Archive of Our Own

They should have seen it coming.

It’s been twelve hours since the team barely escaped a secret Galra base whose occupants outnumbered them forty to one. Eleven hours since they realised Allura’s silence on the comms didn’t signal humorous ignorance, but rather that she was knocked unconscious in the crossfire. Ten hours since Coran told them the healing pods might not make it better.

Nine hours since Lance locked himself in his room and refused to come out. 

It’s funny, right before discovering Allura, Keith was telling himself that it could have gone a lot worse, all things considered. They managed to take out the entire base and its seemingly infinite waves of fleets as Voltron, proving their near-constant team drills were good for something. Things only became bleak once another ambush wrecked the rescue mission. It was long and stressful and just mind-numbingly unnecessary, but it was over, and they returned with the lions and paladins intact. Mostly.

Allura was going to be okay, Keith had said to the team, and to himself, about a hundred times after. Disregarding the copious amount of leader things he already messed up today, he knew they all needed hope. And so, Allura was going to be okay. Maybe. As for Lance, Keith was somehow even less sure. 

“Keith?” Hunk inquired, snapping him out of his thoughts. It seemed everyone was nearly done with their lion maintenance, aside from Red, who stood almost defiantly, mouth still hanging open from when Lance stormed out and beelined it straight for the dorm hours ago.

Well, he was alive, that counts for something, right? Physically, at least. 

Keith acknowledged Hunk with a curt nod, looking around the room for the right, or for any, course of action. Luckily, it seemed Hunk beat him to it.

“Someone should go talk to him.” 

Pidge joined them in the centre of the hangar, backpack loose on their left shoulder, a little plush charm pendulating in the air. “Yeah,” Pidge seconded, “I haven’t seem him like this since...”

Everyone remembers. Losing King Alfor was a surprisingly hard hit for Lance. The weight of the situation compiled with Lance’s intense empathy for every breathing soul, and his special empathy towards Allura – all left a nasty bruise on his mood. They struggled with forming Voltron for a week. And, yeah, obviously, it’s difficult. Without Allura, there’s no progress. Only painful, arduous defence.

But to Keith, this isn’t really about Allura. Not personally. Rather, it’s something he’s seen building up ever since they first encountered Earth from the outside, something he always felt too incompetent to address.

“I’ll go,” Hunk says, and he’s off in a second, best friend instincts propelling him forward despite the obvious weariness in his physique. Keith knows they should go do something. Document today’s endeavours. Warn allies. Talk strategy. Check on Coran checking on Allura. But neither him nor Pidge make a move. In the moment, it all feels less important than dealing with this, dealing with Lance abandoning all of them without a joke, remark, anything. 

It all began around the lion switch. Actually, Keith thinks, that’s probably only when stuff became too blatant, too hard to ignore. Shiro disappearing has felt more real than anything they’ve experienced so far, somehow. At some point during touring alien laboratories and eating formless food, your brain just sort of switches off, as if there’s not enough neurones to make sense of it all.

The loss has rendered everyone quiet, Keith noticed. Even Pidge now forgoes the usual haptic thinking out loud and analyses collected data with glazed eyes. Hunk has been sleeping whenever Voltron’s not needed - a result of worried nights spent in the kitchen instead of his bed. Keith’s Keith, now in the Black Lion which gives him the same drowning feeling as wearing Shiro’s oversized shirts. Most of his energy is spent arguing with Allura about whose plan is fastest (usually Keith’s) and safest (usually Allura’s).

And Lance? 

Lance is obviously exhausted.

It’s not rocket science. Lance is a family man through and through. The amount of energy required to cope with the distance is enough to wear anyone out. Keith is sure he isn’t the only one who sees the hectic nature with which he scans the mission maps, as if hoping that Earth might just show up, even as a distant coordinate. Or the wobble of his lips that’s there before every wormhole jump.

Like everyone else, even though it took him the longest to surrender, Lance has also recoiled into a sort of autopilot. He gets up for training, reports his duties, and sometimes departs from meals early, muttering something like “what a day, huh” and waiting for acknowledgment from Hunk, who just sighs and nods along. Except, when it’s Lance who’s missing from the dinner table, the effect is felt immediately. There are no jokes, no reasons to try and pick oneself back up. It’s a dry life carried out solely in service of the mission. 

A life where no one has it in them to be a source of comfort, Keith supposes. 

So yeah, they should have seen it coming. Not the Allura thing, this. The slow shattering of a love-saturated soul in the vast emptiness of space. It can’t go on for any longer, and so time shall not move forward, and so they stay here, petrified. 

Shiro finds them like this, regarding their concerned faces with a raised eyebrow. 

“Any news?” he asks carefully. 

Pidge shakes their head. “Lion check’s done, at least. Well, besides her,” she says, nodding towards Red.

“I logged everything I could,” Shiro says, squeezing Keith’s shoulder. Keith looks at him gratefully, squeezing back. 

Perhaps he can sense that Keith feels especially responsible for this, as he does for almost everything these days. It’s not like he and Lance have been bickering more than usual, if anything, the air between them sat unusually still, as if they were both waiting for the fighting spirit to re-reveal itself. No, it’s that Keith, as a quote unquote leader, was meant to do something about this, and didn’t. 

It was somewhere between day three and thirty-nine (time warps weirdly around that memory for Keith) of the stake-out on Nelovurr. The team hasn’t seen each other beyond the screen for a good few days now, and Keith is surprised how much it’s wearing at him. If he is like this, he can’t even imagine what the more sociable people of the crew must be encountering.

It’s an unrecognisable hour in the night and just Lance and Keith with their screens on, the static on the comms occasionally broken by a murmur (Pidge) or a snore (Hunk). Keith is absentmindedly flicking through Black’s holoscreens, tracing the map routes of the desert land he knows perfectly by now. Aside from the illegal and life-threatening action, it’s a welcoming planet, and tugs Keith’s memory towards his shack on Earth. He and Lance were much more vocal then, he thinks as his scan brings him back to the main screen, where Lance is likely doing the same. In a different context, it could actually be nice. Keith can imagine having a puzzle or a drawing pad here, mapping the unfamiliar night sky.

“I miss home,” Lance says, in a breath so subdued Keith isn’t sure Lance meant to say it out loud. 

Keith blinks. He wonders if the Voltron mind-link somehow delivered his pathetic daydreams straight to Lance’s brain, and then throws that thought away, just in case. Lance is looking nowhere in particular, but it’s hard to judge from the screen. Maybe, Keith thinks, he was just attuned to their space in the same way. And maybe it’s been on his mind the entire time.

Either way, he doesn’t ask. He can’t.

“Lance,” he begins, startling Lance. “We have a mission to focus on.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” Keith pretends not to see the hurt in Lance’s eyes.

Maybe he’s being stupid. Maybe all of this is stupid.

He doesn’t think they shouldn’t talk about it. He wants to. He wants to ask Lance if he knows how to surf, if they ever had puzzle nights, what he would do first once they’re back and settled. He wants to help, just… not now.

“Lance…” he says, unconvinced by his own tone. He looks up, and sees Lance there, asleep in Red, clutching the soft fabric of the baby blue blanket he got during their second space mall visit. Later, he thinks. When we’re back. We can talk about it. All of it.

When they return, Keith is swept off to a coalition catch-up meeting and doesn’t see Lance for the rest of the day. 

…

Hunk is back now, and it’s too soon. Way too soon. He sighs when he reaches the group.

“Yeah, I… wasn’t much help. I did ask him if he wanted to talk about it or if he wanted me to whip up a snack, cause I don’t think he’s had dinner, but he just said he needs some rest.”

Pidge scoffs. “Hunk…”

“What?” Hunk defends. “I feel bad forcing him to do anything. Like, he’s my guy, you know? Anyway, he always picks himself up eventually.”

Keith doesn’t trust the word always.

“Welp, I guess that’s that,” says Pidge mid-yawn, and aims it for the kitchen with Hunk. 

“He should eat, at least.” Keith mutters, a bit too forcefully. He ignores the look Shiro sends him.

This is stupid. Them, all talking about Lance like he’s not a couple doors away, when he’s the only one who knows what would help him, and not telling. They would try asking, really, but Lance always leaves before their brains can even think up a question. He hides himself and his feelings in his room and not that Keith’s ever stood there, but it’s just so quiet.

Everyone’s staring at Keith. Did he zone out again?

“What,” he asks.

They continue staring expectantly. Oh. Of course.

He knows he is technically the leader, but this… In all his pondering, Keith can’t think up a timeline where him trying to talk to Lance doesn’t make things worse.

He says as much. “I don’t think I can…”

“It’s worth a try,” Shiro says, looking between the team and the door in what he thinks an unassumingly encouraging manner.

Keith goes. 

He goes, only to escape the suffocating feeling of everyone’s eyes on him, expectant bodies suddenly feeling too close for comfort. He keeps his head low as he manoeuvres through corridors, trying desperately to think of what he can say that Hunk, Lance’s best friend, couldn’t.

It’s awkward because, well, they’re not really friends. On most days, they just seem to… tolerate each other? It’s like they silently agreed to keep their distance before any bickering could arise and waste them more time. Keith still enjoys sparring with Lance for the competition but there’s not been much space, or energy, for that lately. Voltron works, and that’s what’s important. 

He’s reached their corridor now. He starts pacing. 

He supposes that’s a pretty sad way of looking at it. They do work excellently together, and their sharp focus has further benefited their synergy levels. And even if Keith misses the sometimes witty, often annoying remarks, he likes the way they can be at each other’s arm instantly, assuring they’ve got each other’s back. On good days, he guesses he could call it support. 

That doesn’t mean Keith has any idea what to say. He tries to think what it would be like the other way around. What demeanour would Lance put on to get through to someone like Keith?

He knocks.

…immediately wants to take it back. This is a mistake. Keith slices through obstacles. Eliminates weaknesses. Challenges light to speed contests. He is not good with fragile matters.

“Come in,” Lance’s voice barely gets through the thick glass. Keith considers running away one last time, then takes a deep breath, and lets himself in.

“Ah,” Lance remarks upon seeing him, “that bad, huh?”

Keith’s not really sure what he was expecting to find, but it wasn’t Lance thoroughly tucked into his sheets, a feverish look on his scarcely visible face. His mussed-up hair and plaid-patterned socks make him look five years younger. He’s looking at Keith as if he’s come to pick a fight. Keith doesn’t know if that’s correct or not.

“Come train with me,” Keith says, because it’s apparently the only thing he knows how to say around Lance.

And that’s fine. Because Lance always agrees. Except this time, he just settles deeper into his sheets.

“I don’t think there’s much of a point.”

“Because?”

Thing is, Keith’s not the most patient person. That’s been his point all along. He doesn’t want to come off as insensitive, but he’d also love it if Lance could just stop beating around the bush and tell him what’s wrong, so he can tell Hunk or Shiro or whoever’s more useful at this emotion stuff. That seems fair, does it not?

Lance just shrugs. 

And God, Keith’s just led his team into unknown planes of space in a life-or-death battle. Why is this the hardest part of his day?

“Look, whatever’s going on, can you just like tell me and then we can sort it and move on?”

“Yeah, that’s not how it works.”

“Why not?” Keith asks, trying his hardest to not sound angry. He’s not.

“Look, I’ve already told Hunk, I just need some rest. Today’s been hard on all of us.”

“Except it’s not just today, Lance. You’ve been avoiding this for months.” 

That seems to stun Lance. His eyes snap open, jaw tensing as he clutches fistfuls of his duvet.

“What, you think we haven’t noticed?”

Keith knows, as soon as it leaves his mouth, that it was the wrong thing to say.

“Wow, congratulations on noting how miserable I am. Want a prize?” Lance sits up. “Is that what you came here to do? Laugh at me? Were you dying to see me weak and defeated like this is a fucking sparring session, does it make you feel more powerful, Mr I-fly-the-fucking-Black-Lion?”

“I thought we already established that I’m good for nothing around here, unless… you wanna tell me to get over it? Stop being emotional? Well, hi, no, I’m done with all the tense silences and the ‘laters’ and all of it, I’m done. So whatever you came here for, I’m not gonna give it to you. Sorry. Go do something with purpose or whatever.”

Does Lance really think that? That Keith came here to mock him, force him to swallow it all up and ‘man up’ or whatever? Keith’s head hurts, and his shoulders tighten as he wonders if that’s the impression he gives off. He supposes he’s never done anything to make him think otherwise.

Well, no time like the present. Keith takes a very, very deep breath.

“Are you done?” he deadpans. “I’m still here.”

Lance scoffs, then recoils and falls back into bed. Keith waits… and waits, until it’s clear Lance’s intent is just to fall back asleep. He takes a seat at Lance’s desk.

Lance looks up, raises an eyebrow at Keith’s lenient posture. 

“You’re just gonna stay here until…”

“Until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Lance sneers. “Oh boy, okay.”

Keith is determined not to say anything until Lance talks. Giving him space, that’s what he’s doing. Totally.

He takes this time to look around Lance’s room, noting things that he recognises and trying to pinpoint those he doesn’t. His shelves are stacked with souvenirs and little paper notes he’s gathered from all over, on visits to space malls or community encounters. Keith finds the rock-shaped instrument resembling an ocarina Lance got given from an Arusian kid, which he spent two weeks trying to learn before Allura banned him from playing it. A bunch of opened thank you letters addressed to the Blue Paladin scattered around the desk, none of them mentioning the colour red. Also, a pile of books in the corner of the shelf, which Keith is almost certain are not in English.

“Tell me about your Garrison days.” Lance says and Keith’s head whips to him so fast he stumbles in his chair.

“Huh, why?”

Lance shrugs. “We’ve been out here for so long but I feel like I still know nothing about you. Besides the stuff that we made up, I mean.”

Keith furrows his brows. “Stuff you made up? Like what?”

“Oh, you know, that you’re the secret lovechild of who and who. That you have a muffin addiction. Still believe that, by the way.”

“Were you just going around talking shit about all your classmates?”

“Just the secretive ones. I notice you’re not denying the muffin allegations.” 

Keith smiles. This Lance, he recognises.

“So…” Lance says.

It’s Keith’s turn to shrug. “There’s not much you don’t know.”

Lance looks defeated at this. Keith mentally curses. Truthfully, he doesn’t see how this is gonna help any of their situations, but Lance is asking. His mind hurries over the memories like a train but he forces himself to try, for Lance. 

“Um,” he starts, “I mostly trained in the simulators or hung out with Shiro. He’d leave them on for me after class.”

“Studying the blade, I see.” Lance yawns, but his attention is fully on him. Keith squirms in the chair, breathes.

“I also stole Shiro’s car.”

“You what?”

“Yeah it…” Keith chuckles at the memory. “That’s how I got into the Garrison.”

“You were fourteen?!” Lance exclaims. “Wait. I think I heard about this. Didn’t Shiro get into a fight with Iverson about it?”

“No, there was never a fight. He had me show Iverson how I flew and promise I would do my best to follow in Mr. Shirogane’s perfect record footsteps.”

“Shit.” Lance grins. “That almost went really well for you.”

Lance looks more and more awake the longer they talk, which is funny because Keith’s brain is exhausted. He’s not tried to articulate this, well, ever. But Lance keeps shooting questions his way, with a non-apologetic nature Keith relates to his own brashness, and he chooses to view that as a good thing.

He’s hit with another thought. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to be secretive.” Lance raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I was. But it was just like, people either didn’t like me because I was good, or because I was bad. I didn’t think there was a point trying to fight that.”

Lance looks like he wants to say something but dismisses it last second. Instead, he asks,

“So, the muffins.”

“Lance, I don’t have a muffin addiction.”

“Every time we saw you Keith,” he points an accusatory finger, “you were either sneaking around with weaponry or muffinry.”

“Wait, you knew I had the knife?”

Lance’s face turns sheepish. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“I’m not a snitch.” Lance shrugs. “Besides, I wanted to beat you properly. I wouldn’t have anyone to get competitive with if you were gone.”

“But then I left anyway.”

Lance grimaces. “Yeah.”

Keith isn’t sure where this is going. He looks for a change in topic, but a part of him feels the need to clarify, set the record straight instead of walking away. It’s… weird.

“The muffins were a gift from the lunch ladies. They knew I didn’t eat much, uhm, before, so they’d save me the leftovers.”

“Oh.”

“I also missed meals sometimes because of training. I think my body just wasn’t really used to regular eating.”

“Keith, that’s awful.”

Keith tries to calm his heart as painful memories twist it tight. Lance’s just asked him to talk about his days. He doesn’t need to spill his entire chest while he’s at it.

Lance’s voice is quiet but sure. “So like, after, where did you stay?”

“Various places. Mostly in kitchen storage. Shiro and Adam’s couch, sometimes. The gym locker rooms, once.” Keith shudders. “Never again.”

Lance gives him a weak smile, but they fall silent. Keith wonders if he’s messed up, somehow, even though it’s Lance who asked. The silence isn’t exactly awkward but it’s enough to get Keith’s guard up, wondering how to process the sudden intimacy of the situation. At some point, it’s started to feel like they’re actually seeing each other for the first time.

“So,” Lance begins, “if we come back…”

“When,” Keith interrupts.

Lance ignores him, “would you even want to stay?”

Keith thinks about this. “I don’t know, I guess it will depend on the mission. Where we’re needed.”

Lance snorts. “Ever the pragmatic.”

“Would you want to stay?” Keith asks, though he thinks he knows the answer. 

“Yeah,” Lance finally says. He looks down like he’s told a secret, fiddles with the sheets. Keith wonders if he’s ever said it out loud before.

A long silence falls on the room. Keith scrambles to break it.

“What about all the pretty aliens?”

Lance laughs, wide and open, clearly not expecting that response. Keith feels a boulder drop from his soul. 

“Good point,” Lance nods. The smile lingers on his lips before disappearing.

“Sorry,” Keith follows, “I don’t really have the same experience as others so can’t like, relate or… yeah.”

“No,” Lance says, “I think that actually helps. Thanks, Keith.”

Keith smiles. “Anytime, Lance.”

…

Anytime, indeed, Lance thinks as he sneaks a look at the boy lounging at his desk. 

For two weeks now, Keith has been making home of the far-left corner of his room, stopping by with dinner or news updates in between drills (which Lance doesn’t participate in. If Allura was awake, she would be pissed) and just… hanging out. Everyone from the team comes to check in every so often but Keith stays the longest, so long Lance wonders if there’s no work to be done for the leader of the universe’s best Lego robot.

“Not really,” Keith had said with an air of finality the one time Lance asked. “Mostly calming people down because of Allura, and Shiro’s better at that kind of thing, anyway.”

Lance wonders if that kind of thing wasn’t what Keith came here for in the first place.

It should be said that Lance never meant to cause a scene, or even hide himself from the team like this. It’s one of the things that turns his vision red when he thinks about them, his inability to just suck it up like everyone else, especially as he knows. He knows, alright? There’s nothing anyone can do. They are in this for the long run and sulking is just taking time away from training and coalition building. God, his inner voice sounds like Keith.

He didn’t mean to worry anyone, to say it out loud. And the one time he did, during the stake-out on Nelovurr, he cursed himself for how good it felt, even though Keith told him to shut it. It’s an impossible loop of fine, bad and worse and Lance is tired of all of it, feels too small to be able to handle any of it, and so – he collapsed. And that’s how Keith found him and continues to find him, because despite how helpful it has been to just chat, none of his deeply rooted beliefs have changed.

Why are you here, Lance wants to ask, wants to scream some days, because neither Keith nor himself have any idea how to actually fix this, fix him, and it’s not like they spend all day brainstorming ideas. In fact, for a huge part of their ‘hangouts,’ they don’t talk at all. They just share a space, pre-occupied with their own thoughts, in a kind of silence which Lance supposes isn’t exactly awkward, but it’s weird, right?

And there’s another thing.

Keith brought a jigsaw puzzle to Lance’s room.

It’s shaped kind of wonkily and the image on the box is virtually unrecognisable to both of them, a mixture of shapes, symbols and gradients. Keith guessed they were road signs. To Lance, they just look nice.

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that Keith Kogane, his arch nemesis and leader and overall scary dude, is steadily assembling a jigsaw puzzle in Lance’s room. He does so with a peace Lance’s never associated with the man, and it should make him look older, but it really does the opposite. He sees Keith these days like he never imagined, curled up in his chair two sizes smaller, back hunched over the desk like a cat, surrounded by six other boxes of puzzle pieces he keeps reorganising when he puts down a couple new ones. It’s so methodical and so utterly bizarre and Lance fully embraces the distraction.

“Are you sure you know how puzzles work, Keith?” he teases. “Usually, it’s enough to just sort them once.”

Keith doesn’t even look up. “Help me or shut up.”

“No thanks,” Lance retorts, and settles back into bed.

He has no idea what point Keith’s trying to prove with all this, but Lance can’t say he doesn’t appreciate it. He just missespeople. So even though it is nothing more than a waste of time, just having someone here with him is nice. Besides, he’s learnt more about Keith in the past few days than he had in their entire time as Voltron, facts coming from his own mouth and not someone else’s, as they carry on with the conversation started on mission day. Lance did feel bad at first for making Keith recount all these uncomfortable events, but this was Keith, the most private person he knew. If he didn’t want to tell Lance, he wouldn’t have.

And that’s just it, because Keith did. And Lance swallowed every snap judgment that popped up because this – this was important, somehow.

He is startled out of his thoughts by a loud noise.

“Jesus H. Christ, Keith, was that your spine?”

Keith turns to him sheepishly. “Sorry.”

The words are out before Lance can stop them. “You should stretch. It’d be good for you.”

And, Yeah, it would, but images of muscle flexes and pale skin rush into his mind and he is not doing that, absolutely not, Lance, not tonight.

Keith is glaring at him. “I’m not a gymnast.”

Lance shrugs. “You have all your suicide stunts. Should make sure you can keep doing them.”

“Do you stretch?” Keith asks, head cocked to one side.

“Not really but I don’t really need to.”

Keith snorts and turns back to his puzzle. “Hypocrite.”

“Oh, is this how it’s gonna be?” Lance addresses the crown of Keith’s head. “Excuse me for looking after your sorry ass.”

Lance leans back against the pillow but Keith is getting up and Lance wonders if it was too much, if he went too far in whatever this arrangement is. Keith stops in the middle of the room, eyeing Lance.

“C’mon then. Show me how to do it.”

The images are back. Lance ignores them. “Have you never stretched before?”

“Not properly.”

And Lance knows he’s bluffing, because this is stupid, but his room is also just small enough for this to be a… memorable experience. He gets out of bed.

“Okay then.” Lance stands opposite him. “Link your hands like this, then pull up.” He stretches upwards and Keith mirrors him wordlessly. It’s fine. Lance will just keep talking, and this will be fine.

“Now keep holding this pose but go around. Slowly! You wanna stretch everything well.”

Lance has no clue if Keith’s doing it well. He stopped looking as soon as Keith’s shirt rode up just enough to reveal a patch of pale skin, giving a show of stretching his neck instead.

He continues. “Now, deep squat.” He faces Keith in the limited space of the room. “Press your elbows against the inside of your knees, and push.”

Keith obliges. They manage exactly fifteen seconds before they’re rolling on the floor, laughs too heavy and soulful to carry on. Lance’s muscles feel soft, spread out haphazardly across Keith’s limbs as they let their laughing fits play out, exercise all but forgotten.

…

In the night, or what their bodies deem night, they talk. Catching up on years they’ve spent hearing but not listening, getting lost in stories both familiar and strange. Lance opens us more about his family, and the simple everyday intricacies he misses. Keith talks about the less painful, more mundane parts of living in the desert, little things he’s taught himself to do, but mostly he reacts to Lance. With the way he describes his family, it makes sense to him now why Lance would drop an intergalactic save-the-universe mission to stay with them. The task to reunite their families glows as something to work towards now, not in a distant, uncertain future, so they can all have this, have each other, close again.

And Lance decides, somewhere along the way, that he’ll make Keith want to stay as well.

…

“Hunk, you giant hecking space god, this is delicious.”

“Thanks Pidge.” Hunk blushes, separating more portions of the faux-yoghurt dessert into little bowls. Keith has stopped questioning, and simply accepted that Hunk is connected to a mystic deity of cooking which allows him to constantly surprise the crew with new and different delicacies. They’re extremely grateful and make a point out of smothering Hunk with compliments and warm embraces (which Keith warmly observes from the side).

“Hunk, could I get one more of these for Lance?”

Hunk smiles. “Yeah, go ahead!”

“Are we sure he’s not just gonna eat both on the way?” Pidge asks, eyeing Keith suspiciously. “What do you two actually do in there, anyway?”

Keith’s mouth runs dry, though he doesn’t know the reason for embarrassment. Thing is, he’s not really sure. They talk, and Keith builds his puzzle, but none of that feels like something he should disclose here. There is, maybe, a small fear in the back of his mind that any little change might wreck this, ruin whatever strange connection they’ve managed to build together.

Keith knows it’s weird. And selfish. After all, he was the one suggesting they figure this out as soon as possible to not waste any more time. But with Allura not looking any closer to awake, there really isn’t that much to do. It’s almost like the universe decided to carve an opening in time and space for Lance to heal, and Keith brought snacks and puzzles and cozied it up so much he was absorbed into it.

He is surprisingly okay with it. Sharing oxygen, trading words, going about his day as normal except there’s someone else there, in the corner, paying attention to him. He would, surprisingly, like to keep this for as long as possible.

“We just hang out,” Keith shrugs, as he accepts the loaded tray from Hunk and beelines it for Lance’s room.

…

There are good and bad days, and then there’s today.

The inter-galactic coalition members have been getting impatient with Voltron, as new reports of Galra attacks come flooding in every day. Keith and Shiro (mostly Shiro) do their best to reassure planet upon planet that they’ll be back in business soon enough, that the princess is looking better these days, even though Allura’s been as still as Red ever since they’ve returned.

It’s got Keith all tense and winded in a way he hasn’t felt in weeks, ever since him and Lance started hanging out. He’s not even going to tell himself he doesn’t need this, he thinks as he finishes up his shower and gets ready to drop by Lance’s room – later than usual, since the call took up most of the day. He needs Lance to be there, to make fun of the way he sorts his puzzle pieces (a perfectly fine system), to distract him with stories of sandy beaches and lunchbreak games.

Instead, the room greets him with silence.

He knows he’s awake, but the lights are so dim that Keith can barely make Lance out in the pile of blankets and sheets. A siren blares in his head. Don’t fuck this up.

He’s witnessed a couple of Lance’s particularly bad episodes, or at least that’s what Keith called it when Lance recoiled into his bed, sometimes for hours at a time, content to leave Keith alone while he slept or just laid there, expression distant and strange. They never talked about it afterwards, just… around it. 

This time, however, Lance looks at Keith, half-expectant. And Keith is reminded of the first time he barged into Lance’s room like this, and the way Lance expected him to mock him, to take him apart with harshness Keith simply could never associate with Lance. He wonders if Lance still thinks like this, thinks Keith would just swipe the rug from under him. He wishes he knew how to ask.

Keith steps further into the room, feels for his usual spot at the desk. Lance’s gaze follows him.

“It was my birthday,” Lance says.

What? Keith thinks. Is this what this is about? Is Lance just sulking because everyone was too pre-occupied trying to save the universe to remember his birthday? That’s… no. Surely not. Keith could have thought that about the old Lance, the one he thought he knew, before he learned of how he talked about his good deeds like he didn’t deserve to, or the way he slept with an extended arm, as if he was always ready to embrace and comfort anyone who needed it.

Keith wills himself to focus. “How do you know?”

“I’ve tried to keep track of the date using some of Pidge’s kit. Bit hard with all the inter-dimensional jumping but, you know,” he gestures, “roughly.”

“Okay,” Keith says slowly, not understanding.

Lance sighs and straightens himself. “My family has a bit of a thing for birthdays. They’re such a regular event but we, like, really try to make it special. There’s so much food and dancing and pranks and Abuelito gets drunk and sings Amazing Grace in three languages simultaneously, and all the kids go snorkelling or treasure hunting before ending up in this giant cuddling pile, watching a movie and just soaking up the love.”

Lance’s voice trembles. He shakes his head, tries to rebalance himself.

“And it just got me thinking about how they must feel to not have their son there and how they think I’m dead so they probably have a day of mourning instead, because their son decided to be a pilot when I could have stayed and sell Mamá’s embroidery or help out in a bar or give surfing lessons and I’m starting to think I probably would have been happier.”

And it’s wild because Lance doesn’t cry, just keeps on staring into nothingness with the saddest face Keith’s ever seen, lifeless eyes so unnatural for his demeanour. Keith wants it gone now.

Lance turns on his side, cheek brushing the pillow ever so slightly. He takes a deep breath.

“Worst part is? There’s not even anyone to blame for this.”

And Keith could say Zarkon but he doesn’t think that would be helpful right now. So he thinks.

“Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…” Keith steps closer. It feels weird having this conversation from his usual spot at the desk. “Firstly, I need you to stop thinking about impossible alternatives, okay? Because you just don’t know what would have happened if you stayed. Being here is a decision you made and judging by the way Blue literally chose you, it was the right one. It’s like, a literal, tangible sign from the universe.”

Keith knows he’s listening, but Lance doesn’t visibly react, mind likely wandering far beyond this room. Keith stops at the foot of his bed.

“Second of all, scooch over.”

Lance looks up then, vision muted and hazy, thinks why are you here and moves his legs over, thinking Keith’s going to sit at the far end and maybe attempt a pep talk, which would probably be hilarious on any other occasion but no, oh no.

Because Keith lies down beside Lance and wraps his arm around him, skin warm and soft from the shower, goes “you used to stay like this, right? I can’t really say stuff well but I can be here and you can imagine it’s one of your family members.”

And in the darkness, in the lack of sound, light and space between them, it all becomes a bit too much.

Lance feels tears well up in his eyes, an ugly sob escaping him before he can catch it, and he doesn’t know what to do about his embarrassment, or the way Keith’s embrace gets tighter as he cries, or his family, so he just nods and melts into the hug.

Keith holds him until Lance gathers enough energy to push it all back down, and it’s only then that he notices – Keith is shaking.

Lance’s first thought is wow, he hates me that much, huh but he rationalises that away quickly, noting their current position. If anything, Lance thinks boldly, it’s the opposite. Lance thinks about everything Keith’s told him, about his nights spent on random sofas and street corners, weeks gone by without human encounters and the sense of alienation he somehow just feels all the time. The fact that Keith might not be familiar with something as simple as an embrace breaks Lance’s already fractured heart.

“You don’t have to do this, Keith.”

“Oh no, sorry, I’m just not very used to this,” he honest to God chuckles. Lance lets it wash over him.

Out of the moment’s honesty or awkwardness or Lance doesn’t know what, he pokes him in the arm.

“What the fuck,” Keith laughs.

Lance smiles. “Sorry, I had to.”

“Happy late birthday,” Keith whispers into the air between Lance’s neck and shoulder blades and they stay like this for hours.

…

Lance makes a lot of progress after that. He’s out of the room more often, even going in once to check on Red, have lunch with Hunk and Pidge, or, to Keith’s delight, train. Keith gets to say, “I know you’ve had a break but I won’t go easy on you,” and watch as Lance’s stance gains that familiar spirit of competition, hear him go “wouldn’t dream of it, samurai,” even as Keith totally wipes the floor with him in combat.

Then there’s the touching.

It comes with living in the same quarters that when Lance is out and about, Keith is naturally already somewhere in the vicinity, but never before has it felt magnetic, like they were being guided towards each other by an invisible force. Lance is just so close, all the time. Keith doesn’t mind, but he does notice the small interactions Lance initiates. A brush of the fingers, a friendly poke in the back, gentle lean on the shoulder. The breaks between their sparring sessions get longer as they lay side by side for minutes at a time, and Keith pretends to think it’s because of Lance being out of practice.

It’s another one of their silent agreements, Keith thinks. Keith is there for Lance when he needs an outlet for his physical affection, and Lance doesn’t point out the way Keith’s breathing turns shallow whenever they touch.

It’s a solid deal.

…

“How is there still so much left?”

“I’ve secretly been undoing all your progress.”

“What, you want your desk to be covered in these little shits forever?” Keith rests his head in his palms. “I genuinely thought this would take like a day.”

Lance laughs, if only because seeing Voltron’s leader having a meltdown over a jigsaw puzzle is truly newsworthy. He snaps a picture from his spot on the floor and imagines it plastered on the main display of the coalition voice calls, red exclamation marks and all, writing VOLTRON’S LEADER CONQUERED BY SIMPLE CHILDREN’S GAME; CAN WE TRUST HIM WITH THE UNIVERSE?

Laughter’s becoming easier these days. Lance spends only ninety percent of his waking hours thinking about why that is. “Movie?” he offers.

Keith at last admits defeat and comes to sit beside Lance. They put a random Altean movie on and switch it to black and white (Alteans loved their neons a little too much), watch it without any banter, just shoulders pressed together and backs against the bed frame.

And it’s strange. Every time there’s a funny gag, Keith looks over to his right, expecting Lance’s eyebrows to be raised, mouth quirked up on its left, as it always does when he’s amused. Instead, his face muscles are tight, as if he wants to react but is forcing himself not to.

“Do you wanna go to sleep?” Keith asks.

“Huh? No, I’m fine.” Lance says.

“You don’t look it.”

Lance pauses the film.

“What’s that mean?”

Keith breathes. He doesn’t want this to become an argument.

“You look… sad. Like when I first came in here.”

Lance retreats into himself. He wants to fight it, Keith can tell.

“I’ve been doing better, Keith, I swear.”

“I know.” He does because he’s seen it. Keith knows how hard Lance tries to keep his spirits up when he wakes up well, when it, temporarily, feels like this could all be behind them.

But maybe there’s not a solution. Maybe it’s just gonna have to be like this sometimes.

A beat. Without the movie playing, it feels too damn quiet.

“You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

Lance bites his lip. “No, I don’t.”

Keith’s not gonna be the one to force him.

“Okay,” Keith says softly, “but I just want you to know you can talk to me about it. Not saying I’d be any good, but I’ll listen.”

Lance smiles. That means more than Keith could ever know.

“Also do you want me to do the thing again?”

“What?”

“You know, the,” Keith gestures between Lance, the bed and Keith’s loose self-embrace in a manner that would make a professional mime jealous.

Lance is dying. “God, Keith, why would you ever call it a thing?”

“Well it’s a thing, isn’t it! I don’t know, forget it, just thought…”

Lance stops him with a raised hand. “The thing would be great.”

Keith shoots him a glare but he’s swiftly up and settled against the wall on Lance’s bed, shedding his jacket as he waits for Lance to join him. Lance grabs the pad and they settle so that Keith can still see the movie, Lance cozied up against his chest, the beads of Keith’s bracelet softly tapping against his stomach.

Keith was right. This is definitely a thing.

And there’s another thing which Lance notices right-away and he gives into five more minutes of mindless screen-staring before he can’t take it anymore.

“You’re not shaking,” Lance notes.

Keith hums in response. Before he can think better of it, Lance wraps his hand around the one on his waist, embarrassingly satisfied at the soft gasp that comes out of Keith.

“Can’t have you building a tolerance to me.”

Keith laughs, intertwining their fingers. “Don’t worry, you’re plenty intolerable.”

“That is a very poignant thing to say in your current position,” Lance says, and he’s only slightly freaking out because they’re proper holding hands now, and if this wasn’t intimate before it just got very, very real.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Keith says, and Lance forwards it to his brain. He should be offended, really (didn’t he just want Lance to talk?), except Keith snuggles even closer now, sending shivers down Lance’s spine. And it’s then that it occurs to Lance that maybe Keith’s getting something out of this. Something fragile, something that required a lot of trust and maybe a bit of learning to openly desire. And Lance? Lance is happy to provide.

They fall asleep like that, pad screen all but gone black, chests rising in unison, which Lance only notices because of how close they are. When he comes to, he feels a dryness in the back of his throat and a weight on his left side, having shifted to laying on his back sometime during the night. Keith, it looks like, hasn’t moved an inch.

“What time is it?” he asks when he notices Lance is awake, eyes fluttering closed every time he tries to open them.

Lance is smitten. “I have no clue.” He’s busy mapping Keith’s skin from mole to mole, tracing his figure by the way the mattress dips below him, resisting the urge to run his fingers through the slight curls at his nape. He is so big but so very small in Lance’s bed like this, a ragdoll kitten in a place of total comfort.

Keith catches him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lance shakes his head, smiling ear to ear. He burrows himself deeper into Keith’s warm arms. “You and Red really deserve each other, you get equally overheated.”

Keith unwraps himself from Lance’s side, much to Lance’s dismay, and he worries if that was a weird thing to say, but Keith stays close, warm shoulders pressed together as they watch the ceiling lines.

“I miss her,” Keith says.

“She misses you too. Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why were you with her so much?”

“Was I?”

“Dude, there were weeks I barely saw you outside of drills.”

He recalls, the team making jokes about Keith doing blasphemous activities in the Lion. He would run checks on Red more than Pidge ever did, and Lance thought he was just being his on-brand pedantic, except he’s never seen him do it with Black.

Keith finds Lance’s hand and plays with it, lifting fingers up and down. “Do you remember telling me about your cousin’s treehouse?”

Lance does, of course. The family visits to cousin Teo were his favourite. It was just their space, untouchable from the ground, decorated with poster cuttings and pop cans and the many secrets and worries first spoken aloud between these walls. Lance feels a sharp tug on his heart just thinking about it.

“It was kinda like that to me.” Keith says. “I could just work on her or my own stuff, and I guess it felt like I was having a conversation with someone? Which was… nice.”

It’s over. The competition was tough, but this – this is the saddest thing Lance has ever heard.

“Anyway, it wasn’t like I could just stop going anyway,” Keith says. “You know how possessive Red can get.”

“I don’t, actually. She’s a lot more attached to you than she’s ever been to me.”

“Lance, that’s not your fault.”

“I know. I just wish you could have that back.”

Keith, from his place on the bed, turns to look at Lance, and Lance feels long strands of hair brush against his shoulders. Their intertwined hands go still. “I think I have it.”

And Lance short circuits. What is… Is this an offer? Of what exactly? And… should he take it?

“Well…” he starts, “if you wanted possessiveness, you could have just asked.”

“Aren’t you too cool to show emotions like that?”

“I don’t know, am I?” Lance says as he lunges forward, wrapping himself fully around Keith, skin on skin, fingers running up and down Keith’s sides as Keith cackles and oh my god.

“Wait.”

Keith immediately stares him down, trying to keep his arms close to his body.

“Lance, we are not doing this.”

“Doing what?” Lance says, tickling him mercilessly. God, Keith being ticklish is just about the best thing he’s ever learned about him. He is never ever letting it go.

Keith pins him down momentarily, wrestling for air. “Alright! I believe you, oh my God.”

Lance pauses, sharpshooter eyes narrowing. “Nah,” he pokes Keith’s sides again, and Keith’s laughing the most open laugh he’s ever heard, and then there’s a knock on the door.

“Lance? You there, buddy?” Hunk offers.

The boys share a flustered look, and then Keith’s swiftly getting up, fixing his shirt and mouthing “this isn’t over” towards Lance. He sits by his puzzle, still breathless and dishevelled. Lance briefly thinks it’s a good look on him before he opens the door.

“What’s up?”

“Allura’s… oh, hi Keith.”

Keith gives him an awkward wave. Hunk lingers on him for just a moment too long.

“Allura’s what?” Lance asks.

“She’s awake. She’s looked better but… she’s awake.”

It feels like the room itself takes a deep breath. Lance and Keith exchange a quick glance, then Keith sighs and gets to his feet.

“I’m gonna go check in with Shiro.” And then he’s gone.

Lance, meanwhile, is met with an amused smile he does not like one bit. 

“Don’t give me that face. We were just hanging out. Talking.”

Hunk chuckles to himself. “There are pillow lines on both of your faces, Lance.” And he’s walking away, before Lance can say something like we were just having a pillow fight! which, let’s be honest, wouldn’t really help his case.

…

Allura is out of the pod, frail fingers and a purplish tint on her skin. She talks for five minutes and then needs to lay down again, but she is alive and that itself is enough. Everyone looks ecstatic to see her.

“It’s great to see you’re getting better, Princess.” Shiro voices it first, for all of them.

“She might not be for much longer.” Coran mutters from where he’s checking Allura’s pulse.

“What… what do you mean?”

Coran stands up and faces the crew. “Apparently the blast had some… unpredictable effects. The princess is stable but is suffering from incredibly dizzying headaches, which are due to only get worse.”

The team slumps.

“Good news! There is a cure for this. Bad news, we don’t have it.”

He flashes the holosheet on the screen. “I’ve managed to identify the chemical, but it’s futile. I’ve not seen it in deca-phoebs.” Coran looks back on Allura, who, even in this state, sends him a comforting smile before closing her eyes.

Pidge sounds off from where they’re hunched over their computer. “You’re kidding. Hunk, come look at this.”

Hunk snaps to life. “Is that…”

“Paracetamol. Yup.”

Hunk shakes his head. “But how?”

“You guys have a name for it?” Coran inquires.

“Yeah, it’s only like the most common painkiller on Earth.” Pidge types something, then turns to Coran. “Are you sure this is the cure? It’s quite dangerous in higher doses.”

Coran nods. “Positive, it’s the only one her system will respond to.”

“Well, then…” Pidge quietens.

“Wait, does that mean we’re going back to Earth?”

“What?” Shiro asks.

“Not so quick my fellow Earthlings.” Coran snaps, then clears his throat. “Don’t you remember where you got the Blue Lion? The Galra are probably stationed all around the planet. It would be the easiest catch in history.”

“Coran is right. We can’t just fly the lions back in. It could jeopardise everything we’ve been doing.” Keith says, speaking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. He’d been too busy trying to read Lance’s reaction to all this, but Lance was like a cloud, half here and half there, visible but formless. His features don’t twitch at the mention of Earth. It’s like he’s not even holding out hope.

The air is tense. Keith senses that Shiro is about to say something, but Allura beats him to it. “We’ll take a small pod. One of you will go and retrieve this parat… medicine and the rest will stand by, prepared for an intervention.”

“But…” Pidge says, “could we not all go…?”

Allura sits up, gesturing an I’m fine to Coran who’s rushing over to steady her. “I’m sorry, believe me, I wouldn’t be making you do this if it wasn’t for Voltron, for the Castle.”

And everyone gets it. They’ve just lived through how useless they really are without Allura. If the destination is as easy as Earth, they must go. They don’t have a choice.

Well, there is one still to make…

“So, who’s going?” Hunk peeps.

Murmurs start up. Facts, excuses, justifications float around the little chamber room, but Keith doesn’t care for them. He’s decided.

“Lance is gonna go.”

Everyone looks at Keith, including Lance. His eyes widen, ah, there’s the emotion Keith was looking for. He faces away.  

Pidge starts. “But it might be easier to…”

“Lance is going. I’m deciding this as the leader of Voltron.”

Questions erupt around him, and he doesn’t notice when Lance has grabbed him until he’s roughly dragging him out of the room, leaving perplexed faces behind.

…

“I don’t understand,” Keith says as soon as they enter Lance’s room, “why aren’t you happy about this?”

“I’m supposed to be happy that you’re getting rid of me?”

“I’m not getting rid of you. I’m sending you on a mission.”

“Do you not remember what I said? About not coming back?”

“I do.” Keith leans forward.

“Then…”

“But I also remember every story you’ve told me about you and your family. Every single night I’ve spent in here the past month trying to understand how this can be so important to you, your guilt over it. I’m trying to tell you I get it. I think I’d be the same.”

Lance regards him with a long look. “So what. You think I won’t feel guilty about abandoning my friends in a fucking war?”

“Look, I’m just giving you the choice.”

It’s too much, and Lance’s head is spinning, north and south colliding. He takes a seat on his bed. “You should go.”

“No.”

“Or come with me.”

“I can’t.”

Lance scoffs. “This is so easy for you, isn’t it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Letting go. Like you’re on the outside of it.”

Keith stops, stance turning sheepish and small. “I’m not…”

“Yeah, you’re not.” Lance says. “You haven’t been ever since you claimed that chair over there and spent your waking hours indulging me. God, Keith, I just want to know if this is anything to you.”

“It is.”

“Then why aren’t you fighting for it?”

Keith’s response is swift. “Because you deserve to be happy.”

“You make me happy!” Lance yells, then grips himself and sits back onto the bed. “Fuck. Sometimes you’re the only goddamn thing in the universe that makes me happy.”

Keith keeps staring at him, like the first time Lance snapped at him, with a convoluted expression that betrays how difficult he is finding this. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Lance gives up. “I’m going to bed."

“Lance, it’s lunchtime.”

“Keith.”

Keith takes the cue and retreats towards the door, muttering an “I’m sorry.” Lance watches him go.

…

There’s one missing.

Lance decided to finish the puzzle seeing as Keith probably wasn’t going to anytime soon. He needed to clear his head after sleep abandoned him and the multicoloured shards on his desk were irritating him. So he dumped all of them out of Keith’s neat boxes and got to it.

And there’s one missing.

Lance spends half an hour turning his room upside down, then another crying his eyes out on the floor. He’s busy glaring at the nearly finished image when there’s a knock on the door.

“Lance? Could I come in?” Allura says.

Lance rubs at his eyes and goes to answer the door.

“Are you okay, Princess?”

“Take a walk with me?” Allura says, busy looking around the various space-collected pictures and trinkets on Lance’s walls. It strikes Lance that Allura’s never seen his room before.

“No offence, Princess, but should you be moving around the castle like this?”

“Oh Lance. I’m fine. It’ll just be a moment.”

Lance wonders what’s about to happen. Is he gonna get shouted at for not wanting to do this mission? Did someone overhear him and Keith? Did Allura find out how useless he’s been all this time?

They wander the castle halls slowly, like ghosts. Lance supposes they both are, in a way.

“Shiro told me you’ve had a little fall-out with your responsibilities.”

There it is.

“Allura, I’m sorry…”

Allura stops him. “I want to understand. I feel like there’s something about this whole Earth trip that I’m not seeing. I don’t want to simply send you on this mission if it means your well-being’s at stake.”

Lance takes a breath. “Keith’s sending me on the mission because he thinks I won’t come back. Because I told him I wouldn’t, once I saw my family again.”

“Okay,” Allura’s jaw clenches.

“But I only said that because the whole thing didn’t feel like it could ever happen. And we couldn’t progress without you, and I wasn’t really needed here anyway. And… I thought they’d want me back.”

It’s strange, talking about this to someone other than Keith. A sniff escapes him. “And now it’s got more complicated because he’s sending me away but I feel like I need to be… here. With… with him. It just feels like every option is a loss.”

Allura wraps her arms around him. She’s crying.

“Lance I’m so sorry.”

And Lance will curse himself later for doing something as horrid as making a princess cry, but for now, he hugs Allura back, squeezing her shoulders gently.

Allura pats his back. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I see now.” She swipes her tears away.

“I don’t know much about relationships and it sounds like I have missed out on a great lot, but know this. Keith definitely doesn’t want you gone. None of us do.”

“It just still feels like I have no clue how he feels.” Lance whispers.

The strange thing is, he could believe it. With the way Keith’s body reacts to him, the way he let Lance unravel him and his past, it might not be a stretch to assume their feelings mutual. But they did all this before their thing became something. If Lance closed his eyes, he could still pretend the hands drawn around his waist were his siblings’, even as the way he breathes into Keith’s neck became distinctly not familial. Where does reality stop and wishful thinking begin? Lance was never too good at separating the two with Keith.

“Then ask him.” Allura states.

“But…”

“But you must listen to him. Not to your inner voices, but to what he’s telling you. Keith is so smart, Lance, you don’t think he’s thought this through?”

Lance looks at the floor. “He just sent me away so quickly.”

“Because he believes it’s a concrete way of making you happy. Talk to him. Maybe it doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing decision.”

“I will.”

Allura smiles. “And if, after it, you decide you need to stay on Earth, I’ll understand.”

“You’re not gonna stop me?”

“Well, I’ll be disheartened. But I’ve been known to abandon intergalactic missions for loved ones.” She chuckles. “I don’t want you to think you aren’t just as important as everyone else on this ship. Literally nothing would have been achieved without your hard work and absolute dedication. You’ve kept us from becoming heartless soldiers,” she squeezes his shoulder. “I would love for you to keep doing that, but I believe you can make the right choice for yourself.”

Lance hugs her again, careful not to hurt her. “Thank you for saying that, after everything. And I’m sorry. I never thought I was a difficult person before.”

Allura shakes her head, rubs his shoulders. “You’re so easy to love, Lance. But there’s probably someone else who can tell you that.”

“I don’t think I made it exactly easy for him.”

“That probably just made it all the more worth it to him,” she winks.

…

Space is big.

The biggest thing ever, in fact. The paladins live on a massive castle ship in a place with no borders, enough oxygen, a surplus of light. So there is absolutely no rational reason for Keith’s lungs to feel so pressed in, for his skin to be burning like he is constantly edging close to a star.

He tugs on his bracelet. Everything’s irritating him. The way his elbows touch the table’s annoying. The hugeness of space drives him mad. These poffertjes Hunk’s made - are the best thing he’s ever eaten.

He’s fought his feelings out and is slumping in the kitchen as he recalls all he’s discovered about himself while punching the hell out of some sentries. There’s a couple new things, such as – having intimacy taken away from him after he just discovered what it feels like literally makes him feel diseased. Also, a couple affirmations of stuff he already knew, like that no matter what he says, they’ll be nearing Earth’s orbit in about 20 hours, and that he’s in love with Lance.

He knew this. Wouldn’t be stupid enough to miss it. Wouldn’t tell himself that all the nights sneaking into Lance’s room, entertaining his questions, the fucking jigsaw puzzle, were simply to keep him company, to fix him up for the sake of the team.

That would be stupid when Keith feels this love as he feels steaming droplets hit the back of his neck during a late-night shower, all hot and blinding and brain-resetting. And because of this, it would make no sense to pretend like Lance leaving will not, at the very least, completely wreck him.

Keith stuffs a pancake in his mouth. It doesn’t matter if he’s dumb Keith or smart Keith. Lance doesn’t want to see him.

“Keith!” Hunk exclaims. “Did you eat the entire plate?”

Keith comes to, looking between Hunk and the last pancake like a deer in the headlights. “Uh… yeah. Sorry.”

Hunk just sighs. “It’s alright. I’ll make more.” He sits opposite Keith, worry lacing his features. “Are you okay, man?”

Keith meets his gaze. He’s not really sure what the right answer to Hunk’s question is. He settles on: “I’m sorry you guys can’t go.”

“You know what? I’m actually alright with it.”

Keith looks at him, confused. “You are?”

“I mean, obviously I would love to see them again. But it just,” Hunk gets up, eager to verbalise his thought. “I’ve spent a really long time out here building this resolve of – I’m going do to my best and stick with my team who I trust, to make sure we can come back one day, together. But if I saw my parents right now, I don’t know if I’d be able to stick to that.”

Keith feels like all the air got sucked out of him all at once. Dizzily, he clutches the end of the table.

Hunk watches him. “That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it? Lance not coming back.”

And Keith almost snaps to his usual Lance-carefree attitude, but quickly reaches the conclusion that there’s no point. Not in front of Hunk. “I just… I can’t have him be like that ever again, Hunk.”

Hunk nods, and Keith hopes he can feel all that he’s finding difficult to say.

“I can offer you two pieces of Lance trivia that might help,” he leans on the table towards Keith. “First, he loves like crazy. Everyone he encounters gets a little piece of him, and he acts as if his actions transfer through that piece and avoids anything that might hurt them. He is never going to make a decision without considering everyone who means a lot to him. But you might already know this…”

“Second, and Keith, this is super important. He does not easily see that love returned to him. He’s not good at… not excluding himself. Sometimes, he needs it spelled out time and time again, to even begin to believe them.”

Keith takes this in, brows furrowed in thought. “What did it take for him to believe you?”

“A couple dozen bear hugs and a cookbook’s worth of dinner meals,” Hunk jokes. “Don’t worry, though, I think you’ve got an advantage.”

“How so?” Keith asks, eyes perking up perhaps a bit too quickly.

Hunk laughs.

“What?” Keith grunts.

“Nothing, it’s interesting seeing you like this.”

Keith burrows his face in his hands. He just has so many questions. Why did Lance let him in, that first time, and why did he keep letting him in? He wants to speak them aloud, committed to the conversation, cursing Lance for teaching him how good it feels to talk. Weirdly, he thinks that Hunk might get him, get this. “I don’t know how I’d convince him to stay.”

“Keith, he likes you.”

“Not as strongly as his family.”

“No, but this is not a contest. He’s liked you since you met, and you’ve been the one helping him through everything.”

Keith pauses. “Since we met? Like for Voltron?”

Hunk shakes his head. “God, I wish you heard it, man. Back at the Garrison, all the ‘did Keith cut his hair?’ and ‘did you guys notice Keith skipped lunch today?” He rolls his eyes. “Adorable, really, just not when you’re exam-cramming.”

Keith is, not for the first time in this conversation, completely lost for words.

“Do you want him to leave?” Hunk says, grabbing hold of Keith’s empty plate.

“No.”

“Then let him know. You guys have found something. Talk about it.” Hunk chucks his apron on. “Preferably before dinner. I’m making Lance’s favourite.” Hunk singsongs, and Keith smiles.

He could hug him.

…

Despite what Hunk said, he can’t actually get to Lance before dinner, the team all but swept up in mission preparations. He’s happy to see that Lance is at dinner, however, and with everyone’s day having been long, there is a kind of easy atmosphere that hasn’t been a part of the dynamic in weeks. Keith’s steps feel lighter when he takes a walk around the castle, attempting to take advantage of the mood to clear his head.

He finds Lance as he found him that first day, laying in a lightless room, eyes trained on an invisible coordinate. They’re in the big square room which they deemed the Observatory because of the huge glass wall looking out on space. Lance sits up when he notices Keith, looking away from the universe to stare right into Keith’s eyes.

Keith sits next to him. There is still pain settled in the corners of Lance’s features, and Keith wants to, but never really knows how to help. Hugging helps, I guess.

“Can I hug you?”

Lance snickers softly but nods, letting Keith back into the feeling he’s been missing for days. What if they just stayed like this, moving at the same pace as the faraway stars outside the window?

“I’m sorry.” Keith says. “I didn’t understand how complicated this really was. I didn’t want to make things more difficult for you.”

Lance shakes his head. “I’m sorry for snapping. You were just trying to help.” He sits back. “For the record, I never wanted to fight with you.”

Keith smirks at him. “Never?”

Lance nudges him playfully. “It’s just, I guess I still wasn’t sure you weren’t doing this just to prove you could, or something.”

Keith looks at Lance, and the words are there and he’s trying to form them, but Lance cuts in again.

“Why didn’t you talk to me? Before, I mean.” He looks out at space. “You have so much to say, why did we never talk before?”

We were meant to, Keith wants to say. I wanted to. Thinking is easy but talking is so, so hard.

“I was scared.” He admits. “I’ve not really… been taught compassion and I didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing and have that stick with you the way things have stuck with me. But it feels like I did that anyway.”

“No,” Lance sighs, “I’ve been a massive fucking question mark this entire time. I don’t know what I want or what to do, like, ever. I just know there’s this massive hole in my chest ever since we left Earth’s atmosphere and sometimes I wake up and don’t like that I did and I don’t want to have to choose between my family and… here.”

“So I’m not going to.” Lance inhales. “I’m going to go and I’m gonna return and we’ll finish this war and come back together because there’s so many things I need to see you be terrible at.”

Keith loves him. Talking is hard and living is hard but this feeling, the two of them right here, is the most worth it feeling in the world. He grabs Lance’s hand, squeezes it tight. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make us get back as soon as possible.”

“It’s not on you. It’s on us, as a team.” Lance smiles. “I feel like I’ve let everyone down with how I abandoned everything. I really wanna get back on track… will you help me?”

“How?”

Lance doesn’t answer, just scoots closer, pulling the hand that’s intertwined with Keith’s around himself. Keith gets the hint and makes space for him, shuffling Lance between his legs, close, closer than they’ve ever been. Lance, however, doesn’t turn around, just looks at Keith, waiting for permission.

When Keith nods, he’s already meeting him halfway.

The first kiss is chaste but by the second their mouths are linked, unable to let go. Keith kisses like he’s concentrating on a task, and Lance has to squeeze and release his elbow before Keith is fully opening up, mouth agape and soft affirmative sounds melting Lance’s brain. He grabs Keith’s chin to hold him steady, fingers brushing against the light stubble there as he deepens the kiss. Keith retaliates by grabbing the front of Lance’s shirt, pulling towards himself like he wants him to come even closer, like this is a competition.

They pull away far too quickly for Lance’s liking. A soft grin plays on Keith’s lips. “I really like that I can finally do this.”

“Seriously?” Lance exclaims. “Dude, I’ve been sweat-plastered to my bed for most of this month. You can’t actually be into that, what’s wrong with you?!”

Keith just chuckles. “Lance, you’re same as before.”

“That doesn’t help!” It does.

“Do you just want me to call you handsome?”

Lance opens his mouth to affirm but stops himself. “I just, don’t want you to have regrets. You’ve been prone to some… rather quick decisions before.”

Keith listens but is quick to shake his head, noting, “I don’t regret any of those. Look, if it doesn’t work out, we’ll just… do something else.”

“I don’t want to do something else though.” He says and Keith is tugging on his shirt again and he feels himself succumbing.

“Then don’t.”

…

“Be safe, alright?”

“Keep in touch, Paladin!”

“Regular updates, otherwise someone will cry my ear off.” Pidge finishes, looking between Keith and Hunk.

Allura is the last one to hug Lance, a weary smile on her face. “Good luck, Lance.”

“Thanks, Allura,” he says, and he’s taking deep breaths and walking towards the shuttle when there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Lance.” Keith says.

Lance turns as Keith’s hand travels down his arm, palm opening as he drops a puzzle piece into Lance’s. “In case you change your mind.”

They both gaze at it. “Where’d you find it?” Lance asks.

Keith grins. “Not telling.”

Lance rolls his eyes but smiles anyway, wrapping both his arms behind Keith’s neck, because he can. Because it feels like life, to him. “This is very thoughtful.” He whispers right against Keith’s smirk. “But I meant it. There are so many places I want you to see.” He kisses him. “So many things I want to explore.” And again. “So many more bad habits of yours we need to address.”

Keith shakes his head, laughter breaking him out of the kiss. “Fine,” he says. “Say hi to your family for me.”

Lance gives him one more embrace, mind on beachfronts and games and infinite night-time hangouts.

“I will.”