Upright//Reversed
end//stagnation
letting go//holding on
new beginnings//grief
Upright//Reversed
faith//insecurity
hope//discouragement
fortune//faithlessness
*coughs* *wheezes* *keels over*
THIS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG
Anyway, here’s the full paladin lineup, plus weapons, plus companions ✌️✨
*falls headfirst into my grave to sleep off this project*
– – –
[The screen seems to blink; first black then a flash of many colours, before focusing and settling on the scene the camera is filming. Seven people sit squished together on a couch – the paladins of Voltron. Some look particularly happier about the predicament than others.]
Lance, Allura (beaming): Hiya, everyone!
[Allura ducks her head to whisper something at Lance. She is not very good at whispering, so her words are picked up by the microphone.]
Allura: Did I say it correctly? Hiya?
[Lance makes a ‘perfect’ motion with his hands.]
Lance (whispering also): You nailed it!
[Both teens nod resolutely at each other and turn back to the camera.]
Lance: You guys loved that first episode. We got…so many space e-mails.
Hunk (amused): I think we can just call them e-mails, buddy.
[Lance sticks his tongue out at him, playfully annoyed, and then turns to Pidge, who is squished next to him and scowling heavily. He nudges her.]
Lance: If it’s in space, I say space. Space goo, space castle, space lions. Right, Pidgey?
Pidge (deadpan): You have three seconds to explain why I’m here or I’m tasing you again.
Lance: Yeesh, dude, fine.
[He turns to the camera, smiling, but it is significantly more mischievous than before.]
Lance: I mentioned that I got several space e-mails. Several hundred, really.
[Pidge taps her wrist.]
Lance: I’m getting there! Holy moly!
[He huffs at her, then turns his attention away, dragging something from his pocket and stuffing it into his hands before anyone can see.]
Lance: ANYWAYS. After I sorted through all the various marriage proposals for Hunk and some of the most insane strings of sentences that have ever been uttered thought or posted – and I’m a bisexual thot, so that’s saying something; some of y’all are horny – there were some genuinely interesting questions. So I thought we could answer some of them!
[He waves the thing he took from his pocket, which is now clear to be a stack of papers. His announcement draws a mix of emotions; whoops of excitement from the Alteans, an exasperated and fond sigh from Hunk, a look of resignation from Shiro, a groan of distress from Pidge, and a look from Keith that can only be described as the same wariness one might have when approaching a feral animal. Uncaring of any negativity, Lance primly straightens the papers, holding one in front of him with great fanfare.]
Lance: We’ll start with some group questions. Ease us all into it. Oh, I forgot to mention that I used one of Pidge’s programs to pick these questions for me based off a few parameters, so I genuinely have no idea what they’re going to be. I thought it would be more fun that way.
[He clears his throat.]
Lance: ‘To the Voltron team – what’s it like living with the same people every day? Is it fun, like a sleepover? Is there someone who’s a particularly worse roommate than the others?’
Lance: Oooooou, drama.
[A moment of contemplative silence.]
Shiro: Most of us are pretty used to sharing spaces with people, I think. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ve lived the majority of my life in a military facility since I was twelve, so.
All other humans: Same.
Pidge: Well, not that long. It is a little more new to me. But I lived with my brother and parents before all this, so I’m totally used to banging on the bathroom door in the mornings because someone is hogging it.
[She looks pointedly at Lance. He shrugs.]
Lance: I will not apologise for my commitment to looking beautiful. It pays off, and you are all granted the privilege of looking at me, so.
Keith (confused): You have to try to be pretty?
[Hunk chokes. Shiro whips his head to stare at his brother, wide-eyed. Pidge frantically digs around for her phone, then remembers the camera, looking straight at it with an evil grin. Lance’s jaw drops.]
[Keith continues to stare at the Blue Paladin in confusion, oblivious to the double meaning of his question.]
Lance (hoarsely): What?
Keith: I mean, you get the soap and wash your face and hair and body and go. How do you…make yourself pretty? That’s just something you are or are not, right?
[Shiro places his head in his hands. His shoulders shake.]
Shiro: Oh, dear God.
[Hunk is biting his lip harshly to keep from laughing. Pidge and Allura offer no such courtesy, giggling openly to themselves.]
Lance:…
Lance: Keith, tell me you’re not washing your fucking hair with bar soap.
[All embarrassment seems to be forgotten in favour of disbelief.]
Keith: Of course I am. I actually do wash my hair, you know. Frequently.
Lance: With fucking bar so –
[He takes a deep, calming breath, bodily moving himself away as if proximity to Keith will somehow make his own hair-washing habits degrade.]
Lance: I am done talking about this. You are the worst roommate.
Keith: What? How? Because I wash my hair like a normal person?
Keith: At least I do it fast! You’re the worst roommate because you take four billion years to brush your teeth!
Lance (screeching): This mouth is plaque and gingivitis free, you skanky hoe! I spend a normal amount of time in the bathroom, you’re just a knobhead!
[Before Keith can argue back, Hunk reaches over and places a placating hand on Lance’s head.]
Hunk: Sorry, buddy, but as your roommate of almost six years now, you spend an insane amount of time in front of a mirror. I don’t have enough time in the day to count how often it would make us late.
Keith (emphatically): See? Worst roommate.
[Coran hums disapprovingly.]
Coran: I’m not sure that’s true, Number Four. He does more chores than the rest of you.
[Various mutters of agreeance.]
Shiro: True. Who’s the worst, then?
Pidge: Well, Hunk is always sneaking into my workshop and rearranging my shit.
Hunk: First of all, shared workshop. I am simply meandering over to your half. Second of all, I wouldn’t have to snoop if you simply indulged my curiosity.
Lance (deadpan): The same curiosity that inspired you to build and code a device to break into my phone when I wouldn’t tell you the name of the person I was seeing?
Hunk: In my defense, you generally have bad taste. You’ve been mugged four times.
Lance: Privacy, Hunk. Snoops are the worst roommates.
Allura: But he makes us treats! Surely that must count for something.
[Hunk looks at her, adoring and playful.]
Hunk: Allura, you are my favourite.
[Allura beams.]
Allura: Thank you!
Shiro: Hm. I suppose we all have annoying habits, but we’re all pretty helpful, too.
Coran (teasing): How diplomatic, Number One.
Lance: Taking that as a cue to move on.
[He looks down at his stack of papers.]
Lance: Uh, a couple of these are pretty straightforward. ‘What is the best part of being a paladin?’
Keith (immediately): Helping people.
[No one voices protest.]
Lance (quietly): Next one.
Lance: ‘Do you have to train a lot?’
[Three humans groan in unison. Shiro looks amused. Allura looks huffy. Keith looks a little bit like a teacher’s pet.]
Pidge: All fucking day!
Allura (primly): That is a gross exaggeration.
Hunk: The only gross thing around here is how sweaty I get after the bajillion thousand years of training every morning. It is agony.
Lance: Agreed. I got so sweaty I broke out the other day. Broke out. Me. I had to be consoled.
[Hunk and Pidge both nod very seriously. Pidge places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.]
Hunk: It was a very difficult night.
Shiro (smiling): Next question, you dorks.
Lance: This one is for Allura! ‘Were you friends with the mice before the cryo pod or did you only befriend them after? If the former, how did you end up becoming friends with them?’
[Allura lights up, either at the first directed question being to her personally, or because she is excited to show off her pets. She immediately pulls the mice out of her pockets, where they had been peacefully sleeping, and they blink and yawn as they wake, scampering up her arms to rest on her head.]
Allura: These friends are new! They were little stowaways. If I had known they were on the castle I would have befriended them much sooner.
Coran: She is very fond of animals. She would spend hours as a child building careful and gentle traps for any ‘pests’ that roamed the castle and disturbed the residents, so she could safely free them.
[Lance feigns an arrow to the heart, collapsing dramatically backwards. Everyone else simply smiles fondly.]
[Allura barely notices, attention turned upwards to her pets, where she strokes them gently.]
Allura: I love my friends very much. They make everything…
[She pauses for a moment, expression saddening.]
Allura: They help me keep a piece of home.
[Shiro reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. She smiles gratefully at him. After a moment she turns to look at Lance, indicating for him to continue.]
Lance: Two more.
[He takes a moment to read the first, then grins, sharp and teasing.]
Lance: ‘For Hunk: so did you and Shay ever become an iiiiiiteeeeeem?’
[Hunk flushes red. The rest of the team snickers, teasing and poking at him.]
Hunk: I doubt there was that much emphasis in the space e-mail, Lance.
Lance: No, there was.
[Keith crawls over the back of the couch to lean over Lance’s shoulder. He turns to Hunk, smirking.]
Keith: It definitely does, dude. Big and bold.
Lance (smugly): Thank you, Keith.
[Hunk scowls.]
Hunk: Funny how it’s suddenly easy for you two to work together when it benefits you.
Hunk: But whatever. We’ve been in contact. We have to follow up with people, you know.
Lance: Oh of course, of course.
Keith: Exactly the kind of kindness we expect from you, Hunk.
Pidge: Standard procedure.
Shiro: I would even say it’s protocol.
Allura: I’d be disappointed if you weren’t following up, truly.
Coran: Astounded by your commitment, dear boy.
[Hunk sighs, long and heavy.]
Hunk: I hate all of you. Move on, Lance, or I’m leaving.
Lance: Okay, grouchy.
[He turns to the last sheet, reading it carefully. Suddenly, his face blooms bright crimson, and he flips the page over, slamming it onto his knees.]
Lance (hurriedly): My mistake! Misprint, there’s nothing on this page. That’s all for this episode, everyone, tune in for the next –
Keith: Oh, no you don’t.
[Keith leans over and snatches the paper from Lance’s lap faster than Lance can stop him. Lance screeches, lunging after him, but he is too fast, and besides everyone else but Coran piles on top of him, barring him from tackling Keith to the ground. The Red Paladin perches on the back of the couch, paper in hand, hair mussed and wild and smile victorious.]
Keith: ‘Do you really not remember the Bonding Moment –
[Lance lets out a scream of emotional agony.]
Keith: – or were you just faking?’ Bonding moment is capitalised, by the way. In case you wanted to pretend you didn’t know exactly what this is talking about.
Lance (stubbornly): I don’t.
[Three people pinch him at once.]
Lance: Ouch! This is extortion!
Pidge: Deserved extortion, you liar.
Lance: I had brain damage! I don’t remember jack about shit!
Keith (voice cracking) (again): I cradled you in my arms!
Lance: No way! Don’t remember –
Keith (threatening): If you say ‘didn’t happen’, McClain, I swear to God –
Lance: – didn’t happen!
Hunk: One day you are going to piss off the angry knife boy just so and you are going to get stabbed. And I might not stop him.
Lance: This place is the worst. None of you love me. Only Coran.
[Coran gently pats Lance’s ankle.]
Coran: I don’t believe you either, dear.
Lance: Well, that’s fine. I will simply wallow away in agony and despair.
Coran: You do that.
[Lance sighs loudly, then squirms his way out of his teammates’ hold so his head his peeking out, glancing at the camera.]
Lance (sagely): Remember this injustice, Lance stans. I know you’re out there. Avenge me.
[On that dramatic note, the video cuts.]
The only reason Keith agrees to this costume is because Shiro wanted it first (and Shiro just wanted to be able to do the arm bit all night). He'll suffer a night of being Buzz Lightyear if it means spiting his brother.
Upright//Reversed
arriving//incompletion
life//emptiness
spontaneity//lack of closure
“Well, that’s upsetting.”
Keith rubs his eyes in the vain hope that when he opens them again, the scene in front of him will change.
No luck.
Still a pile of ashes.
“So when you said you made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town way in advance…” Lance starts.
“I did so before the building burnt to the ground, yes.”
Lance’s mouth twitches. “And you didn’t, like, call to confirm, or anything.”
“I didn’t think I had to! There was — in what world could I have predicted this?! It’s not like anyone did a news report on it!”
Lance says nothing for a second, tapping away at his phone. Keith turns his attention back to grand scene of disappointment in front of him, wondering if he can maybe get his deposit back.
Probably not.
“Says here it was burnt down two weeks ago by three former employees who were fired for attempting to form a union,” Lance says, flipping his phone over to show Keith the screen. “If that makes you feel better.”
Keith glances at the article. “…It does, actually. Good for them.”
Lance laughs, tucking his phone away and then leaning over to press a kiss to Keith’s cheek. He grabs their hands, twining them together and carefully pulling them away from the ruins of the restaurant. “It’s okay, babe. I appreciate the gesture. Let’s head to my apartment and watch movies; Hunk’s gone till late so we can bang on the couch if you want.”
“What?” Keith protests. “No!”
Lance pauses, frowning. “You love banging on the couch.”
“No, not that.” He squeezes their hands together so Lance doesn’t get the wrong idea. “That’s great. I just mean…I feel like we always just chill in your apartment. It’s great, and there’s no one I’d rather hang out with than you, but I wanted to do something. I had plans. I wanted to treat you.”
A close lipped smile appears on Lance’s face; small, like he’s trying to contain it, making his nose scrunch adorably. He glances down at his sneakers, kicking slightly at the concrete, and his ears are delightfully red. He looks embarrassed and pleased — maybe Keith’s favourite expression on him.
“Alright,” Lance says eventually. He squeezes back. “Let’s go somewhere. Got any other fancy-schmancy places that aren’t burned down? We’re dressed for it, at least.”
Keith frowns, trying to think. It’s true that they’re both decently dressed up — Keith is wearing the slacks that make his ass look fat as hell and Lance is wearing his least scruffy converse — but Keith genuinely can’t think of a single fancy place that will let them in on such short notice on a Friday evening. The best place he can think of is the particularly well-maintained Dairy Queen on the other end of town, and that won’t cut it. Not that Lance would mind (he likes to be treated but has made it abundantly clear that he just likes spending time with Keith), but they’ve just done that before. Keith wants to do something special.
He brightens as the idea dawns on him. It’s no high-dining, but he knows Lance will like it.
“C’mon. Get in the car, I’ve got an idea.”
Lance grins. “Aye-aye.”
He lets Keith open the door for him, although he does roll his eyes (Keith knows his goober romantic ass is preening on the inside), and messes up Keith’s pre-set radio stations the second he has his seatbelt on.
“You could just plug in the aux, you know,” Keith grumbles as he carefully pulls onto the street.
Lance waves a dismissive hand. “The music is more enjoyable when I know I’m inconveniencing you later.”
“You’re such a brat.”
“You’re so in love with me that it’s embarrassing for you.”
Keith sticks out his tongue, but doesn’t argue, because he can’t. Instead he reaches over and grabs one of Lance’s hands again, listening idly as Lance hums along to the radio.
Twenty minutes later, Keith pulls into a massive parking lot, stopping a couple spots away from a silver minivan.
“Costco?” Lance questions, looking out the window like if he stares hard enough the building in front of him will change. “Why are we at —”
“Be right back,” Keith interrupts, leaning over and pecking his boyfriend on the lips. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Lance trails off, confused.
Keith dashes off without a backwards glance, ducking in through the exit doors so he doesn’t get asked for a membership card.
Twenty minutes later, he rushes back out of the building, getting to his car as quickly as he can. He taps the passenger door gently with his foot, hands full, making Lance jump.
“We you trying to hotwire my car again?” he asks as soon as he opens the door.
Lance shrugs unapologetically. “You took too long. I got bored.” He squints at Keith’s bounty. “Did you buy…six hot dogs?”
“And two drinks!“
Lance’s brows crease, torn between amused and exasperated. “That’s nearly a pound of hot dog meat each.”
“Yup.”
“We’re both gonna fuck up a bathroom tonight.”
“Most likely.”
“Those things cost less than a dollar. They’re probably made of possum.”
“And they’re delicious.” He waves a hotdog enticingly at Lance. “Come sit on the hood with me.”
Finally, a grin breaks out on Lance’s face, wide and toothy and fucking breathtaking. “Okay.”
He steps out of the car, following Keith over to the front of the vehicle and heaving himself up on it. Keith sets the food and drink beside him, then digs out his keys and steps back.
“Hold on a sec,” he says.
Lance picks up a hot dog and unwraps it. “Absolutely not waiting for you. Hurry up or I’m gonna eat your hotdogs, too.”
Completely aware that Lance is not kidding, Keith sprints to the trunk, unlocking it and digging out the supplies he needs. He slams it shut and sprints back, hopping on the hood next to Lance and fluffing the blanket he grabbed on top of them, making Lance nod approvingly.
“Nice touch.”
Keith sets the other item he got in front of them.
Lance squints at it for several moments.
“A…megaphone,” he says slowly.
Keith nods. “Yes.”
“That you just…have in your trunk.”
“From pride,” Keith explains. “Pidge likes to sit on my shoulders and make fart noises at protestors.”
“Ah, makes sense.” He pops the last bit of his first hot dog in his mouth, wasting no time to open the second. “And you have brought it out because…?”
Keith unwraps his own hotdog, using it to point at a guy in horrible (even by Keith’s standards) cargo shorts who is abandoning his shopping cart in the middle of the street. “Figured you might like to heckle some assholes as you devour your possum meat hot dogs.”
Lance lights up. He carefully sets down his hotdog on the blanket, then picks up the megaphone the way a mother might pick up her newborn baby.
“Keith,” he says seriously, “this might be the best date I have ever been on.”
Keith grins. “I’m glad.” He takes a long, obnoxious sip of his soda as Lance gleefully turns on the sparkly rainbow megaphone and holds it to his mouth.
“Excuse me, Cargo Shorts,” he shouts. Cargo Shorts jumps out of his skin. “You are being a massive jackass. Please return your cart to the cart area.”
Cargo Shorts scowls at him.
“There’s a big red sign that says ‘Cart Return Area’,” Lance continues, unbothered. “In case you’re having trouble reading that, it’s the big cage with other carts in it, to your left, good sir.”
Cargo Shorts looks like he’s debating stomping up to Lance and strangling him. He glances at Keith, who glares harshly at him, and then wisely reconsiders, stomping his way to the cart return and then stomping over to his obnoxiously massive pickup truck.
Lance turns to Keith, beaming. “Seriously. This is the best. I love you.” He leans over and places a smacking kiss to Keith’s cheek, making an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. Keith turns his head to catch him in a real kiss.
He tastes like hotdogs. Keith is sure he does, too. It’s nasty.
He doesn’t care.
“Can’t take credit for it,” he says, polishing off his second sandwich (are hotdogs sandwiches??). Lance winces at his full mouth, but doesn’t say anything. “Shiro took Adam to do this very same thing many years ago. It’s where he proposed, actually.”
Lance looks at him in disbelief. “And that worked for him?”
Keith snorts. “He’ll never admit it, but Adam is down bad. He always has been. He likes to say his proposal had that small town charm that made him say yes, but everyone knows it’s just because it was Shiro who did the asking.”
Lance opens his mouth to say something, then he notices a woman who’s trying to leave her cart in the middle of a disabled parking space. The megaphone is on and wailing faster than Keith can blink.
“Absolutely not, lady! Keep ‘er moving! Yep! That’s it! Cart goes to the cart return area! Just like a matching game! There you go!”
He sets the megaphone back down as the lady huffily returns the cart — as if she has been so wronged — and turns back to his meal, poking his straw into his soda cup.
“You better not have a ring in your pocket, Kogane,” he warns. “It might have worked for your brother, but I’ll tell you right now I’m gonna say no. Absolutely not.”
Keith blinks at the subject change, then laughs a little too loudly, unable to hide the slight hurt bleeding through his voice. They haven’t talked about marriage yet, sure, but that seems a little…final. A little like the mere idea is ludicrous.
They’ve been dating for two years now. Keith has been subtly looking for a way to get Lance’s ring size. Is it really so strange for them to want to make things official in the eyes of the law?
“‘Cause I want the whole nine yards,” Lance continues, oblivious to Keith’s crisis. “The secretive bullshit, the talking to my parents, the cheesy speech. I know you have it in you. I am hereby forbidding the small town charm. I love you, and I also love being treated like I’m hot shit.”
“You are hot shit,” Keith says reflexively. Then the rest of Lance’s rant finally clicks, and he grins, wider than he knew he was capable of, turning to his boyfriend. “You want to get married?”
“Obviously,” Lance scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he’s avoiding Keith’s gaze and his cheeks are just slightly red. “Doofus.”
“Hey. Lance. Sweetheart. Look at me.”
Keith wipes his hand on a napkin the reaches out and rests two fingers under Lance’s chin, gently turning his head so they’re facing each other. “Look at me, my love.” He waits a second, heat pouring off his boyfriend’s face, for those brown eyes to flick up and meet his own. “I want to marry you too, you know.”
Lance rolls his eyes. His mouth twitches. “I know. I borrowed your laptop the other day and you had a tab open for a jewellry store. Coincidentally, my grandmother’s ring has gone missing, and I know I didn’t lose it, so.” He clears his throat. “I’m a size six. I’m rings. In case you were wondering, for no particular reason.”
Keith grins. “Noted.”
“This doesn’t count as a proposal. Or as me saying yes.”
“Noted.”
“I want you to kiss me now.”
“Noted.”
“If you say ‘noted’ one more time I am going to fucking say no when you ask me for real.”
Keith hesitates.
“Do not,” Lance orders.
He bites his lip.
“Keith, I fucking swear to God.”
“Noted,” he says, laughter bubbling out of him, and Lance is whacking him repeatedly before he can even finish.
“Okay! Okay! Stop! I’m sorry! Stop!” He grabs Lance’s hands, pushing him back and pinning his wrists against the window.
“Cut it out,” he murmurs, leaning in close.
“Make me,” Lance whispers back.
Keith does. Or he tries to. He closes the gap between them, pressing their lips together, but both of them are smiling too widely to kiss properly, giggling nonstop, chest shaking and bumping with the effort, skin covering in goose flesh.
Keith hates giving his brother credit for anything, but Lance is right — this is the best date they’ve ever had. Not-proposal and all.
———
based on this post (seventh slide)
Lance: I used to do these with my sisters and then with my niece and nephew
OS alien: they must be so proud of you, being a paladin of Voltron
Lance: actually, they don't know about any of this. They probably think I'm dead...
Lance: but I think they'd be proud... if they knew. Someday I'll get back to them and tell them all about the places I've been and the people I've met. Nadia and Sylvio will love hearing all the stories I have to tell, now!
OS alien: maybe they'll see this one day!
Lance doesn't tell them that Earth is unimaginably far away from this planet, so far away that he hasn't been able to even entertain the idea of going home, especially in the middle of this war.
Lance: yeah... maybe they will
*****
Videos Home AU - people from the planets Voltron frees work together to get footage of the paladins - everything from messages home to funny moments and badass rescues. Like a game of telephone, they send these videos from planet to planet, adding to the collection until they finally get a connection to Earth.
When the series of videos reach Earth, this is the first one in the sequence. It's peaceful as Lance talks about his family and the planet he came from and how much he wishes he could go home, but can't yet.
The Can't Help Falling in Love video of Lance is definitely in here.
“Simulation complete.”
The first Black Paladin turns to his team, smiling widely. “Great job, everyone! That’s the highest level we’ve managed so far!”
The rest of team Voltron turn to each other to celebrate, cheering and high-fiving, smiling all around.
“Your new axe is amazing,” Keith informs Allura, clapping her shoulder. She grins at him, and then holds her bayard in front of her appreciatively, admiring it.
“I was, wasn’t I.”
She spins it in a show of skill, bright blue shine of it catching on the bright training room lights.
“Everyone did really well,” Shiro agrees. He faces to each of the paladins in turn, complimenting them in turn. “Keith, your reflexes were wicked fast today. You definitely shaved at least five full minutes off our time.” Keith preens, pleased. Pidge and Hunk roll their eyes in tandem, and they advance on him at the same time, play-wrestling him to the ground.
“Someone needs to humble you, Dropout!” Pidge yells teasingly.
“Never!” Keith shouts, wiggling out of Hunk’s chokehold.
Shiro snorts, walking over to separate them before things get out of hand. “Alright, alright, you three. Pidge and Hunk, you two did awesome as well. I won’t pretend to understand what that new gizmo that you made does, but it was really cool.”
Hunk and Pidge both beam at the same time.
“Thanks, Shiro!”
“Yeah!”
“And you, Lance.” Shiro turns to the final paladin, smiling warmly. He’s lying flat on the ground, slightly away from the rest of them. “None of us had to watch our own backs even once. Our Sharpshooter had us the whole time, huh?”
Without looking up, Lance lifts the hand not resting on his chest, forming a thumbs-up. “Yep,” he says weakly.
The rest of the team frown at each other. Coran steps away from his place on the wall, setting down the clipboard he was using to take notes.
“Lance, dear?” he asks, concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“Peachy!” Lance says quickly. He tries to sit up, and manages, but it’s obvious that it took way more effort than it’s meant to. He’s wheezing slightly, breaths quick and shallow. “Just — tired, man. Keith ran us through all those wicked drills beforehand, and the training was intense. You know how it is.”
Keith’s brow furrows. “They weren’t…that bad,” he says slowly. He’s not even trying to get a rise out of the Blue Paladin; his voice is one of genuine confusion. “No worse than usual.”
Lance waves a dismissive hand. His other attempts to find a comfortable resting place somewhere on his chest area, moving from his sternum to his left pec to just above his waist before he gives up, setting it slowly on the ground. “I’m just tired, I guess. Haven’t been sleeping super well.”
The team all exchange looks, again. They all know about Lance’s insomnia, the nights he spends on the observation deck, painfully homesick and unable to force himself asleep. They have a schedule, for it. It was Allura’s turn to keep a half-eye on Lance yesterday evening, make sure he went to bed. She was excited about it and had them do facemasks and watch a movie together before finally heading their separate ways around midnight. If Lance really was struggling to sleep last night, he went to great lengths to conceal it.
Pidge takes a couple steps forward, the first of them to move. She sits next to his extended legs, her own legs bent in a W — a bad habit she’s yet to break — and plays with her glasses. She watches him carefully, but he avoids her gaze, looking pointedly at his lap.
“You can come to us, you know,” she says hesitantly. “I mean, I come to you all the time when I’m homesick. And you’re always nagging me about a sleep schedule, mom.” She punches him teasingly on the shoulder, intentionally very gentle, but Lance still inhales sharply, trying to disguise it last-minute as a cough.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Keith snaps. “Something’s wrong. Out with it, Lance, or I swear to God —”
“There’s nothing wrong, Mullet,” Lance snaps right back. “So how about you keep your nose out of my business —”
“Well how about you quit being a stubborn dumbass and tell people when you’re hurt —”
“I’m not hurt! And who are you calling stubborn, Mr I’m Gonna Run After Lotor Even Though My Entire Team Is Begging Me Not To —”
“At least I didn’t pretend I didn’t have a fever until it got bad enough that I collapsed right into my goo at a diplomatic dinner!”
“At least I didn’t train myself into heat exhaustion!”
“At least I didn’t —”
“Both of you!” Shiro shouts, making the two of them freeze. “That’s enough!”
The second he’s done speaking, both paladins point aggressively at each other, yelling: “He’s not listening to me!”
Or, well, Keith does. Lance tries, but the sudden movement of his left arm makes him shout in pain. He tries to cut it off, dropping his hand back down, but the damage is done.
“Shit, Lance, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean — are you okay — ” Keith rushes over to Lance, tripping over himself in his haste and very nearly crashing into him. Lance swats him away as he gets close, insisting he’s fine.
“Go away, Keith, I’m fine, I appreciate your concern but —”
In his attempt to twist away, he bends his torso strangely, causing another half-strangled shout of pain to come from his throat.
“Okay, no, this isn’t happening,” Hunk snaps. Before anyone can react, and before Lance can stop him, he rips open his fanny pack, yanking out a smooth white cylinder and pointing it in Lance’s direction. It beeps once, then shoots a wide, blue beam of light onto Lance, scanning him from head to toe.
“Several injuries located,” the device reads. “Ready to list and suggest treatment.”
Six pairs of eyes whip towards the Blue Paladin, varying from disappointed to scared to furious. For a moment Lance’s expression is open, shocked, deer-in-headlights, and then it shutters, replaced with something determined and endlessly, endlessly stubborn.
“I’m fine,” he insists. “If anyone comes any closer I’m going to throw a hissy fit.”
“You’re already throwing a hissy fit,” Allura points out. “When normal people are injured, they just get treated.”
Lance sets his jaw. “I’m already treated.”
Keith scowls. “Well, obviously not, because you’re hurt. Dickhead.” He reaches forward and tugs on Lance’s jacket, clearly meaning to take it off to assess further damage, but Lance hisses at him, snapping his jaw.
“Are you a fucking scorned chihuahua?” Keith demands, snatching his hand back.
“Put your hands on me again and find out.”
Before Keith can argue any further, Hunk plops down in front of them, pressing the scanner’s button again so a loud beep rings through the room.
“Listing injuries and assessment now,” it says. “Injured person: young human adult. Injuries: newly broken rib. Heavy bruising around chest area. Set and healing sprain around left shoulder joint, previously dislocated. Deep laceration on right thigh, early stages of healing. Joint abnormality in left knee. Several small wounds in mouth, inside of cheek and lower lip. Minor hearing damage, old injury. Minor brain damage, old injury. Highly elevated heart rate. Shallow breathing.” The machine pauses for a moment. Six pairs of eyes now stare at Lance in shock, jaws dropped.
Lance shifts, and if possible his jaw sets further, chin raised stubbornly and brown eyes hard and defiant.
The machine prompts again. “Proceed with treatment suggestions?”
No one speaks.
“Shut down, Scanner 6X427,” Lance says.
“Shutting down,” the scanner responds pleasantly. It beeps one more time and then grows cold in Hunk’s hand.
Everyone erupts at the same time. There’s so much panicked yelling that it kind of all amalgamates into the sound of three crowded rooms, all voices competing with another, u til eventually it settles into: “Holy shit, we need to get you to a pod!”
“Not happening,” Lance says firmly. “You can’t make me.”
“Um, yes I can,” Keith says. “As the Black Paladin, I order you to go to a pod right fucking now.”
“Seconded,” Shiro says, eyes narrowed. “That’s double Black Paladin orders.”
Lance shrugs. “As the Red Paladin, I say no, and also piss off, just as a little extra treat.”
“Lance, get in a fucking pod or so help me God,” Hunk says through grit teeth. “I will carry you out, you little shit.”
Hunk’s threat seems to shake some of the irritating calmness from Lance’s frame, and his voice gets a little angrier, a little more desperate.
“Well it’s going to be a struggle and a fucking half for you, because I’m not going in that fucking death trap conscious!”
“Lance, you’re really hurt!” Pidge cries. Frustrated and angry tears have started to drip down her face. “You’re scaring me! Get in the fucking pod!”
Shiro and Coran are so worried that neither of them correct her on her language, as they often do almost reflectively.
“I’m afraid no medical attention is not an option, child,” Coran says, firm. “You know the rules as well as I.”
“The rules don’t say jack shit about a pod,” Lance says harshly.
Keith blinks at that, flinching a little in shock. Lance is — Keith is well versed in Lance’s volatility. As much as they love and rely on each other, they’re both very stubborn, and still fall into the occasional screaming match. Lance also ends up arguing with everyone else on the team, really, as people living in close quarters tend to do; with Pidge about her sleeping habits, Hunk about working himself to exhaustion, Allura about her reckless tendency to self-sacrifice when it’s not necessary — those fights are always particularly hard to witness, because Lance is right, but he of all people can’t get angry at her for it — and Shiro’s stubborn insistence that he comes last. About stupid shit, too, although usually much less angry; dirty dishes left on the counter; chore schedules ignored, outside clothes on the bed.
But Keith has never, not once in their three years in space, heard Lance raise his voice at Coran. In fact Coran is usually the one that Lance listens to without question, the one he trusts to know more than he does in every subject. Lance may roll his eyes and groan about things, but he has never outright refused. Coran has his best interests at the forefront of his mind, something he’s made abundantly clear.
But Lance has just snapped at him. And while some guilt bleeds into his eyes, none of the stubbornness leaves his expression.
Coran looks hurt, but his voice is still firm. “I’m not asking, Lance.”
It’s a rare thing to have Coran use Lance’s real name.
A tear drops from the corner of Lance’s eye. His chin trembles. “And I’m not going.” His voice wobbles; begging, almost, desperate, instead of the angry tone it had before. “I’m not.”
“Everyone stop,” Allura says. “Pidge, Keith, move.” Her voice is not rude, but leaves no room for argument. Both paladins follow her instructions immediately, scrambling back. Allura kneels in their place, right next to the Red Paladin, and places a gentle hand on his. She squeezes.
“What’s going on?” she asks, in a creole of Altean and Cuban Spanish. “This isn’t a trick. I’m not going to move you, or force you to go anywhere. Talk to me like you make me talk to you when I’m upset. Why this reaction?”
Lance’s face crumples. It’s slow, like he’s fighting with all he has to stop it, to keep his face blank or at the very least hard, but it doesn’t work; tears fill his eyes and overflow rapidly, and his breath hitches in his throat, and then again, and his shoulders shake and his hands tremble and he starts to sob.
“I won’t go in a pod,” he says. “Please. Please don’t make me. I don’t want to get stuck again. There’s no internal release, I checked the manuals, and when they defect sometimes they get sucked down into storage and they stay down there and no one would hear me and the BLIP reader wouldn’t find me ‘cause of the radiation reinforcement in the walls and I’d suffocate and die and I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t do it I’ll die I’ll suffocate I won’t be able to breathe —”
His already shallow breaths get even shallower, and soon he genuinely can’t breathe, wheezing, panic making his limbs flail slightly and his pupils to shrink down to pinpricks. Allura is the first to react, close as she is, firmly grasping both of his shoulders and straightening his neck to keep his airway open.
“Lance, you need to breathe through your nose,” she orders. “Close your mouth. Now. Yes, that’s it. Through your nose, okay? Like that. Exactly. Now purse your lips and exhale slowly out your mouth. Yes, perfect. Keep doing that. Do it with me. See how I’m doing it?” She breathes exaggeratedly, indicating for him to follow. “Good, good. Just like that. Keep going, asteraki. You’re doing great.”
Carefully so as to not crowd them, Keith sits on Lance’s other side, reaching forward and squeezing his ankle. Pidge follows suite, and then the rest of the team; sitting in a poorly-formed semicircle around their friend and teammate, chiming in with Allura with encouragement.
This is not their first panic attack, and it won’t be their last. Although this one was one they all could have prevented, as evidenced by the guilty way they look at each other.
Finally Lance begins to calm down, breaths evening out to a steady hiccuping, tears slowed to a trickle instead of a stream. Hunk digs in his fanny pack to hand Lance a tissue, but Lance grasps Hunk’s hand instead. Hunk smiles, tangling their hands together and keeping them that way, regardless of the awkward position and the strain on his arm.
“I dressed them,” Lance says, when he finally has his voice back. It’s hoarse, but earnest, pleading, almost.
“Dressed what?” Coran asks carefully. Out of all of them, he feels the heaviest guilt; knowing the role he plays for Lance means this was something he should have noticed first, not left for Allura to handle. It makes sense that she did — her own debilitating homesickness and depression means that she and Lance spend quite a lot of time with each other at their worst — but he still knows the paladin, knows him well, and he has the experience to identify that kind of fear. He has no excuse for failing to do so.
“All the injuries,” Lance answers. “I didn’t — I wasn’t ignoring them. I dislocated my shoulder two weeks ago, so I put it back into place with one of the x-ray machines to help and kept it stable for a while.”
“Is that why you kept stealing my hoodies?” Hunk asks quietly.
“Yes.” Lance smiles slightly. “And because I like them.”
Hunk snorts, smiling back despite himself. “Yeah, bud, I’m well aware. I’d say I want them back, but you can keep them for now.”
“Nice. I should get hurt more often.”
“Not funny,” each of them says immediately.
Lance winces. “Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, the rest of them are handled, too. I took a spear to the leg when I was training a few days ago, so I fixed it and stitched it myself. It was fine and it’s healing nicely and it’s not even a little bit infected,” Lance says to Pidge, who opens her mouth to protest. His insistence calms her a little.
“If you say so.”
“I do. I’ve given myself stitches lots before, don’t worry.”
“That is very worrying,” Shiro says. “All of us could help you with stitches, Lance.”
“You’d make me go in the pod,” Lance points out. “And none of my injuries are primary emergencies. I worked at the Garrison clinic for five years, and trust me when I tell you the staff there took student help way too seriously. Half of them straight up slept for their whole shifts. I know how to handle myself.”
“Some of that stuff is fine,” Keith admits. He’s been guilty of setting his own strains and pulled muscles so he can keep training. “I know you hurt your knee when we were doing that sim a couple months ago and putting a brace on was fine, we checked.” He hesitates. “But that other stuff sounds pretty serious, Lance. Numerous mouth wounds? Hearing loss? Brain damage?” He throws up his hands, frustrated. “That’s bad!”
“The mouth wounds are just me biting the inside of my mouth,” Lance explains. “That’s not even a real injury. I’ve been doing that my whole life. I’m never not done that. As for the other stuff…” He trails off, looking at his lap.
“From the Sendak explosion,” Coran says quietly. “Permanent damage.”
“But we’d know about that,” Pidge argues. “The pod says all that kind of stuff when the person comes out. It didn’t say any of that stuff for Lance. He was fine!”
Keith’s face goes white. “None of us were there.” As he says it the rest of them go pale, too, remembering that day. “We were — God, we were arguing about something stupid. I don’t even remember. Did you…”
“I caught myself before I fell,” Lance says, correctly guessing what Keith is too horrified to say. “I wasn’t — I’m not mad, guys. I don’t expect everyone to have just stayed waiting around a guy who most of you barely knew, at that point, in a medically induced coma. Besides, we were busy.”
“I’m sorry,” Hunk says. He’s started to cry, now, dark eyes blurry with tears and nose running. “I’m so sorry, Lance. I didn’t — I should have been there to catch you.”
“I promise you I’m over a thing that happened four years ago,” Lance says drily.
Allura pinches his ear. He yelps.
“Hey! No pinching the brain damaged person!”
“Not funny,” she says, although her mouth twitches. “And accept our apology, you jerk. I know it’s been eating at you. You’re a Leo and you told me that that means you hold grudges for a thousand years.”
“I regret teaching you astrology,” Lance mumbles. He is visibly relieved. “But, fine. Apology accepted, you bunch of goobers. Can we forget this happened, now?”
“Absolutely not,” Shiro says. “You still have hearing loss and brain damage. And a broken rib! I won’t force you into a pod, but we need to figure something out, kiddo.”
“Eh.” Lance waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve had two of the three for four years, now, so I barely even notice them anymore. The hearing loss isn’t that bad, plus I’ve always had audio processing disorder so I know how to read lips and I’m used to asking people to repeat themselves a bajillion times. And I’m pretty sure the brain damage thing just means I get more migraines than usual, which I already know how to deal with because of the ‘tism. The broken rib —” He falters. “Well, the broken rib doesn’t look great for me, but there’s no cure for that anyway. You’re just supposed to wait it out until it heals itself, basically, and the scanner thing didn’t say anything about a punctured lung so I’m good.”
“How you humans have managed to stay alive as long as you have astounds me,” Allura mutters.
“Fair,” all five humans say at the same time.
Lance moves to get up, swiping his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Are we good now?” he asks hopefully. “Lancey-Lance is secretly a medical genius, all mistakes have been forgiven, we can go do literally anything else? Food would be great. I don’t know about you people but personally, being vulnerable makes me horribly famished.”
“Sit down, dear,” Coran says, steadying a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Alteans have better medical equipment, you remember. Not everything is a pod, they’re simply faster.” He turns to Pidge and Hunk. “I need the two of you to get the bone stitcher from the MedBay. Allura, go with them, the label is in a dialect of Altean they haven’t yet learnt, they’ll need your help to get it. It’s also quite heavy and quite high up.”
They nod and scurry off.
“What can I do, Coran?” Shiro asks.
“Get him his headphones and some water,” he suggests. “It’s been a lot of stimuli for one varga.”
“On it.”
“I can get my own shit,” Lance grumbles. “I don’t want people digging through my stuff.”
“Get up and I’m going to dislocated your other shoulder,” Keith threatens, half-joking. “Stop being a dweeb about needed help. It makes you look like a straight guy.”
Lance opens his mouth and then closes it again. “I hate when you use my words against me. It’s three quarters of the reason you’re irritating.”
“Shut up,” Keith says pleasantly.
They’re both grinning. Coran shakes his head at the two of them, knowing he will likely never understand their relationship.
The rest of the team comes back quickly, and they work together to set Lance’s rib, get him hydrated, move the mood into something lighter. They all head to dinner when he’s stable, eating their goo in exhausted but comfortable silence.
Tomorrow, Coran will have Lance run through some brain scans to make sure everything is as alright as it seems. Tomorrow, Pidge and Hunk will start working on a pair of hearing aids. Tomorrow, Keith will insist on helping Lance change the bandages on his leg wound; red to his hairline but stubborn and steady and gentle. Tomorrow, Shiro will sit with Lance on the observation deck, and they will discover that both of their mothers are nurses, and they will laugh about ridiculous ER stories they’ve heard. Tomorrow, Allura will help Lance bedazzle his knee brace as obnoxiously as they can.
Tomorrow, they will fix things. Tomorrow they will make things right.
But for now, they sit, and they eat, and they enjoy each other’s company and take great relief in the knowledge that their Blue and Red Paladin is truly, possibly for the first time in years, safe.
cause there never was a story more heroic than a man and his romeo
i honestly had to rework this so often because i wasn’t happy with it but now i’m content so
———
Leandro Esposita-McClain, I am in love with you.
Keith’s voice, staticky and muffled, rings through his brain for hours. He barely even moves from his seat, staring into space and trying to remind himself how breathing works.
I am in love with you.
Anyone with eyes can tell that he’s hot.
It’s always the fuckin’ pretty ones that get me.
A confession. Obvious, unmistakable, clear and concise and detailed, even, maybe more words that Lance has ever heard Keith say in one sitting.
Figures, of course, that Lance wasn’t meant to hear it.
The second they land on that night’s rest stop planet, Lance bolts out of his lion, barely remembering to keep the latch open so Kaltenecker can let herself out to graze. He sprints past the Black Lion, who has yet to open her maw, and careens around Blue, barely managing to straighten himself up before he brains himself on her massive paw. He hears her cackling in his head, and doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes. He runs up Yellow’s barely-open hatch and climbs up the stairs on all fours like an animal, tumbling into the cockpit and sprawling in front of Hunk in a heap, panting, suddenness making Hunk yelp.
“Je-sus, Lance,” he scolds, hand pressed to his heart. “You scared me.”
Lance doesn’t say anything, too busy desperately trying to gulp in some air. He’s obviously pretty practiced in cardio, being a paladin and all, but he wouldn’t be surprised to discover that he just broke several Olympic records.
(The breathing struggles may also be from the Keith thing. But that’s embarrassing, so he’s just going to pretend it’s from running.)
“We landed, like, forty seconds ago,” Hunk says after a moment. “Did you fucking teleport here? Is Kosmo around?”
At the mention of the space wolf, Lance wheezes, pressing both hands to his face to attempt to cover it as it flames. It’s no use — he can’t see Hunk through his pressed-shut eyes, but he can feel the wicked grin his best friend is sporting at the mention of Keith-by-proxy.
“I need help,” Lance says quickly, before Hunk can start in with the teasing. There’s no escaping the teasing, exactly, but he doesn’t need to leave any more opportunities.
“Do tell.”
Lance peeks through his fingers. Hunk has arranged his features in a very particular, pinched expression, which Lance knows from years of experience means he is fighting down his commentary with every inch of his strength.
“Keith,” he says hesitantly, “may have just said something along the lines of a confession. To me.” Before Hunk can say anything, Lance rushes to finish: “But I don’t think it was on purpose.”
Hunk exhales for a very long time. “Explain yourself very carefully.”
Lance pulls himself upright, sitting with his back against the wall of the cockpit and his knees pulled under his chin. “So I was just chilling in Red, right,” he starts, picking at his sleeve. “And I get this audio call from Keith, outta nowhere, and before I can say anything he starts talking? But not to me. To Kosmo. And at first I was like, okay. This is a Keith and Kosmo call. Awesome. But then he kept talking to Kosmo only, and I realised he was talking about me, and he said —” suddenly Lance realises he hasn’t taken a breath in God knows how long and inhales a deep, frantic one, flopping out his legs and staring at his friend with wide eyes — “Hunk, he said he was in love with me.”
Hunk’s eyes widen just as big as Lance’s. “Dude!”
“I know!”
“Dude!”
“I know!”
“No, dude!” Hunk insists, gripping his armrests and leaning forward. “This is awesome! This means you can make a move! And I can win a lot of money!” At Lance’s raised eyebrow, he clears his throat. “But, uh, obviously your whole crush thing is priority numero uno. I’m just saying that if you wanted to make some sort of gesture in front of everyone else and in the next week, that would be awesome. For you, of course.”
“Uh-huh.” Lance sighs, dragging his legs back up and hugging his knees, resting his cheek on top of them. “I don’t know. I’m probably not going to do anything about it, really.”
Hunk frowns. “How come?”
“Well, because. It wasn’t a real confession. Maybe it was a prank, or something. I mean, I don’t think Keith’s that mean, but who knows what was really going on? I overheard him say some pretty incriminating stuff, sure, but I don’t know the context. I don’t know the situation. Maybe he was roleplaying. Maybe he was making up scenarios because he was bored. I don’t want to misinterpret things, you know. It could ruin our friendship.”
He’s my friend, I don’t want to ruin things.
Hunk holds up a finger. “Excuse me for a moment.” He stands up and walks calmly out of the cockpit, jogging down the stairs to Yellow’s barracks and storage compartments. Lance tries not to feel too hurt at his best friend’s sudden departure in his greatest time of need.
A few minutes later, Hunk returns, holding his pillow in his hand. Lance tilts his head in confusion — was his butt hurting, or something? He supposes that makes sense. This space road trip has a lot of long stretches, after all. Maybe his butt was so achey that he couldn’t focus on Lance’s tragic situation. Well, Hunk is kind of caked up, but the butt is a muscle, so Lance supposes it can get cramps, too —
Wham!
Hunk clears his throat, brushing imaginary dust off the pillow he just whacked Lance in the face with. Hard! Lance is so shocked he can’t even muster up a single thought, everything going kind of static in his head.
“That,” Hunk says, casually sitting back down in his seat and holding the pillow like he’s prepared to strike again, “was the dumbest thing I have ever heard, and I’m including my own dumbassery in that. I’m including Pidge’s peanut rant in that. You have truly accomplished a feat, my friend.”
“What.”
“I mean, he said it out loud,” Hunk continues. “Out loud, with his mouth, no one making him, he said he was in love with you. Said your full name and everything. ‘Leandro Esposita-McClain, I am in love with you.’ Those were his words And you are sitting on my floor and working yourself into a frenzy.” He tuts. For a brief moment Lance is unsure if Hunk has somehow been replaced with Mrs. Garrett, that’s how much he’s resembling his mother. “What foolishness.”
“I get it,” Lance grumbles, rubbing his face sulkily. “You didn’t have to smack me, you meanie.”
Hunk leans over and kisses Lance forehead with quite a lot of patronization. Lance leans into it anyway.
“I really did.”
“Whatever.”
He stays with Hunk while everyone else unloads, until he hears loud, frantic barking, and a panicked voice screeching after it. Seconds later, there’s a flash of bright light, and Kosmo appears in the Yellow Lion’s cockpit, bounding at Lance with full speed and knocking him right over. Lance laughs wrapping both arms around the big dog as much as he can and squeezing.
“Hell-o, you darling boy!”
Kosmo yips loudly, and Lance doesn’t have time for so much as one more word before his stomach drops, and his vision goes white, and the next thing he knows he’s falling from the sky, blipped out of Yellow’s cockpit. He screeches at the top of his lungs, wondering why the hell Kosmo has teleported him in the air, but before he can hit the ground, a voice calls out “Woah!” and he’s caught by a pair of strong arms.
When he opens his eyes again, having squeezed them shut when he realized he was falling, he locks eyes with Keith. It takes him three seconds too long to realise he’s held in Keith’s arms, bridal-style, and Keith’s face is bright red. He yelps again — nope nope nope nope nope, he is not being cradled to Keith’s chest, not happening — and stuffs a blurry memory of a strong chest and the scent of sweat and smoke and the sound of running footsteps back into the recesses of his mind where it belongs. He twists out of Keith’s grip, or at least tries to, but Keith has a strong hold on him, so when Lance’s squirms he tilts their sight forward —
“Lance, what — quit squirming!”
— but it’s too late, they’re already heading to the ground, and neither has their hands free to break their fall. Just before they hit the strange pink grass, Lance feels Keith’s hand snap over to his head, tucking it towards his neck, instinctively protecting him from getting hurt. They hit the ground with an oof, Lance on his back, Keith crookedly on top of him, face planted directly in the middle of Lance’s chest.
It takes Lance a second to fully comprehend their situation, their position, and when he does he makes this horrible kind of squeaking sound in the back of his throat. Keith makes a similarly embarrassed throaty sound, scrambling to get off of him, but their arms are kind of tangled so he only manages to chuck himself more off balance, just barely catching himself by planting a hand right next to Lance’s face and stopping his forehead millimetres away from Lance’s.
Both of them freeze. Pinned, Lance just stares at the face in front of him (the crooked nose, broken three too many times, the strong brow, dark indigo eyes like none Lance has ever seen before, high cheekbones, flush with humiliation, the new purple scar; every part of his face, every detail, like he’s commuting it to memory, like he’s devouring the image of it after being starved too long). Keith’s lips are parted slightly, and Lance traces the defined cupid’s bow with his eyes, noticing how chapped they are, imagining how rough they would feel.
Anyone with eyes can tell that he’s hot. Seriously hot. And…leggy.
“I think you’re hot, too,” Lance blurts, and then immediately wishes for death. It doesn’t help that he hears both the sound of a camera shutter and several coins changing hands. (And Hunk’s very obvious crow of victory and loud “Thank you, Lance! I’ll give you a percentage for your service!”)
“What,” Keith croaks, which is generally a bad reaction to a confession but makes sense in this circumstance.
Lance clears his throat, still hyper aware of the way Keith’s body is streamlined on top of his, the way one gloved hand is still curved around his neck.
“I heard you,” he clarifies. “In the lion. With Kosmo. You must have butt-dialed me, or something. You said you loved me.”
He sees the exact moment it clicks for Keith, because face begins to actually turn pumice, and Lance can feel the heat pouring off of him. “I must have —” He makes a cut-off, aborted noise and hangs his head, slightly, like if he closes his eyes for a second he can wish away the entire situation.
Which. Fair. Lance can’t blame him.
“I am giving that dog away to a local charity,” he grumbles.
Lance snorts. “As if. You love that dog more than anything. Also, I’ll kill you if you even try.”
Keith glances back up at him, corner of his mouth twitching, and laughter bubbles up out of them at the same time, half-hysterical and half-tense and half-exhilarated and half something Lance can’t name. Two hundred percent intensity. Lance goes hoarse, and Keith loses the ability to hold his own head up, resting his forehead on Lance’s collarbone.
“I can’t believe I’m going to have to tell people you confessed via butt-dial, you goober!”
“You could lie and say I took you on a really romantic first date?” Keith suggests, grinning cheekily.
Lance snorts. “Not on your life.”
Keith sighs. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” He finally climbs off of Lance’s person, offering Lance a hand and pulling them both to their feet. Once Lance is upright, Keith stills, visibly deciding on something, then yanks the hand clutched around Lance’s backwards, making Lance stumbling forward. He steadies him with a hand on his waist, then untangles the other one and rests it on Lance’s cheek. He holds it there for a moment, letting Lance figure out his intentions.
Lance face burns as he understands the implications, what Keith is trying to do. He glances down at Keith’s chapped lips, thinking again of their roughness, imagining the scratch of them against his own, the scratch of the slight stubble around Keith’s chin in the late evening, the tickle of his hair on his cheeks.
“Although this part is kind of smooth,” he admits quietly, eyes half-lidded. He brings a shaking hand up to rest on the one Keith has around his hip, squeezing gently.
Keith’s lips quirk up. “Point for me, then, I guess.” He leans in, no hesitation this time, and presses his mouth to Lance’s; soft, searching, gentle and curious.
Lance melts.
Lance Esposita-McClain, I am in love with you, Keith had said, accidentally.
And I am in love with you, Keith Akira Kogane, Lance thinks, on purpose.
soupires
thinking abt grown klance
Don’t repost (reblog ok). Don’t pin to pinterest, don’t post to wattpad/twitter/instagram/facebook or anywhere else.
Source: soupires
Absolutely love any fic that has Kosmo favoring Lance over Keith.
Whether it's because he's a spiteful little shit or because Keith talked too much about Lance on the space whale, it's all good stuff and I need more of it.
Also think Kosmo would plant himself on trees wherever he can just because.
@autisticlancemcclain i swear you just wrote a fic about kosmo favouring lance over keith
Pride 2023 - Hands #21 "While one is balancing on a small wall" - Voltron Keith/Lance
the records of the misadventures of a group of fools in space: castleship chaos edition