’s not that bad Lance, c’mon I know you can do it.”

            Lance tears off another piece of red paper he’d gotten at the space mall before starting the process again.

            “It’s not that easy Hunk, you’re the master of things like this,” Lance is surrounded by failed attempts.

            “He’ll probably be impressed,” Hunk waves his hands in and out of frame on the video-call as he talks, “everyone loves to get flowers!”

            “I have yet to go on a real mission and I rarely beat him in a spar. I’m already not that impressive.”

            “Shut up Lance, you know your awesome! Just lose yourself in the paper fold.”

            “Do you have a tail?” Another groggy sounding voice appears out of nowhere and suddenly the screen splits into two to reveal Pidge. Her glasses barely holding onto her nose as she leans over the side of her bed to look down into the screen.

            “How long have you been here!” Lance can feel the furred end of his tail puff up.

            “Long enough to know you have a tail or that becoming a space spy also made you a furry—no hate.”

            “Pidge!” Hunk stage whispers, “it’s a Galra puberty thing and he’s sensitive about it!”

            “I’m not sensitive about it!” Lance squawks.

             “Alright, alright, next time were in the same place though Lance you are letting me run some scans!”

            “Speaking of time? Isn’t it like 4am there Pidge?” Hunk redirects.

            “I’m twenty-four Hunk, I don’t have a bed-time.”

            This starts a back and forth of Hunk attempting to mother-hen Pidge from his diplomacy mission on the other side of the galaxy while Pidge argues that she’s far too old for Hunk’s concern which then devolves into tech-babble when the rest of the Holt family comes up.

            The conversation is so far derailed that Lance has no idea what they’re talking about anymore, but it makes him feel all fuzzy inside.

            The three of them lost touch a bit, especially after the war. All pulled in different directions and given promotions, positions and responsibilities far too heavy for them.

            It took years to feel like they could connect with each other again.

            “Anyways we’re supposed to be helping Lance! Who’re the flowers for?”

            “His Galra beau,” Hunk says dreamily, and way too loud.

            “Hey keep it down! I’ve got headphones on, but these Blades have such good hearing I can’t take a shit without on of them knowing!”

            Pidge laughs while Hunk covers his face in disappointment.

            “Lance! You can’t talk about bowel movements if you’re trying to win over an alien with romance! How’re the flowers looking?”

            “Hey, don’t say alien, I’m the alien here.” Lance glances down at the flower’s he’d been half working on while distracted by Hunk and Pidge.

            They don’t look half bad.

            “I think I did it!” He holds the flowers up to the camera for the others to get a good look.

            “Whoa buddy! I knew you could!”

            “Why not give him something practical, like a good c-wrench.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks for the help guys! I’ve got to get going if I’m going to beat Keith to the mess.”

            “Blergh” Pidge’s video cuts out.

            “Good luck loverboy! We believe in you!” Hunk waves before signing off.

…

            Lance is only just plating food when Keith makes it to the mess. He waves at the other man and holds up two plates to show he’s handling the food. Keith cocks his head before going to sit down at the usual spot.

            Lance is confident in his food choices and tries to place them on the plate carefully the way Keith sometimes does for him.

            When he approaches the table, Keith is watching him with plain curiosity. Then Lance puts the food down and Keith smiles.

            Lance can’t help but feel his tail shiver with joy.

            “Thanks Lance.”

            Lance steels himself and sits down across from Keith.

            “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out so much.”

            Keith’s eyes go wide.

            “I’m glad we met, I’m happy here.”

            “Whoa Lance, It’s nothing, really. I— I’m glad I met you too.”

            They stare at each other in awkward silence.

            “I made you this,” Lance suddenly feels childish, but it’s too late to back out now. He pulls the flowers out of his hip pouch and lays them gently in front of Keith who glares down at them.

            There’s another beat of heavy silence that makes Lance want to disappear.

            “I know they’re kind of—”

            “My dad’s shack used to have flowers that looked just like this, I never knew what they’re called.” Keith holds one up to the light with gentle fingers.

            “Lilies.” Lance offers.

            “hmm.” Keith gather’s the flowers together gently before looking back at Lance.

            “Thank you.” He says it with such sincerity, his eyes not looking away from Lance’s.

            “I’m glad you like them,” Lance rubs the back of his neck and hopes his blush isn’t too obvious, “did I get your breakfast order right?”

            Keith blinks, and looks down at the plate.

            Then he laughs.

            “Yeah you did,” Keith digs in and Lance finally relaxes.

            “I’ve got to put these somewhere safe after we eat, but do you want go for a flight after this?”

            Lance feels warm to his core. Keith looks a little nervous, it’s a cute look on him.

            “I’d love to.”

…

            The rest of the day goes amazing. They fly together and then spar and then Lance has meetings with some of the other pilots to map out the next few missions— all delivery runs. Still, there’s something exciting about running cargo from a super secret base.

            At dinner he sits at a full table with Keith across from him. They’re eyes meet every so often, more than normal. When Lance looks away Keith smirks. So, then Lance looks until he can get Keith to look away with a flushed face. Something’s changed.  

            Or at least that’s what Lance thinks.

There’s a crack noise and Lance is staring down the snout of a gigantic wolf.

            Keith throws himself at the animal while Lance scoots back so hard he and Antok both topple onto the floor.

            Then to Lance’s confusion, Keith doesn’t utilize his superior fight-training to incapacitate the wolf and instead rubs his face all over the animal and coos.

            “What is that!”

            “Kosmo,” Antok grumbles as he rights himself and goes to get a new tray of food since the other one was currently on the floor and window.

            The wolf side-eye’s Lance around Keith and Lance can imagine those sharp teeth ripping into him.

            “That’s Lance, he’s new.” Keith move’s aside and the wolf moves forward to nose at Lance’s cheek.

            “Uh, hi.”

            Lance stands and reaches a tentative hand for the wolf to sniff at.

            He sniffs and for a moment Lance worries he will bite but instead the wolf pushes his head into Lance’s hands and Lance pets at the surprisingly soft bluish fur.

            Keith smiles fondly when Lance looks to him to check his reaction.

            Then there’s the woosh and click of the automatic doors and Keith whirls around to face whoever entered the mess.

            Lance glances at the table and Regris just shrugs.

            The Galra who entered is one Lance has not seen before. He tries to not gape at him.

Lance and Keith are tall for humans but on the small side for Galra. This Galra was the opposite. His head very nearly touching the top of the high doorway as he steps into the mess.

            There’s a massive scar across his nose and soft purple fur with big, cat-like ears that flick and move as he scans the room.

            A dark blur barrels into him, nearly knocking the beefy Galra to the floor. But he’s prepared for it.

            He rights himself as Keith’s legs go around his waist. The smaller Blade nuzzles into the face of the newcomer much like how he rubbed himself against the wolf.

            Lance’s heart falls to his feet.

Chapter Text

            Lance has been accused of being performative, especially when he was younger. Maybe he was. But he’d learned there were places and times where it could save his ass.

            For example, flying a flaming MFE through Galra occupied territory with a few injured blades and garrison soldiers depending on him landing them safely home. He used that skill to keep everyone calm, conscious and talking while he flew.  

            Or, pretending he was not viciously jealous of Shiro.

            The guy is built like a tank. Gigantic muscles and massive height. When Keith first introduced him to Lance, he mumbled ‘another little one’ under his breath which only fueled Lance’s disdain for him.

            It was embarrassing, so Lance pushed and pushed himself to get up every day and join Keith and Shiro at breakfast as if he hadn’t been trying to make move’s on Keith.

            He considers avoiding them, he does avoid them for the first few days, but hiding from Keith would mean admitting his pride was wounded.

            Which it wasn’t. Lance wasn’t a child, he’s not an ass who makes assumptions and then gets his feelings hurt when he finds out he was wrong.

            That’s what he told himself.

…

            Keith still spars solo with Lance for the first movement.

            Then one morning Shiro joins them at the gym, distracting Lance momentarily so that Keith can get him pinned. He lets out a grunt that sounds more like a growl—a habit learned from the blades— as he hits the mats.

            “Hello,” Shiro rumbles as he approaches the two, Lance tries to look inviting with a kind smile. Even though all he can think is gods please no.

            “Perfect timing. Lance, I hope you don’t mind but we were talking about you and we thought since Shiro has a tail you could train together.”

            “Oh?”

            “If you would allow it, Lance,” Shiro’s fluffy ears are trained solely on Lance as he brushes himself off.

            “Sure,” Lance lifts his arms above his head and stretches side to side, “what do you have in mind?”

            “We could spar for now, later you can try to engage your tail rather than just keeping it out of the way as you have been.” Shiro explains.

            “I could do that, what about Keith?”

            “I’ll just be your eyes over here, can tell you both what I see to improve,” Keith walks off the mats and grabs his water pouch before sitting down to stretch.            

            Lance can’t help but stare at his strong thighs and the muscles twinge. He’s enamoured by the way Keith’s braid slides off his shoulder to hang beside his scarred cheek as he folds forward to press his elbows to the floor.

            When he turns back to face Shiro he finds him watching.

            Feeling caught out, Lance steps back a few paces and bounces on the balls of his feet.

            “Ready whenever you are big guy.”

…

            Lance is bruised and exhausted by the time he makes it back to his room, still shivering from the gym shower.

            Keith is viper-like and inhumanely fast in a fight. Shiro by comparison is downright sadistic. On top of Lance having to move even faster to avoid a much larger opponent, Shiro also had strong and confident style. Instead of dodging like Keith would, Shiro would catch Lance’s hits and use them to drag him forwards. Even when Lance was holding his own, he would forget Shiro’s long tail and it would coil around his own—throwing him off balance.

            Every day for a whole movement their routine goes like this; Lance eats breakfast, he and Keith spar, then Shiro joins them and pushes the limits of Lance’s stamina farther than he thought was possible.

            On this particular quintant, just after they finish, he gets a message from Kolivan. He’s got his first real mission. Recon and evaluation on the planet Haava’sl where there’s whispering of an ex-warlord causing trouble for the recovering post-war society.

            He scrambles to pack, squirming into his blade suit and showering off from his most recent sparring session. He practices activating and deactivating his mask and watches his face in the mirror disappear into that eerie purple Marmora glow.

            He packs light, which is to say, barely anything but rations, his knife and communication devices. Then he picks up a blaster from the weapons vault, straps it over his back and heads down to the docking bay.

            He’s already finishing the pre-flight checks when he hears the heavy footfalls of another Blade entering the small metallic hull.

            “Lance.”

            Oh no.

            The flight suit leaves very little of Shiro’s gigantic build to the imagination, and for a moment Lance can only stare at the larger man’s rippling thighs as he feels dread sit heavy in his stomach.

            “Hey Shiro! I guess you’re my partner today! You ready to fly out of here?”

            Shiro only nods. Performing the mandatory double checks that the ship’s emergency gear is in place. The scar on his face is stark in the dim red glow of the controls.

            Shiro takes the position in the mesh seat behind Lance. Lance radios control and gets approval for liftoff before steering them out of the asteroid field.

            Then Kolivan’s gruff voice takes over the comms.

            “You both read your debriefing. This is a recon only mission. Remain unseen. Find information about numbers, ships and upcoming plans so we can evaluate the threat and decide on if involvement is necessary. If discovery becomes a risk disengage immediately and return to base. Am I understood?”

            “Yes.” Lance and Shiro chorus in affirmative before the comms go quiet again.

            Then there’s silence.

“You don’t like me very much.”

Lance jolts. It’s not a question, Shiro states it as a fact.

“Pfft, what!?”

“I’m better at reading body language than you’d expect. Especially since you have a tail.”

Lance deflates and mentally berates the appendage that was curling around his forearm while he flew.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I’m sorry if I have been rude to you.” And Lance means it, Shiro doesn’t seem like a bad person. He’s actually sickeningly kind.

Lance thought he hid his discomfort better than that.

“You have not been, but you are visibly uncomfortable. Why?”     

There’s something else in Shiro’s tone that Lance can’t quite pinpoint.

“You’re just, y’know,” Lance tries to shrug while flying so it comes out as more of a twitch, “intimidating.”

“I scare you…”

“What!” Lance steals a glance back and sees Shiro’s eyes are trained on the floor while his massive ears droop.

Now Lance recognizes that tone, sadness…with a tinge of insecurity.

“Hey big guy, you’re not scary. I just meant you are talented and strong and kei—er, everyone thinks you’re great! It makes a guy like me feel like there’s not much he can offer.”

A heavy hand lands on Lance’s shoulder.

“You have much to offer!” Shiro says and with the words Lance feels the gentle curl of something around his ankle.

“Thanks buddy.”

The rest of the flight is mostly silent save for the few times Shiro softly suggests changes to the flight path for Lance.

He would be offended if it was anyone else. But Shiro truly is a talented Blade, every suggestion he gives is efficient and offered with humility.

After their conversation it’s like the irritation Lance was feeling melts away. Leaving only guilt.

…

Lance takes pride in how flexible he is. Although he’s a bit lanky, he thinks his body makes up for it by being able to fit in small places, or almost do the splits if he stretches frequently.

However, this also means he is the obvious option to crawl through the vents of the small complex that he and Shiro are meant to infiltrate.

While Shiro is downloading info from a dock in the back-entrance Lance gets to feel the joys of sliding through dusty vents teen movie style to reach a glowy blue room with a lot of wires and ports.

He plugs in his blade issue communicator device and lets it do it’s magic while dusting himself off.

“I am 90% finished cleaning out these records. Report Lance?”

“I’ve reached the other ports; I’m copying the intel right now.”

“That’s great, are you able to look at the viewscreens, there should be a log of their forces there.”

“On it,” Lance moves to kneel in front of the tiny screen which flickers to life at his touch.

He reads through the logs. Watching small lights move across the small planet’s map like fireflies. There’s a cluster of light moving towards the small storage complex that Shiro and Lance are in.

He scrolls down to see the timestamp.

“Uhhh, Shiro… we’ve got incoming.”

“How long?”

“Ten doboshes, maybe less.”

Then Shiro mumbles something in Galran that the earpiece barely picks up—possibly a curse.

“Get back to the ship, I’ll start pre-flight checks.”

“But I haven’t finished in here.”

“Doesn’t matter, get back now. We jeopardize the whole operation if they spot Blades this early on.”

Lance is already detaching wires and tidying the space as they speak. He opens up his map of the vents and lifts himself back into the tight space.

He’s glad the blade mask has a built in air purifier.

It’s easy to tug the vent shut and crawl quickly, he doesn’t bother being quiet since the complex is empty—for now.

His focus is speed.

“Shiro, I think I’ve found a vent that’ll let me out right near the ship. Can you see it?”

“Yes.”

Lance follows the new route until he can see the dim light of Haava’sl’s moons.

Then the vent drops out from under him.

He lets out a grunt as he hits the metal of the vent in a jumble.

“Lance? You okay?”

“I’m fine. Nearly there.” Something in his ankle feels wrong, but there’s hardly time for it.

Lance scrambles up the other side of the drop and back into the longer vents. This time he keeps his hands far in front of him to feel out another dip in the vents. There aren’t any.

Small incisions with his spy’s tools and a shove allows him to slide out of the vent’s entrance and drop to the ground. He feels the shock of the drop up his leg and into his hip.

It nearly makes him buckle.

But he can hear the sound of a ship approaching from the opposite direction. He needs to be in the pilot’s seat to get them out of there.

He pushes through the pain and jogs as fast as he dares to their ship.

Inside, Shiro is waiting for him—the controls already warmed up.

…

Shiro spends the flight combining their intel into one folder for Kolivan. As he works he reads aloud the details to Lance, stopping to translate every so often on turns of phrase that would likely go over Lance’s head.

Lances hums and haws in interest as he flies, welcoming the distraction as his leg starts to sting.

“I saw the flowers, they were beautiful. Keith really loves them.”

Lance didn’t realize he could possibly zone out while flying an extremely dangerous spacecraft, but apparently, he’d reached new lows today. He tenses up when Shiro brings up the flowers and nearly makes a noise from the pain.

Lance isn’t stupid, Shiro is trying to reach out again. He decides the guilt isn’t worth it.

“Shiro, about what we talked about earlier. It’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just…” He glances over his shoulder and can see Shiro’s ears are straight up as he listens intently, it’s cute.

“I became very close with Keith when I first came to the Blade,” Lance expects that this will explain everything Shiro needs to know. He wonders if Shiro will punch him or something.

“I don’t think I follow?”

“Uhhh, I’m just trying to set healthy boundaries? You know?”

“Healthy boundaries…” Shiro says this pensively. When Lance takes another glance over his shoulder, he can see Shiro is rubbing his chin and his ears flick back and forth.

“Because I respect you, and Keith…and uh, you seem very happy together.”

“oh.”

Lance doesn’t look back to check Shiro’s expression. Embarrassment makes him feel hot on the back of his neck. He can feel the weight of Shiro’s gaze. Staving off the embarrassment he focuses on flying, a distraction from the pain in his leg. It throbs with his heartbeat.

They dock in silence.

There’s a heavy hand on Lance’s shoulder as he flicks switches and buttons for the post-flight check.

“Good mission. I’ll deliver what we’ve got to Kolivan. I’m glad we got to work together.” Shiro’s palm is warm on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance manages a smile, although it feels strained, and pats Shiro’s hand.

“Good mission. You were great out there.”

“You too,” Shiro’s hand leaves him as the doors open and they both stand to disembark.

Lance’s ankle sends pain shooting up his leg with every step.

He breathes through his nose when he pauses at the top of the ramp.

You can do this. Just make it to your room.

Shiro whirls around in front of him, nostrils flared.

“Lance are you feeling okay?”

“I am feeling peachy!” Shiro cocks his head to the side, “that’s an expression, means I’m fine.”  Lance sweats while Shiro watches him for a moment before nodding slowly.

He waits until Shiro’s back is turned before starting down the ramp.

Then the floor is moving up fast as his ankle makes a strange click and he stumbles to get his weight off it. Lance yelps, and he hears Shiro’s sound of shock and closes his eyes and lifts his hands to break his fall.

There’s something soft under him.

When he squints an eye open, he finds Shiro’s face far too close to his. Large arms under lance’s upper body to break his fall.

Shiro must’ve dove to catch him. This makes Lance’s insides feel squirmy, but he ignores it with a hiss and Shiro tries to shift him upright and moves his injured leg.

“When did this happen?”

“When I was heading back to the ship on Haava’sl.” Lance says as he sits up.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Shiro asks, his hands just fluttering over Lance as if barely holding back the instinct to check for injuries.

“No, just the lower leEEYG!”

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s being hefted up by Shiro like a damsel in distress and carried in the direction of the medbay.

“You should have said something,” Shiro admonishes while Lance reels from his position.

The chest pressed against his body is strong and warm. Shiro barely strains at all as he makes quick strides down the hall. Lance feels warm from the attention. Up close he can see the fine lines of scars along Shiro’s chin, and the fluff of his large ears that are practically begging to be touched.

Shiro’s gaze moves down and suddenly Lance is staring into gray eyes.

Lance looks away.

“It wasn’t this bad when it happened or I would’ve said, I guess it was just the adrenaline.”

Shiro just huffs as the sliding doors of the white medbay open around them and he plants Lance down on an examination table. He can see behind a partition that there’s a sleeping form on one of the beds, and another Blade with them.

“Vikyl,” Shiro says.

The standing Blade peers out from the partition, taking one look at Lance and letting out a heaving sigh before disappearing again.

They reappear again.

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh, my ankle is maybe broken.”

“Hmm, alright, get this off,” they prod at Lance’s shoulder and he obliges.

It feels strange to shimmy out of the flight suit while Shiro sits down on a comically small stool beside him but the pain in his leg distracts him from being embarrassed by his space themed boxer-briefs.

“Lance, yes? I’ve heard about you from Ulaz. I’m going to scan this first and see what’s broken.”

Vikyl confirms that a few spots are fractured but do not need surgical intervention. The injury is not bad enough to keep him bed ridden so they decide to forgo any Altean or Galra healing technology in favour of good old-fashioned human healing.

Shiro refuses to leave Lance alone in the medbay. He sends off a few pings and momentarily Kolivan appears. They debrief while Lance sits with ice on his ankle and then Kolivan takes a turn admonishing Lance for hiding an injury, mutters something about human recklessness and then leaves.

It’s only when Vikyl is wrapping Lance’s ankle that Keith comes barreling through the doors and makes a beeline for Lance’s bed.

“Are you okay? I came as fast as I could, but I was training some new recruits,” his hair is a mess and his face is flushed as if he’d ran there. Knowing Keith, he probably did.

“I’m fine. Really, it’s just my ankle.”

Keith’s gaze roves over him.

Lance squirms under the attention while there’s a pregnant pause, the only sound the soft brushing of fabric on fabric as Vikyl ties the wrap off.  

“Shiro has the same briefs,” Keith says.

Keith’s large boyfriend turns dark purple so fast that Lance cannot help but laugh. Shiro puts a large hand over his face in embarrassment. Lance’s laugh turns into a guffaw as Keith ruffles Shiro’s hair where he sits on the short stool beside the bed. 

Chapter Text

 The tundra bites at Lance’s skin as he makes his way out of the ship in full winter gear. It’s strange to wear white after the blacks and purples of the Blade uniform and the extra long cuffs of the outfit make work with his hands extra annoying—but there wasn’t time to get the rarely used tundra outfit to fit Lance’s human-sized body. It was a fairly simple pick-up, all he needs to do is blend in.

As he pulls off a small chunk of asteroid debris and begins patching the hull, he can’t help but wonder what Keith and Shiro are up to.

Shiro has been back on base for just over two Earth months now, and Lance is happy to admit he’d warmed up to him. It was easy when Shiro’s ears were all droopy when he ate breakfast across from Lance at the mess in the early hours of the day cycle. Like a big sleepy cat.

Hanging around the couple had become second nature to Lance at this point. Shiro helped him hone his tail skills and he and Keith would quiz Lance on his galran all hours of the day.

To thank them Lance had invited them to watch an Earth movie in his bunk, which had lead to a tradition. Each movement the three of them would pile together in Lance’s room and watch a movie. Shiro sometimes struggled to understand what was happening without the context of being raised on earth, but he particularly liked the animated films. Keith, on the other hand had an affinity for horror—which surprised no one. But, he also passionately loved romcoms, even going so far as to shed tears during dramatic confessions. When that happened, he would cry openly, shamelessly, and sometimes Shiro would reach out a long finger to swipe the tears away with a sort of puzzled look on his face.

It was moments like these that made Lance feel like a third wheel. Like he was witnessing something he shouldn’t—something private.

He wishes he could reach out and brush the tears from Keith’s face. Wishes he didn’t have to hold his tail back from curling around Keith whenever there was a jump-scare.

Recently though, his tail’s mind of it’s own had been quelled. Now, when Lance’s tail gave him away Shiro’s would reach out and stop Lance’s from curling around Keith’s leg or side. At first it had made Lance jump, side eyeing Shiro to see if it was a territorial thing. But Shiro kept eating like nothing was the matter. Lance concluded, Shiro was being kind, helping Lance keep himself in check around Keith.

Jokes on Shiro though. Even while working Lance supresses a shiver at the phantom feeling of a long tail curling around his own. His tail, and by extension Lance, was just as happy wrapped around Shiro’s as it was on Keith’s ankle.

“I’m a mess,” Lance mumbles as he pounds the patch in place before heading back to his ship to await his pick-up.

Sat in the pilots seat, with his feet on the dash is when the ping goes off, and then a much more urgent beep.

Immediate extraction necessary, new meeting point, coordinates to follow.

“Fuck.”

Lance flies in low with the lights off. The light of the compound ahead his only guide as he lands just on the outskirts. Only releasing his breath when he touches down in near silence.

He activates his mask and the world becomes clearer. Ahead he can see old age sentries on platforms surrounding a warehouse-looking building, that seems half buried in snow. Massive floodlights illuminate the entirety of the space which is a sort of clearing sunken below the level of the ice that Lance has landed on. Essentially, it’s a bowl. Escape would be near impossible.

Not without a distraction.

Lance slings his gun over his shoulder before trekking out into the snow. It’s thankfully only ankle deep, so when he jogs to a position further from the ship it’s easy to move quickly and silently.

Finally, about five minutes away from the ship he settles down into the snow with a grimace. Before lining up his scope to take a closer look.

He cannot see any life, but he doubts the base is only full of sentries. Likely any living enemies were deep in the base enjoying warmth while they left the robot soldiers to suffer the cold.

There’s a loud whirring sound as a massive door, slides open on the main building, and multiple hover vehicles begin to slowly move out.

There’s a flash of something else moving carefully in between two pillars.

Lance clocks it, and then slides over to one of the vehicles to look for the fuel line.

BOOM.

Lance barely winces when an explosion creates a distraction before he can. His mark darts through the vehicles in the aftermath as one of the nests of sentries is downed.

But they need a little more help.

He pulls the trigger and one of the hover vehicles explodes in purple fire. He pops off a few more rounds, downing sentries and causing general mayhem as the entirety of the base is given the impression they are under attack by more than just a sharpshooter in a glorified snowsuit.

He doesn’t wait to see if anyone was able to calculate his position from his shots. He swings the gun over his back and takes off at a dead sprint—and is thankful for all the training he’d been doing.

The winds are picking up when he sees the ship in the distance.

“Perfect tim—” he chokes off as something catches him around the ankle and he tumbles to his knees. Thanks again to his blade training he turns the fall into a roll, grabbing his gun and popping off a shot at his assailant that grazes their large shoulder before he’s being charged once more.

He ducks around them, landing a hit in on their back with the butt of his gun before running a ways in the opposite direction of the ship—which his attacker had not seemed to notice yet in the dark and snow.

Their mask is a silvery blue in the dark while their garb is long and flowing; Lance can make out tufts of fur rather than skin peeking out below the protective gear.

“Little spy,” the growl is identifiably galran, but it is also decidedly not friendly.

They take the offensive again, charging Lance so fast he is barely able to dodge. He whips his tail out and catches a thick ankle before yanking in the opposite direction.

The choice is one Lance immediately regrets as they topple and end up taking Lance down with them. He scrambles to get them pinned but their strength is too great. He is dragged to the ground by the strap of his gun.

On instinct he squirms out from under the constrictive material and decides to make a break for it but as he dashes there is a ripping sound and suddenly his spine feels like it’s on fire.

He falters with a gasp, turning to find the large Galra is on their knees and brandishing bloody claws.

They move too quick after that. He tries to grab at their mask as they lunge at him but he is not fast enough. His already burning back hits the ice—hard.

There are claws at his throat.

“Who do you work for?” they ask.

This is it, Lance thinks, it was good while it lasted. Might as well come up with some good last words.

“Who do yoU wOrk for!?” He mentally slaps himself.

They freeze atop him, weight going slack and claws only just cutting into Lance’s neck.

“Uh, did that really work??” Lance stammers.

Then the body of his assailant falls on top of him with a sickening schlick noise.

Lance scrambles out from underneath the heavy weight and comes up to his knee’s panting.

He flinches when a hand lands on his shoulder.

He readies himself for another fight but instead faces a mask identical to his own. In their hands is a bloodied blade and Lance’s discarded firearm.

No words are necessary. The other blade hands him his gun and they jog back to the ship.

The skin of Lance’s back feels numb with cold but he grits his teeth as he opens the latch and races to the pilots seat to boot up the systems.

It only takes moments for him to start the steady low and slow flight out of range, and doboshes to reach a distance at which he can fully power up the ship. He boots the heating system into high gear and lights up the cockpit with that comforting red glow before breaking through the atmosphere.

“Two ships on our tail.” These are the first words he’s heard from his pick-up. Their voice is smooth and calm.

“No worries, make sure your buckled up back there, this may get a little bumpy.” The blade scoffs.

The ice planet has multiple moons as well as a field of debris surrounding it. It’s not the classic asteroid field getaway, but it’s something close.

Only when they have made their getaway, and the adrenaline begins to fade does Lance feel the full sting of the claw marks up his back.

“You’re injured.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. But it doesn’t feel too bad, I can wait until we get back to base.” Lance glances back at the still masked blade, his mask is still on too.

He wonders what the post-mission etiquette for taking them off is. He’ll have to ask Keith.

“We are in a fairly quiet zone, turn on autopilot. I’ll clean your wounds.”

He looks at the star maps and hears the clang of the panel that holds the first aid supplies. He wants to argue, but this blade’s uniform is one that matches only two he has seen so far; Kolivan and Ulaz.

He decides he’d rather not get on the bad side of such a high-ranking blade and does as he’s told. He flicks on autopilot and maneuvers through the cramped space to begin peeling down his tundra gear.

He winces as some of it tugs on the cuts across his back but he perseveres until his back is completely bare.

He considerers his mask for a moment before deciding fuck it and taking it off.

“So should I, uh…” they direct him to the floor so he sits down cross legged while the blade settles behind him.

There is a quiet clink as they set their mask down on the floor beside Lance. He wants to look at their face but decides it would probably be rude.

“I’m Lance by the way. I’ve been new on base since after you left for your mission.”

He rubs the back of his neck when cool fingers prod at his back.

“These are deep, they will scar.”

Lance laughs a little then. His body is already a myriad of scars from the war. Judging by the location of these new scratches they cut right through the nastiest of his scars. The burn from a plasma blast he took to his back when he was covering an injured blade during one of his worst flights. It burned right through his suit. If he’d been wearing anything thinner, it would’ve burned a hole through his spine.

This was a cat-scratch by comparison.  

“I don’t mind. Are they still bleeding?”

“Somewhat, I’ll tape them up and then Ulaz can stitch them up when we return.”

He listens to the ripping of medical tape and then the thunk of a bottle.

“This will sting.”

He can’t help but hiss at the antiseptic. There is immediate relief though as they smear on something goopy that seems to suck all the feeling out of his back.

“Ulaz is away on a mission. Has been since I joined.”

There’s a hum of acknowledgement and then the strange tugging on the sides of his back that signifies the pulling together of the cuts.

“Finished. I hope that this may repay the debt I owe you. In some small way.”

If Lance had a dime for every time a blade said something extremely confusing to him while cramped up in a tiny ship, he would have two dimes. Which is far too many in his opinion!

Finally, he whips around to look them in the eye and comes face to face with someone who looks achingly familiar.

“What?!”

It takes him a moment, to connect dots and also do some mental math about Keith’s age to come to a conclusion. A name he heard from Keith many times when the other man would reminisce about when he first arrived on base. Krolia.

“You’re Keith’s mother!”

“Yes.”

“Keith didn’t tell you I was picking you up! I would’ve tried to make a better impression than getting beat up in the tundra.”

Krolia’s smirk mirrors Keith’s. It’s uncanny.

“You made your first impression many years ago,” her hands (still sticky with ointment) come up to grasp Lance’s own, “during the war on Earth.”

“Did I fly for you?” For a moment he’s embarrassed he may have forgotten her face in amongst the sort of blurry mixture of faces that he remembered from the war.

“No. But you saved my son’s life.”

“I—What?”

She cocks her head in a confused expression that matches how Lance feels.

“Did they not tell you why you were allowed to pass by the trials?”

“Well Ulaz—”

“Ulaz and I are of the same rank, my son went through the trials as all Blades must. The difference is that you went through them during the war, in pursuit of knowledge, in pursuit of freedom you flew for blades and your own kind in equal measure. You never feared us, and you did not even know of Ulaz at the time.”

“Well you aren’t really that scary.” He mumbles.

“Green Rain.”

The words make the mission play behind Lance’s eyes like a film reel. He can hear the screaming of civilians, the explosions of other planes shot right out of the sky at his side, the voices of compatriots there one moment and radio crackle the next. He can see the destroyed buildings. The teams of blades running through the dust like they were born for it.

He can see blood, soaking through the fabric of a blade uniform. His hands putting pressure around the chunk of rebar that had skewered one of the faceless spies without which the Earth would not have survived. He can feel the sting of the plasma shot, the agony tearing across his back as he curls over the blade to cover them until their own allies can provide cover fire to make their escape. He can feel the weight of the body as he and Kolivan throw it up onto the metal floor of the plane—no time to be gentle. The way it felt like his skin melted off onto the back of his pilots chair as he flew out of there— still talking. While Kolivan held bloody hands against the gaping hole in the blade and civilians and soldiers alike could not hold back their whimpering as the hull shook and the ringing of canon fire filled the air.

There’s a soft hand on Lance’s cheek.

“That was Keith.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Krolia pats his cheek as if she hasn’t dropped world shattering information.

He gets up in a sort of daze, like his brain has turned itself off except for basic functions.

He barely hears Krolia’s warning about his back as he settles back into the pilot’s chair. He loses himself in star maps and the void of the space they fly through. Then, as he always does in a crisis, he starts talking.

“So, Keith’s mom huh? I bet you have some stories to tell! He’s been helping me with my galran you know but Shiro says his accent is quite nasally. Now I don’t know if that’s true but…”

They land during the night-cycle of the base. Nonetheless, Keith is stood there in the soft workout clothes the blades all wear. Lance can make out the wry little smirk on his face even as he is doing the docking checks.

Lance considers trying to pull his winter gear up to cover his injuries but thinks better of it. Instead he ties the sleeves around his waist and commits to a shirtless walk to the medbay.

When Lance disembarks he is shocked to find Krolia and Keith in a tight embrace. She strokes his hair gently and Keith has his face tucked into her neck.

Lance is nearly flattened by homesickness. Watching Krolia stroke Keith’s hair reminds him of his mama. He wonders what she is doing. Does she think of him as often as he thinks of her?

He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop missing his parents.

He shakes the feeling off. But his brain provides and image of himself and Ulaz when they are reunited. He imagines waiting for the ship to dock the way Keith had.

But he doesn’t even know where Ulaz is, or when he’ll come back. Nobody’s told him.

“Lance? You’re hurt.”

Somehow Lance missed the moment he could’ve escaped Keith’s notice by a longshot, and he’s looking into Keith’s galaxy eyes. His brain provides a copy paste image of that face on a body, prone in his arms.

Like a man possessed Lance grasps the edge of Keith’s shirt. Ignoring the other man’s indignant squawk as he tugs to reveal his toned belly.

The scar is exactly where he remembers it. Above the left hip, just low enough to for the large piece of metal to spare anything of major importance.

Keith’s shiver as Lance lays his palm over it is what brings Lance back to reality. He snatches his hand back.

“You never told me.”

Keith’s confused expression turns into something timid and soft.

“I thought you knew. Didn’t they take my mask off?”

“No, there wasn’t time.”

“Oh.”

Both of them stand there in silence until Krolia lets out a cough.

“Perhaps Keith could accompany you to the medbay, I have to meet with Kolivan.”

“Sure Mom, I’ll come see you later.” Krolia smiles before leaving. Keith doesn’t move to leave, instead he reaches up and taps Lance’s neck with tentative fingers. They make his skin tingle.

“Is this it?”

Lance feels his throat. It’s a little sticky and scabby from where the claws dug in, but it hardly feels deep.

“No, I got claws up my back.”

He allows Keith to look, hears the intake of breath that cannot be just from looking at the claw marks.

His back feels mostly numb, but he feels the warmth of Keith’s hands as they hover over it. He wonders if it’s ugly.

“It’s not.”

Oh, did I say that out loud?

“I knew this was here. It’s different seeing it though. Must’ve hurt.”

Lance lets out a laugh at that.

“Of course it did. What did a chunk of rebar through you feel like?”

“Not great from what I remember.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Where Keith moves around to face Lance once again. He seems to consider something, goes to speak and bites his lip before grabbing hold of Lance’s hand.

“Let’s get you to the medbay,” he squeezes tightly.

As they walk together, Keith never lets go.

Lance thinks back to every moment Keith helped him. The sparring, the food, all the time spent together.

The weight of his hand is heavy as Vikyl stitches Lance back up.

Was it all just Keith’s way of saying thank you?

When would that debt be repaid? And when it was, would Keith and Shiro still want to stick around?

Chapter Text

Lance had to sleep on his stomach when the plasma wound was healing. For more than a month he was unable to roll over or put any pressure on his back.

            Now, the large cuts across the old scar kept him sleeping on his stomach once more.

            The familiar position did not help with peaceful sleep. A few days into healing them Lance was irritable, sleep deprived and went down frequently during spars.

            On the third quintant after the pickup mission Lance could feel an episode coming on. He felt it the second he woke up. His stomach churned with nervous energy and he jittered as if he’d had a cup of coffee—or twelve.

            He avoided anything too stimulating at breakfast to try and calm himself down. He’s pretty good at it actually. He’s even able to keep his tail to himself, wrapping it around his arm to create a calming pressure.

            That pressure is a comfort all up until he’s told he and all other senior pilots would be attending a long planning meeting for new trainees as well as discussing emergency protocol.

            Understandably important.

            He tries to listen intently but it’s hard not to clock out. Keith gives him a little shove at some point to jolt him awake

            But by the time Lance leaves he’s beyond exhausted and he’s missed lunch. All he wants to do is curl up and disappear for a solid twelve hours.

            “Hey Lance! Want to join us in training hall?” Lance runs into Shiro and nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a tail wrap around his leg.

            Shiro frowns, Keith appears beside them.

            “Hey, are you okay Lance?”

            “Haha, yeah. I’m fine, haven’t been sleeping too well.” Keith’s face goes through a series of emotions too quick for Lance to really catch until he settles on a soft frown.

            “Are you in any pain?” Keith’s hand ghosts Lance’s shoulder. His fingertips hot through the fabric of Lance’s uniform.

            Lance pretends to think for a moment.

            “No… I just. I’ll meet you down there.”

            “If you would rather do something else, we could go to the library and practice your galran?” Shiro offers.

            “No! I uhm, I mean…” Lance can’t imagine anything worse than sitting still at the library table.

            He looks at the floor, then back up to find Keith and Shiro are waiting patiently for him to continue.

            “I could use a good spar. I need to get out of my head.”

            Keith smiles then and gives Lance a pat on the shoulder. Shiro’s tail squeeze’s his calve.

            “We will see you there.” Shiro says, and Lance is left alone with his thoughts.

…

            They’ve been sparring for longer than Lance has ever gone for. It feels good. To let out the pent-up energy.

            The way things are going he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to stop. The only thing on his mind is trying to take Shiro down.

Lance hits the matt with a hiss and rolls to his feet once more, flinging himself at Shiro with reckless abandon.

            Shiro’s brows go up in surprise before he sinks down again and bats at Lance.

            He ducks. Weaving his tail around a strong thigh and using his momentum to tug Shiro down to a knee.

            He releases his grip and swings back around to kick, but Shiro is too fast. He’s already there to catch Lance’s leg and tug him off balance.

            Lance lets out another growl which Shiro returns loudly. His throaty noises so much deeper than his or Keith’s. Usually it would make Lance shiver.

            It just adds fire to his determination as he catches himself on his palms and uses his arms and legs to spring forward and—

rrrRRRIP

His back is on fire. The body below him—no, Keith—is bleeding out. He’s dying. Shot after shot rings out and Lance can feel when his armour melts into his flesh. He wants to scream but can’t.

Lance blinks and stares up at the ceiling of the gym. He groans and rolls over onto his face. His hands shake. The floor feels wet where he touches the matts.

He feels worse than he did before.

“Lance? Have I hurt you, please say something?!”

            “What happened Shiro?” Keith’s heavy footfalls approach from the sidelines.

            “I think my stitches ripped,” Lance’s voice sounds pained even to him. He tries to inject a bit of excitement into it—he’s not sure if it works.

            “I told you guys to go easy,” Keith scolds, “here Lance, lets get you to the medbay. Shiro you get to clean the blood off the matts.” Shiro grumbles something Lance can’t make out but then there’s a hand grasping his upper arm.

            He flinches away before he can stop himself.

            “Don’t! Uh…” Keith’s eyebrows are in his hairline. Then he and Shiro are both backing away as Lance scrambles up. The movement of his shoulder pulls and twinges his back.

            “Lance, are you—”

            “I, I-uh. I can get there myself. Sorry for the mess.” And then he runs away.

            A younger Lance would’ve headed to his room and maybe bled on a few more things before realizing he could not in fact re-stitch a wound he could not see and begrudgingly drag himself to garrison medical.

            This was not a young Lance. He kept it together and allowed Vikyl to fix up the stitches and rub on a numbing ointment. He even swallowed down painkillers without complaint.

            Pleasantly numb, he stumbles back to his room, stripping off his clothes and allowing his exhausted body to fall into bed.

            He passes out without even pulling up the blankets.

…

            Blood, blood, he hears the scream as the Blade goes down hard. Sees the gore of his insides on the large piece of metal. He hears the resounding yells of other blades. Speedily making their retreat.

            He runs too. From his sniping position he runs back to the ship but only when the last of the blades has passed him.

            He brings up the rear to find a blade working to cut through the rebar.

            He can hear plasma fire as he stands with his back towards the enemy. Kolivan barking orders to cover them as they load up the ship with remaining human survivors. They are the last to leave, the other’s left while the Blades pushed back the enemy.

            He hears the shot before it connects.

            Feels it when it burns through his armour, the agony brings him to his knees.

            The ringing of cover fire in response in the only thing that forces Lance to his feet. Forces him to join Kolivan and lift the injured Blade up into the ship. He scrambles into the cockpit and lifts off. But there is no relief, it feels like his skin is melting.

            The whole ship is strangely silent.

            When he turns to look, he can see the Blade’s face. Keith’s face, deathly pale as Kolivan tries to resuscitate him in a pool of his own blood.

            Others are there; Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, Lance’s parents, his brothers and sisters—they weren’t there before.

            A loud explosion and the ship veers. Silence turns to screaming as Lance tries desperately to correct their trajectory.

            But the ground is coming up to fast, one of the wings is missing. He presses the comms to try and call mayday, but his voice won’t come out.

…

            Lance doesn’t know where he is for a terrible moment when he wakes up. The lights flicker on with his violent motion as he hits the metallic floor bodily—his tail lashing.

            He breathes once, twice, then he’s hears the screams in his head as if he’d just been there.

            He feels dizzy, his heart is racing. He wonders if he’ll die here. In space, alone, his parents far away and his one other guardian potentially ignoring him.

            The thought is sad. Tears prick his eyes without his consent.

            He checks his communicator.

            It’s not that late, but for Hunk and Pidge they’d both be busy at work. He can’t call.

            Shiro and Keith flash in his head. He nearly considers going to find them. But there’s no way they’ll want him third wheeling, especially not after his poor performance sparring earlier.

            He tries to curl up but the tension pulls as the stitches on his back.

            It does not help him calm down.

            He tries splashing his face with water but nearly misses with how much he shakes.

…

            “Fuck.”

            Lance makes his way to Keith and Shiro’s room as quietly as possible. It’s likely not that quiet since he can’t seem to breathe evenly, but he doesn’t see a soul on the way there.

            He hesitates at the door. But before he changes his mind it slides open.

            Keith’s hair is mussed but his eyes are alert.

            “Lance?”

            “I, uh. I’m—” Keith nods and backs away to let Lance in.

            The room is warm and a fair bit bigger than Lance’s. Probably on account of housing two blades, one of which was the most massive in all the ranks.

            “Lance?” Shiro’s shirtless and splayed on the bed. Again, it’s identical to Lance’s room but much larger to match it’s inhabitants needs.

            The door slides closed with a quiet thunk behind him.

            “Can’t sleep?” Keith settles on the edge of the bed and watches Lance.

            Lance fears that he’ll cry in front of them. So, he keeps his face down as he speaks.

            “Nightmare. I uh, can I stay here for a bit? I can just chill on the floor if you want, I just need to calm down. It’s okay if I’m intruding through, I just didn’t know what to— it’s been so long since it’s been this bad and these stupid fucking stitches—”

            “Lay down with us?” Keith holds out a hand but doesn’t approach. The choice is up to Lance.

            Lance takes a tentative step forward.

            “My back…”

            “There’s room,” Shiro shuffles on the bed and opens his arms.

            There’s no way to misread such a clear signal. And Lance, too tired to worry about it, clambers up onto the bed and into Shiro’s open arms.

            Shiro’s skin feels fuzzy against Lance’s cheek and his long tail winds around Lance’s calve as he settles. Chest to chest.

            Keith dims the lights and slides into bed beside them. A gentle hand ever so slowly slides onto the back of Lance’s head and strokes through his hair.

            Lance barely holds back a hitched breath.

            “You don’t have to do this to repay me or something… don’t feel like you owe me.”

            “What! Lance, it’s not about that. We…” Keith trails off and looks slightly darker purple on the cheeks.

            “We care about you.” Shiro’s sleepy rumble is one Lance feels in his ribs.

            Oh.

            The last straw breaks. He releases a choked sob.

            “Oh Lance,” Keith whispers. His hand doesn’t stop stroking through Lance’s hair.

            To his embarrassment, he can’t hold back his tears any longer. He sobs into Shiro’s fuzzy chest while Keith just strokes the back of his head.

            Shiro thumbs away the tears with a frown. The brush of his fingertips a soft comfort, while Keith’s warmth sidles up beside them. Lance feels safe there.

            He cries for a long time.

            When he’s finally cried out, his rough breathing finally slows, only then does Keith speak.

            “So, nightmare?”

            Lance straightens up to try and look at Keith, wincing as his back tugs.

            “Is it your injury?” Shiro offers.

            “Yeah, I uh, when stuff happens to my back it really throws me off. Makes me remember when the old wound was healing.”

            “You dreamed about the hospital?” Keith asks.

            “No. I—” Lance considers lying, but he’s already in their bed, there’s no point in hiding how attached he’s become. What’s there to lose when he’s already embarrassed himself this much?

            Keith and Shiro wait for him to find the words.

            “It was about you, about the mission,” Keith’s eyes go wide and Shiro’s hand reaches to clasp with Keith’s.

            “Me?”

            “Both of you were there. Everyone I care about was. I—we—didn’t make it out on time and your mask was off and Kolivan was trying but you, you.” Lance stops himself mid spiral and takes a deep breath. Keith’s hand moves to his shoulder to ground him, Shiro’s tail squeezes his thigh.

            “I’m sorry to put this on you guys.”

            “Don’t be sorry Lance, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I really thought you knew it was me.”

            “It’s okay.”

            “How can we help?” Shiro asks.

            “This, helps a lot, thank you, both of you, for doing this.” Lance guesses this is good a time as any, so he begins shifting to make his way off the bed.

            “Stay the night.” Keith says bluntly.

            “pwhwh- what?”

            “Only if you want to, but we don’t mind one more.” Keith says.

            Lance looks between him and Shiro for any sign of discomfort.

            “You’re welcome here Lance,” Shiro says when he catches his eye, the larger man having not moved in the slightest from underneath Lance.

            And Lance is so tired. Shiro’s so warm underneath him.

            He starts to settle back in, and Keith is dragging the blankets up to cover all of them.

            It’s only once he’s settled in with his cheek to Shiro’s fuzzy chest that he hears it.

            It’s coming from all around him, for a moment he thinks it’s a growl. But Shiro’s eyes are closed, his body lax underneath Lance. Keith’s cheek is squished up where he’s propped up on Shiro’s shoulder.

            “Are- are you purring?” Lance whispers.

            The sound stutters and goes quieter, half cutting off to his left as Keith raises his head.

            “Does it bother you?” Keith asks.

            “No…” the rumble underneath Lance’s chest kicks up so strongly that it vibrates through his ribs, “I uh, didn’t know that was a thing Galra could do.”

            Keith laughs softly.

            “Do you think… could I make that noise?” Lance asks. Shiro’s purring stutters underneath him with a laugh.

            “You already were Lance,” Keith’s fingers begin carding through Lances hair again and Lance melts.

Chapter Text

9

Keith’s behaviour is normal if not kinder (pity) after Lance showed up at their door crying. However, Shiro’s behaviour by comparison was increasingly bizarre. Lance starts to wonder if it’s supposed to be some kind of dominance display when Shiro entangles his tail with Lance’s. It’s becoming unnerving.

He’s really trying to nip that habit, but his tail really does have a mind of its own.

Other than the awkward walk back to his room Lance suffered the next morning things seemed fine. His back healed up thanks to a healing salve Keith brought him and they got back to their routine of movie nights and sparring. Sure, he daydreamed of going back to their room and cuddling every night but otherwise things went back to normal.

Or so he thought.

…

Shiro gets tired early when they spar today. It’s odd for him to dip out first but Lance knows he must get asked to do way more physical missions than anyone else. Poor guy probably needed the extra rest this quintant.

He offers to go ahead and meet Lance and Keith in Lance’s room for movie night later.

Lance attempts to get out of more training for the rest of the day as well but Keith is right there and practically bouncing with energy. How could Lance say no?

They go a few more rounds and then some, until they are both too tired to keep going. Lance tries to keep his excitement to himself when they finally decide it’s time to leave, but it’s the end of the movement and he has another Earth movie he’s been dying to show the two blades.

They use the communal showers briskly. Lance making sure he’s at a shower more than a tail length away from Keith. There would be no naked mishaps today thank you very much.

            They make it out in record time and walk back to Lance’s room while chatting.

            Lance steps into the dim room with Keith at his back and goes to put down his bag of gym clothes when he sees something shift in the dark.

            He jumps back, gripping Keith’s shoulder to stop him from entering.

            “Lights!”

            The lights flicker on to reveal Lance’s blankets strewn around the room and up on the walls. Pillows are propped up and obscure his view of the bed.

            “Uh…do Blades do pranks?”

            Keith laughs. To Lance’s horror, the mound of blankets begins to shift and undulate.

            Then a tuft of white hair and big fluffy ears poke out.

            “Oh! Lance, I was waiting for you to return. I hope you don’t mind I snuck in to prepare for movie night?”

            “It’s…uh, fine,” Lance drops his bag to run his fingers over a soft pink blanket that somehow hangs from the ceiling. It definitely does not belong to him. Its so incredibly soft that he can’t help but continue touching it.

            “What is all this?” He asks.

            Keith drops his own bag and goes to climb into the strange fort Shiro has disappeared into.

            Shiro’s head pops back out again.

            “It’s a nest? For movie night. To show my…excitement.”

            “Oh,” Shiro blinks out at him expectantly as Lance approaches what was once his bed, “thank you.”

            Shiro beams.

            So that’s how Lance spends movie night, snuggled up way too close to two of the most attractive people he’s ever known, in the most structurally sound blanket fort he has ever been in.

…

            Lance is certain something strange is going on when Keith and Shiro leave so many blankets he’s never seen before in his room. Sure, the base does get fairly cold at night but he’s not really sure what to do with the mound of blankets and pillows.

            Where did they even get this stuff?

            He’s really is going to ask. But all three of them end up on separate schedules for a movement and the strange circumstances are out of mind until the next movie night. By then he’s too tired to ask and too appreciative of the soft nest Shiro created once again to bother asking anything before passing out with a romcom playing in the background.

            So, it becomes the norm.

            It’s strange, but Lance tries not to read into it too deeply. He’d spent a lot of time reading up on Galran habits and family dynamics and had found that Galra in general were cuddlier than he’d originally expected.

            The next weird thing to happen though is even stranger.

            There’s a knock on his door as he’s prepping for another mission. He’s a bit strapped for time so he opens it without a thought, toothbrush in one hand while trying to tug up the back of his flight suit with the other.

            He’s expecting his piloting partner Luvek.

            Cool hands touch Lance’s bare shoulder and he lets out an embarrassing squeak.

            “Here, I’ll help you,” Keith’s voice is smooth in his ear as he helps tug up the caught flight suit and fasten the top of it with light fingers along Lance’s nape. He feels his tail coil around Keith’s waist before he even turns around.

            “Wha are—”

            “Go spit it out, don’t worry I’ll wait.”

            Lance flushes and scurries to the bathroom to stare at his reddish face. It’s actually a little bit purple looking as he spits and rinses his mouth out. He wonders if one day his face won’t turn pink at all.

            When he returns Keith is stood back in the threshold again, holding his hands behind his back and staring up at the roof.

            “Are you okay? I’d say let’s chat but I’m taking off in less than a varga.”

            “I know. I actually wanted to drop something off for you.”

            “Oh?” Lance tries to remember if he’d let Keith borrow some clothes or something, but he can’t remember.

            But he doesn’t need to wrack his brain, because there’s a small box hitting him in the chest. He nearly stumbles over in surprise, giving Keith a sharp tug by his tail which had made its home once again around Keith’s ankle.

            “What’s this?” Lance asks.

            “They’re Galran sweets, it’s the closest I could find to anything from Earth. To be honest I don’t really remember what Earth chocolates taste like.”

            “What! I’ve got to get you some Earth chocolate asap!” Lance peers into the smalls box and sure enough the sharp looking diamond shapes look nothing like any candy he’s seen. Scratch that, maybe rock candy, although it smelt like nothing he’d ever tried.

            “I hope they are satisfactory?” Keith’s arms are crossed, and his face is starting to purple a bit.

            “Of course, they are Keith. Thank you.”

            Keith visibly relaxes.

            “I’ll put them right here so they’re safe,” Lance places them at his bedside just as his communicator beeps a warning.

            “Alright, I’ve got to meet Luvek. I’ll have to see you later.”

            Keith tugs Lance forwards and before he even thinks about it breaking a boundary he allows himself to be drawn into a tight hug. Keith tucks his chin over Lance’s shoulder.

            “Stay safe.” Keith mutters.

            All Lance can do is splutter. Then Keith is pulling away.

            Then he’s gone.

Lance’s communicator beeps again angrily. He’s half pulled out of his confused stupor to make his way to the ship. He’s walking on air as he moves through the halls. He gets a few strange looks but he ignores them. Instead nodding and smiling at every blade he passes.

He even tries to wave at Vikyl through the clear medbay door as he passed.

Ulaz stares back at him.

Lance freezes. It’s like all the air is sucked out of him. His tail clings close.

He drops his hand. Ulaz cocks his head and steps forward.

No. Not right now. He thinks. I can’t do this today.

He turns on his heel and all but sprints to the ship. Luvek says something to him but he ignores it, just nods and begins pre-flight checks.

He tries to get back that elation he was feeling. Tries to imagine Keith pressed close in what was just a friendly gesture but at least it was something. Lance could live with that.

But all he feels is numb and cold in the red lights of the console.

He loses himself in flying.

…

Nothing happens for a while. Things go back to normal. Mostly normal except for how he avoids the medbay like the plague. He knows Keith and Shiro notice too, always walking a different route that won’t pass those glass doors when they head to spar together or to pilot meetings.

Lance wakes up late, he doesn’t have any meetings until late in the day cycle so he probably could stay in bed longer. But he’s made a habit of eating with Keith and Shiro and it’s the guilt at inadvertently ditching them that gets him out of bed. He looks a bit of a mess when he stumbles out of his room, in a rumpled shirt with his soft blade-issue workout pants underneath. He’s not too worried about it since the mess will probably be empty.

The mess is not, in fact, empty. When he arrives, he finds Keith and Shiro waiting for him as the last few blades trickle out from the breakfast rush.

Keith waves him down before he goes to serve himself.

“What’s up Keith, I thought you’d be gone already.”

“We waited for you.” Keith says with a small smile.

“Pft-what?? You guys didn’t have to do that.”

“We wanted to,” Shiro’s voice is so close that Lance jumps as their tails tangle. Shiro places a full plate down in front of Lance and settles down with his own breakfast.

“Did you sleep well?” Keith asks. He doesn’t dig into his plate of food while Lance just stands and watches the two of them.

“It was…uh,” they both watch him back attentively and somewhat creepily, “it was fine. I’m a little stressed lately.”

He nervously scrapes a spoon across his plate and lifts the sweet-smelling glop to his mouth. There is a burst of flavour across his tongue, sort of tart and savoury. He hasn’t had this stuff before.

Keith and Shiro watch him motionless until he swallows and suddenly, they begin eating as well.

And that’s…

Well, that’s plain weird.

They’ve been really kind to him since his last injury, it’s the only thing he can think of that would cause such weird behaviour.

A younger Lance would’ve made a snide comment. Or maybe he would’ve run away from whatever the heck this was. But Keith and Shiro were his friends. If they thought something was seriously up with him, he had to right that.

And figure out what the heck waiting to eat only after him had to do with anything.

He waits until they are well into their meal to say something.

“So…I’m not really sure what you guys are thinking…” Shiro’s ears droop and Keith’s fork clatters to the table, Lance winces and carries on, “I mean! Uh, you guys know I can take care of myself right? I’m glad to have you but this is…well, weird.” He tries not to stumble over his words as Keith looks angrier and Shiro’s ears hang low like he’s been scolded.

He suffers stark silence for what feels like years before he speaks again. Shiro’s tail has released his and curled back around Shiro’s torso tightly.

“Uhm…are you angry?”

“Mostly at myself, although you could’ve chosen something other than weird.” Keith frowns, “I’m sorry I misread things Lance.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro adds softly.

Lance is baffled.

“Uh it’s okay? I just don’t want you guys feeling responsible for me. I’m glad to have you around but you really don’t have to wait for me at meals or do all that stuff with the blankets. I’m really fine, doing fine that is. My back is all healed and—”

“You don’t know what it means.” Keith cuts Lance off with a glazed look in his eyes as if he’s just had a grand epiphany.

Lance looks at Shiro but Shiro just stares down at his half-finished plate forlornly.

            “Lance,” Keith’s hand shoots out and grips Lance’s wrist so suddenly he drops his fork.

            “Yes??”

            “Stop Keith he’s already made it clear.” Shiro admonishes.

            “No, I don’t think he understands.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Hey, can you guys not talk like I’m not here??” Lance tugs at Keith’s hand and tries to calm down his racing heart lest Keith feel it.

            “What do you smell Shiro?”

            Then Keith does the unimaginable and leans down to press a kiss on Lance’s wrist.

            Lance squeaks.

            “Arousal.”

            Lance finally rips his hand away from Keith and swings to face Shiro.

            “You can smell that!?” The words slip out before he realizes they are condemning.

            “Most full Galra can smell that Lance—especially if they’re attuned to half-human scent patterns,” Keith explains, “we’ve known you were interested in us for a while. We’ve been trying to show our interest.”

            This is when Lance’s brain shorts out as he tries to scan through movements of moments spent with Keith and Shiro and place them into this new context.

            Shiro’s tail entwines with his.

            “We like you Lance. We’d like you to be with us if that’s something you’d like too.”

            “If you could smell that I liked you why didn’t you say something sooner?”

            Shiro chuckles in a way that makes Lance shiver.

            “I was trying to be polite.” He smirks and then purses his lips, “also you didn’t like me very much when I got back. Jealousy reeks.”

            “Oh my god.” Lance has his face in his hands and Keith pats him on the back.

            “We’ve been snuggling through movie night Lance.”

            “I thought Galra culture was all about touch.”

            “Well, it is. But Shiro even built you a nest.” Keith laughs, “You probably just thought we were really into soft blankets.”

            “Yes.” Lance croaks out.

            “I tangle our tails all the time.” Shiro offers.

            “I’ve only had a tail for like a few years Shiro… plus I thought you were trying to get me to stop grabbing Keith!”

            Shiro looks suitably chagrined by Lance’s raising voice so Lance tries to give their tails a squeeze to show he’s not angry.

            “Sorry.”

            “It’s fine. Okay so what does the tail thing mean?”

            “A claim.”

            Is Shiro blushing!?!?!

            Lance thinks his brain is going to melt.

            “It means you care for someone, that you feel safe around them and want them close.” Keith explains.

            Lance breaths through his nose and presses his forehead to the cool table. He thinks for a moment as his view of their friendship skews and forms into a new shape altogether. He lifts his head again.

            “Is this some kind of…unicorn thing? That’s not really something I’m comfortable with.”

“A unicorn is a mythical earth creature right? But not real.” Keith pats Shiro’s hands as if to say yes dear.

“Yes, it’s also a slang for Earth hookup culture that implies Lance would be secondary to our relationship to one another.” Keith says. Shiro hums.

“That’s not what we are interested in, unless that’s what you want Lance—to be casual?”

“I…uh.”

“Most Galran relationships are some form of polycule if that’s what’s bothering you. A pair like Shiro and I is pretty rare.”

“So, all three of us.” Lance says.

“Yes.”

“In a relationship?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want.”

“I…what would that look like?” Lance doesn’t know where to look so he looks down at his plate. He feels the weight of Shiro’s tail curled with his own.

“Probably not much different. We’d like you to join us to sleep more if that’s something you’d like. Maybe we could try to treat Shiro to an earth style date next time we get a non-combative mission off base?”

“We’d like to touch more. Touch you and be touched. But how far that goes is your call.” Shiro adds. Lance’s face feels hot.

They are talking about this like is normal for Galra. Like adding a third person or more was something easy, cherished, common. Sure, polyamory was more and more common on Earth but Lance thought… Ulaz—well, he thought Ulaz and his parents was just a fling. Maybe? But if this was normal for Galra maybe it had meant a lot more, and if it did, why didn’t Ulaz try to come back? There was a war—Lance knows this, but, the older Blade barely stayed to settle Lance in. Barely gave him so much as a pat on the shoulder before dropping a bomb about Lance’s heritage before post-war celebrations even started. He hadn’t even tried to approach Lance since he returned to base.

Lance shivers when Keith reaches out to stroke his fingers down his wrist to his hand. Lance intertwines their fingers.

When he looks back up Keith and Shiro both meet his eye confidently.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Keith looks like he might jump across the table. Shiro shuffles down so his side is pressed against Lance, their tails twining much tighter than ever before.

Chapter Text

Lance straightens his clothes again. He flicks the ends of his hair back and then runs his hands through it again.

Sure, it’s just dinner in the mess, but Krolia will be joining them.

Yes, Lance had eaten at the same table as her before. But she mostly sat with older blades and rarely was close enough for Lance to chat with.

Now that he was—dating?— Keith and Shiro, it was different.

And Krolia has asked to join them. Specifically asked when Keith was watching Lance and Shiro spar before their briefing this morning.

Lance had frozen up the second he heard her speak and was immediately thrown to the mats by Shiro.

“C’mon Lance, you got this, parents love you. Well… most of them.” He would wear something nicer, but anything other than a clean Blade suit would stick out like a sore thumb in the mess hall. He at least went for the more formal version of the outfit than the usual.

If Shiro and Keith sensed his apprehension during the day they didn’t mention it. Maybe Shiro could smell it? Lance knew he needed to ask to what extent the Blade could smell his emotions, but he was afraid of the answer. He wonders if Shiro can smell that too.

Keith’s sharp clang of a knock on the door and the sharp pop of Kosmo appearing atop Lance’s bed announced that Lance was out of time.

“Lance? We’re hoping to snag one of the smaller tables? Are you up?”

“Yeah! Coming,” Lance gives himself one more disappointed look which is shared by Kosmo before scrambling to the door.

The door slides open, and Lance comes eye to eye with Keith, who makes no move to get out of Lance’s space.

“Uh…hi,” Lance says.

“Hi yourself, you look good.” Lance’s tail finds its home around Keith’s waist. It’s all the more satisfying now that Lance knows the affection is welcome.

            “Thanks. I wish I had something nicer though I don’t want Krolia to think I’m a slob. Also, you look nice too by the way. Not that you don’t look nice normally—uh. Where’s Shiro?” Lance cuts off his rambling and falls into step beside Keith with Kosmo bringing up the rear.

            “Shiro will meet us there, he was training a few new recruits earlier and stayed back to help one of them with their forms.” Keith smiles at Lance again. Stepping a little closer as they pass some other blades in the hall.

            Lance feels warm and fuzzy when Keith doesn’t move away once there’s space. It’s only been a movement and he’s not sure how far to go with physical affection or if Keith and Shiro had limits for public. Is holding hands okay? Maybe he should hold Keith’s hand. But there’s only a few minutes of walking left and—

            “Lance, I can hear you freaking out.”

            “What! No, I’m fine.”

            “You know she already likes you right?” Keith slows his pace beside Lance.

            “I know, but like, liking me for life-debt reasons is different than liking me in general.”

            Keith gets closer than Lance thought was possible, his hand wanders down to Lance’s tail which is still loosely wrapped around Keith’s waist. He gives it a firm grasp while his other hand lands on the juncture of Lance’s neck and shoulder. Lance feels like an electricity between those hands is running through his body.  

            “She likes you, and she’ll get to know you and then she’ll love you.” Keith speaks with such conviction. He’s always like that now that Lance is thinking about it. He never says something he doesn’t one hundred percent believe in.

            “Really?”

            “Yes. But she doesn’t like people who are late. Come on.”

            The mess isn’t too busy yet. Lance and Keith make their way through the line quickly and go to join Shiro and Krolia who’ve already set up at one of the few smaller tables.

            “Lance.” Shiro practically lights up when he sees the two of them, his tail tangles with Lance’s the moment Lance is within range. Lance has been trying to stop himself blushing when Shiro does that—with very little success.

            Dinner goes well. After the first five minutes of Lance nervously eating Keith prompts Krolia to launch into an exciting tale of how she met Keith’s father and Lance is rapt. He can see the man so easily the way she describes him all the way down to his crooked smile.

            He tries. He really tries not to imagine his own parents and Ulaz racing through the desert. Chased by the authorities and by Galran imperials.

            It’s hard not to.

            There’s something about the telling though that pulls Lance back from his own family. Something melancholy in the telling. The way Krolia sadly talks about leaving Earth. She barely spends time on it though. He knows Keith’s father passed long ago. He’s not sure how he should be responding but when he looks to Keith all he sees is a small smile. And then she’s talking about seeing Keith again, and how big he was, and how happy it made her, and Lance knows this is a happy story. Regardless of someone being missing from the ending.

            Then she turns to him and asks about his parents.

            So, he talks about home; Cuba, the farm, Garrison. He talks about learning to fly and about the first time he piloted a cargo craft. He skates over the war mostly, except to say he was promoted quite suddenly along with many of the other cadets. He uses it to lead into Hunk and Pidge and all the amazing things they’re doing on opposite ends of the galaxy. He talks about a life overfull with siblings and relatives and how he always had a place to belong and then he learned something new. And now he’s here and he can fly without feeling like he’s under attack and he can enjoy all the people and places the galaxy has to offer.

            Krolia raises a brow.

            There’s someone missing from the ending of this story too, but Lance still isn’t sure where he fits.

…

            Lance and Shiro have become a frequent pairing for missions. Two fast pilots is always better than one, although apparently Lance was better liked for his diplomacy than anything else. This wasn’t exactly shocking, sue him, he likes people.

            So, when Kolivan briefed them on another mission a few quintants after the dinner with Krolia, Lance isn’t surprised that he’s paired with Shiro. He’s also not surprised that they’re going to be visiting a planet that is often suspicious of the Blades.

            He is surprised though, that his partner for this mission is arguably the most threatening looking of all the Blades—just from sheer size.

            He doesn’t want to draw attention to it though. He still remembers how upset Shiro looked when he though Lance was scared of him and not incredibly attracted to the 7ft Galra.

            They meet at the ship in their flight suits as usual. This time though it’s a slightly larger cargo freighter instead of the sleek and speedy ones used for covert missions.

            The flight is an easy one, he and Shiro trading words back and forth sometimes spending time discussing the flight pattern or their favorite flights. Sometimes discussing the recent earth movies they’d watched. Shiro was particularly baffled by Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet.

            It’s only when they begin to enter Zufl airspace that Lance gets nervous. Shiro’s tail still loosely tangled with Lance’s tightens a little.

            “How much can you smell?” Lance asks before Shiro can speak.

            “Well…you smell nervous right now, I can’t parse more than that if that’s what you’re wondering.”

            Lance hums as he begins to drop landing gear.

            “They are a bit nervous about Galra yes, but don’t worry Lance, you’ll be fine. It’s not like we have to be masked up anyway.”

            “I thought you said you couldn’t parse more!”

            “Context is everything.”

            Lance makes a light landing and can see some of the Zufl natives making their way across the purplish landing pad to help move the delivery.

            He glances at Shiro, who smiles back at Lance with his ears stuck up in excitement.

            “Come on. Let’s say hello.”

            Lance finishes his last few checks before standing at the sound of the rear ramp opening. He puts on a smile before approaching the exit.

            He nearly falls over when he realizes.

            The Zuflians are…well, they’re massive. The largest of them even taller than Shiro. They are covered head to toe in long fluffy pink-ish hair with glassy purple eyes on a somewhat flat face. Their lower half reminds Lance a little bit of a giraffe if it was shorter and fluffy.

            He is by far the smallest being here.

            “Shiro!” Multiple Zuflians exclaim as he makes his way down the ramp, throwing flexible arms across his back.

            “Hello, it’s good to see you again. Oh, hey Hasnar’rt!” Shiro greets as many of the people he can see before turning to Lance who is still waiting at the top of the ramp, unsure of where to go.

            “This is my partner Lance, he’s new with the Blade since I was here last.” Shiro introduces him without pause.

            “Hello,” Lance says while the crowd turns to stare at him without pupils.

            It’s a little unnerving.

            “Lance do you want to start passing out the supplies,” Shiro offers.

            “Sure.” Lance retreats into the ship and begins moving boxes out so the Zuflians can pick them up without needing to stoop into what they must consider to be a small ship.

            Only when the cargo bay is mostly empty and he can’t justify re-doing post-flight checks a fifth time.

            “Lance, this is ambassador Xenron.”

            “I am honored to meet you little blade.” The Zuflian bows his head to show a small set of antennae poking out of the pink fluff at the top of his head.

            Lance mimics the bow.

            “The honor is mine,” Lance knows this is the appropriate response from the small cue card of basic etiquette attached to the planet’s file. He also can tell this is the right answer by the way that the ambassadors body seems to shiver—an indication of happiness among Zuflians.

            “Please Lance, we invite you to our banquet to celebrate your arrival.”
            “I would be delighted.” Lance replies, falling into step with Shiro and Xenron as he leads them towards the nearest outbuildings—the alliance embassy if Lance isn’t mistaken.

            He’s careful to keep Shiro between himself and the Zuflian—he’s the most out of place here compared to these large creatures. He can feel other’s watching him closely the entirety of their walk. His tail curls around his leg like it wants to hide itself.

            It’s strange to be perceived as such a threat. It’s not something he’s felt in his time working with the Blades. There were too many with teeth far sharper, and muscles more corded by war and hardship. He’s never worried that he could be scary.

            Now his teeth feel heavy in his mouth—even though his fangs are barely sharp compared to other Galra.

            As they near the wide doors Shiro’s tail worms it’s way through the tight grasp Lance’s has on his own thigh. Lance glances up at Shiro as he feels the soft fur sliding together and Shiro gives a deliberate squeeze.

            He musters a smile to try and loosen the pinched expression of concern the Shiro is giving him before looking away as they enter the metallic looking doors and into what Lance can only describe as an indoor forest. But it is unlike anything he’s ever seen.

            Shiro doesn’t detach their tails for the majority of dinner, making a show of his closeness to Lance the same way he was physically close with some of the Zuflian’s. They were a tactile people, but as they continue to talk and eat and headbutt at one another it slowly dawned on Lance that they avoided engaging with him because he was simply too small to move that way with without bowling him over completely.

            So, he does the best he can, conversing politely with the ambassador and shivering as much as he could to indicate that he was enjoying the strangely bland meal they had given him.

            In between the sparse chatting he spent the rest of his time watching Shiro. His purple fur a matching colour amongst the pink toned Zuflians and stark against the greenery.

            He watches the way Shiro shoves them around with ease, mimicking their behaviours and socialization in a way no other Blade could. Even the younger Zuflians (who were not much smaller mind you) approached him without fear, bumping up against him and shivering when he spoke some words in their language.

            Lance is so busy watching he’s slow to notice when Shiro calls his name.

            “Lance?” Shiro cocks his head at Lance, barely even shifting as another youngling Zuflian bumps him with great force.

            Shiro holds out a hand from where he’s surrounding by young Zuflian’s. When Lance looks up, he sees the elders are watching him closely. He cannot decline.

            He stands and heads over to Shiro as slowly as possible, careful to make his movements easy to track as he moves closer to the Zuflian children and slides his hand into Shiro’s.

            Shiro says something else in the Zuflian language and Lance recognizes his own name as the young ones all turn to face Lance. Most of them are just barely shorter that Lance and they press their faces close to look at him.

            Lance squeaks as Shiro suddenly hip checks Lance out of nowhere, windmilling his arms before he feels a large hand wrap around his hip to steady him.

            Th Zuflian group around them all break out into low whispers as if deliberating something and then—Lance is prepared this time when one of them butts him with their head, not unlike the way earth goats do. Shiro’s hand holds him steady and warm as he is hit with what he assumes must be a very gentle version of the social wrestling the seems to be a major part of Zuflian culture.

            When he glances to the main table, over the quickly growing crowd of pink, he can see all the adult Zuflian’s have not only visibly relaxed, but they vibrate with joy.

…

            The second sun is dimming on the horizon as Lance finishes pre-flight checks, having left the Zufl embassy and Shiro to say his goodbyes while Lance prepared for their return to base.

            He’s a bit stiff from wrestling with the younglings but it’s nothing that a hot shower won’t fix. He can still feel Shiro’s hands at his waist like a tingling brand. He can still see how good he was with the younglings, how excited they were to see him.

            Gods he wants—

            “Lance?”

            “Just finishing up here Shiro, you ready to head?” Lance flicks the last few switches and hears the engine begin its warming hum and the rush of the doors closing.

            When he goes back to the cargo bay, he finds Shiro securing the now broken-down reusable storage. Their tails intertwine when Lance comes close.

            “You were amazing today.” Shiro straightens up at Lance’s words, his head only a few inches from brushing the roof.

            “Thanks Lance,” Shiro smiles, flashing those sharp fangs and making the scar across his face ripple. It doesn’t falter when Lance steps closer.

            “I don’t think the Zuflians would’ve liked me much without you.” Lance says. Shiro laughs.

            “You would’ve found a way without me.”

            They’re so close now, there’s something electric that Lance can feel between them. Their tails are intertwined tighter than he thought possible. He doesn’t want to let go. He can see Shiro’s nostril’s flare.  

“Touch you and be touched. But how far that goes is your call” Shiro’s words from the mess when they had redefined their relationship ring through Lance’s head as he places an open palm on Shiro’s chest.

When he looks up again, he meets Shiro’s gaze glancing down to the softening curve of his smile and then back. Shiro doesn’t move.

“how far that goes is your call”

So, Lance leans up, closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Shiro’s lips.

Shiro returns the kiss gently, leaning down to wrap his arms around Lance while Lance throws his own arms across Shiro’s broad shoulders. He can feel the light pressure of sharp canines against his lips and he moves even closer pressing until Shiro allows him to deepen the kiss by leaning down further with a grunt.

Shiro’s probably sore from being headbutted by Zuflian’s all day.

Lance pushes and Shiro immediately breaks away with a curious sound, but Lance just grabs him by the collar and tugs him to the side of the cargo bay which is lined by seats for transporting larger groups of blades.

“Sit,” he pulls down and Shiro drops into the seat without question, his tail parting from Lance’s only to wrap around the smaller Blade’s waist and tug him close as he straddles Shiro’s lap.

“Lance,” Shiro’s blush reaches all the way to those fluffy ears as Lance dives back in turning the kissing from soft back to filthy as he winds his fingers in Shiro’s hair and feels those warm hands splaying across his back.

BEEP.

Lance nearly falls out of Shiro’s lap as the familiar ring of the communicator blares through the ship.

“That’d be Kolivan,” Shiro murmurs, his eyes still glued to Lance’s mouth.

“We should get going,” Lance slides off Shiro’s lap. Letting out a laugh as Shiro’s tail tries to tug him back.

Lance musters his confidence and leans down again to plant a kiss on Shiro’s cheek, causing the galra to make a rumbly sound in his chest that Lance quite likes.

Shiro smiles up at him with a sort of awed expression that makes Lance’s ego do backflips.

“We’ll have time later.” Lance says.

…

Lance adjusts the blanket, smoothing it, the ruffling it with his tail and foot to give it that ‘effortless’ look. The pillows are fluffed, the tealights are lit. Yes, he is aware it’s ridiculous to bring tealights to space but it’s not like you can have real candles for your bath on a space station.

He arranges the bottle of liquor— he can’t read the label but Krolia had assured him it was the closest thing he’d find to Terran wine.

“Perfect,” he whispers as he steps back to admire his good work.

With great embarrassment he’d picked the brains of his compatriots—mainly Acxa and Ezor since everyone else’s advice rapidly devolved to teasing—about galran courtship customs and from there planned the perfect mixture of an earth style date and what would be clear courting intent to Keith and especially Shiro.

His nest was ready, now all he had to do was wait.

And bribe everyone in the library to make themselves scarce. But most of them left when they spotted him carrying a truckload of blankets to the viewing windows.

“Lance?” He hears the door sliding open as Keith and Shiro step into the dark library.

“I’m over here.” Lance scrambles to sit amongst the blankets and take on a casual pose as he hears them moving through the stacks.

Finally, Keith rounds a corner, with Shiro in tow and stops when he sees the setup.

“Lance…” Keith tiptoes over to the edge of the blankets while Shiro stands and stares at the mess on the floor.

“What’s all this?”

“A nest…I think, I’m not sure if it’s right honestly, and a Terran date! I got alcohol and we can all cuddle and look at the stars!” Lance gestures to the view in front of them, “if you would like to?”

Keith grins at him before plopping down onto the blankets.

“We’d love to. Right Shiro?”

Shiro jumps at his name then he’s moves like a zombie, slow, so slow, as he lowers himself onto the nest so gently. A wickedly loud purr kicking up as he relaxes facedown into it.

“I’ll take that as a compliment?” Lance uncorks the bottle and holds it out to Keith.

Keith takes a swig with one hand and reaches out to pet across Shiro’s hair with the other. His expression fond.  

“I’d never thought to do this for him before,” Keith says.

Oh.

“Is it…good?”

“Yes,” Shiro’s voice is growly with his purrs, he barely lifts his face to mumble the reply before burrowing further into the blankets.

“So is this,” Keith hands back the bottle and Lance takes a swig. The taste is earthy with a strange tang, a little bit like cloves maybe?

Keith shuffles closer, until they are flush from knee to hip. Shiro’s long tail winds through their ankles.

“I used to do this with Dad.” Keith offers as he leans back onto the pillows, his gaze fixed on the stars. Shiro makes a low humming sound.

“Yeah?” Lance matches his lean, sliding his fingers into Keith’s.

“Yeah, used to go out on the roof together. Since we lived out in the desert there wasn’t any light pollution. Could see the milky way easy and he’d try to point out constellations to me. He wasn’t any good at remembering them though. I think he got me a book for one of my birthday’s—you know the ones with the star maps for kids?”

“Yeah, my parents got me some of those when I went through the astronaut phase.” Keith snorts.

“What’s astronaut phase?” Shiro rolls so he can look at them from his place in the nest.

“Astronaut is older English earth word for star explorers. When you we’re a kit didn’t you want to be something in particular?”

“Imperial pilot…” Shiro frowns as he speaks, his purr stopping abruptly.

They trail off into an awkward silence.

“Sorry,” Shiro mumbles, “I’ve made it awkward.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance passes over the drink before Shiro can apologise more. Shiro sits up to take it, taking a short sip before going back in for a longer drink.

“I did not grow up the way you both did; we always had the war and I just remember seeing the pilots fly over the mining slums and I wanted that…to be free.”

“Shiro…” Keith rubs his knee, “you were just a kit, you didn’t know why there was a war or what it meant.”

Lance has seen the way Shiro’s eyes go unfocussed before, seen it when Pidge was too close to the landing bay at the garrison, or when Hunk went near medical. They’d probably seen it on him too, especially when he’d had wounds across the old scar on his back.

“What else did you want to be when you were a, uh, kit? I didn’t just want to be an astronaut you know, I also considered being a medic, or a veterinarian, or even doing ballet.”

“What’s ballet?” Shiro asks.

“It’s a weird type of dancing that make you stand on your tiptoes.”

Shiro’s nose scrunches up and he huffs a weak laugh.

“I wanted to control the heavy mining equipment, they had a day where kits could come sit in the control room and honk the horns.”

“Yeah?” Lance curls his tail around Shiro’s calve to mimic Keith’s gentle touching on the other leg.

“And I wanted to be like Zvoltux, she took care of me and some of the other kits, taught us how to do the work without hurting ourselves, fought to make sure we all ate well—as well as we could considering the circumstances.”

“She sounds great.”

“She was. She was a blade to. Nobody knew though. I found out after I was recruited, she’s covered in accolades in the old database. But no one knows her name.”

“Now we do,” Lance offers.

“Yeah…” Shiro smiles wistfully.

Lance shuffles over, patting the blankets between him and Keith. Shiro doesn’t hesitate, just scoots backwards into the space. Lance immediately curls his tail around his large thigh, while Keith hooks a leg over the other—Lance has been surprised repeatedly by how much of an octopus Keith becomes when they cuddle.

Shiro heaves a great sigh as he sinks down, and Lance can’t help but echo the sound. They stare out into space, passing the bottle back and forth and talking well into the night.

…

Lance hits the mats with a resounding thump.

“You’re distracted today!” Keith practically bounces off Lance, full of energy, “again.”

Lance hasn’t kissed Shiro since that mission. He’s not really sure if he should when he still hasn’t gotten that far with Keith. He feels a bit bad though. He hopes Shiro doesn’t think he didn’t enjoy it—he really did. But he’s not really sure what the protocol is for the three of them.

He gets back into fighting stance and without a word Keith is charging him again.

He dodges a punch. Uses his tail to try and undercut Keith but he just vaults over it.

I wonder what kissing Keith would be like. Lance thinks as he ducks around Keith to try and get a better angle.

Lance is sloppy today, he knows it, but he doesn’t realize how sloppy until he’s going for a cheap-shot tackle—easily dodged. He barely holds back a cringe but he’s already moving forwards, so he follows through.

Keith doesn’t dodge, he takes the full brunt of the tackle with a hiss of breath and they both hits the mats in a heap.

“You were supposed to dodge.” Lance’s surprise spills out of him as he sits on Keith’s stomach.

“I thought it was a feint!” Keith growls defensively, turning a bit purple.

“Are you saying the Keith Kogane got taken down by a simple football tackle.”

Keith growls at him again, shoving him off roughly before standing.

“We’re done, lets shower.” He downs some water and makes a beeline for the showers, leaving Lance to scramble off the mats after him.

Keith is grumpy as they go through the motions of showering and re-dressing in lounging clothes. Lance is careful to stay further than a tails length away to try and stave off the way his tail undulates as if it knows Keith is naked and so close. Although it’s easier today to hold off when Keith seems adamant to be miffed all the way back to Lance’s room.

Lance heads in first, expecting Keith will hang around with him until dinnertime but Keith just stands in the doorframe still looking a bit purple.

“Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that,” he lets the pet-name slip out without thinking. He always enjoys teasing Keith and he’s always liked their easy banter. But he’s worried this is a step too far when Keith’s face turns an even darker shade and he stalks forward with purpose.

“Fuck this.” Keith grunts.

It happens quickly after that, a strong grip on his collar, the room whirls around him and then there’s the cool pressure of the wall and the hot needy pressure of Keith lips on his.

Keith’s lips?

Lance’s brain slams into high gear as Keith bites down on his bottom lip and Lance leans into the kiss full force.

If Shiro’s kissing was a consistent and steady pressure Keith’s was explosive by comparison. He was all motion, practically vibrating under Lance’s hands when he ran them along his spine. He kissed Lance like he was desperate for it.

Biting lips and hands in each others hair and then teeth were running down Lance’s neck and he couldn’t help the low moan as Keith sucked a hickey into his neck.

How long has it been since someone gave me a hickey?

Lance is giddy with it.

They kiss until Lance’s mouth hurts, flipping around to press each other against the walls of the room and then eventually falling into Lance’s bed on their sides and kissing more. It’s a long while before Lance has to pull away to catch a proper breath and when he does, Keith still appears to be raring to go judging by the way his lets out a whine and kisses Lance’s jaw.

“I should tackle you when we spar more often if this happens.”

“The only reason you caught me off guard was because I was thinking about this,” Keith huffs, pulling back so just his hands remain cradling Lance’s neck.

Lance can feel himself blush.

“I was thinking about this too, I’ve uh…kissed Shiro and I—”

“I know.” Keith interrupts.

“You know!?” Lance quiets himself when Keith raises and unimpressed brow.

“Of course I know, open communication remember?”

“Oh,” Lance disentangles their legs a bit to look away from Keith’s gaze.

“Was this…too much?” He looks back up to Keith and finds a rare thing there—insecurity.

“This was great Keith. I was wondering when I could find a good moment to kiss you and I just kept chickening out.”

“I just didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Oh, well thanks then—shit!” Lance glances at the clock and realizes that the evening meal is well underway.

“What!?” Keith squawks as he rolls away from Lance.

“We’re going to miss dinner!”

Keith scrambles out of the bed and begins righting his clothes immediately, both of them checking the other over and smoothing out their hair before rushing to the meal hall.

Keith grumbles about getting the slimmest pickings of meat and food as he and Lance race through the buffet but he only complains half-heartedly, and with the faintest purpling blush on his cheeks.

When they make it to the table, they find that Shiro, bless him, is sat at a mostly empty table across from Antok and Regris with two small desserts in front of him. He slides them over to his partners when they sit down and they settle in for a peaceful meal.

Until Lance turns to say something and Regris and Antok get an eyeful of the bruising smattered up his neck.

…

“Just lean down a bit Shiro.”

“Like this?” Shiro slides down in the bed even further jostling Kosmo who’s grumbles at them.

“Can you hold that position the whole call?”

“Yes—”

“No.” Keith cuts in from where he’d been fixing his hair in Lance’s mirror.

“Alright spitfire, it’s not like you’re meeting my parents. Relax—here Shiro.” Lance shoves a few pillows to the floor so Shiro can sit comfortably and make it into frame on the padd’s camera.

“Parents, Lance, would be less nerve wracking; these are your best friends!”

“Wait ’til you meet my parents,” Lance waggles his brows but Keith just grins.

“Can’t wait.”

ping. ping. ping.

“Alright,” Lance tries to keep looking excited and not give away how nervous he is as he plops down on the bed beside Shiro. Keith settles on his other side.

“Ready?”

Shiro pats Lances calve while Keith nods as if he’s going into battle.

Lance hit’s the button and—

“Oh my god your that delinquent!” Pidge’s accusatory glare is the first thing they see as the vid call opens to show her messy desk and background workshop.

“PIDGE!” Hunk admonishes getting far too close to the camera. So close Lance can see Hunk’s styled his hair up just for the call.

Lance glances at Keith and Shiro. Shiro looks confused, while Keith is giving him the ‘I told you so’ look.

“Hi guys,” Lance pretends Pidge hadn’t even spoken, “this is Keith and Shiro, my partne—”

“Hey, wait, I recognize you. You’re that nerd’s little sibling? Bird?” Keith slaps his leg and leans in to get a closer look.

“It’s Pidge!”

Lance puts his head in his hands.

“Lance you didn’t tell us you were dating this delinquent that used to get Matt in worlds of trouble when we were in school!”

            “Hey! We were twelve! Matt was the one that got me in trouble!” Keith argues.

            Pidge disappears from the frame.

            “Oh no.” Lance resigns himself to where this is going.

            “Where’d they go!” Keith is still indignant when not one, but two of the Gundersons appear in the frame.

            “Keith!! Long time no see!”

            “Not long enough,” Keith turns up his nose at the screen and Matt laughs.

            “How you been? I hear you’re mom took you to space, explains your disappearance. You know a lot of folks really worried when you up and disappeared.”

            “Really?” Keith drops the aloof act and seems genuinely curious. Shiro and Lance share a look.

            “Of course dude! I missed you, its so good to see your face.” Keith actually looks like he might cry, which is not where Lance expected Matt to take things, usually when Matt crashes a call it means— “you single?”

            There it is. Matt leans close to the camera and waggles his eyebrows.

            Keith has the audacity to blush.

            “Alright enough of that!” Lance cuts in, “Matt I’m trying to introduce these guys to my partners Keith and Shiro.” He angles the camera to catch the top half of Shiro.

            “Dude you are massive!” Matt exclaims.

            “Uh thanks…” Shiro rubs the back of his neck.

            “Hi Shiro and Keith. It’s nice to meet you, I am Lance’s normal friend Hunk.”

            “You say that like you are hiding something,” Pidge shoves Matt to the side to tease Hunk.

            “Hey! You’re the one’s derailing the call!”

            “I’ve heard of you Hunk, my friend Antok was at the last coalition event that you catered. He said your work was amazing.” Shiro offers.

            Hunk blushes.

            “Hunk's the best of the best, its why he’s an ambassador.” Lance brags for him and watches Hunk turn redder.

            “Yeah yeah Hunk’s amazing! I’m also an ambassador I’ll have you know!”

            “Yeah Matt is too but you don’t see Hunk nearly blowing up the Olkari parliament buildings with his gumbo.”

            “That was one time!” Pidge and Matt say in unison.

            “It happens to the best of us, I can tell you Keith has nearly blown up at least four ships since I met him. And one deliberately.” Shiro chuckles.

            “What!”

            “C’mon man don’t leave us hanging.”

            “Shiro!”

            Lance leans back to listen, knowing there will be swift repercussions as Keith is already concocting embarrassing stories about Shiro. Matt spins in his office chair while Pidge leans in close, Hunk still flustered from the compliments just seems to listen in awe.

            This isn’t what Lance expected going into this call.

            It’s so much better.