Archive of Our Own

            It’s late at night, as it is most times the paladins decide to combat their boredom and refuse the better alternative of sleep, when Hunk first sighs deeply at the ceiling and asks, “Lance, truth or dare.”

            “Dare.” He says automatically, feeling the challenge brew in his veins. Despite how bored they all are, Lance does lift his own head at the thought of a game.

            Hunk continues without looking at the other, “I dare you to do more push-ups than Keith.”

            Keith looks up then, as well, and blinks. Lance wonders if he’s just there for solidarity, sometimes, but the haze in his eyes is also unmistakably tired and bored, so it’s not like he doesn’t belong in their little pity circle.

            Lance scrambles into action, though, planking and pumping his arms til he’s done five very-fast and low effort push-ups. “Done.”

            “I mean if you think Keith can only do--” Hunk begins, but Lance cuts him off.

            “No, you said more than him, and he didn’t do any right now. So, I win.” It’s a bold claim but nobody holds him against it, and he follows up to ask, “Pidge, truth or dare?”

            Pidge is a hesitant dare-taker, though, and cowardly says, “Truth.” She’s fidgeting with a metallic project in her lap in a way that, to the untrained eye, may look very involved, but they all know she’s truly only re-braiding the wires and messing with the layers in the machine to keep her hands busy.

            “Wow. So brave,” Lance begins, but he stops and hustles on when he hears Keith snort, “What is...the worst thing you’ve eaten in space?”

            Her nose wrinkles immediately, likely recalling a variety of things and trying to select from an extensive list of strange cuisine. “That spaghetti stuff on Zorn that they told us was made out of like…their hair.”

            Lance gags at the memory, “Man, what are they using to condition over there…”

            “Keith, truth or dare.” Pidge says, and it goes on like that extensively. Their night winds and winds until Lance is well past his neutral boredom and fallen into a more palatable irritated one, where he tries to deny his jealousy for not being asked more questions but can’t, because nobody’s asking him questions and he’s irritated he has nothing to play on to admit he’s annoyed at all, and so it is a cycle.

            Things start to get interesting, though, because the night keeps winding until the morning winds in, warm and slow. The tire fades from them just as their boredom does, despite not getting any sleep, because there’s something new about the kind of teenage adrenaline that’s flowing through their veins. Familiar and strange, and so potent compared to how their dulled senses handle the adrenaline of being a paladin. Something so mundane as not expecting the next challenge issued keeps them thrilled, because there’s no danger to them, and there’s no threat, and they can all have a good laugh no matter the outcome.

            So they almost always pick each other’s dare.

            Except for Keith, who seems immune to the kind of adrenaline Pidge, Hunk, and Lance are experiencing in ecstasy. Unless, of course, he’s hoping to amplify it further by shaking things up.

            “Keith, truth or dare?” Pidge asks, because even though they all think it’s redundant it’s still an exciting beginning to an absurdity.

            But Keith says, “Truth.” for the first time since the night began, and it’s like they’re all struck by electricity and shock shoots across their faces as a result. It’s like they’ve come face to face with the famous two-headed Jiptunir, wiley and feral as Coran so likes to remind them in fascination during scary story nights.

            Dumbstruck and face unchanged, Pidge asks, “Who is your best friend on the ship?” Her voice begins incredulous, but she rushes to add, “Other than Shiro!”

            “Uh,” Keith thinks, and Lance feels a feeling crawl under his skin that feels like goosebumps or that weird feeling you get when you think someone’s talking about you across the room at a lunch table and you’re embarrassed in the most gut-churning way. Lance thinks, does Keith have any other friends than us and Shiro? Is this mean? Are we asking him to pit us against each other? Keith dissipates those thoughts as fast as they flash behind Lance’s eyelids, because he says something even more shocking than his Truth. Even more shocking than if they actually did meet the Jiptunir. Even more shocking than when they found out how Alteans cried. Keith says, “Uh, Lance probably.”

            There is no time for a pin to drop, though the silence cuts deep between the time Keith finishes his “Probably” and when Lance practically screams, “WHAT!?”

            Keith winces, both physically and, if possible, mentally. There’s something that happens behind his expression in an elusive and subtle way that seems a lot like wondering how fucked he is. “What?” He grouches, pretending to be caught unawares by Lance’s reaction.

            Hunk and Pidge, however, explode with laughter, which changes Keith’s expression even further from it’s private misery into pure distaste and embarrassment.

            “Keith, we’re rivals.” Lance tries to explain hotly, feeling the heat on his face creep to his ears and neck. “This is strictly un-platonic.”

            “Romantic.” Hunk wheezes, “You’re rivals, for sure.”

            Pidge cries, shoving her glasses up with a sleepless delirium, “Lance you’re practically married--”

            “STOP.” Lance roars, standing quickly and running his hands through his hair.

            He is having a crisis.

            When he catches sight of Keith’s face, he cringes to himself, because Keith is looking very apologetic at nobody but the ceiling, so inevitably it is an apology to his own brain for letting that thought escape. Well, Lance is sorry, too.

            “I misspoke.” Keith says, voice flat and crisp and very calm in a way that makes Lance know for sure that Keith thinks he’s overreacting. “I actually meant Hunk.”

            “Thank you.” Hunk can’t stop laughing, though, so he basically chokes it out and starts coughing on the wheezing laughter he’s managing.

            Their training alarm begins overhead, and they know they’re done for collectively despite how high the spirits are. Even in the artificial lighting, very specific and ritualistic, it is hard to keep track of time and the dimming cycles. And now it is time for training, and none of them have slept a wink.

            “I’m going to go get kicked in the face by the gladiator until I forget this ever happened.” Lance mutters, and Pidge squeals with another bite of laughter, almost falling off her perch on the couch.

            Keith brushes past him on the way out, though, not sparing a glance to the group as he does so. He’s already turning the corner at the end of the hall before Lance thinks to catch up to him and exude his frustrations even more.

            Lance thinks, who drops a bomb like that and runs away?

            Lance thinks, no way is he beating me at training when he’s sleep deprived, too.

            The training is, as expected, basically murderous. Allura is frustrated and uncomprehending of their poor performance, and the team hears her mutter something very specifically worried about their fight against the Galra to Coran more than once when she seems to think the microphone in her perch is turned off.

            Shiro spares no quarter, though, maybe because Keith’s a little tattletale and probably told Shiro that they all pulled an all-nighter but also maybe because it’s very obvious that they did so by the dark streaks below their eyes or the fact that none of them had to walk more than a hallway before they were at the training hall.

            Lance realizes, being thrown for the fourth time by the gladiator, that maybe he should have pretended to be sleeping in to make the ruse a little better that they were all in perfect form.

            They switch to pairs, which seems like a relief until Shiro says he’ll pick the teams to spare them from getting too used to their usual sets. It seems even worse the second Shiro says Lance and Keith are paired together and Keith makes a face like someone waved something very stinky under his nose.

            And Lance ends up getting thrown another four or five times, because even with no sleep Keith is basically part android and very good at being better than Lance.

            “Sorry.” Keith says the fourth or fifth time, extending a hand down to Lance.

            “Just for this one?” Lance huffs, taking the hand but making Keith haul him up with no help because he wants to lay there like a ragdoll. It takes Keith frustratingly little effort.

            Keith snorts when he’s upright, though, and he glances back towards where Shiro is teaching Hunk a specific stance across the deck while Pidge checks her space phone before glancing back. “No. For embarrassing you, earlier.”

            And Lance blinks before he baulks. “I’m not embarrassed that you train too much.”

            “I--” Lance knows he messed up, though, because Keith’s face shifts twice before neutrality comes again. “Not for that. You know what I’m talking about. This morning. I guess I misunderstood.” He glances away again, and his hands come up to make a vague gesture. Lance, suddenly, feels very bad. Like he kicked a puppy bad. Like he knows Keith better than anyone in the ship in some kind of odd way and took advantage of that fact bad. “I’m not always...good at that kind of stuff. I was just thinking about it too much, I guess--”

            “You’re--UGH.” Lance says, running his hands through his hair again and making himself madder because his hair is definitely sticking everywhere now because it’s sweaty. Keith levels him with a squinted look. “You’re my best friend, too. Jeeze. It’s just very frustrating.”

            “We’re all really best friends because of Voltron, if that makes you feel better. We’d probably be dead if we hadn’t become best friends.” Keith tries to swim away with that maneuver, but Lance can tell he’s just trying to offer some fake sage wisdom to keep the truth away.

            Lance rolls his eyes so Keith knows exactly how he feels about that little snippet. “No, we’re all best friends because we make a good team. But you,” he punches Keith’s chest gently, “Are my freaking best friend because you are the way that you are. And I guess I’m yours because of my severe magnetism, so I don’t blame you.” Before Keith can really think or say anything regarding that, Lance keeps talking because he feels his embarrassment well up inside him in a way that means please keep talking so both feet are in your mouth at the same time, “It’s just a little frustrating, though, because what would space be without the rivalry of a lifetime being the driving force in a dynamic that saves the world? You work so hard on something, only for one bonehead,” He knocks on Keith’s head and doesn’t dodge in time to miss Keith slapping his wrist away, “to mess it all up by making us get all close to one another.”

            “You know we could just stop being close.” Keith says, like it’s possible or something normal to do with a best friend who is one of the six people on a ship hurtling through space with you.

            “Nah.” Lance says, ignoring Keith’s sweat stench and personal bubble and ignoring Shiro gesturing for them to get back to their pairs training in favor of throwing an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “Let’s just enjoy it while we’ve got it. Now that I’ve watched my rivalry dreams die so brittle and easy, I’ll need someone as good of a friend as you in these very trying times.”

            “I think I was being serious when I said it was actually Hunk.” Keith seems to realize.

            Lance gets flipped a seventh time, but they laugh when he hits the ground after his groan because Lance really shouldn’t have given him such a good opportunity during training.

            When they’re on their planet for the day’s diplomatic fawning and preparing for the song and dance of pretending they are a force unbeatable and necessary in this time of war rather than some desperate teenagers who will try their best to stop genocide, Pidge leans over to Lance during their procession into the royal court of the Klipp’tigfixes and says, “I dare you to pretend licking their hands is how humans greet people.”

            Lance says, “Ask right, cheater.”

            Pidge glances at the castle quickly approaching and, apparently wanting the event so desperately to be reality, quickly asks, “Truth or dare?”

            “Dare.”

            “I dare you to pretend licking their hands is how humans greet people.”

            “Done.” Lance says, keeping his face neutral and his voice quiet as to not alert their royal companions and associates, nor Shiro, to the event. “How will such a fantastic dare even occur?”

            “They’re going to offer you up like a piece of meat because you’re the prettiest.” Pidge says both in a demeaning and very flattering way, and Lance realizes that’s probably true and he will probably be turned to by either Shiro or Allura in a few minutes as usual and be asked to come forward with them but keep quiet so they can do the talking unless asked.

            Lance hides a little smile to himself when Shiro turns.

            Lance cannot hide it anymore when Shiro turns away, though, and he’s grinning when he does step forward with the Princess of Altea and the Black Paladin, standing behind and to the side of their approach and sweeping low in sync with them.

            The matriarch of the Klipp’tigfixes is…nothing short of beautiful. She has four large, doe brown eyes that look sculpted into her temples and forehead, and her nose is long and broad. There are protrusions from her head that look both like tendrils and horns, thick and curving and much longer than anyone in her court. She approaches Lance first, though, blinking all four eyes, because Lance is the prettiest.

            And when Lance raises slightly from his bow to reach gently for her hand, awestruck by her closeness and almost overwhelmed by her beauty, she lets her calloused hand settle in his own and allows him to lift it to his lips. In the corner of his eye, Lance can see Allura stiffen visibly and Shiro sigh, but both of those reactions change drastically as Lance lets his tongue wag and basically slobbers on the back of the matriarch’s hand.

            Pidge sucks in a breath, loud, and when Lance raises his head he can see his other paladins having walked up to be near Allura and Shiro, where Pidge is pinching Hunk hard, both of them probably desperately trying to keep from laughing.

            The matriarch’s face is…a little more neutral, to say the least, when Lance is fully erect again. She tips her head slightly, by way of departure, and gestures for Allura and Shiro to follow her up her stairs to her grand chamber well above the courtyard she met them in.

            Shiro glances over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs when both Allura and the matriarch aren’t looking, and his face is very stern. Lance looks away to pretend he doesn’t notice, but by avoiding Shiro’s gaze, he catches Keith, his eyes neutral but his hand covering his mouth in a way that is almost believably casual. Behind that hand, however, Lance can tell that he’s laughing.

            Lance thinks they’re more than best friends, in a way, when he sees things like that.

            A part of him thinks that’s the worst way to describe them of all.

            And when the matriarch is well, well out of earshot and Shiro and Allura aren’t glancing over their shoulders anymore, Hunk lets out a long breath, lets out a long laugh, wipes a tear, and says, “Why did you do that?”

            It becomes almost manic, the dares that follow on that planet and each one they visit next. They keep them strictly out of the castle, for the thrill of saving them for new environments, but the waiting is excruciating. Pidge spends a whole planet having to do cartwheels. Hunk talks in pig latin and, in a way, it actually does the trick in sealing an alliance. Shiro takes exactly one dare in the entirety of it all, from beginning to end, and refuses all others. One may argue he didn’t take the dare at all, really, but he ended up doing it regardless. He will never speak of it again, though, because it would be absolutely mortifying to appear in the history books of Voltron and their adventures in court etiquette and sealing alliances.

            Lance is just thrilled to have something to do in the long, boring hours of Allura and Shiro negotiating the terms and conditions of another planet not wanting to be a victim of the Galra. It’s one thing—an honor of a thing, really, to stand guard at a palace or a tavern or a cave for hours on end to be a temporary member of a prized military while the big boys and girls talk shop inside, and it’s another, more boring but equally important thing to have to do that with no danger afoot and nothing really at stake because Galra haven’t even been anywhere near this fraction of the galaxy yet.

            They’re making their way around the block soon, as they always are, Lance is sure.

            But they’re not there now, and Voltron is. And Allura and Shiro are inside, talking shop as it were, and Coran is keeping the castle steady, and the paladins are alert but bored.

            When Lance is bored, he likes to talk. He likes to do it a lot more often than just when he’s bored, really, but it’s particularly potent when certifiably bored to the tips of his toes. He’s also antsy.

            So he’s telling a really fascinating story, really about how he took his abuela for a pedicure once because she mentioned she hadn’t had one done in decades and used to love it as a girl and it was such a nice idea until he realized his abuela’s feet were actually that of a story in themselves and he knows, deep down, that the story is more boring than the silence that comes with boredom, but he doesn’t really expect it when Keith crouches in front of him and says, “Truth or dare?”

            “Dare.” Lance says as always, cutting himself off and excited at the prospect because in the midst of his stories he was trying to think of a really juicy one for Hunk.

            “Keith puts a hand on Lance’s shoulder and drops his own head between his shoulders. “I dare you to shut up until tonight.”

            Pidge cheers. Hunk laughs. Lance…shuts his mouth, because he’s not going to chicken out.

            It does suck, though, because it feels a lot like an insult but he’s not going to be a little bitch and say something about how it does. He thinks, privately, that something about space has made him much more sensitive to his imposter syndrome and his inability to see his inherent value to his friends. Both of which sting more than a person is able to really describe, but he’s also not going to say something about that because how can that even be properly articulated?

            Keith leaves when Lance nods to him and smirks, returning to his post.

            Really, the dare will be easy. They’re just sitting around anyway. Even if the boredom claws at Lance’s throat and forms words, he swallows them, because it’s one of the easiest dares he’s taken in weeks.

            It actually doesn’t really suck until someone starts shooting out of the cave, and the shop talk seems to have gone awry, and the paladins charge in but Lance is wordless, unable to ask his millions of questions none of them have current answers to but he wants to voice.

            He knows their dares are completely inactive in serious situations like battles and diplomatic events that are too tense to risk, but it’s an easy one that can still be active during a fight. Lance just resists the urge to do his little under-his-breath swears and doesn’t tell some sniped guy to get the hell off of his friends as he normally would once he’s got them.

            He even resists calling out when he’s almost overwhelmed, because he knows they’ve all got each other’s backs. He trusts himself to get out of a sticky situation and doesn’t rely on calling to his team for them to divert attention to unneeded backup. He’s not a little bitch, as he promised himself earlier, and he’s perfectly fine taking a few guys all at the same time, close range or not.

            But he’s interrupted in that little spout in the battle by Keith, with wild eyes and a franticness necessary for battle cutting through those surrounding Lance. He rushes forward at Lance himself, as well, but Lance spares the moment to grab Keith’s arm with a bewildered look, almost wondering if Keith is himself despite the recklessness seeming on brand.

            Keith gives him a once-over, then a twice-over, and gives out a noisy breath before he’s turning to the battle again and breaks from Lance’s grasp.

            Something, Lance realizes, worried Keith.

            He wouldn’t find out about it until later. Much later than that night, but that night became the first inkling of what it was exactly.

            They manage to get out of the battle with great results, as killing the assassin gang within the ranks actually granted Voltron a lot of unintended favor for the planet anyway, and the alliance is secured through their fighting their way for survival. The usual celebrations follow, and Lance notices that throughout Keith is his usual irritable self, but bass boosted. That in and of itself isn’t so unusual, but Lance is a little miffed that Keith can’t even enjoy his dare and how well Lance is following it because of whatever exterior issue had poked at Keith’s irritation.

            He finds Keith at the outcropping of one of the many caves into the inner network of underground courtyards and royal suites associated with the underground people who are so grateful for Voltron. Keith is his usual brooding self, but it always does him some favors in the moonlight that Lance can’t deny. There’s something that twists in Lance’s stomach when he sees Keith like that, particularly reminiscent of having a crush on vampires as a tween. It’s a special kind of admiration.

            Keith sighs a little when Lance plops down next to him, swinging his feet like nothing’s wrong.

            “You can talk.” He seems to rush to say, “It’s nighttime.”

            Lance lets out a very noisy breath. “Thank goodness. I have missed you, sweet voice. That dare sucked.”

            Keith spares him a glance that feels a lot more loaded than Lance expects, even while Keith is brooding. It makes him concerned immediately, but Keith actually ends up speaking before Lance can even poke at him in a way that he expected to get some irritated results. “Dares are off for battles, we already decided that forever ago. It was reckless of you to try to take on all of those guys at once without even giving a heads up to the team.”

            Offense flares up in Lance, who becomes defensive and sullen immediately. “Just because I didn’t call for help doesn’t mean I was following the dare. Sorry you didn’t think I can handle myself, but I can.”

            “It was—Ugh.” Keith pulls up a leg and rests his chin on it, looking very cool and devastating if Lance was still a tween but irritating the rational, young adult Lance. “It has nothing to do with what you’re capable of, we didn’t hear a peep from you the entire battle. I wasn’t the only one who had to keep looking to make sure you weren’t dead. You can’t say that wasn’t the dare.”

            Lance can feel his nostrils flare and tries to school his features in the infuriating way Keith does when he’s mad. “It was an easy dare and it didn’t interfere with the battle. I guess I didn’t think you guys had to double check on me so much.” He stops swinging his feet for the sake of conveying how serious Keith’s words mean to him, and he thinks that must add to doing the trick, because Keith turns to him, then, and they stare at each other with icy eyes.

            “I was worried about you.” Keith says, like it solves all of those other insults. It soothes the pain, a little, but they’re still there, and will probably be for a while. “It’s not about what you can do because we know what you can do. It’s about what enemies can. It’s about how our team needs communication from our eyes, our sniper, and our blue paladin. Those are all you.” Lance doesn’t say anything, and Keith’s eyebrows furrow, “I thought—When you were swarmed, you stopped shooting for a minute. Or, I stopped hearing it. I thought we were about to book it out of there with you thrown over one of our shoulders.”

            “I’m sorry.” Is all Lance can think is appropriate to say. He’s angry, still, and feeling very accused, but he can’t fault Keith entirely, and he knows Keith doesn’t fault him entirely, either, really.

            Lance thinks about the conversation well into the night, though. When they’re back at the castle, even, and he lays in his bunk staring at the ceiling of the cubby and thinking himself into tire, he wonders if one of them were brave enough to keep talking what either of them would have said. Then, he thinks, that maybe that was Keith being brave, and waiting for Lance to be in return.

            Then he shuts his brain off and goes to sleep, because it’s an exhausting train of thought to entertain.

            Shiro calls off their truth or dare game much more seriously the next morning, with a team meeting and everything. Lance thinks it’s because Keith ratted him out, even if he had no proof of Lance taking the dare too seriously, but he’s proven wrong when Pidge levels him with a careful look as Shiro’s announcing it.

            Lance realizes maybe the rest of the team was worrying, too. Just like Keith said.

            It’s not like he’s particularly avoidant of that knowledge, but it comes unwelcome as an intrusive thought that he had worried them in such a specific and life-threatening way. He would never intend that, and the inherent danger of the thought turns into guilt the longer Shiro’s lecture goes on. He brings up each dare and it’s potential level of severity to their fight for alliances from Lance licking the matriarch’s hand to the time Pidge let it rip on that ancient foghorn with the prophecy attached on Flozipmow-9. It all seems so silly, with all of the receipts.

            Their day drags on after that, and it’s clear to everyone that they needed that kind of reckless abandon distraction, as dangerous as it was. There was a freeing feeling to something so simple in their currently war-entrenched and complicated lives, and now it was sorely missed.

            Teenage rebellion and adrenaline and passion could wait, though, because they didn’t get those luxuries anymore, nor had they had them for the better part of two years. Another six months, another six years, maybe the war would be won, and they could all sit in a park past sundown on Earth and sneak some beers and tell each other dirty stories like real teenagers do, but it came down as a heavy reality that it wasn’t the case for them now, nor would it be soon.

            And it was a burden of its own, attached to that of being a paladin. Despite it being ever present and ever clear in their everyday lives, it came so fully to them that they couldn’t lead those normal experiences anymore, nor would they ever if they were spinning through space much longer. Time and life were fleeting, and all of theirs, involuntarily or not, had been devoted to a cause. A just one, an important one, but a heavy one.

            So, they sit again all night in the designated recreation room willing themselves to get to sleep but none of them leaving, and finally it comes to a head of Pidge asking, “Hunk, truth or truth?”

            Hunk laughs, light and sleepy. “Wow, uh, truth.”

            “Pretty saucy of you, Hunk.” Lance snickers, rolling in his position on the floor to face Hunk on the couches. He seems like he’s pretty intently reading what looks like a detailed manual, but Lance knows he’s zoning out a little.

            “How high can you jump?”

            “You think of the worst questions.” Lance groans, flopping back to stare at the ceiling. As he splays his arms, one of his hands accidentally brushes Keith’s middle, but neither of them reacts.

            “I can jump exactly three-hundred feet into the air.” Hunk says.

            Pidge says, “No.” and leaves it at that.

            “What’s the most embarrassing thing you ever did for a dare?” Hunk muses, talking to the group rather than just Pidge. He closes his manual and folds his hands, eyeing the room. Lance knows Hunk knows what Lance is going to say and wracks his brain for something more embarrassing to say instead.

            “One time I broke my arm jumping off the roof of one of the schools I was going to as a kid.” Keith says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t notice Hunk’s very worried and pointed look, and instead chuckles to himself. “It was only one story, though. I mean, it still sucked, but it wasn’t like a huge building.”

            “Wow,” Pidge says, expression also very pointed and concerned, “Only one story? Pussy.”

            “I once ate a succulent and my mom had to drive me to the ER when my cousin told her it was why I was throwing up.” Hunk sighs, “It was disgusting, would not recommend.”

            Pidge admits, despite her distracted stare at Hunk and her wrinkled nose, “Matt dared me to eat a giant bag of jellybeans and my stomach hurt so much I cried throughout my cousins whole wedding ceremony. There’s a video.”

            Lance is very jealous these are all stories that can rely on child naivety and his will not. He stands when three pairs of expectant eyes turn to him, and edges to the exit as he begins to speak, wanting to hide his embarrassed face as best as he can and seem perfectly flippant about the entire affair as to not cause alarm. “When I was in the garrison a terrible friend of mine dared me to do the impossible, and I did. It was tragic and nobody involved was happy.”

            Pidge squints, not noticing Hunk rolling his eyes beside her. “The impossible…” She begins, and when her eyes dart to Keith, Lance decides she knows too much for such a small person with a small head and a small brain. “I feel like that would have come up a lot sooner if true.”

            “It’s true.” Hunk snorts, “I felt really bad. He still won’t accept my apology.”

            “I don’t get it.” Keith decides to say, sitting up and trying to study Lance. “Did you try against Shiro’s scores or something?”

            Lance groans. “You have no idea. I love this. Okay, so I have a massive crush—”

            “This is maybe the worst way to do this, and the most embarrassing.” Hunk warns very politely because he is a good friend.

            “—On the most popular boy in school, even though he’s popular in a way that everyone hates his guts because he’s the way that he is and doesn’t vibe at all.” Lance ignores Hunk and especially ignores Keith’s confused squinting, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “And Hunk was like,” he uses a voice, because it is appropriate, “Lance, just shoot your shot. Use thirty seconds of unbridled, stupid bravery, and you can always say at least you did it. I dare you.”

            “That’s the advice from We Bought a Zoo.” Pidge thinks aloud, sinking in her chair and realizing the severity of what Lance is confessing in this public moment.

            Lance continues, “And so I shoot my shot. I ask none other than a Mr. Keith Kogane to a walk under the moonlight and pointedly use words like date and like and he says, and I quote,” He puts on another voice, turning away from Keith’s surprised face as to not see what gets written there when the story’s done, “Can you fuck off?”

            The door whooshes open before he’s exactly ready, but Lance makes his exit anyway, bowing in the doorway as he turns to his friends again to say his goodbyes. “And thus,” He announces, “A rivalry was born. A friendship festered instead, even. Goodnight!”

            Lance does not wait for the door to close before he hightails it out of the hallway, let alone the wing of the castle. He’s got nowhere to run in space, nowhere to just sit on a rooftop and scream because he’s confused and full of a lot of complicated teen emotions and not able to do things a teenager does like confess to their crush normally or do a real promposal or anything, really, because they’re hurtling through space.

            He only goes to his room, inevitably, but by the time he gets there and makes it to sit on the bed, someone’s knocking on the door, and he wonders if someone ran after him after a few moments or if someone followed him the whole way, silent and unsure of whether to make their presence known. Regardless, it’s pretty worrisome that he didn’t notice them, but he’s going to cut himself some slack in respect for his feelings at the moment.

            It’s Keith, though, so it makes a little more sense that he didn’t really detect a presence because the boy is like a quiet little rat on the floors, especially on the rare occasion he’s bootless. They meet eyes the second the door opens, and Lance can’t help but read the astonishment on Keith’s face as pity and awkwardness. There’s a lot of the latter to go around these days, it seems.

            “I didn’t know I rejected you.” Keith decides to say despite it being very rude.

            Lance leans his hip against his doorframe, crossing his arms. “I am very glad to know it wasn’t personal at all, or memorable.”

            “I mean—” Keith grunts, but it seems to be more at himself because his eyes fall and he sticks a sloppy hand into his bangs to get them away from his forehead. Interfering with what little brain power seems to be being used, probably. “It was a bad time for me. I don’t know when it is but I know I would’ve remembered if it wasn’t. Halfway through the garrison Shiro told me he had a disease that was killing him, then he went to space seemingly to have fun dying up there. Then, a year and a half later the garrison pronounced him dead. There was a lot there.”

            It would be cruel of Lance not to soften to that, and he would never hold a grudge to such honesty, anyway. He softens his voice, and his expression. When he reaches out a hand to Keith’s shoulder, it’s genuine. “I know, I don’t blame you for you dealing with that shit. It was just a whole thing for me at the time, and it’s embarrassing. That’s not your baggage to deal with.” He gestures for Keith to follow him in, and Keith surprisingly does, allowing the door to shut behind him and both of them sitting on the bed.

            “I’m happy we’re best friends, Keith.” Lance makes sure to say, because he thinks the honesty is important and he doesn’t want to set any expectations for Keith to meet that are outside of the bounds of their current understanding of one another. “I mean that.”

            Keith knocks his knuckles together, thinking, and Lance notices he’s become particularly antsy, probably from the situation and the conversation about Shiro’s first pseudo-death not helping. “I just—” His shoulders tick up, agitated, “I don’t think I’d say no now.”

            Lance chuckles and rolls his eyes, getting more comfortable on his bed. “I mean, you probably wouldn’t for the same reasons, sure, but who knows what kind of you you’d be now if that opportunity arose again. That’s like a lifetime away. If we ever do the alternate reality thing in this space adventure, I’ll let alternate reality Lance know to give it a shot when we’re this age.”

            Keith looks at him though, and his eyes are serious, and Lance realizes what he means. His throat goes a little dry at the thought, sure that he’s seeing things. “Keith,” He begins, gravely serious and knowing he’s going to look really stupid if he’s wrong, regardless of whether or not he can play it off as a joke, “Will you let me take you on a date so we can go on a walk under the moonlight together? Also, can I borrow your Calc notes?”

            “Yes and no.” He replies immediately, shifting forwards towards Lance. “You must be very frustrated with me about this, I guess.”

            “You are a very frustrating guy.” Lance admits, “I am very used to it, best buddy oh mine.” There’s something light in giddy in his chest, even if this ends up being an elaborate joke. “I do somewhat regret to tell you there’s not a real moon for us to walk under for another week, I think, technically, because we’re hurtling through space.”

            “Lance,” Keith says, wetting his lips and devastating Lance with the motion to follow so quick. “I dare you to let me kiss you.”

            Wordlessly, Lance agrees. It’s the kind of dare that doesn’t need to be followed, because it takes so long to complete that they forget they’re playing at all. In fact, it takes so long they get sleepy in the middle of it and spend a few languid hours just thinking beside one another, half-asleep.

            “I think our days are going to get better.” Lance says at some point, bleary-eyed.

            Keith replies, “Not a lot to look forward to. You’re…a lot to look forward to, though.”

            They’re having separate, sleepy conversations, but they both remember the words.