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The apartment was dark as Lance tiptoed inside. He hadn’t meant to stay out so long, but Veronica had challenged him to a game of rochambeau at the bar. One thing had led to another, and it had taken him over two hours to earn back a quarter of what he’d lost to his sister and the other MFE pilots. Throwing scissors every time was a good strategy, until it wasn’t. He’d texted ahead that he would be home late, and hadn’t expected his roommate to wait up. His attempt to remain stealthy was quickly foiled by the pair of black boots flung carelessly in the entryway. Lance barely kept himself from face-planting into the wall. A hissed curse slipped from his lips. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d told his roommate to put his shoes in the rack.
Lance crept down the hall, and was surprised to see the lamp on in the living room as he passed. Curious, he stuck his head in. Sprawled haphazardly on the couch, one leg flung across the back with a book open on his chest, was Keith. His thick black reading glasses dangled from his nose. Lance grinned fondly. It had been such a fight to get Keith to admit he needed readers, and even more of one to make him actually use them. Kosmo, Keith’s half-husky, half-leviathan space creature, snored softly on the floor. Lance paused for a moment to appreciate the sight.
They’d moved in together almost by accident. After the war, Lance returned to his parents' farm in Cuba. Keith went back to work for the Blades as soon as he’d been able. Even with the Empire defeated, there was still much to do. The universe had experienced eons of injustice and cruelty. The damage wouldn’t be fixed overnight. Keith spent most of his time on missions, and didn’t have a permanent base on Earth. He could have stayed with Adam and Shiro, but the then-newlyweds were disgusting to be around. Any one of the paladins would have been happy to host him, but it was Lance who had convinced him to take over a guest room at his parents’ home.
At first, Keith only visited once every month or so. As Blade missions began to dry up, Keith began to stay for longer and longer periods. The McClains adored him, and after two years, Keith lived with them on a near-permanent basis. As much as Lance loved living with his family, and though he had missed them during his five years in space, he eventually decided it was time to move into his own place. He accepted a teaching job at the Garrison at Shiro’s request and moved back to Arizona. It seemed only natural that he asked Keith to come with him. The Paladins were all settled financially (being defenders of the universe came with good benefits—even dental!), but that didn’t mean Lance didn’t appreciate the help with the rent. At any rate, Lance wasn’t used to living alone. He went from living in his crowded childhood home to living in a crowded spaceship. Keith benefited, too, as they were close to Shiro and Adam, and he never had to cook. He wasn’t allowed to, actually. He’d nearly burnt the apartment down their first week trying to make instant ramen. Lance still wasn’t sure how he’d done it.
Lance grabbed a blanket from the basket next to the couch. Carefully, so as not to wake him, he draped it over Keith’s sleeping form. His hands twitched to brush the hunk of dark hair from Keith’s eyes, but he resisted the urge. Lance had a lot of practice at restraining himself around Keith.
“Goodnight, Keith,” Lance murmured.
If Lance was being honest with himself, which he so rarely was these days, he had been in love with Keith since they’d moved in together. If he were being really honest, he’d been in love with Keith since the moment he had first laid eyes on him at the Garrison. It should have been obvious from the beginning. Lance had been a tad too obsessed with Keith’s poor hairstyle choices, and he spent far too much time riling Keith up, just to get Keith’s eyes on him. And then there was the way he almost passed out when he saw Keith after he came back from the space whale.
It had taken much longer for Lance to realize it, however, and by the time he did, he was already in too deep. It wasn’t until three years after the war’s end, eight years into their friendship, and five days into their new living arrangement. They were eating Chinese on the floor, using a moving box as a table. Lance was focused on the movie they were watching, some wrestling flick Keith had never seen. He reached for another krab rangoon, but when he did, he found that Keith had already beaten him to it. Keith held it out for him to take, eyes still locked on the screen. He had dipped it in orange sauce, just the way Lance liked. Lance stared, frozen in place by a sudden funny feeling blooming uncomfortably behind his sternum. It rooted down to his stomach and climbed up his jaw, leaving him red in the face. The feeling came first, and the realization hit after like a sack of bricks to the face.
Oh…shit. Lance thought.
Keith glanced over at him, frowning slightly. There was soy sauce on the bow of his plush lip, and Lance was horrified to find that he wanted to lick it off.
“What?” Keith asked.
“N-nothing!” Lance squeaked, and took the bite, hastily shoving it into his mouth so he wouldn’t say or do anything he would regret in the morning.
It wasn’t Lance’s love of Chinese food that had rocked his world, but rather the fact that Keith had anticipated his desire before Lance himself. They were always in sync like that. Whether it was on the floor of their apartment, eating shitty takeout, or in battle, back to back, protecting each other from enemies. They just worked. And Lance loved it. He loved Keith. He loved his moods and his quirks, the way he was so meticulously clean with everything but his boots, which he always left at the first spot he kicked them off at. He loved Keith’s passion and the way he had once driven over an hour to help Lance’s little sister when she had a flat tire. His generosity, his selflessness, his desire to be good. Lance realized all at once that he couldn’t imagine ever wanting Keith not to be beside him, and what a weighty thought that was.
Lance hadn’t told Keith all this, of course. There was no point. If Keith had ever had feelings for him in their near-decade of friendship, he’d never shown it. Lance wasn’t eager to lose his friend over feelings that could never amount to anything, so he kept them to himself. He truly was happy just to have Keith as a friend. It was enough.
Lance had silently suffered under the burden of his feelings for the last year and a half. If he hadn’t cracked yet, he was sure he could continue, at least until Keith found some hot Blade to fall in love with. Then he would move out, have a dozen cute alien babies, and forget all about Lance. It was inevitable. Lance would endure. For now, though, he took one last long look at Keith before he took himself to bed.
The unforgiving whine of his alarm shattered his well-earned slumber the next morning. Lance woke with a groan, pawing for his alarm clock before smashing it off the table. Keith may tease Lance for needing his beauty rest, but it was essential. Lance’s charm didn’t just happen. Lance pushed himself out of bed, going through his morning routine in a sleepy daze. The effects of the previous night had taken their hold. His head felt like there was a pack of Yalmors in his skull dancing the can-can. The scent of coffee wafted down the hall as he stepped out of the shower, moisturized and glowing, but no more awake. He followed the smell down the hall to the kitchen and poured himself a generous cup. He sat on the counter, because it pissed Keith off.
Kosmo bounded into the kitchen and greeted Lance with an enthusiastic bark. Keith followed behind, wearing a grey muscle top and black joggers. He had obviously just finished his morning run, and sweat still beaded at his temple and on the curve of his neck. The coffee did little for how suddenly dry Lance’s mouth was. It was downright indecent for Keith to be walking around in sweatpants before Lance was properly caffeinated. How was he ever supposed to stand a chance?
“Morning,” Keith greeted him with a crooked grin, flashing just a hint of his unnaturally sharp canine. He stole Lance’s mug, wrinkling his nose as he took a sip. “You put too much sugar in it,” he complained.
“So stop drinking my coffee!” Lance spluttered indignantly.
Keith shrugged and leaned back against the counter. Lance snatched his cup back, and they shared it for a few minutes, swapping it back and forth in silence as the caffeine began to work its magic.
“What’s on the agenda today, Commander Kogane?” Lance asked, using Keith’s title just to make him scowl. Keith didn’t disappoint.
“Meetings, meetings, and more meetings,” he drawled. “The Ijanus aren’t happy with the trade agreement and they’re threatening tariffs on the Lemers, even though they agreed to the quadrants.” He let out an exasperated huff, swiping a hand through his sweaty bangs. “Stupid stuff. I already know it’s gonna take all day. I don’t want to look at a single screen when we go see your parents.”
Lance grinned at the reminder of their upcoming trip. It was his mother’s birthday, and they were visiting his family in Cuba for two weeks at the end of the month.
“Just think, man. A few more weeks and we’ll be on the beach, sand between our toes, beer in our hands.” Lance said with a dramatic sigh.
“I think your mom has other plans,” Keith said, finishing the coffee. “She asked if we could help your dad with the roof, and Marcus’s bike needs some work.”
Lance whined. “Keith! Stop volunteering us for chores! This is our vacation!”
Keith just shrugged, again. Eighty percent of what Keith said was communicated through shrugs, frowns, and eye rolls. Once, when Lance complained about Keith’s taciturnness, Keith had replied that Lance talked enough for both of them.
“This is why my mom says you're her favorite son,” Lance complained.
Keith blushed, like he always did when someone referenced him as being as close to the McClains as family. It wasn’t a full-face flush, but rather a subtle pinkening of the tips of his ears. It was a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of thing, but Lance had years of study.
“Whatever. Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Pshh, Iverson would be more worried if I didn’t show up late. It would set him off from his daily routine of yelling at me about timeliness.”
“Lance,” Keith replied, stern and dry.
Lance threw up his hands. “Fine, fine! Since you’re so eager to see me gone. Don’t miss me too bad, Kogane,” he winked, sliding off the counter.
He said goodbye to Kosmo, and headed for work. It was a short commute; working for the Garrison had the added perk of on-campus housing. Since he was early (read: on time, barely), he swung by the campus cafe for a coffee, since Keith had stolen his. He was five minutes late to the weekly morning briefing, as was his tradition. He didn’t often flaunt the perks of being a Paladin, but he would do anything for just five extra minutes of sleep in the morning. Iverson glowered at him, as was his tradition, and Lance blinked back innocently as he took a seat next to Shiro.
“As I was saying,” Iverson continued gruffly, “the convoy will land at approximately oh-eighthundred. We will be clearing the airspace starting two hours before. The cadets will present military honors at the unboarding. Those of you who are needed for ambassadorial purposes have been excused from your regular duties while they’re here. We’re expecting a good visit, so prepare your cadets and don’t embarrass us in front of our intergalactic allies.” For some reason, he glared at Lance. “Any questions?”
There were none, and Iverson moved on to more campus business. Lance was already aware of the convoy—it included Krolia and Kolivan, as well as other members of the Blade that Lance had gotten to know over the years. Keith had been nervously cleaning the apartment the whole month, even though his mom wouldn’t arrive until the end of the week. Eventually, they were dismissed. Shiro clapped Lance on the shoulder as they stood.
“Morning, Lance,” his friend said with a smile. “You ready for today?”
“First day of Sims.” Lance chuckled, “Oh, joy!”
Shiro laughed in agreement. “It’s always a special day. Their enthusiasm is sweet, even if the execution is…less than desirable.”
They talked on their way to the sim lab about nothing in particular. Shiro updated Lance on his new dog, a Shebu mix named Haku, and how much zucchini Adam’s garden was producing. In return, Lance told him how Keith had tried to fix the leaky faucet but had broken the pipe with his freaky Galra strength, soaking them both.
Shiro shook his head with an affectionate grin. “How nice it is to have such everyday worries,”
Lance knew Shiro was entirely sincere. When they’d been in space, Shiro had been serious, composed, hardly ever joining in with their jokes or movie nights. It wasn’t until they returned to Earth that Lance learned his friend loved to belly laugh, had a major sweet tooth, and a corny sense of humor. Safe for the first time in years, reunited with his fiancé and family, Shiro was almost a completely different person. Shiro was right. They were lucky. There were many times that Lance never thought past the next battle, where he was convinced he would never see his family or home again. Bickering with Keith about doing laundry, teaching with Shiro, playing video games with Pidge, and cooking with Hunk…sometimes he felt like he was dreaming. He had nightmares where he woke up back on the Castleship. It all seemed too good to be true, sometimes. But most of the time, it was just nice.
As if on cue, Lance’s phone rang. It was Hunk.
“Hey, Hunkalicious,”
“Hi, Lance,” his friend replied in a resigned but amused sort of way. “I’m just calling to make sure we’re all set for next Friday.”
“For the birthday of the lovely Shay? We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Lance crooned, smirking at Shiro.
“Great! It’s been too long since we’ve had the whole gang together.”
Lance agreed. Hunk split his time with his family in California and as a peace ambassador with the coalition. He was too busy to make a trip to the desert more than once a month. Pidge, after finishing their two-year sentence of being grounded, returned to space to study under the Olkari. They were terrible at checking in, too busy being a cliche mad genius. Lance cherished their sporadic phone calls. Coran and Allura had returned to New Altea and only occasionally returned to Earth for diplomatic assignments. Lance was endlessly proud of his friends, but the way he missed his team sometimes hit him like a physical ache. For so long, it had just been the seven of them. He missed having his family all in one place.
Eventually, they reached the sim lab, and he had to say goodbye to Hunk. The rest of the day was easy. Lance had never thought about being a teacher before the war, but nothing made him happier than sharing his love of flying with his students. The first day in the sim lab was always a chaotic mess, but it was a joyful one. Still, he was exhausted when the day was finally over.
Keith was still holed up in his office when Lance got home, so Lance started preparing dinner. It was always hard to tell how long Keith’s meetings would take. Sometimes compromises could be reached quickly, with flattery and reason, other times it took weeks, even months. This treaty, Lance knew, had been a particular thorn in Keith’s side for some time.
He grabbed ingredients for an easy stir fry, aiming for quick but comforting. Keith finally emerged when Lance was chopping the vegetables, julienning the peppers carefully. His hands had started to shake after the war—old injuries adding up. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Keith, and grimaced sympathetically. Keith’s hair was up, which was a bad sign. Keith always put his hair up when he started getting pissy. Keith had gotten a lot more patient, so it meant the meeting must’ve been particularly frustrating. He’d changed from his Blade uniform into a pair of soft, faded sweats and one of his sixty black t-shirts. His glasses sat askew. The sight of him made Lance feel warm.
Keith slumped into a chair at the counter with a grunt. Kosmo ran to his side, pushing his head into Keith’s hand.
“Any luck today?” Lance asked.
“We had to call Allura,” Keith said, pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes. “And she had to threaten to pull their trade agreements with the coalition if they didn’t stop holding up the treaty over petty bullshit.”
Lance whistled, “Wow, that bad, huh?”
Keith groaned, “Worse, Lance. So much worse. Even after talking to Allura, they still hemmed and hawed for vargas. I didn’t think we were ever getting out of there. I thought I was going to die in that chair.”
Lance hummed in sympathy, browning the garlic and onions. Keith slipped from his chair to stand behind him, watching from over his shoulder. Lance felt his skin buzz from Keith’s proximity.
“What’re you making?” Keith asked, his breath hot on Lance’s cheek. Seriously, what the fuck? Was Keith trying to kill him?
“Stir fry,” Lance replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strangled as he thought.
In another, secret universe that Lance liked to imagine before he went to bed at night, Keith would wrap his arms around Lance’s waist and press his chest to Lance’s back as he cooked. He’d kiss his neck and they’d quickly forget all about the food, too caught up in each other.
In the universe Lance actually lived in, Keith patted his shoulder, and stepped away. Lance swallowed the disappointed lump in his throat, feeling foolish. Keith sat back at the table, and they talked about their upcoming plans for Shay’s party and their trip.
It was enough. It was enough. So why did he feel so bereft?
~
Someone was screaming. It always started this way. How it ended was anyone’s guess. In pain or tears or, worst of all, an oppressive silence which overshadowed all hope. Lance didn’t realize at first that the screams were coming from him. He was dying. Lance had never felt such pain. It was the kind of pain you don’t survive, the kind you usually black out from, but something about the shock wouldn’t let him. He didn’t want to be screaming. He didn’t want to scare his teammates. But it was a primal sort of scream, ripped from him without warning. He was a creature of pain and fear. Lance was so, so afraid. He didn’t want to die. Not here, in space, millions and millions of miles from home, with his mother thinking he’d abandoned her.
He screamed until it felt like his throat was tearing open, until he was choking on it. The pain was relentless, unending. It was the only thing he had ever known, it was everything he was and would be. He reached the point where he thought he couldn’t possibly hurt anymore, and it just kept going.
“Lance. LANCE!”
He woke with a strangled noise that was half sob, half yell. For a terrifying moment, he didn’t know where he was, phantom pain still coursing through his veins. He groped blindly under his pillow for a weapon that was no longer there, until he was stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t an enemy combatant perched on the edge of his bed, but Keith. The other man was bathed in a halo of soft light coming from the hall. It revealed his concerned frown, his hair and pajamas rumpled from sleep. Immediately, Lance relaxed, his final, aborted sob a whimper as he buried his face in his hands.
“Fuck, go back to bed, Keith. I’m fine,” he mumbled into his palms.
Keith didn’t budge, not that Lance had really expected him to. There was stubborn, and then there was Keith.
“Move over.”
Lance dropped his hands in surprise. His face was wet. He was mortified. It wasn’t the first time Keith had woken him from a nightmare, but that was of little relief to Lance. The war was long over. He didn’t know why his subconscious hadn’t gotten the memo.
“What?” Lance croaked. Instead of answering, Keith picked up the edge of the blanket and slid into the bed beside Lance. He whistled, and Kosmo appeared, circling for a minute before he laid on the floor and immediately beginning to snore. “Keith, what the hell?” Lance spluttered.
“If you don’t want to talk, fine, but we’re going to stay here while you get some sleep,” Keith replied simply.
Lance fell back against his pillow, his face and eyes burning. “Sorry,” he mumbled, unsure of what else to say.
“Don’t.” Keith replied shortly, “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, Lance.”
“It’s not okay,” Lance huffed, “it’s been ten years. I should be better than this.”
Keith rolled on his side so he was facing him, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to look at him. With a huff, Keith grabbed Lance’s chin, forcefully turning his face so their eyes met. “What are you talking about?” Keith murmured, so gentle in the blanket of the darkness. “Lance, you’re the best person I know. We all still struggle with the war.”
“Then why don’t you ever have nightmares?” Lance countered, but there was no heat to his words.
Keith seemed to weigh his answer. “I do. They’re just—quieter,” he swallowed. “I wake up and I can’t move, can’t breathe. I dream that I came back from the quantum abyss, only to find I’d been gone for a hundred years and everyone was dead. Or I dream that we never got Shiro back, or about all the people I couldn’t save. Sometimes I dream about you.” he hesitated, “A lot of the time, I dream about you.”
This time, it was Keith who couldn’t meet his eyes. Lance didn’t know how to respond. Keith dreamt about him? Keith’s nightmares were about him?
“Keith, I—”
Keith just shook his head, sliding his hand from Lance’s chin to the curve of his jaw, lingering for just a moment before he let it drop on the pillow between them. “It’s okay. When I wake up, you’re always there, and I know it’s alright.”
Lance had to kiss him. How else was he supposed to respond? The ache to do so was more than physical. It was like waiting for the perfect wave on his surfboard, or throttling up the speed in his lion. It was the swoop in his stomach before the drop of a rollercoaster. It was inevitable; it was the most terrifying thing he had ever faced. More than anything, though, it just felt right. Lance was going to kiss him. He had never been so sure about anything.
But Keith yawned, and the moment was broken. Lance crashed back to reality.
“Get some sleep, Lance,” Keith said, flopping onto his back as if he hadn’t just sent Lance’s entire world spinning off its axis. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And he was.
~
Keith made no mention of The Incident (Lance refused to give it more of a name, but still replayed it often enough in his mind that it required some sort of moniker), which was as much of a relief as it was maddening. Lance felt dizzy from the circles in which he was spinning himself by the time he got to work. Nothing had changed that morning, except he had woken up crushed with Keith on one side and Kosmo on the other. Kosmo snored loudly and directly in his ear. Keith’s breath was soft and regular, and Lance watched him wake. For two minutes, Keith was the most unguarded Lance had ever seen him. Soft and sleepy, he blinked lazily before closing his eyes again with a quiet, protesting huff. He rubbed his cheek into the pillow, obviously debating the merits of going back to sleep. His lashes were long and dark against the pale skin of his cheek. Lance’s bed was big, but it wasn’t big enough for two full-grown men and a space wolf, and he and Keith were almost touching under the blankets. He could feel the warmth radiating off Keith, and he wanted to sink into it. He wished he could pull a Rip Van Winkle and stay there for a hundred years. When Keith finally lost the fight with consciousness, he sat up, running a hand through his hair. In an instant, the softness was gone, and Keith was himself again.
“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice a low rasp that made Lance’s heart do a kickstand in his chest. “Did you sleep okay?”
Remarkably, Lance had. “Yeah. Fine, thanks.”
Keith smiled, just a hint of canine peeking through. “Good.”
He slid out of the bed. Kosmo followed with a bark. Just like that, Lance was alone. As soon as it was safe, he pulled the covers over his head and muffled his scream into the pillow. The rest of the morning was surreally normal. Keith went on his run and drank Lance’s coffee, and they parted when Lance left for work. He was late, as usual, and he could hardly be blamed. He was going to call in sick for the rest of the week. Love sick. Ugh!
“Hey, Lance!” Shiro greeted cheerfully as they passed each other in the hall.
It wasn’t strictly Shiro’s fault that his little brother had sent Lance into a crisis, the extent of which would probably require the power of FEMA and the national guard to contain. Still, he had no one else to blame, and he couldn’t very well talk to Shiro about how much he wanted to be up close and personal with his baby brother’s very personal parts, so Lance made a strangled noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan. That stopped Shiro in his tracks, but Lance quickened his pace towards the sanctuary of his classroom.
“You okay?” Shiro called after him.
“No!” Lance replied, not bothering to turn around.
Unfortunately, his schedule was light for the day. He tried to bury himself in grading, but memories of Keith’s soft, sleepy gaze and bedhead kept digging him up. He was distracted when teaching, and his students noticed, but thankfully didn’t press. He let them do their homework during class and tried to solve his own problem as they did. Lance was almost thirty years old. Thirty!! He was being ridiculous. He’d had crushes before. He wasn’t called ‘Loverboy Lance’ for nothing. He should be able to man up and tell Keith how he felt. Only, it wasn’t a crush. It was so much more than that. If he told Keith…this is where his mind went blank. He couldn’t imagine his friend would treat him unkindly, nor could he even begin to believe his feelings were returned. What would happen? Would Keith reject him gently and promise nothing would change, only for the awkwardness to drive them apart? Lance couldn’t have that. More than just the object of his affection, Keith was his best friend. He was family. Lance couldn’t lose him just because he couldn’t keep his heart in his chest. At the same time, Lance wasn’t sure how much longer he could continue with his facade. It had been ten years. It was pretty clear, at this point, that there was no one else for him. He’d entertained a few relationships over the years, but nothing had ever worked out, because he always (unfairly to his dates) compared them to Keith. And there was no comparison. Was it wrong, though, for Lance to keep his secret from Keith? Was it fair to keep him in the dark about Lance’s feelings and motivations? He was spiraling, and he knew that, but he couldn’t seem to stop.
He did the only thing he could think of. During his free period, Lance called Hunk.
His friend picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Lance! What’s up?”
Lance bit his thumb, rocking his chair on its back legs. “Hey, Hunkinator. So, I’m in love with Keith,” he winced.
There was a pause. “Hmmm…yes?” Hunk replied cautiously.
Lance let his chair fall firmly on the floor with a thump. “What do you mean yes?” he spluttered, “This is Earth-shattering news!”
Hunk had the audacity to laugh. Laugh! “Okay, buddy. Let me try again,” he cleared his throat, and adopted a faux-surprised voice that Lance did not appreciate in the slightest. “No way! You’re in love with Keith? How can this possibly be true! You’ve never waxed poetic about his hair or asked me what it would be like to be crushed between his thighs or—”
“Alright, alright!” Lance snapped, “I guess I haven’t been very subtle.”
Hunk snorted. “Subtle? Buddy, NASA called. They can see your crush from space. Why are you freaking out about it now, though?” his teasing tone changed, becoming excited, “Are you going to say something to him? Finally! This is the best day of my life! Pidge will owe me like five hundred Gac!”
“Have you guys been betting on me?” Lance asked, indignant.
“Yeah, but at least I was on your side. Pidge bet that you would both be in a nursing home before anything ever happened.”
Lance slumped over his desk. “This day has been full of shocking betrayals,” he whined, which wasn’t really fair. There wasn’t a whole lot to do in space, so they often had at least three betting pools going. Lance was in one currently with Adam and Keith over what Shiro would get Adam for an anniversary gift (Shiro had a lot of talents…gift giving wasn’t one of them).
Hunk scoffed. “Seriously, though. You should say something! Not just because I could really use the Gac, though that’s true too.”
“How am I supposed to tell him? You know he’s always armed. I’ll end up with a belly full of luxite for my troubles.”
“What, from our Keith? Anyone with eyes and at least 20/200 vision can see that he’s crazy for you.”
Lance laughed self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, right. If that was true, why hasn’t he said anything?”
“Why haven’t you,” Hunk countered, like a wise asshole.
“Because!” Lance cut himself off, not sure what he meant to say. “Because I—it’s Keith. It’ll ruin everything.” The bell rang, like a deus ex machina, and Lance sighed. “I have to go. Thanks for listening to me rant, Hunk.”
“Okay, but Lance,” Hunk was quick to interrupt before Lance could hang up, “tell him! I promise it will be fine!”
Lance thumped his head against the table. “I’ll think about it.”
They said a brief goodbye, and Lance ended the call as his students began to file in.
He did think about it. He thought about it until the bell signaled the end of the school day, and all the way home. He played out a million different scenarios in his head about how confessing to Keith might go. Most of them ended poorly.
He was no closer to an answer when he got home. Keith was nowhere to be seen, but Kosmo greeted him at the door. Lance gave him the mandatory scratches, looking around for the leviathan’s owner.
“Where’s Keith?” he asked.
Kosmo, smarter than your average space wolf, barked and cocked his head toward Keith’s bedroom. Lance gave him a forehead kiss for his efforts.
Lance hesitated outside of Keith’s door. Hunk seemed so sure that talking to Keith would be the right thing to do, but Lance had his doubts. How much longer could he go on, though?
He raised his hand to knock, only to be stopped by the sound of Keith’s voice on the other side. It sounded like he was on the phone, because Keith rarely, if ever, had company.
“It’s a long time,” Keith was saying. “Two deca-phoebes?”
Lance was a gossip at heart. He leaned in closer to the door, and was rewarded for his efforts by Krolia’s answer.
“You’ve been away for longer. Don’t you miss it? You belong up here, Kito. With your family, your own kind. There are stars in your blood. Can’t you feel their fire?”
Keith was silent for a long time. If the door hadn’t been holding him up, Lance wasn’t sure he would still be standing. Of course Keith was going to say yes. That had always been his M.O—leaving Lance behind. What was keeping Keith on Earth? His brother, sure, but Krolia was right. Keith was born for space travel. He was a once-in-a-generation pilot. It would be selfish of Lance to ask him to stay. And for what? Lance’s silly crush? The idea was unthinkable.
Unable to take any more, Lance went to his room. He laid down in the dark, and was horrified to realize his pillows smelled like Keith. Despite himself, Lance began to softly cry.
A few minutes later, there was a knock.
“Hey, Lance. You in there?” Keith called.
Lance briefly considered ignoring him, but it was doubtlessly pointless. Even without his freaky Galra hearing, Keith had probably heard him come home.
“Yeah,” Lance replied, trying to keep his tone even.
He was, apparently, unsuccessful. “Are you okay?” Keith asked cautiously.
Lance gritted his teeth. “I just have a headache. I’ll be fine,” he said. The first part wasn’t a lie. His head was throbbing from the tears and the stress of the day.
Never one to let well enough alone, Keith opened the door. His brow was taut with concern, but his eyes were unbearably soft. “Do you need anything?” he asked, so sincerely that Lance almost started crying again.
God, there were so many things he needed. For Keith to stay. For Keith to love him, in any way he could, even if it wasn’t the way Lance wanted. A three-week vacation. A winning lottery ticket. Advil. A screwdriver. A hammer to the face.
“No. I’m just going to go to bed early tonight,” Lance said instead of any of those things.
Keith looked unconvinced. “Okay,” he replied after a pause, “Just text me if you change your mind.”
Lance smiled, but even to himself it felt watery and weak. “Thanks, man.”
Keith closed the door reluctantly. Lance tucked himself under the covers, burying himself in Keith’s scent. He felt pathetic. This sent off a new round of crying, mixing snot and tears with the smell of Keith’s six-in-one shampoo.
A sudden weight on his chest surprised him momentarily from his grief as Kosmo appeared. The dog circled on the bed for a moment before settling with his head next to Lance’s. Keith had obviously sent him. Lance threw an arm around the dog, and let himself feel pathetic. After a ten-year-long unrequited crush, he’d earned it.
~
It was surprisingly easy to avoid Keith over the next few days. The convoy was set to arrive, so everyone was busy. Lance spent an abnormal amount of time at Veronica’s apartment and grading papers to avoid seeing him. It was possible that avoidance wasn’t the best strategy to deal with his problems. Unfortunately, it had worked for the last decade, and Lance was nothing if not consistent. To Keith’s credit, he tried to talk to Lance, but Lance was so afraid of hearing something he didn’t want to that he shut down all of Keith’s attempts. If Keith never told him he was leaving, it couldn’t be happening, right?
The last straw came when Lance, in an attempt to avoid conversation by making it impossible to hear each other, opened the junk closet to grab the vacuum.
Keith’s suitcase was missing.
Lance closed the door. It was almost too much to bear.
Keith intercepted him in the hall, shrugging on a black denim jacket over his white shirt. He looked obscenely attractive. Lance was ready to call the police, because it must be some kind of crime. Like indecent exposure, but indecent attractiveness. Lance had to admit he was going a little insane.
“Hey,” Keith greeted, “you’re still going to Shay’s party, right?”
In truth, Lance had completely forgotten. He winced internally. Hunk would kill him if he missed the party. Or, at least, he would be vaguely disappointed, which was worse than death. Lance thought, though, that getting drunk sounded like a perfect idea at that moment.
“Of course,” he said. Keith looked him up and down skeptically. Lance blushed, realizing he was wearing his robe and old lion slippers. “I was just about to get dressed,” he said defensively.
“Okay…” Keith replied. “I guess I’ll see you there?”
“Aye aye, captain!” Lance said with a stupid salute, because he had truly lost his mind. He bolted to his room, cursing himself and cringing the whole way.
Upon Lance’s arrival, the bar was packed with humans and aliens alike. A few greeted him when he walked in, and he nodded politely while making a beeline to the bar.
It took a moment to fight through the crowd. Luckily, Pidge and Hunk already had seats, so Lance squeezed in next to them. He flagged down the bartender, a guy named Ian.
“Something very, very strong, please,” he requested gravely.
Ian laughed, and set about making Lance a drink that involved a lot of tequila and something glittery. Perfect.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Pidge snarked unhelpfully.
Hunk hit them on the arm. “Aw, leave him alone!”
Pidge snickered. “Does this have anything to do with why Keith has been even more emo than usual? Look at him; he’s been sitting alone all night.”
Hunk winced, “Well, not so alone anymore,”
Lance almost broke his neck with how fast he whipped around to look at Keith. Sure enough, an MFE pilot had approached him. The pilot flashed a pearly white and perfectly straight smile before taking the seat next to Keith. For a busy bar, there sure were a lot of empty seats, Lance thought bitterly. Keith nursed his whiskey. It was hard to tell if he welcomed the company. Lance almost tipped his chair over trying to get a better look.
Pidge whistled approvingly. “Dang, I may be aromantic as shit, but that guy is pretty hot,”
“He’s not that hot,” Lance scoffed, like a liar. “He’s just got nice hair. And a good body. He’s just—objectively—no! Just no!” he huffed.
Pidge shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s a brunette. That’s Keith’s type, right?”
They watched Keith for a moment, with different motivations. Pidge appeared intrigued, while Hunk looked like he was watching a car wreck in slow motion. Lance drained his drink and signaled Ian for another.
Keith laughed at something the guy said. Laughed. What could he have possibly said that was that funny? Maybe he was just being polite. That had to be it. Keith’s sense of humor was drier than the Sahara and much less forgiving.
Lance chewed on his straw. “That guy looks like he’s bothering him,”
“Literally not at all,” Pidge replied, “but what I think you’re about to do is going to be incredibly amusing so, sure.”
That was good enough for Lance. He finished his drink and sauntered tipsily to the other end of the bar.
He slung his arm around Keith’s shoulder. Keith looked annoyed. Maybe the guy really was bothering him. Lance brightened.
“Who’s your friend?” Lance asked with faux-cheerfulness.
The handsome guy (he looked even better up close, shit) stuck out a hand, smiling generously. “I’m Dex. It’s nice to meet you. Keith and I were just talking—we’re both from Texas. It’s nice to meet a neighbor so far from home.”
God, Lance hated this guy. One conversation and he and Keith were on a first-name basis? Keith didn’t know Lance’s first name for, like, three years.
“Wow, neighbors! That’s interesting. Isn’t Texas, like, one of the biggest states? So, not really neighbors, you just lived in the same state as a couple of million other people. That’s a crazy coincidence, huh?” Lance grinned, all teeth and wide, innocent eyes.
“Lance,” Keith warned with a scowl.
The guy noticeably inched away from Keith, who looked like he was trying to dismember Lance with his glare.
“I’m obviously interrupting something,” Dex hedged uncertainly. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Keith?”
“Maybe you will!” Lance quipped, tightening his arm around Keith’s shoulders.
Keith shoved him off the second Dex’s back was turned. Wordlessly, he stood, and began to stalk toward the exit. Lance followed, his survival instincts having left him a long time before.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Keith spat at him when they were outside, shoving Lance’s chest.
“Me!” Lance squawked, “I was just trying to save you from that guy.”
“Save me?” Keith barked, his eyes flinty. “Lance, you’ve been ignoring me all week, and then the second someone tries to hit on me, you become a complete asshole. Do you have a problem with me flirting with him?”
“Yes!” Lance cried without thinking.
Keith’s brow rose to his hairline. “Yes? Is that what this is? Some last-minute homophobic tirade? I don’t believe that for a second.”
“No!” Lance objected, “It’s not that, it’s just…” he trailed off, and Keith let the awkward silence hang for a minute before he sighed, running a hand through his ruffled hair.
“My mom has been talking to me about a mission,” he began, and a lump grew in Lance’s throat. “Maybe it would be good for us to get some space for a while.”
“I don’t want that,” Lance protested.
Keith stepped closer to him. The glint in his eyes had sparked into a full-blown flame, and Lance was burning in it. “What do you want then?”
Lance swallowed hard. “I can’t—it doesn’t matter. I just want you to stay.”
Did Keith look disappointed? Maybe Lance was drunker than he’d thought. “Then I’ll stay.”
Lance was surprised. “What? Is it that simple?”
Keith shrugged. “Always has been.”
“But, your suitcase,” Lance spluttered, “you already packed!”
Keith just stared at him. “For our trip to Cuba?” He said, like Lance was stupid. Because he was.
“Oh my God,” Lance breathed, “I’m an idiot. This whole time, I thought you were leaving with your mom and I’d never see you again. I’ve been avoiding you so you couldn’t tell me you were leaving, and also so you didn’t figure out that I was freaking out over my feelings for you, but this whole time you were just packing for our trip and I was just being a huge asshole!” Lance laughed in relief, and looked back at Keith, surprised to find the other man staring at him with wide eyes.
“Your feelings for me?” Keith said slowly.
Lance kicked himself so hard mentally he could taste his own boot. “Um.”
Keith closed the distance between them, cupping Lance’s face in his hands. Lance grabbed his wrists, to push him away or to hold him close, he wasn’t sure.
“Lance.” Keith licked his lips nervously, and Lance couldn’t help but follow the movement. “Do you have feelings for me?” he murmured
Lance closed his eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I think you wanna know,” he breathed.
Keith had always been a man of few words. Instead of answering, he surged forward, and kissed him.
The soft bow of Keith’s lips that Lance had dreamed about kissing was chapped against his own. Keith’s hands were warm on the curve of his jaw, holding him steady, certain. Lance melted into his heat. He trusted Keith to hold him. It was better than flying. It was like being the ship; like Zero G and the chaos of space and the warmth of the engine and unlimited potential. It was a cup of coffee in the morning, made for you by the person who loves you the most (they remembered the creamer). It was socks slipping on the kitchen floor at three A.M because you’re racing each other down the hall, laughing until you're busting with it. It was home, home, home.
Very, very reluctantly, they parted, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. Keith’s thumb gently brushed the crest of Lance’s cheek. The entire world could’ve been blown to pieces around them, and Lance would’ve been none the wiser. His lips were still warm from where Keith’s had been. He was drunk on it.
“I love you,” Keith said, like it was simple. Like it was guaranteed. Maybe it always was.
Lance smiled, and turned his cheek to kiss Keith’s palm. “I love you, too.”
Behind him, the gathered crowd cheered. Lance jumped, but Keith’s grip on him was firm even as he scowled at their friends.
“FIVE HUNDRED GAC!” Hunk crowed.
Pidge wailed. “I didn’t think he was going to go through with it!”
Lance would have hoped that the adults of the group (Allura, Coran, Shiro, and Adam) would be more mature in their reactions. He was sorely disappointed as he saw GAC exchanged between all of them. Still, as he looked at his friends, he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He threw his arm around Keith's shoulder, grabbing the other boy’s hand and fisting it in the air with a victorious whoop. Their friends laughed and cheered, and Lance sloppily kissed Keith’s cheek. He grumbled, but the tips of his ears were pink.
“Leave us alone,” Keith said, shooing their friends away.
“Aren’t you going to come back inside?” Shay called.
Lance squeezed Keith’s hand and winked salaciously. To his delight, the man blushed even harder. Oh, Lance was going to have fun with this.
“Sorry, Shay. We’ve got places to be,” he replied cheekily.
Their friends jeered, laughed, and gagged, in their own fashion, vocalizing their support. Lance grinned over his shoulder at them, his family. For a moment, he closed his eyes, sending up a quiet prayer to the Lions, wherever they were. What he said was simple, but no less sincere. It was the only thing he knew to say.
Thank you.