Desert Radio

by SherbetLemon

Summary:

When Keith crash lands in a desert, his only way back to civilisation is to follow the signals of a radio show.

Lance's cheery ramblings fill the empty desert air, and Keith finds himself bonding with the shapeless voice. He begins looking forward to meeting Lance more than actually getting help, but maybe that's a good thing. Because you don't get the whole picture through sound. And when the two finally meet, there's a few surprises in store.

A kind of cyberpunk fairy tale based on the MonthlyKlance March prompts~

Notes:

These are the prompts! I got really excited when I first read them and couldn't help but plan one big fic incorporating them all and the general aesthetic I got from them!
Also I love radio fics, they're always so wholesome? So I thought I'd try my hand at one.

Today's beginning so I'm beginning the fic ;)

Chapter 1: Beginning

Alarms. Lots of alarms. Keith yanked the steering wheel upwards, standing nearly vertical with how far he was pushing his chair back and how fast he was falling through the atmosphere. Fire was licking up the windows, orange spilling across the dashboard and glinting off the pressure gauge that shook like a bug staring down a lion. Keith shoved a hand against his forehead, whipping back his long straggles of hair and flicking sweat onto the glass. He was going to crash. Engines were down. Wings alight. It was only a matter of survival now.

Keith let the wheel bounce back into place with a clank, hissing at the increase in wails given out by the dash. He slammed his hand onto the back wall, finding the seatbelt before yanking it down and strapping it tight across his heaving chest. Land was visible below – barely through the amount of flames whipping at the ship. Keith knew, he just knew, he should have refuelled at the last pitstop. But then there was the endless queue and that child who wouldn’t stop looking at him with his weird bug eyes. Keith favoured his chances at making it to the next planet rather than deal with that and an undoubtedly awkward conversation with the mother who thought her child was oh so cute.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

A red light flashed up signalling fifty feet to impact. Last chance. Keith took a deep breath before ripping out the emergency cord. Immediately, he was choked by the seatbelt. The ship practically froze around him as he hung off his chair in the centre like an abandoned puppet. He craned his neck and there above him, instead of blue sky, was a large white circle, blooming like a mushroom. Keith slumped against the belt. Thank goodness.

The ship took a more leisurely descent now, floating to the ground like a feather in the breeze. Keith sighed, swaying gently with the movements as his heart finally slowed down. He’d been in more crashes than he’d care to admit, but they never got easier. And this time for sure he thought he had been heading for the light.

The ship nosed the ground, rocking back and forth before finally toppling over with a shudder. Keith bounced back into his chair with a huff. Upright was an underappreciated state. He decided to sit in it a while longer, waiting for the blood to stop rushing down from his head. When he was sure his vision was no longer swaying, Keith unclipped his belt and pushed at the window. It creaked, hot against his fingertips, but popped open none the less. Cool air rushed against his skin and Keith smiled to himself, lifting his red-trimmed goggles to his forehead. This was a warm welcome. He climbed out into the fresh air, settling against the metal opening to just bask. The sun beat down on him from high in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud in the way to stop its warmth revitalising his every cell. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes. Space travel wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sometimes, Keith wanted nothing more than a mouthful of fresh air. And right now, breathing seemed like the greatest thing in the world. Just existing. It was strangely enough.

Satisfactorily calmed, Keith hopped out the ship, landing on a squirming, golden landscape. Sand spread from his feet in every direction, rising and falling in smooth hills all the way up to the sky. There appeared to be no buildings for miles and zero tracks indicating transport. By the looks of it, Keith had landed in the middle of nowhere. He clicked his tongue. Of course. He had to bust up his ship on the one planet without civilisation.

Turning back to the ship, Keith frowned. It was still smouldering, black smoke puffing around the crumpled edges of the bonnet. Maybe it was just aesthetic? He threw open the bonnet, and immediately staggered back. The smoke billowed, and he had to pull his jacket over his nose just to stop himself choking. That wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He waved the worst of it away, before rounding the back. The jets were covered in ash, one having melted from its usual cone shape into a sad u. Keith crouched down to take a closer look, poking at the wrinkled metal pooled at the base. It was safe to say, the thing was completely wrecked.

“Sorry Shiro,” he whispered, biting his lip. Keith’s brother had been very clear about one thing when he gave the boy his ship: ‘Don’t crash.’ And this had been the seventh time this year.

It wasn’t that Keith was a bad pilot. He had actually been top of his class back in school. No, it was that he was a bad human being. Well adult. Young adult. Trainee? The point was Keith could have avoided every single one of his crashes if he’d just acted with maturity. Or with a brain. He could hear Shiro’s lecturing now.

‘You know you should never fly past a fuel stop with less than half a tank.’

‘A guy looking at you smugly isn’t a challenge for you to outfly him.’

And the same old deep sigh paired with a long worn out voice saying, ‘Keith. If you’re not sure you’re allowed to fly in a certain area, for the love of God, just ask someone. Don’t crash into them.’

Keith rolled his eyes. Shiro may love him and all that crap but he really had to be deep in denial if he thought Keith was socially adept enough to face that kind of situation.

Keith stroked his hand against the black stripes of the ship. It was a nice ship. Shiro’s beloved Black. He’d given it to Keith as a kind of heirloom. Pass on the memories. And Keith had made a lot. He’d flown to hundreds of new planets, seen thousands of new stars and made about a billion more enemies. Well, it wasn’t his fault people found his to-the-point attitude rude. Or that a lot of planet’s had poorly designed infrastructure.

Keith sighed, looking out to the desert again. The life-saving parachute twisted against the ground, rolling with the wind. Keith decided to start simple and gathered it up in armfuls. Dumping it back in the emergency hatch, he told himself he’d fold it properly later. That was, if he even got the ship fixed. Looking over the beat-up metal he realised this wasn’t one of those repairs he could do on his own. He needed a mechanic, maybe even an engineer. At the very least he needed a tow.

Keith sighed, before clambering back into the cockpit. Picking up the mouth-piece from the communications hub, he punched the emergency signal. The thing didn’t even give a hint of a response, gaping at him like a guppy. Keith pushed the button again. Nothing. Keith rubbed at his forehead, fiddling with the adjusters on the flat square of disappointment. This would work right? Had to. How was he going to get out of here otherwise?

Keith tried again, pushing the button in as far as it would go. He knew it wouldn’t work but he couldn’t help but try. It was beginning to dawn on him that he may be in actual trouble here and he wanted to avoid facing reality for just a second longer. After a painfully long minute of pressing, the communicator still gave no response. Keith frowned. Then he threw the mouthpiece back into place its place and kicked it with his boot. The ship gave a judder, and Keith grabbed the seat as it sank deeper into the sand. Luckily, it only shifted an inch or two, but Keith had lost enough of his life on that shock to stay a sitting duck. He dove behind the seat to grab his rucksack before hurrying out.

Landing back on the sand, he upended the bag, shaking its contents out onto the ground. It was a disappointment to say the least. Keith’s pathetic hoard of supplies pooled at his feet in more of a dribble than a mass. In total, there was:

• Three tins of baked beans
• A half-eaten cereal bar
• One tissue (used)
• A threadbare t-shirt he’d last used as a rag to clean up oil
• Half a bottle of water
• A lighter
• One empty thermos
• Its broken cup
• And a pocket radio.

Keith cursed his lack of social skills. If he’d just gone into the fuel station he could’ve restocked. Then again, he wouldn’t have needed to, given his ship would have had enough fuel not to go plunging through a foreign atmosphere. Keith dropped to the ground. There was the emergency pack too. Signal flares, first aid kit, warning lights and traffic cones.  But Keith had enough dignity not to beg for rescue and enough sense to know that nobody else would be driving in the desert. Or at the very least, anyone driving by would probably notice a crashed ship without it needing to be lit up like a Christmas tree.

Keith sadly repacked his belongings, taking the water bottle out to refill it by the onboard tap. Then he took a long swig, practically inhaling the cool liquid, before refilling it again. He felt more alive after that. Like he could finally think straight instead of dehydrating in the blazing heat.

All he needed to do was find civilisation. He knew it had to be somewhere nearby, he had been heading towards a populated landing zone before the whole fuel-deficiency thing. He had no communicator so he couldn’t call anyone though. And he refused to use the signal flares. Those were for life or death situations and Keith was currently not in a life or death situation. Plus, in all honesty, he doubted anyone would see it in the vastness of the desert. He looked down at the bag. Maybe he couldn’t call anyone, but they could call him?

He reached in to grab the radio. It was a small thing – a red arch bleached peach by the sun with an inner yellow rainbow for the speaker. There were two knobs at the bottom and an old pixel display between. He slid the on button and the numbers 000.00 popped up. Twisting one dial, digits flickered past and a buzz erupted from the speakers. Well that was a start.

Keith shifted until he was sitting comfortably on the ground, back against the warm metal ship and knees bent to balance the radio. Then one by one he checked every station, hoping for a break in the buzzing. If he could just find a signal, proof of civilisation, he could track it. Then he’d be out of this desert and back to travelling the stars.

 

Hours. Hours must have passed. And all Keith had heard was static. His back ached and the sky was beginning to darken. The radio had revealed precisely nothing and Keith’s stomach was starting to rumble. He eyed his rucksack. Could he afford to eat the beans? His stomach gave a pathetic gargle and Keith decided he was too miserable to care. Lunging forward, his back popped as he reached out for the brown fabric. His fingers glanced against the top and he growled. He bounced forward again, stretching his arm achingly far. Just as he hooked his finger around the open zip, his chest knocked the radio. It rolled off his leg, landing in the sand in a dull plop.

Then there was a sudden eruption of noise. Keith jumped, whipping around. Music! The signal was mixed with static, but it was undeniable. Keith grabbed the radio, brushing off sand and staring at the numbers, burning them into his mind. He twisted the dial carefully, plunging the desert back into a buzz. Then he turned it back and with every click the music became clearer until it was undeniable. Guitar strums rang out across the desert, drum beat stirring up the sand as the bass pumped through his fingers. Keith could cry. It was so familiar. So welcome. He slumped against the ship, staring at the radio. Then the sound was fading, and a voice was fluttering along the cooling desert wind.

“That was Town Called Malice, by The Jam!” The announcer called, voice bright and cheerful and clear against the deepening sky, “and you’re listening to Desert Radio with Lance! Hope you’re feeling good!”

Notes:

Sorry for only just introducing Lance at the last second lol, I'm trying to get a slower build in this fic than my others. I hope it works otherwise it may just end up being very boring hahaha

Anyway, thanks for reading!~

Chapter 2: Flowers

Summary:

Keith starts his long trek. Lance flirts with flowers.

Keith woke up with cramp in his calves and a permanent crook in his back. He hissed, untucking his legs from where they’d been curled against the ships steering wheel and arching his back until he heard the satisfying pop. The red wind-breaker he’d been using as a sheet slipped to the floor as he stretched his arms awkwardly above his head, knocking an elbow against the glass roof as he finally felt his body come alive once again As he shook out the last of sleep from his joints, he sat up in his chair. The radio was still giving out a steady buzz from its precarious seat on the dash and Keith checked the station number. No change. Thank goodness, he hadn’t lost Lance’s signal.

The show had run until sundown and Keith had listened to the whole of it sat in a daze. It was only when the buzz returned that he noticed the cold air rushing against his neck. With the first star already out a twinkling, he had thought it best to camp out in his ship for the night. He kind of regretted that decision now, his back feeling like one giant bruise being continually poked with a stick. Still, it was warmer than outside.

Keith cracked open one of the tins of beans, opening the window to get some fresh air into the cockpit as he ate. The sky was still tinted a pale yellow, but the heat had already begun building in the air. It was going to be a long day. He scoffed down the beans, only half regretting that he hadn’t set up a fire of some sort to cook them on. Then he set to work creating the signal tracker.

It wasn’t difficult. The ships navigation system functioned separately to the main hub, with its own battery and removeable parts, ideal for this kind of emergency situation. Keith unhooked the compass, peeling off the back cover to reveal the coiled wires. He pulled at a few, releasing silver plugs of various shapes. Studying the radio for a second, he shoved random ones in like a child with blocks before he found the right one. It clicked into place and he flipped the compass. The needle span wildly before flicking back and slowly coming to a pendulum around one point. Keith flattened his palm, waiting for it to settle with bated breath. For a moment he feared it would continue swinging for all eternity, but it slowly let up, ending up pointing towards the rising sun.

Guess Keith would be going East.

Packing up his belongings, he dashed out to fetch the emergency kit, adding whatever could fit into his canvas rucksack. It was with bitterness - Keith wanted to stay firmly convinced that he was not in any kind of emergency. But then Shiro’s little voice in his head started whining about learning responsibility. And then there was a flash of sad eyes standing over a grave and Keith quickly made the decision to do his best to survive. He filled both the water bottle and thermos up with the onboard water tap before throwing his rucksack over his shoulders. Figuring it would be hot out, he tied his windbreaker around his waist like a belt before clipping the radio over it, compass in hand.

“Well, Black.” He said, squeezing the ships metal hatch as if it were human, “if I don’t make it back, I want you to know, it’s been an honour flying with you.”

He gave the ship a smack, turning his head toward the sun. It wasn’t like the ship was alive. It wouldn’t mock his tears. But Keith refused to look back, eyes pathetically damp. He blamed the sun. Besides, he’d be seeing Black again in no time. Then he’d be riding back to tell Shiro that no, he did not cry when he left his ship that one time. This was not a moving moment. And even if the ship really was done for, Keith would not be constructing a shrine. Okay, he may be willing to light a candle if Shiro were to say a few words. Out of respect obviously. Not feelings. Keith glared down at the compass. Time to leave.

 

Sand was annoying. It was far more effort than necessary to walk across. Keith’s feet slipped and slid with every step and he had to consciously stay upright. His thighs ached with the effort of rebalancing his body every time his foot decided not to quite stick to where it was placed. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat and he hadn’t bothered replacing his goggles since they’d first steamed up hours ago. But the worst part, was that it was all the same. Keith could have picked any direction to walk in and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Sand. Sand. Sand. Blue sky and oh yep, more sand.

Keith huffed along following the compass needle that remained steadily pointing to nothing. There had been no other noise from the radio and Keith was beginning to wonder if you could get mirages of sound. Maybe Keith had fabricated the whole thing in his sleep? It wouldn’t be that surprising. He’d just been in a crash, and the heat from re-entry had already been affecting him long before the desert sun. Maybe Keith had just dug his own grave? There was no radio show. No cheerful host. No rescue. Keith was just wandering towards death.

Keith was so caught up in becoming a skeleton he almost didn’t notice when the buzz cut into a higher pitch. Then there was a sharp beep and he was alert.

“Oh hello, gorgeous, didn’t see you there.”

Keith jumped, turning a circle in the sand. Obviously, that just revealed how much desert he was in and how much he’d covered, footprints crawling all the way up the hills and beyond. Keith shook his head, looking down at the little radio. The voice crackled once again.

“Yes, only the prettiest faces listen to Desert Radio, and I, Lance, am your ever-charming host, guiding you through our humble town.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Ever cocky host, more like. He checked the needle was still pointing the forwards direction before continuing his trek.

“Now, Miss Daisy and I, were discussing flowers this morning.”

Flowers? Guess there really was an end to this desert.

“Out front of my darling little house, I have rows of petunias. Bright magentas, and deep ocean blues. They’re kind of my babies. I talk to them every day, make them grow big and strong.”

Why was Keith not surprised the guy who literally talked for a living spent his free time talking too?

“Well, maybe talking’s not quite the word.” The host continued happily. “The truth is… I flirt. I flirt with my flowers. Look, what can I say!? I’m a gardener. I have a thing for ho-”

The word cut off abruptly with a song and Keith snorted despite himself. The radio was no place for those kinds of jokes, didn’t Lance know that? Keith completely disapproved of such risqué behaviour. He shook his head, hand falling to his side and subtly turning up the volume of the radio.

“Now, don’t be worried dear listeners.” Lance said as the song ended, “you know my eyes are only for you.”

Keith rolled his.

“But, y’see. Miss Daisy didn’t know this. Yes, she was simply walking past as I laid on the moves. And maybe got a little bit of a shock when I asked the ladies whether they were feeling dirty today.”

Oh God. Keith let out a laugh, feeling his own cheeks warm with second hand embarrassment.

“Yep! That was a fun conversation! Lets play another song whilst I go recollect my dignity.”

Keith found himself shaking his head with maybe a little fondness. He began humming along as he marched up the next hill. The songs seemed to make it all easier – a rhythm to stick to as he ploughed along. And well, even Lance’s crass anecdotes seemed to be sweeping Keith along. The desert wasn’t so bad really.

Chapter 3: Morning

Summary:

Keith has a lonely morning

Desert mornings were not Keith’s favourite. The cold of the night may have been chased away but the air quickly became saturated and thick with heat. Barely awake and his shirt was already sticking to his chest. He pulled at the fabric, fanning some much-needed air against his skin as he slid out of his makeshift tent. It was just his jacket really, propped up on some sticks he’d found lying around. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept the sand from scratching his face during the night and semi protected him from the flies. Speaking of, his hand had climbed up his neck and was currently scratching against a new bite on his jaw. He quickly threw it into his lap, cursing himself. Scratching would only make them worse.

Keith shuffled up to his bag, lifting out his bottle and draining the last droplets of water. Now only the thermos remained despite his rationing. Hopefully, he was over half-way done with his journey. Keith tried not to think of the alternative. Peeling open one of the remaining tins of beans, he pressed the lid to the top before getting an idea. He caught the empty bottle between his feet and poured out the excess sauce. It plopped down into the plastic, thick and distinctly uninviting. But Keith figured it probably had some water content however low. He was being resourceful. Even if the thought of actually drinking it had his throat tightening in refusal and stomach lurching. It didn’t matter, he was sure if he did become dehydrated, his body would be less inclined to complain about the lifeline.

Screwing the lid back on, he packed his supplies up into his rucksack and placed the radio down in front of it as he ate. The desert was quiet. Too quiet. Even the skittering of the sand lizards made him jump. He wandered how far he was from the town. If maybe when he crossed the next dune, he might see a break in the horizon. Silhouettes of power lines and skyscrapers. Or not. The way Lance described his house made it sound quaint. A small, friendly village where they all listened to just one radio station because it was all that was needed.

Lance even mentioned people by name. But it still could be a big town. With bustling tarmac roads and shops lit up with glowing lights. Lance might have simply taken the time to get to know people. He was that guy. The one who everyone just knew. Who had that attitude – that charisma – where he could speak to you and it felt like he was an old friend despite only just meeting. Shiro had that. Well, sort of. He had the power to make people feel at ease in just his presence. Even Keith. He used to hate doing chores like picking up mail or making doctor’s appointments. But he hated them more now that Shiro didn’t come with him. People just got Shiro. Wanted to please him. And that meant tasks were completed efficiently and with minimal effort on Keith’s part. But on his own?

Well, Keith had no idea what he was doing with people. It wasn’t much of a wonder that he came across as harsh and difficult. He just didn’t have that effortless quality about his speech. Because it was not effortless. Keith had to try very hard to work out the correct words to say whilst also dodging questions that would prolong conversation to ensure that it did not spiral out of control and end up with Keith sprinting back to his ship with an angered voice screaming behind him.

Keith sighed, toeing the radio. Lance probably didn’t have these issues. Half his job was finding news through the townspeople. And then telling them what they needed to know - the traffic report, the dodgy areas of town and, of course, the weather. Keith could never tell if he was being serious about that bit. Because the outlook was always ‘sunny and hot, like you, my dear listeners’ said with a practically audible wink. Keith rolled his eyes. Bright blue sky, wispy white clouds and burning hot sunshine. Well, he hadn’t been wrong.

Keith covered the last of the beans with the metal lid and placed it carefully in the side pocket of his rucksack. Then he threw it over his shoulder, tying his coat around his waist and reattaching the radio. He turned towards the compass needle and started trekking again. The buzz of the radio was only faintly audible, but Keith didn’t feel the need to higher the volume. Lance’s show wouldn’t start until the sun was behind him and he hadn’t heard any filler before or after then. Keith sort of wished there was. Then again, he didn’t want just any music. He wanted something upbeat. With a rhythm that matched his steps. And distractions. Something to provide his mind with something other than sand. A destination.

Keith looked at his feet. There was still a decent sized shadow spanning from them that disappeared behind his legs. That meant there was still another couple of hours to drag by. He sighed. Were his legs heavier than yesterday? And the sun more spiky? It poked him right in the eyes. He made to glare before hissing in pain and remembering why you didn’t pick fights with a sun. Damn thing. Would it get behind him all ready?

Notes:

Poor grumpy Keith missing his man ;)

This feels a little like a nothing chapter but I kind of paired it with tomorrow's which will pick up a bit

Thanks for reading~

Chapter 4: Sunset

Summary:

Keith and Lance watch the sunset together - even if one is just a voice on a radio.

Keith barked out a laugh as Lance’s voice burst out over a song yet again

“THERE THAT BIT! SWEAR TO GOD, THAT WAS IT!”

Keith shook his head, he’d long abandoned walking now, setting up camp atop a high dune, overlooking the setting sun. The volume was high, and the radio sat next to him as he sprawled back on his hands, feet kicking at the sand below.

“You heard it, right listeners? It says ‘Lance’. Hang on, I’ll play it again.”

Keith shuffled closer to the speaker, holding his breath as he listened. Lance was playing a record in reverse. Apparently, he’d been speaking with someone by the name of Violet about subliminal messaging on old records – a conspiracy Keith was only too familiar with. As a teenager, he deemed that any song good enough for Satan was good enough for him. And as the ever-reliable host Lance was, he carried out his own research into the phenomena. Which led to him being convinced the current record was addressing him personally.

Keith listened carefully as the music played in a weird off beat track, bass winding and curving like a theme park tunnel of doom. It hissed and popped and then Lance was screeching.

“THERE! NO MISSING THAT ONE!”

“No, Lance.” Keith laughed, flicking the speaker, “definitely missing that one.”

“Right listeners, if this is my last show, I need you to do one thing for me.”

Keith scooted a little closer in, despite being absolutely sure this would not be Lance’s last show.

“You have to make sure my tombstone reads: ‘Here lies Lance. Perfect bod. Sweetest lines. Only flaw? He was too hot for Satan to handle.’”

“R.I.P” Keith said with a laugh. “I’ll make sure they play this song too. So, it can let you down one last time.”

Another song was playing, thankfully in its intended direction and Keith looked back out to the sky. It was bright orange, tissue paper clouds ripped out in thin peach lines above the shadowy land. The waves in the sand crested in gold and dipped down into long grey curves that thinned until they met Keith’s boots. He dug his fingers into the sand, feeling the grains slipping under his fingerless gloves. That would be irritating in the morning. But for now, he couldn’t find it in him to care. He was sat atop a sprawling dune, bathing in golden light whilst his ears were caressed by sweet melodies from far away lands. Yeah, irritation could wait until morning.

“You guys ever been hunted by Satan?”

“Nope.” Keith popped, “just people.”

Hunted wasn’t quite right either. Chased maybe. Threatened with arrest, definitely. Authorities didn’t seem hell-bent on letting people crash into a park full of ships and get off unscathed. Keith smirked. “Never been caught though.”

“I haven’t.” Lance sighed, voice sounding far-away, “but I think I’ve met some of his minions.”

By Keith’s standards, it was hard to tell if humans were in the majority compared to demons. He’d been to many planets, seen many a human, and witnessed far too many incidents to believe there weren’t any of Satan’s minions running around. People buying brownies that had to be perfectly square. Refusing to pay the extra 29 pieces for fuel. Driving right up on his bumper despite the entirety of space being available to fly in.

“Anyway!” Lance sang, “I’ve always got you lovely listeners! And I just know you’ve fallen from heaven. Although, you do make me kinda horny, if you’re picking up my signal.”

“Damn, three puns in one.” Keith said sarcastically, “you make me swoon.”

Although he couldn’t exactly deny the pull of his lips. Blame Satan?

After another song, Lance hummed along the airwaves. “You guys seeing the sunset tonight?”

Keith twitched in place, sitting a little taller. “I am.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Keith smiled out at the sun, watching it slip further down the horizon like a melted lolly.

“The light’s coming in through the screen door and making all the equipment light up.”

Screen door? Did Lance record at home? Not in a studio? Keith wasn’t sure why that thought made his stomach warm.

“Actually, the glare’s kinda getting in my eyes.” Lance said, before there was some knocking sounds and a scraped muffling. “Better.” he whispered.

“Better?” Keith asked, tilting his head down to the radio sat innocently beside him, unable to carry his words back over. Lance had a habit of replying anyway.

“Moved the mic.” He said. “Now I can lean on my arm and keep my eyes open. What a day!”

Keith imagined him slumped over a desk, arm curled under his ear. The standing mic poised to provide a line of shade over his eyes which were only slitted open anyway because Lance spoke sleepily over the radio, completely relaxed. What did he look like anyway? Perfect bod wasn’t much to go off. Besides, Keith wanted to see his face. What he looked like when he delivered those ridiculous lines. Did he laugh? Smirk? Hold it all under a completely expressionless façade? His eyes? Were the green? Blue? Did they sparkle with mirth or glare like daggers?

Keith liked to think they lit up when he spoke and crinkled at the corners when he laughed. If his cheery voice was anything to go by, he had a friendly face too – open and grinning. Keith decided he wanted to see him. When he got to the town and found someone to tow his ship, he’d loop back around and find the Desert Radio Station. And make a request that Lance behaves on his show.

Then again, Keith wouldn’t enjoy it half as much if he did.

“Well, listeners, I’m glad I got to share this sunset with you.”

“Me too.” Keith said, barely above a whisper.

“But it’s time for me to go.”

The wind picked up along the hair at Keith’s neck.

“This has been Lance on Desert Radio. Back again tomorrow. Don’t miss me too much, ‘kay?”

“’kay.”

Then the radio clicked out. Static buzz covered the cooling desert sands and Keith sighed. He should set up camp. The cold was coming in now. He turned the volume dial down before hearing it click off and frowning. Then he turned it back just a little. It didn’t feel right shutting it off entirely. Even if there were no other shows besides Lance’s. Brushing the sand off his jeans, Keith got to his feet and set to work setting up his jacket tent and feeding himself cold beans.

Chapter 5: Late Night

Summary:

Keith is sleepy, Lance is lonely

Sleeping was surprisingly easy in the desert. All the quiet and darkness was like a blanket over Keith. And even though sand wasn’t exactly a spring woven mattress, it also wasn’t the pilots chair in a compact cockpit. Keith could stretch his legs out as far as he desired here, and his back hadn’t developed a crook in days. All in all, Keith deemed it a sweet deal and with all the exercise he’d been completing, he was out cold within minutes of the first stars appearing.

So, he was more than a little confused when he found himself blinking awake in a deep grey-scale world. He shifted onto his back, pushing the old t-shirt he’d been using as a pillow, further under his head for support. He could just make out the jacket swaying above him, sleeves making light swishing sounds above his little cocoon. Beside him, the quietest noise could be heard. He’d brought the radio inside with him. It seemed to make the tent feel homely. And besides that, the low buzz was almost relaxing. Reminded Keith of summer days spent lounging around the house, washing machine rumbling in the background as he watched cartoons waiting for Shiro to come home. That’s how he noticed the buzzing had stopped.

“…probably a bad idea.”

Keith’s breath hitched. It was Lance. Though his voice was more sombre than usual, it still had the easy lilt Keith immediately recognised.

“Sleeping’s over-rated anyway.” Lance said around a yawn, “the world’s prettier like this. All shadows and pearls.”

Keith stared up at the smooth lines of his jacket. The fabric glowed gently and he reached up to peel it back, revealing a shining full moon nestled between the scattered stars. Maybe the sunset had been warm and inviting, but Keith could see how Lance could appreciate this scene. It carried its own kind of beauty – quiet and unassuming. You could go an entire life without seeing it, but that would be a waste. Because when you looked at the deep abyss broken by sparkling stars, it drew you in. Lulled you into a sense of comfort despite the intimidation of night. It was velvet, pierced with pin-holes and brushing against your skin. A reminder that everything will be okay.

“My flowers aren’t sleeping.” Lance noted, “they look pretty in the moonlight, petals all shiny. I doubt they’re going to get much in the way of photosynthesis done though.”

Lance sounded wispy, like smoke on the airwaves. His breath dragged more than usual and his sentences were punctuated with little sighs. This wasn’t the Lance Keith was used to.

“They don’t talk to me though.”

There was some sort of shuffling on the other end, like Lance was curling against the desk again but wearing thicker clothes that knocked the mic. Maybe he was looking out the screen door to see his flowers, sun no longer there to stop his loving gaze.

“Can’t listen either really.” Lance said, then after a pause, “guess they’re not the only ones. I doubt anyone is even listening to the show.”

Keith shook his head. He was.

“Why am I doing this?” Lance sighed. Keith felt a little strange listening to this now, like he was intruding. But he didn’t make a move to cut the signal. Maybe it was out of nosiness, but Keith wanted to hear more. Lance wasn’t himself. Or maybe this was the most himself he’d ever been? Who was Keith to say which? It didn’t matter. Lance was worth listening to either way.

“I should be in bed. I shouldn’t be sat at a desk talking to myself in the dead of night.” His voice cracked, “I’m just- there’s no-one here.”

Keith’s chest ached. He rolled onto his side, curling one arm under his head and reaching over to the radio with the other.

“I am.” He whispered. It felt meaningful, even if Lance couldn’t hear him. Like, somehow, the words simply existing could be enough. That Lance wouldn’t feel so alone.

“I don’t wanna go to bed just yet.” Lance said, and it sounded almost petulant. “But talking on my own’s kinda lonely.”

“I’ll keep you company.” Keith insisted, snuggling into his arm. Even with the softness of sleep blanketing over him he was sure he could do that.

Notes:

And then Keith fell asleep. ♥

Writing this made me sleepy but I'm going to a midnight screening tonight so need to stay awake lol

Thanks for reading~

Chapter 6: Blush

Summary:

The battery runs out on the radio. Keith meets a chicken.

Keith rubbed his eyes roughly, hitting his head on the sticks of his tent before remembering where he was. Shimmying under the poles like a game of limbo, he moved out into the open, squinting against bright light. Must have slept in. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a satisfied hum. He had a nice dream last night. That he was talking to a sleepy Lance who refused to go to bed. It was a different Lance – more subdued. And it made his heart do a little kick.

He packed his bag with springy movements, spoiling himself with a whole quarter cup of water. Only half the thermos was left, which was slightly concerning, but he was yet to touch the bean juice. Which reminded him. He opened the final tin repeating the previous days actions. He really hoped he’d get to the town soon, the liquid looked even less appetising then yesterday. Just the thought of the sauce crawling along his throat like a snail had him gagging.

After a quick breakfast and a desperate attempt at wiping that thought from his brain, Keith gathered up his rucksack and snapped the radio to his hip. That should have been his first clue as he headed into the sun. Keith knew where he was going by now, the compass needle remaining unchanged in days, so he didn’t even spare it a glance, leaving it firmly in his pocket. He was in a valley but figured beyond the hills there would be buildings lining the horizon so he simply powered towards them.

Around midday, he paused for a drink, sitting himself next to a lizard sunning itself. It spared him a glare, shifting a little in the sands, but stayed as his buddy. Keith noticed the sound of sliding of sand as it wiggled. Strange, he hadn’t really heard the lizards the past few days. The radio usually covered their small sounds. He looked up at the sun. It was further down than he thought. His shadow also reflected this, reaching behind him by a good half a metre. Surely, Lance should have been speaking by now?

Keith’s blood started curling in his veins. He slipped his hand to the radio, unclipping it from his jacket and holding his breath. The buzz was gone. He looked down and the display was blank. The dials were unchanged, and he flipped it around with shaky hands. Please just be off, he whispered. His heart sank. The switch was stuck in on mode. He slid his hand over the back, fingertips catching against the cut outline of a rectangle. He dug his nail into the top and with muscles tight he unclicked it, letting it clatter against his boots.

Batteries.

Keith fell back against the sand. Batteries. Of course. Dead batteries. His eyes felt wet as he stared up at the blue sky. Why? Why was his only lifeline giving out now? He lifted the compass from his pocket and the needle fell limp against the glass. Great. He threw it into the sand and groaned loudly. No more company. No more chances. That town better be over the next dune or it would be no more life for Keith. He rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of thick desert air.

It would be fine. He just had to get further on less. Wiping his eyes he swivelled back onto his feet and shoved the compass back in his bag. He clipped the radio back to his hip. Even if it was useless, it had become a part of him. He’d be empty without it. Then Keith marched up the hill, making sure the sun was directly on his back. East. All he knew was East.

Keith threw his boots into the sand with anger, kicking sand up against his calves. His face was red, throat dripping with sweat and his hair stuck to his neck. His t-shirt clung in all the wrong places but Keith ignored it all. He wasn’t backing down. Whatever cruel fate the desert had in store for him could wait. He was fighting until the end.

As he crested the hill, legs aching and eyes blurring, his little glimmers of hope fell to the sand and got squished under his boots. The horizon. Was a line. Smoothing and curling over gold but no less a line. No buildings. No society. Sand. More sand.

Keith sank to his knees. How the hell was he supposed to get across that? And with no supplies and no direction? East. That’s where all his hope had been pinned. And now? Now they’d been burned by the rising sun, nothing but ash falling between his fingers, like sand in an hourglass. His time was up. His shoulders starting shaking, eyes too dry to release any tears as his throat tightened. Was there any point in carrying on this trek? He was dead anyway. His stomach twisted in on itself and he fell forward, clutching it with two hands. Just as he let out a first sob it cut short.

Something had caught his eye. Right at the edge of vision, not unlike a floater on his vision. He whipped his head around, hoping it wasn’t a mirage. But it didn’t disappear. He rubbed his eyes and an object came into focus. At the bottom of the hill, snuggled into the sand, was a small wooden cabin. It faced away from him, with tiny square windows, and the edges of a porch standing out front, visible by the wooden pillars holding the roof. Around the edge were tiny succulents and cactuses that extended forward like a little fence protecting the boundary of a small garden. Keith laughed. It was no town, but it was human. It was hope. He brushed the sand off his jeans once again. Then he lifted his head high and strode down the dune.

When he reached the cabin, he couldn’t help but let his fingers brush along the wooden slats. It was warm but smooth, a refreshing change from the sand and sweaty clothing he’d become accustomed to. The building fell away and he walked along the plant fence. There were tiny flowers budding on the thick green leaves, nestled between sharp spikes and fluffy looking ones that Keith knew better than to touch. He stepped over them onto the lot. There was a flower garden to his left, a large square of rich brown soil combed through to support bright blues and deep purples lifting to the sky. And beyond that, near the opposing boundary, was a little house, lined with a fence of metal hexagons. A chicken poked around the ground outside the coop, pecking at grain on the dusty ground.

Keith turned towards the cabin when he heard a voice.

“Now, come on Miss Daisy, how many times have we been through this?”

Keith’s breath hitched as a man rounded the corner of the porch. He was leaning down to a small white chicken and coaxing her along. He was tall, skin a bright brown and hair a richer one. His eyes were slim as he smiled kindly at the chicken, one hand reached out to gesture the way as his other clutched a glass of water. Water. It sloshed in the glass, glittering like a diamond and Keith’s throat went dry.

He knew his voice would be rough with disuse, but he didn’t care. He needed help and this man was as good as anyone to become his saviour. Besides, he lived in a desert. He had to be used to finding dehydrated strangers in his backyard. Stepping forward, Keith cleared his throat. He was about to call “’scuse me” when a shattering sound beat him to it.

The man was gaping. Cheeks bright red, eyes wider than dinner plates and fingers clasped around the ghost of a glass. His inbreath had been audible before glass became tatters on the wood. And then everything burst into life.

With a huge amount of flapping, the chicken launched itself into the air, scrambling away from the noise.

“Daisy no!” The man yelped, as the chicken squawked in alarm. He lunged for the white blur, feathers flying everywhere as she evaded his grip. He fell into the dust, chicken dodging grabbing hands, claws scraping violently at the dry ground. Keith ran forward, hoping to save the bird but it was too late. The animal dived beneath the porch before he could catch her.

The man groaned, crawling towards the raised deck.

“Not again, Miss Daisy.” He moaned, lips slipping into a pout as he looked at the gap beneath the porch. “I should get you a leash.”

Keith hovered awkwardly. Then he crouched next to the man and ducked down to peek at the chicken. In the deep shadows, a blur of white was barely visible where the chicken had squashed herself right at the back. She wiggled further back at his presence and refused to come out.

“I-I’m sorry.” Keith spoke. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but he knew enough to know it was his fault.

The man sighed, dropping his elbows to lie in the dust. “Don’t be. Daisy’s the rebel of the group. She’s always pulling stuff like this.”

Keith nodded vaguely, guilt not quite leaving his stomach with the claim. The man stiffened suddenly. Then he was leaping to his feet and the gaping returned. He stuck a finger out, mouth flapping more than the words required.

“You. Who, why, how? What?”

“Uhhh…” Keith scratched at his neck, standing up stiffly. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

The man shook his head violently, eyes still wide and mouth still not shut. “No- that’s not- doesn’t- How?”

He dropped his head into a questionable tilt, looking at Keith like he was a bug on a windscreen too squished to identify.

“I crashed.” Keith stated, feeling a little more than self-conscious. “I was following a radio signal, I’m trying to find help. My name’s Keith”

The man blinked widely. “Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be…”

“Anything!” Keith interrupted, “I mean, any help you could offer would be great.”

“Okay?” The man said. Then he nodded towards the house. “Come in. Name’s Lance.”

Keith was mid step when he froze. Lance? The Lance.

“Something wrong?”

That voice. It was light, fresh. Personal despite only just meeting. Keith felt his cheeks flame.

“You’re Lance?” He said. It was far too intense a tone for the situation but Keith just had to know. Was this his Lance?

“Uh, yeah?”

“Like, from the radio?”

It was Lance’s turn to explode with red. His throat made a couple of noises then he swallowed them down.

“Yes.” He squeaked.

Keith felt his shoulders fall and he fought a laugh. Of course, he’d found Lance. Because that was how deserts worked. They chewed you up, brought you to within an inch of sanity and then when you think your saved, it throws you on your face. Keith couldn’t decide if he should laugh or cry, accept this oasis or fight the mirage. He had been following Lance’s signal. It made sense. And yet, this was far from anything Keith had expected.

“I didn’t think anyone listened...” Lance mumbled before twisting around and scurrying into the house.

I did, Keith thought. Then he followed on after him, still baffled at how his life had come full circle.

Notes:

Finally! They meet! Turn up the fluff~

Chapter 7: Magic

Summary:

Lance reveals a new skill.

Notes:

I know this is supposed to be memory, but that will come up later~

Stepping into the cabin was like stepping into a warm embrace. Mustard yellow walls hugged a coffee coloured wooden floor that was covered in tiny little gaps perfect for hiding secret messages under. There was a wooden sofa pushed under one of the windows, paisley curtain half-drawn and spilling over the sky-blue cushions below. They didn’t look much used and neither did the chair sat near-by, the two surrounding a dusty coffee table and threadbare rug. Lance walked straight past them and into the kitchen cornered off by a thick wall. Keith followed slowly, eyes catching on the desk pushed against it. There was a small microphone standing in front of a pile of black boxes detailed with hundreds of silver dials. Beside them was a record player, clear plastic cover closed over the top and needle hanging off to the side.

“Drink?” Lance called and Keith grunted, hurrying into the kitchenette. He perched on one of the stools lining the breakfast bar as Lance fetched a glass from one of the honey coloured cabinets and threw open the tap. When he slid over the cup, Keith wasted no time in gulping it down. He slammed it on the counter with a satisfied ‘ah’.

“Refill?”

“Please.”

Another three drinks later and Keith was suitably quenched. He held the cup now, swirling the water around in his hand and remembering the one still out on the porch in pieces.

“Sorry about your glass.” Keith mumbled.

“What?” Lance asked before seemingly answering the question himself and barrelling through another sentence, “oh that! Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m a changer-fixer so it’s literally not a problem.”

Keith blinked at him. That was a word he’d never heard before. Was it code for handy man? But Keith could hardly imagine someone gluing a broken glass back together like a vase. For starters, with the size of the shards that would be one hell of a jigsaw. And another, that task would surely end in a hand covered in ribbons of skin. Keith shuddered, placing his glass down and trying to work out what Lance meant.

“You’re not from nearby are you.” Lance said, more than asked. Keith shook his head anyway, then he hedged a glance upwards. That was a mistake. Lance’s eyes glittered at the revelation, and it made Keith’s tummy flutter. Lance leaned forward, crossing his arms against the counter and getting close to Keith, smirk evident on his lips. “Then you’re in for a treat.”

As quickly as he’d arrived, Lance bounced back up. He spun on his heel, marching through the house once again and Keith struggled to keep up. The image of his mischief was burned on his retina and Keith tripped over his feet trying to catch more of it but Lance was already out the door by the time Keith was even out his seat.

Out on the porch, Lance was crouched to the ground. The remnants of glass glistened in the golden evening light and Keith quickly looked to find Lance’s eyes doing the same thing. He winked playfully, sending a buzz through Keith’s skin before turning to concentrate on the glass. He moved his hands out, hovering them over the fragments like a flying saucer. Then, like an abduction, the glass began vibrating. They clicked against the wood, rolling together like a tornado. A fountain in reverse, they swept up off the deck, twirling together and forming a recognisable shape. The pieces fused and then, with a resounding clink, they landed back on the deck, a complete cup once more.

Keith felt his mouth fall open. That couldn’t- this couldn’t. Magic. It was magic. Keith had never witnessed anything like it. Where did… How?

“Cool, right?”

Lance’s face was one of pure pride, clearly enjoying Keith’s complete astonishment but Keith couldn’t wipe it off. Because he was still staring at the glass. It was perfect. No hint of a crack in its body, not even a chip on the lip. It was... incredible. Impossible and incredible. Lance slapped him on the back and Keith stumbled forward. He hadn’t even noticed Lance standing up.

“I’ll give you a minute.”

Keith felt his chin move in a vague nod, still enraptured by the site of the once shattered glass. It was unreal. Once he came to his senses, Keith ducked back inside, still feeling like he could wake up at any moment. Lance was sat in the arm chair, ankle over one knee, and flicking through a magazine, casual as anything. Far away from Keith’s reeling discovery that science wasn’t the only miracle worker in his life. Keith flopped onto the sofa, staring at Lance who pretended not to notice his awe. Keith would have believed him too, if it weren’t for the very obvious smile pulling against his cheeks and the fact that he was flicking pages far too quickly to have read them.

“What was that?” Keith said, not bothering to wait for Lance’s game to play out. It was a shame Lance had no intention of letting it go, shrugging nonchalantly.

“What?”

“The glass!”

Lance lifted the magazine to hide his giggles. Keith threw a finger on the spine and shoved it down.

“Okay,” Lance said through shaky laughter, “it was fixer magic. You just take a broken object and you, y’know…”

“Fix it?”

Lance snorted, falling over himself laughing and it infuriated Keith.

“Exactly!” He said smacking Keith’s thigh in the most patronising manner possible, “you’re an expert already!”

Keith let out a growl. Throwing his arms across his chest, he huffed back onto the sofa. Why didn’t he just pretend magic was normal? Something of a daily occurrence, like brushing your teeth or having Shiro yell at you for not doing it for weeks before. Keith was beginning to regret walking into this house. He should have taken his chances against the desert.  

“Alright,” Lance sighed, placing the magazine back on the coffee table. “Magic’s pretty common in Desert City. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it before, seeing as that’s where you came here from.”

Keith shook his head. “I didn’t come in from there.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Keith shrugged, trying to ignore the blood gathering in his cheeks, “crash landed.”

“Crashed? Into what, there’s nothing out here!?”

Keith squeezed his fingers into his biceps. “Not crashed. Crash landed.”

“There’s a difference?”

“YES THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!”

Lance shuffled back in his seat, looking at Keith like he was the strange one. Which was pretty unconvincing given that this was the guy who performed literal wizardry in the backyard.

“Look.” Keith bit out, already regretting his decision of stopping here, “I was aiming for the landing zone in… Desert City or whatever. But I ran out of fuel and ended up crashing in the desert. My ship’s bust and I was hoping that maybe somebody out here would help me out.”

“Oh.” Lance said quietly. Then he was leaning in again, “so are you like a space traveller or something?”

Keith shrugged. He hadn’t really given himself a title, but he guessed that worked. Plus, Lance seemed genuinely excited by the prospect and Keith found himself preening a little under the attention that was positive for once.

“That’s so cool!” Lance cried. He lunged forward in his seat, knees bouncing with excitement. “How many planets have you been to? Have you been to a moon? Oh my god, have you met any aliens?”

Keith faltered, “Umm… maybe twenty. I’ve been to a few dozen moons. And you’re the closest thing I’ve come to an alien.”

“Wow.” Lance breathed. “And you own your own ship?”

“Sort of,” Keith said, image of the crumpled carcass of Black lying bleak in his mind. “Kinda needs fixing.”

“Oh! I could do that!”

“Really?” Was this with that magic thing? Because that was seeming more and more like a damn useful trick every time Keith thought about it. Maybe he could pick it up?

“Sure!” Lance cried out enthusiastically. Then his smile faltered, and he rolled back into his shoulders. “Just, uhh, you’d have to bring it out here first.”

That would be a problem. The engine was out of commission and whilst Keith did try to keep fit, there was no way he could move a whole ship on his own. He said as much, and Lance frowned, biting at his lip.

“Maybe I could bring you to it?” Keith suggested. It was a long trek, sure, but Lance was bound to have better supplies here than Keith did in his ship.

Lance shook his head. “Not possible.”

Seemed a bit extreme. It was possible, just maybe not tolerable. Keith pondered prodding further but then remembered Shiro saying something about tact and his lack of it. Lance had already offered to fix his ship, Keith didn’t want to repay that with rudeness. So, he took a new direction.

“What about a tow truck? Are there any nearby?”

“Don’t know.”

“In the city?”

“Don’t know.”

“What about the town?”

Lance squinted at him. “There is no town.”

What? The only thing Keith knew about this desert was that there was a town nearby. And that was all because of Lance’s radio show. How could he claim that there wasn’t one?

“What do you mean?” Keith asked. Lance shrunk into his shoulders.

“I mean, there is no town. There’s Desert City, I think. But no town, at least not around here anyway.”

Keith felt even more confused. There was an awful lot Lance wasn’t sure on, but the one thing Keith was convinced on as truth, Lance was adamant was false. The town. Lance always spoke so fondly of it. And its people. Keith had heard the show, right? The sun messes with your mind, sure, but it can’t fabricate whole afternoons. Keith’s eyes drifted around the cabin. There were slats of orange light coming through the screen door now, illuminating the floor and reaching right up to the kitchen, stroking over the desk in front of it. The desk. It was covered in radio equipment. There were shelves of records stacked beside it and the wooden chair was pushed back, with a clear view of the flower garden. Keith sat upright.

“Then what about your show?” He demanded, “it’s all about the town and its people. Where are they?”

Lance’s features dropped open. From his neck to his cheeks and all the way up to his ears, his skin was flooded with red. He whipped his head away, biting hard enough on his lip to remove the colour. Silence dragged on. Keith stared, unsure how he’d managed to step on such a powerful landmine. Then Lance finally croaked out, “I made it up.”

It was barely audible but Keith heard it crystal clear.  

“I got lonely. Being stuck here all day, in a place I can’t even leave, with no visitors ever passing by. So, I changed up some stuff and made a radio. I know, nobody even listens to radio anymore, but I made it for myself. A comfort, okay? So that I wouldn’t go mad with the isolation.”

“But…” Keith spoke, the images of Lance’s sweet little town crumbling into ash, “the people?”

“You met Miss Daisy.” Lance said, almost pitifully. “Vi’s sleeping in the coop and Henrietta’s out pecking at grain.”

Chickens. The townsfolk were chickens. Keith felt like he’d been living his whole life in the matrix. He licked his lips trying to bring something of a truth to it.

“And the traffic reports?”

Lance winced, “Ants.” 

“Weather?”

“Come on, we’re in a desert. Hot and sunny is pretty much a given.”

Well, Lance was right on that one. And Keith could help it as a laugh bubbled over his lips. Lance threw him a poisonous glare and Keith laughed even more.

“Hey! You try living alone in a desert for three years! I’d like to see you find a better coping mechanism!”

Keith shook his head, clutching at his stomach as he forced down the amusement. “No. No, I get it.”

Because if there was one thing worse than making up a fake town for a radio show, it was being the sole listener of said fake show, actively interacting with the host, despite them never hearing a word. Keith wiped his eyes, continuing on the same path, ‘it was a good strategy. It just worked out terribly for me.”

“How so?” Lance said, lip curling. The bitterness was fair. Clearly it worked out pretty terribly for Lance, his lame secret now being unceremoniously displayed out in front of him by the only visitor he’d had in years. But Keith hadn’t had the best of weeks either.

“I was following your signal. I thought I was heading to a town who could help me tow my ship and send me on my merry way, but-”

“But now you’re stuck with me.”

Keith hummed in agreement. He didn’t add that Lance himself, was one of the reasons he wanted to get to the city anyway. And that, even if the show was all fake, Keith was still pretty relieved to have found that Lance wasn’t. He couldn’t have bared finding out he was just a pre-recorded voice on tap.

“You made a nice town.” Keith said dreamily, “I liked the whole country-bumpkin vibe.”

Lance groaned, “can we not.”

“You know what?” Keith continued gleefully, “I am glad you didn’t insult real women.”

“Stop.”

“But maybe it’s worse you were coming onto a chicken.”

“I SAID STOP!”

Lance launched himself from his seat, throwing his hands over Keith’s mouth and glaring daggers with his cobalt eyes. But any threat was perfectly undermined by the fully-bodied blush slapped across his face.

“We never speak of this again, got it?” Lance hissed, punctuating the sentence with a squeeze on his cheek. Keith desperately tried to control his laughter. No way. He would bring this up to every single person he knew for the rest of his life. An hour though? To appease Lance? Sure. He nodded behind his hold and was rewarded with release. Lance slowly backed into his seat, watching Keith warily, like he might bolt at any second. Keith would not. The couch was comfy, there was free water from a tap and a roof providing shelter from the searing sun. Plus, and this was barely even part of the deal, there was a handsome man sat opposite him. One who was very easy to embarrass, and one that Keith had plenty of material on. So, yes, it was safe to say, Keith was not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Okay, so if you aren’t near a town, how do I get to the city?”

Lance sighed and Keith spoke for him, “you don’t know.”

“Look,” Lance said, falling back into his seat, “I gave up trying to get away a long time ago. And even if I could leave, I’d have no clue where to go.”

Keith frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lance’s eyes sprung open. He sucked on his lips, glancing away.

“There’s probably some maps and stuff in the Attic. I can grab them tomorrow if you want-“

“Lance-”

“You can stay here! I’ve got extra blankets in my room!”

“But-”

“Sofa’s pretty comfy, bet it’s better than the desert.”

Yes. Yes it would be. And Keith would be happy to accept all his offers, except that he was clearly using them to cover up something else.

“Lance.” He tried again, but the man shook his head violently.

“It’s no trouble really! I’ll make us some dinner, yeah?”

He blinked forcefully at Keith. Like it wasn’t a question with a no answer. Keith bit his lip. Lance clearly didn’t want to share whatever his secret was about not being able to leave the house. But it seemed important. Not a decision he’d made consciously but rather a situation he had resigned himself to. It left a sour taste in Keith’s mouth and he wanted to rid it with more questions. But Lance seemed desperate now, willing Keith to drop the subject with his eyes. So, he did. Even if it made his stomach twist up all wrongly.

“Sure. Dinner sounds good.”

Notes:

Long chapter~
I hope the magic aspect isn't too out of place, it's kind of important to the fic but didn't come up until now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway, thanks for reading! ♥

Chapter 8: Heartbeat

Summary:

Lance fetches some maps from the attic.

“Am I really necessary here?”

Keith had two hands on the bottom of a wooden ladder and staring up at two long legs kicking out in the air like a frog.

“YES!” Lance shouted, the word muffled from his place inside the loft. “Dangerous otherwise.”

A particularly powerful kick had Keith narrowly dodging a socked foot.

“Really?” Keith hissed.

The legs stopped, landing firmly back on the ladder and Lance squeezed back out of the small square in the ceiling to frown. His face was red from the exertion, hair mussed with speckles of dust and somehow he still thought he could maintain seriousness. “What if I died?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You would not.”

“No. What if the ladder slipped and I lost my gripping. How bad would you feel when bam, splat, Lance’s head is split open the cold hard floor? Dead.”

“One. This is a wooden floor. It’s got…” Keith bounced on his toes, “give. Two, you are barely above the ground. And three, the ladder is attached to the cupboard. If I let go, all that would happen is it would fold back up on you.”

“And then I’d be stuck!”

Keith hummed. Then he let go.

Lance shrieked, scrambling into the ceiling space.

“You!” He threw out a hand, glaring like a bush baby, “that could have hurt me.”

Keith smirked, watching the spring-loaded ladder bounce in the air between them. “If you’d just stayed put, it wouldn’t have moved.”

Lance scoffed. Then he stuck his tongue in his cheek and glared at the ceiling.

“Need some help?” Keith ventured, feeling about as smug as the cat with the cream.

“No!” Lance cried, whipping back to Keith “I meant to be up here! Yeah! I just, uh… I needed to get deeper to find the map!”

“Sure.”

Lance growled. Then he was lifting his nose to the sky and crawling away into the attic space. Keith watched until the boy had completely disappeared before pulling the ladder back down and climbing up.

The attic was dark. Very dark. Keith could understand why Lance had dug out a flash light from the kitchen drawers. There was a singular window – circular and centred on the triangular wall at the back. It was blue stained glass, with a red rose curled between metallic black lines. It glowed through the dust, leaving a colourful patch in the middle of the floor. The rest of the attic was full of heavy leather boxes and suitcases. Books and paper flapped around folders, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Keith twisted around, leaving his arms crossed against the floorboards, and feet firmly on the ladder.

Torch light flicked in a moon-like orb across the wall, shadows scattering into the darkness. Keith followed their path to find Lance, ass in the air as he bobbed around a corner, dipping between a rack of coats. He suddenly jumped back, torch flashing to the ceiling before he relaxed, catching his breath with a hand to his heart.

“Found something?” Keith called and Lance leapt another foot into the air, hitting his head on a beam. His wide eyes landed on Keith before they rolled into an unamused squint.

“Thanks for joining me.” He said flatly, rubbing a palm over the back of his head.

“Spider?” Keith asked. Lance swallowed thickly, before biting his lip and nodding.

“Big one. With hair.”

Keith chuckled, leaning his chin into his hand. “Is that who all this stuff belongs to?”

“Probably.” Lance answered, returning to his search. More scraping and pushing echoed through the room before Lance let out a huff and the torch glanced over the walls again. Then the loud movements increased tenfold, heavy boxes dropping to the floor with loud huffs and bursts of dust.

“’as all ‘ere ‘en I a’’ived.” Lance slurred. Keith figured where the torch was being stored now.

“What?”

Lance sighed, teeth clacking against metal as he ripped the torch from his mouth. “I said, it was all here when I arrived.”

“Ahh.” Keith feigned understanding, having already worked that out. It was just fun to irritate the boy. The torch was replaced once again, and Lance dived forward to grab an armful of something. He turned around wearing a wide beam, drool slipping out the side of his mouth. “Got’em!”

His arms were full of large rolls of paper, stained and wrinkled around the edges. Keith hurried down the ladder, taking the maps out of Lance’s hands before heading into the lounge and dumping them on the floor. Choosing one at random he rolled out the paper, soft in his hand but not too delicate that he worried it would break. The map crumpled against the wood and he smoothed it out with his hands, laying them over the edges to get a good look. It was… well very beige. There were dark brown contour lines and lighter patches reminiscent of coffee stains covering the entire surface. There wasn’t a single recognisable landmark.

“Desert.” Lance supplied. Keith jolted, not realising the boy had come up right behind him and was inches away, standing over his shoulder to stare at the near-useless map. “Guess we should have expected that, huh?”

Keith’s instinct was to argue but then the fight melted from his body. Because, yeah. A map of the desert. What was he expecting?

“What about the others?” Lance asked, kneeling next to Keith and lifting a different paper into his arms. It curled over at the top, too big to be held up but Lance studied it anyway, eyes flickering across the sheet. Then he dropped it back in the pile, letting it roll itself back up like a pangolin as he grabbed the next. He repeated the process, expression concerningly straight, as he filtered out everything that he deemed useless. Keith hadn’t seen him this deep in concentration before. Eyes sharpened, hairs of his eyebrows dipping ever so slightly at the centre of his nose, lips that could be described as pert.  

“Ah!” Lance announced, and Keith quickly threw his gaze back to the floor. If Lance noticed his staring, he didn’t say anything, instead he lay his current map over Keith’s. “This one’s not too bad.”

He tapped a finger against one of the corners. “That’s Desert City.”

Keith moved closer, analysing the area. It was a small section, cutting off the left-hand corner with a shaky black line. It contained little black squares and larger grey smudges signifying housing, offices, roads, landing zones. It was a startling contrast to the rest of the map that wore the same beige-style dress as the others. Keith grinned.

“I can work with this.”

 “Awesome! I’ll leave you to it then, want some paper or pens or something?”

Keith nodded. His mind buzzed at the prospect of pens. He was so used to his ship, everything plugged in and automatic - typed commands and flashing screens. Something as simple as a pen and paper was foreign at this point. Lance dumped the supplies at his feet and Keith stared a moment. Then he was grabbing a pen, popping the lid off and scratching it against the smooth paper of the notebook. Ink slowly started spilling and he squeezed tight against the plastic. Writing felt so refreshing. He relaxed back into the sofa, drawing out a few lines just to bask in the feeling of smooth ink pouring onto lined paper. Then he set to work.

A few hours later he’d gotten several pages of notes albeit most were just little scribbles and any sentences were interspersed with many crossings out. He had even more balls of paper at his side and had slumped to resting his neck against the couch cushion, mouth absently chewing at the pen.

Lance was fidgeting at his desk. He’d been walking in and out all morning, watering the flowers, feeding the chickens, scolding Miss Daisy for her four-hundredth escape attempt. Now he had a pad of paper in front of him which he had been writing peacefully in for a good hour. However, now he was getting twitchy. He glanced between his records and the desk. Then he leaned out of his chair, to peer at the kitchen clock. He bit his lip, glancing at Keith before quickly glancing away when he realised he’d been caught.

Keith put his pen down, gazing out the window. The afternoon sun was just cresting the house and the water on the flower petals sparkled back at him.

“Isn’t it time for your show?” Keith asked and Lance reacted immediately. He stiffened in his seat, lid flying off his pen as he threw his arms up in surprise.

“Wha-! Oh, that? No, that’s not, it’s not…”

“What?” Keith asked, sliding himself back up into a seated position.

“It’s not important.”

Keith frowned. He liked Lance’s show, even if it was made up.

“Is to me.” He mumbled.

“Huh?”

Keith curled his knees up trying to hide behind his notebook. “It was nice, y’know. To listen to in the desert.”

“But you were the only listener.”

“You don’t know that!” Keith cried, throwing his legs down despite the warmth threatening to rise in his cheeks. The embarrassment paled in comparison to the guilt pooling in his stomach now it occurred to him that he was the reason Lance didn’t want to record. “Someone else could be crossing the desert right now!”

“Unlikely.” Lance said, turning back around.

“But it’s important to you, right?” Keith urged, less violent now. He watched the slight pinch in Lance’s spine and ploughed ahead. “You should do it for your own sake. It doesn’t matter if you have one or one-hundred listeners, broadcasting made you happy, so you should keep doing it.”

Lance glanced back and Keith swore there was the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Alright.” He announced, nodding to himself. “I will. But you’ll have to go outside.”

He got up from his seat, bee-lining for Keith, and sweeping his tools into his arms. “Out. Onto the porch.”

Keith chuckled under his breath, tucking the pad under one arm and twisting the pen between his fingers.

It was hot outside, paper glaringly bright. Lance had abandoned the maps beside the door and had already marched across to the chicken coop. Keith settled against the wall, watching as Lance scooped up a white ball of fluff. Keith raised an eyebrow, and Lance shrugged.

“Violet’s my cuddly little co-host.” He cooed, bending his head to kiss the small chickens who stretched her head to meet him. “Now, stay out here until I’m done.”

Keith laughed but agreed anyway. Then it was just him in the garden. And a bunch of maps. And the remaining chickens. It was sweet how Lance cared for them. Especially his obvious soft-spot for Vi who was clearly spoiled. He may have felt lonely out here, but he’d made close bonds with the wildlife around him and in Keith’s opinion that was admirable. Lance had formed a life here, even if it was a sore spot for him. Keith wandered why. He seemed on top of things. But then again, before Shiro had bestowed on him his precious ship, Keith had been itching to get away. See the world outside his own little town.

 A few minutes had passed, Keith settling into having just the wind for company, when a familiar voice drifted out the door.

“Hello, my gorgeous listeners, it’s that time you’ve been waiting for, Lance-time, coming to you live on Desert Radio! Hope you’re feeling good!”

Keith grinned to himself. What a dork. He continued studying, only half concentrating with Lance’s strange stories playing in the background. He started talking about the attic and Keith’s chest went warm. He hadn’t expected to be mentioned and his heart did a little kick that he’d somehow had an impact on Lance’s life. It was silly really, Keith was the only person in Lance’s life. But still, it somehow made him feel special, like he had something to do with the laughter falling through the airwaves. And if he gave up studying maps to relax against the warmth of the porch, then no-one had to know.

Notes:

Heartbeat was a little loose for this chapter (and also a day late) but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thanks for reading!~

Chapter 9: Storm

Summary:

A sandstorm forces the boys inside. They try their hand at tarot reading

Keith was studying outside again. He was hoping if he could connect up the ebb and flow of the sand to the dark and light of the maps, he could make one large one and pinpoint their location. However, that was proving to be more of a task than previously expected, given the whole desert was made of undulating surfaces and nothing else. Plus, the wind had picked up today and the papers rustled annoyingly. The corners kept flapping up and in on themselves so now he had various objects keeping them down as well as his foot, knee and elbow. Still, he didn’t make a move to go inside. The sun was too warm on his face to want to do that. Also, Lance was outside.

He was walking back and forth between the kitchen and flower garden, water sloshing around in a bright blue watering can as he went. He bent over the petals, picking off dead-heads and neatening up stems that had come twisted together. All the while winking and chatting nonsense about how they were ‘blooming gorgeous today.’ At this current moment, he’d placed the watering can down and was lifting a lilac flower with tissue paper petals between his fingers like a wine glass. “Baby, you’re my boo, kay?”

Keith scoffed. That was a hazy pun at best. The action seemed to cause a lull in the other’s conversation though and Lance clicked his tongue, clearly aiming at Keith. “Got something to say?”

Keith smirked. He put down his pen, fully intent on slamming Lance’s line when his breath stopped short.

He finally saw why the wind had been such a menace today. Beyond them, coating the horizon, was a thick wall of dust. It was like a cloud only menacing and thunderous, rising above them like the cascading walls of a prison. But that’s where the analogy ended because the yellowed sky was racing toward them like a stampede. Lance’s breath hitched.

“Sandstorm.”

Everything happened quickly after that. Keith’s maps were unloaded into the hallway before the chickens were being collected and huddled inside. Lance was pulling out boards from somewhere in the back of the house before handing half to Keith and nodding towards the door. “These go on the windows. You take the left, I’ll take the right.”

The boards fitted snugly against the window frames, making the wall appear smooth as if there was nothing to hide. Keith moved quickly, shutting each shining window away whilst the atmosphere shifted around him. As he finished up the last one, he felt the air grow gritty and cold against him. The gentle wind once ruffling his hair was now battering his scalp, particles diving into the roots of his hair and roughening the skin.  

“Quick, quick!” Lance urged, grabbing Keith’s arm and hauling him through the door. It was already slamming shut as Keith stumbled through it. He was vaguely aware of Lance releasing his hold on him to shove the last board against the glass.

Lance let out a whooshing breath. “Made it.”

“Y-yeah.”

Keith shivered. It was suddenly very quiet, and the dark fell like treacle. The house shuddered around him and Keith pulled his arms close to his chest, unable to ignore the sounds of the wind whistling across the roof and scraping across the hollow walls. He flinched as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine.” Lance reassured, wearing such an easy smile that Keith couldn’t help relax at the sight, “been through tons of these.”

Keith nodded, although it was still a little shaky. He couldn’t help thinking about what would have happened if he hadn’t made it to Lance’s house in time. He couldn’t imagine surviving the swirling sands and whirling winds out on his own, open to everything the elements could think to throw at him. But then he watched the ease in Lance’s walk as he headed into the kitchen and he released the thoughts. He was inside. With Lance, who was more than prepared for this.

In fact, Lance was already fetching candles from drawers and dropping a packet of matches onto the countertop. Keith stepped inside too, leaning up on the counter a little way off. He hoped his presence indicated a willingness to help but equally didn’t want to interfere. Lance had pressed his fingers and thumb into a circle and hovered them over the splodges of wax. Words slipped under his breath, inaudible to Keith, and then the candles were growing.

Keith hadn’t witnessed any magic since that first day and he found himself no less awed when seeing it again. The wax moved differently to the glass. It twisted and pulled, moving like the ribbons of a maypole, reforming tiny little diamonds in a colourful pattern over the wax. Lance concentrated on the action, tooth slipping over his lip as his eyes glazed over. It seemed this was a step up from just fixing a glass and his skin shone with the effort. But, in less than five minutes, there were three fully formed candles in front of them as well as a few tealights.

“Light these?” Lance asked and Keith quickly complied, wanting to be at least some use to the other. Lance hopped back as Keith concentrated on his job, enjoying the snap of flames he was creating with a quick slice against the box.

“You can bring them into the lounge when you’re done.” Lance said before he was slipping away.

Keith finished lighting the lot and waved out the match, watching as the smoke drifted up into thin white wisps. He inhaled deeply, suddenly reliving countless birthdays and spit covered cakes. It calmed him. Made him feel like he was back at home, a kid sneaking sweets out the kitchen before he’d eaten his sandwiches instead of an adult trying not to panic over natural occurrences beyond his control.

Keith gathered as many candles as he could into his hands and slowly made his way to the coffee table. Figuring, they would need at least a little light elsewhere too, Keith placed one of the big candles on Lance’s desk and another on the window sill, shuddering as he heard the wind throw itself against the window. He swore he could feel it tickling the back of his neck, and before he could start seeing ghosts, quickly left to pick up the remaining tea lights.

Kneeling at the coffee table, Keith started nudging the candles around, watching the flames flicker and pull as he moved them into suitable positions. Keith was no interior decorator, but he liked to think the arrangement was palatable. In any case, he enjoyed the height differences between the stubby, little tea-lights and the refined-elegance of the larger candles. Plus, the contrast created more interesting shadows that scattered and pooled across the table top.

Keith didn’t notice Lance’s return until the flames nearly passed out with a whoosh of air as he dumped a load of cushions and blankets onto the floor beside him. Keith eyed them cautiously and Lance shrugged.

“So we’ll be more comfy.”

Keith twisted around, tentatively reaching for a cushion. He pushed it behind his back, leaning into it until he fit snuggly against the table. He slipped his toes beneath a blanket but otherwise made no move to unfold it. He hated to admit it, but this did feel cosier. The wind still shook the house, rumbling the shutters and the dark was still all encompassing, but the hues of orange flickering across Lance’s face made him appear soft and warm. He’d already tied a blanket around his neck, and was shuffling around to cross his legs on the floor, the image of contentment. Maybe Keith could afford to loosen up a little too? Before he could chicken out, he grabbed another cushion and hugged it to his chest, revelling in the childlike comfort of it all.

Lance hadn’t just brought cushions out from his room. In his hands was a large pack of cards, probably a set of two, which he shuffled idly.

“You wanna play cards?” Keith asked, eyeing them meaningfully, and questioning how well that would go in the low light.

Lance shook his head. “I was thinking we could do something different.”

He counted out the cards onto the floor, whispering numbers under his breath before reaching seventy-eight and abandoning the rest on the table.

“My sister made me learn this spell when my mum took her cards away.” He explained, crossing his hands over the pile. “It’s actually what got me into changer magic in the first place.”

He closed his eyes, humming, and the cards slowly wavered, hovering towards him. They shook in the air for a few seconds, rising until none were touching before they plopped back down in a perfectly straight pile.

“Tah-dah!” Lance announced, lifting the top card to reveal a portrait instead of a number or symbol. It was almost medieval in style with simplistic drawings and pastel colours, but it was no less exquisite. There was a white arc in silver pen showing a moon rising over a green hill in front of a purple sky dotted with silver stars.

“Tarot cards?”

Lance nodded enthusiastically.

“You designed these?” Keith asked, leaning forward to pluck it from his hand and get a closer look at the delicate artistry.

“Unfortunately, not.” Lance said, picking up the rest of the deck and flicking through, “since the cards already existed, I just changed their form. My magic is infused in there so I guess I was part responsible, but essentially that’s just how the card would look, if they were tarot cards and not playing cards.”

Keith nodded vaguely, not really understanding but deciding to accept Lance’s comment about his magic being infused in them to mean that they were part of him, and therefore his unconscious design. Lance eyed the card in Keith’s hand which he now noticed was labelled the moon and Keith took a second to appreciate it before handing it back. He was sure the rest were just as beautiful and told himself he would ask Lance to let him look through the whole deck later.

Later almost came sooner than he thought when Lance handed him the whole deck at once. Then he was talking again, “shuffle these and think of a question.”

“Okay?” Keith began turning the cards over in his hands, wracking his brain for a question. The window rattled above them and Lance tightened the blanket around his shoulders. Keith shuffled his feet further under his own. “How bad will this storm be?”

“No, something personal.” Lance urged, edging closer. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Fine. What day-”

“No!” Lance interrupted, yet again having an issue with Keith’s question, “something more vague.”

“Why?”

“Because it won’t work otherwise.”

Keith hummed. “It’s almost like cards can’t predict the future.”

“Shut it, you.” Lance hissed, pushing a playful hand into his arm and making Keith teeter in place. “You’re ruining the magic.”

“Okay, okay.” Keith pushed himself off the table to sit opposite Lance, hugging the pillow to his stomach. “Will reading tarot cards improve my life?”

Lance raised an eyebrow which Keith met in challenge, shuffling the cards without breaking eye-contact. Lance yielded with a huff, “fine. I guess it works.”

Keith let that win go to his head, placing the pile down between them with satisfaction. Then the smugness wavered as he realised he had no idea how this process worked. Luckily, Lance took over, taking the cards and swiping them across the floor in a fan.

“Now, pick three cards and put them here.” He tapped at the floor in front of his feet.

“Any?”

“Yes. Any that call out to you.”

“I mean… they’re not really saying much.”

Lance tutted but there was a clear smirk on his mouth trying to twist into a frown. He looked away, then burst into noise.

“Hey! Daisy no!”

Keith whipped around to find the chicken in question, attempting to climb the record collection across the room, sharp beak picking at the card sleeves. Lance threw down his blanket cape and marched across the room. There was a squawk, Keith not entirely sure whose mouth it came from, a loud flourish of wings which Keith was ninety-percent sure came from the chicken and a yelp which definitely belonged to a human.

“You alright?” Keith called, quietly choosing his cards.

“She bit me.” Lance said in way of reply, sounding like he just entered shock. His footsteps were slow on the way back, but he flopped down again soon after, chicken in lap.

“Good girl.” Keith cooed, reaching out to tickle her chin. Daisy ruffled up her feathers at the action, lifting her head up as if saying ‘yes, I know’. Keith grinned at her. Lance scoffed.

“I chose my cards.”

That brought Lance out of his sulking. Placing a careful hand over Miss Daisy’s wing, he turned the first over, whilst saying, “so the first card represents the past.”

Keith realised it was upside down, and craned his neck trying to read. “Knight of Swords?”

“Yep!” Lance announced happily. “So, what this means is, in the past, you’ve been a sceptic.”

“Oh my god.” Keith smelt something, and it wasn’t the spices from the candles. “That is not what it means.”

“The cards don’t lie Keith!”

“Yeah but you do!”

Lance made an offended noise, “look, just because your starting to question your beliefs, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.”

Keith pursed his lips. “Okay. Next card then, what’s that, present?”

“Yes, see less of a sceptic already!”

Keith bit down on his tongue, holding Lance’s gaze until he turned over the next card. Lance sucked in a breath as he revealed two cherubs dancing below a large, butter-yellow sun. Which was, a sight. Keith snorted before he could help himself. The large star shaped sun would have been perfectly acceptable had it not for the fact that there were squinted distrustful eyes drawn over its forehead and lips far-fuller than necessary painted on top. Lance was clearly fighting laughter as he said, “the sun.”

“So, what does that mean?” Keith asked, tapping down right on its face to make sure Lance maintained eye contact with the uncomfortable figure who’d decided to join them.

Lance sucked on his lips. “It means you need to let up a little on the filler.”

Keith snorted, slapping at Lance’s ankle, “what does it actually mean?”

“Oh, now you’re interested huh?”

Keith threatened a growl, but Lance ploughed ahead, smug, but his eyes smiling. “Well, it means you’re at a crossroads. You’re seeing the potential hidden behind the cards and you need to open your heart to the light they contain.”

“Light like the sun?”

“Exactly!”

“Not buying it.”

“Come on Keith. Lets just see the last one?”

He smiled, crescent eyes and smooth lips and the expression should not have been that powerful but Keith found himself flipping over the last card sooner than he would have liked. It showed a hand holding a twig covered in buds and little leaves and read ace of wands.

“Ah hah!” Lance cried, finger slamming against the card. “You see this? YOU SEE THIS?”

“Yes, Lance,” Keith said without bitterness, only exaggerated exasperation. “I see the cards we’ve been looking at for the last half hour.”

“Buds. For your budding beliefs.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, “no, no way.”

“You’re blossoming Keith.” Lance said, completely deadpan, “tarot reading will, in fact it already has, changed your life.”

Keith scoffed, shaking his head and failing to fight off his grin. “You have no idea how to read them do you?”

“Nope!” Lance announced proudly, pulling the cards back into a pile, “I mean, Veronica tried teaching me, but I just liked looking at the pictures. Plus, it’s more fun like this.”

Keith couldn’t argue with that.

“Is Veronica your sister?” He asked.

“Yeah, she’s a good five years older than me. And obsessed with soothsaying and fate. She’s got a crystal ball and everything!”

“Yeah? She like magic too then?”

“Mmmhmm, she’s not even the worst one though. My brother, Luis, used to love charms. He had posters covered with incantations all over his room. And as soon as he turned eighteen he got a tattoo of a luck spell written across his forearm. Actually,” Lance snorted at the thought, “he got it spelt wrong, an ‘i’ instead of an ‘e’ in one of the words. You gotta see it. It’s so bad, like my mum was proper angry until she noticed and then she stopped yelling completely and just said the thing spoke for itself.”

Keith let out a small laugh,

“You sound close,” He said softly, like he’d ruin the moment with any extra volume. Lance seemed to adore his family. It was heart-warming. Keith’s family was important to him too, despite being a little unconventional. Him, Shiro and Keith’s mum. It was complicated, Shiro being from Keith’s dad’s previous marriage. And their dad no longer being with them. But still, Keith treasured his family. Clearly, Lance did too, even if it seemed bigger and busier. Only his smile was fading.

“Yeah. Yeah we were.”

“Were?”

“Well, now I’m stuck here, I haven’t seen them. In years.”

“Oh.”

That, that really sucked. It was clear to Keith now, that being here was not Lance’s desire. Or born of a family problem. He couldn’t help being curious. But now, with Lance’s face taking on a more ghostly appearance, thin and vulnerable, his curiosity became personal.

“What happened?” Keith found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Lance blinked at him, like he had completely forgotten Keith was sat there. Then he began fidgeting, shuffling the cards in his hands.

“I was cursed.” He states, sinking into his shoulders. Keith watched carefully, heart crawling into his throat. Lance looked so hopeless, so resigned. It was so different to the usual brightness Keith was adjusted to. Even when teasing, Lance had that spark that indicated jest. Any harsh points on his words were blunted, round and perfect for poking relentlessly, not slicing like knives. Keith had come to enjoy it, found himself swept up in the fun of it. So, he didn’t like Lance showing the opposite. Hurt, sorrowful, and worst of all, pessimistic. It was something Lance had never shown when Keith’s situation looked truly dire. Keith wanted to repay all that kindness and more.

“Is there a cure?” He asked, before stumbling. Was that the right word? “Or like a way to remove it?”

That sounded better, if not stiff. Keith wasn’t really sure how to navigate this situation. He just knew that he wanted to.

“Maybe?” Lance shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know. Can’t find out whilst I’m out here anyway.”

Keith frowned. Right now, he really wished he possessed even the smallest amount of knowledge on magic or its double-edged sword, just something so that he could at least comfort Lance. Instead, his brain was empty. In all the places Keith had visited before, there hadn’t been any signs of magic. Maybe the one comfort that brought, was that, if Lance did manage to break the curse, Keith could always take him far away. Where he could live the rest of his life in peace. Though, it seemed with his family all wrapped up in magic related paraphernalia, Lance would probably want to stick closer to home. Keith shifted, awkwardly. Lance seemed lonely out here. Even with his eyes glazed over in thought, his fingers gently stroked over Daisy’s feathers like he had an unconscious need to feel the contact of another heartbeat. Keith watched a moment longer before making up his mind. He threw out his arm and laid a hand firmly over Lance’s knee.

“We’ll find something.”

He was confident. But when Lance’s stare met his, open and watery, Keith felt his skin warm like soup and he started to question his position. He quickly pulled his hand back away avoiding Lance’s gaze. Maybe it was a bit much? The whole intense promise thing. But Keith refused take it back. He felt sure that Lance was not going to have to live his whole life under a ridiculous curse. Still, the silence drew on, so Keith opted to take up a distraction before it could consume him.

“Shall we read your cards?”

Lance nodded, finally slipping out whatever daze he was in. He clicked back into action, sliding the cards against the floor and picking out three. He turned them all over and Keith crawled around to his side to see. Then a smile slipped against his lips.

Resting happily between the eight of cups and nine of pentacles was the exact card Keith wanted to see. He knocked into Lance’s shoulder, beaming widely. “The Fool, huh? At present.”

“Shut up!”

Keith gasped, “I hadn’t said anything.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, clearly having heard the unsaid ‘yet.’ Keith chose to ignore it.

“We start with past right?”

Lance nodded and Keith launched into his explanation, full of well-drawn out analysis and thousands of lies. And when Lance slowly relaxed, laughing along to his ridiculous links he found the knot in his stomach unfurling. It didn’t stop there though, turning to liquid in his tummy as Keith found himself slowly getting addicted to the sound of Lance’s happiness. He forgot all about the storm and the danger outside their thin walls, falling into the world they’d set up inside, melting into the pillows and candlelight.

Notes:

Oof, I should have split this into two but nevermind!

Also, those tarot cards weren't random, I tried to choose some to fit them, but then I thought it would be funnier if they had no idea what they were doing! Plus, everyone I know who's ever read tarot cards have used a book or google so really, it's more realistic this way...

Thanks for reading! ~♥~

Chapter 10: Rivalry

Summary:

Keith and Lance get on with cleaning up after the storm and bond over Pac-man.

Keith woke up groggily with an ache in his back and a weight on his chest. He shifted, finding his arm curled up tight in the blanket and having to shake it free in order to rub his eyes into focus. Once achieved, he blinked blearily and came face to face with a ghost. Keith jolted back. The white blur squawked, suddenly making sharp indentations in his chest. A thump sounded to his left, and Keith’s shoulder suddenly became lighter, but he was too distracted by pain to bother figuring out why.

“Nice chicken.” He whispered, patting at a wing. The claws dug deeper, and he cringed, hoping they didn’t break skin. He caressed the feathers instead, curling his fingers to smooth his knuckles against the softness and slowly the stronghold released. Keith sighed with relief, flopping back onto the floor. There was shifting below his ear, and Keith suddenly remembered the second noise. Something warm and fluffy snuggled in close to his neck, smacking their lips as they did so.

Keith whipped up in record time, chicken flying off his chest. There was loud bang followed by an irritated groan.

“Jeez, Keith.” Lance moaned, moving his hand to rub the back of his head “someone needs to teach you some bedside manner.”

Keith bit his lip. Lance was glaring at him too now, though through sleep-ridden eyes and hair mussed around in a fashion that could only be described as cute. Keith had no idea he’d been a pillow for the boy. Oops?

“Sorry.” Keith said, finally waking up enough to take in his surroundings. A blanket was pooled at his waist and pulled taut, ending up cuddled right under Lance’s chin where it was joined by two others. All Keith could manage to think was ‘blanket hog’. He tutted loudly, looking around at the abandoned cushions and general mess of a room. They must have fallen asleep whilst tarot reading. And on the floor no less. No wonder Keith’s shoulders ached. He tried stretching out the muscles, circling his arms before raising them high above his head.

A hum sounded behind him and Keith glanced over his shoulder to find Lance had uncurled and was now lying on his back. Watching.  “Guess, I could forgive you.”

He grinned, reaching out to ping the hem of Keith’s t-shirt and Keith flinched back. He flushed, dropping his arms down to readjust the shirt he hadn’t realised had ridden up. Was Lance looking? Keith peeked back but if Lance had been looking, he certainly wasn’t now. Instead blankets were being shoved aside and Lance was clambering over furnishings to head to the bathroom. Keith trailed his movement before frowning at the mess they’d left. Blankets covered the floor, candlewax coated the table and cards were strewn everywhere between. He set about tidying it up, the sound of Lance pottering around the bathroom and going through his morning routine a pleasant backdrop.

Keith felt gross. He’d slept in the same clothes for weeks now and whilst that usually wouldn’t bother him, Lance had slept right next to him. He had to have noticed. Keith did not smell like the fresh leaves of summer. He pulled at the fabric of his shirt, frowning at how it was crisp in his fingers. That’s not how cotton should feel.

“Hey Lance?” He called. Lance poked his head out his bedroom door, a meerkat without a shirt. Keith blushed. It wasn’t that urgent. Lance could have got dressed first. He considered not asking, forcing him back to changing, but then Lance kept waiting and Keith’s skin tingled at the attention. “You have any clothes I could borrow?”

Lance didn’t react for a second and Keith felt even more under the microscope. Was that a weird request? But whatever qualms he had disappeared quickly and soon he was nodding enthusiastically, “course!”

~✿~

Lance’s clothes were soft. And comfy. They hung tight over Keith’s shoulders, but loose over his stomach and reached right over his palms. Lance had offered him a selection of shirts, jeans and shorts, but Keith went for the least appropriate desert wear: ripped jeans that were probably ankle swingers on Lance but perfect length for him, a grey t-shirt that still smelt of detergent and a royal purple shirt that hung over the top and made him feel fancy. Though he felt a little constrained by the length, and so went about rolling up the sleeves to his elbows, taking a moment to appreciate the buttons that kept the fabric in place. What a great design. Feeling fresh and clean, having even used Lance’s shower before changing, Keith left the bathroom with a spring in his step. Lance had whipped them up breakfast once again - toast and home-made jam - and Keith slotted easily into his seat. The board on the front door had slipped during the night and now was letting in golden sunlight, that sunk into his calves. It was good. A gentle morning.

Lance must have seen Keith swooning over the sight of welcoming light, because soon he was suggesting they check out the damage of last night’s storm. Keith’s mood soured. He hoped there would be none, but felt it unlikely with the battering they’d received the previous day. But then again, Lance seemed fairly relaxed with the whole affair - probably something to do with the fact that he had literal powers to fix it all with. So, Keith let go of some of his nerves.

The damage, as it turned out, was pretty much just a lot of sand. It piled up high on the porch and over the flowers, weighing down the petals of the flowers that had managed to power through. The rest of the garden looked like the sight of a snail led massacre. A fate Keith didn’t think they’d deserved. Lance sighed at the sight too, before he was distracted by the chicken coop.

It hadn’t faired better. The little red roof had snapped inwards and the whole pen was filled with sand. The chicken wire fence was more of a chicken wire dip, point in life completely defeated as it lay in tatters across the dusty ground. Lance tutted, shovelling sand away from the chipped-up walls. Keith copied the action, reaching into the coop itself, and scooping out the sandy insides. It was tough work but successful. Lance was able to fix the coop with his magic after that, seeming to make it better than before, with freshly varnished wood and extra trimmings. He’d even managed to add a little chimney to the top, painted with a wavy green tip.

He stood back nodding in satisfaction then gave Keith the go ahead to look closely again. Which Keith did happily. The handiwork was awe-inspiring. There were patterns drawn around the door in bright blues and greens as well as around the criss-cross windows. The wood was sanded down to smooth edges and all the fitting were snug to their places. The chickens were lucky, this was a nice place even for humans. Inside, their nests were still fairly messy but Keith assumed the girls would want to fix that themselves. He placed a hand against his chest, briefly remembering his traumatic experience of becoming a nest earlier.  Hopefully Daisy would treat him better once she saw this. Keith stretched back to his feet once again.

“Looks g-” he cut off his compliment as he realised Lance was no longer beside him. Keith whipped his gaze around the vicinity. It was as if the guy had completely disappeared. “Lance?”

“Yeah?”

Keith span on his heels. Lance was on the complete other side of the garden, skimming through a pile of sand where the remnants of many of his flowers had landed.

“How did you-?”

Lance grinned, eyes flickering with mischief. He finished whatever he was doing, walking a few steps backwards.

“Close your eyes.”

Keith felt that an odd request, but he was more than used to that by now and complied.

“Now open them.” Keith nearly jumped out his skin. Lance was right beside him, voice breathed right into his ear.

“What the-! HOW!?”

Lance burst out laughing, flowers nearly crushed in his fist. He shook his head, stepping around to place the small bouquet into the chimney like a vase.

“Ah, the wonders of the curse.” Lance cooed before returning to face Keith. “Step over the cactuses.”

Keith squinted at the little green lumps surrounding the entire garden. Then stepped over them easily. He looked back to Lance in question who stood with his toes against the prickles.

“Now watch me.”

Lance moved his foot but as soon as it breached the boundary, it disappeared. Then he took a step forward and completely disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the lot as if he’d stepped in right from there. Keith stared slack jawed. Lance reformed in front of him.

“Fun right?”

Keith barely processed the words. When Lance had said that he couldn’t leave the lot, Keith hadn’t expected him to mean physically. Like he was trapped inside video game.

“Like Pac-man…”

Lance cocked his head to the side. “Pac-man?”

That question brought Keith back to Earth with startling speed. “YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF PAC-MAN!?”

Keith stepped straight back into the boundary, and right into Lance’s space.

“No…?” The boy said, looking confused, maybe a little concerned and something else Keith wasn’t about to discern. He was already shaking his head. This poor soul. This poor, lonely boy, stuck in a desert with nothing but cards to play with.

“It’s an arcade game.” Keith explained, just the thought sending him straight back to his teenage years spent desperately trying to wipe Shiro’s stupidly high score off the leader board surrounded by loud electric noise and the twinkling of change in pockets. He’d never managed to beat him. And that fact haunted Keith like the little neon ghosts.  

“What’s an arcade game?”

Keith could faint. He could pass out on the floor. What kind of planet was this? One with no arcades, no Pac-man. Just weird curses clearly inspired by them.

“You don’t- you don’t have games?” Keith asked incredulously.

“No? What even are they?”

Keith sighed. What a sad little life. When they finally got out of here, Keith would be taking Lance straight down to his local arcade and forcing him to play Pac-man until he finally knocked Shit-o off the top spot. That would be a sight. He could see the headlines now, ‘startling newbie beats centuries old record first try.’ What a day that would be. Keith swelled with pride before remembering they had to get there first. An explanation would help. “They’re these large things, with a screen that you do stuff on.”

Lance didn’t look convinced and Keith realised he was not the right person for this job. He powered on anyway, a bad description was better than none right? “In Pac-man, you have to eat fruit and defeat ghosts.”

Lance seemed intrigued by that at least. “Ghost hunting?”

“Yeah.” There about, Keith thought, Lance probably had the idea. “And when you leave one side of the screen you appear at the other. Like you.”

“So is the Pac-man cool?” Lance asked, sitting on the precipice of decision. “Is he like a knight or something? Or a bandit!”

Keith hummed. Pacman wasn’t really a man… more of a circle. An entity. Whatever the case, Pac-man was iconic. And Keith could say with clear conscience that, “yes, Pac-man is cool.”

“Okay then.” Lance nodded, seeming to process the information, “I’m Pac-man.”

Keith grinned. Lance would like Pac-man, he was sure. He got fired up far too quickly, not to be the type to get addicted to painfully simple games. Keith shook his head. “I can’t believe you don’t have games.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent discovering what each of their respective planets considered fun. Lance revealed many magic-based disciplines and Keith explained various games and realised just how much time he wasted on them. Time he would gleefully waste all over again if he could introduce them all to Lance. He was also intrigued by Lance’s childhood spent literally changing salt for sugar and using charm spells for high-level drama hide and seek. It was fun, made work clearing the garden much easier. Keith enjoyed their back and forth, hearing Lance’s laughter in the sunshine and watching his expressions change from wide eyed shock to glittering mischievous grins. He barely noticed the passing of time, until Lance was saying it was time for his show and suggesting Keith get on with his maps. Keith wanted to protest, the garden only halfway cleared, but the ache in his back made a good counter point. Maybe it would be a better idea to take a break from manual labour? So, with a sigh, he accepted defeat and nestled down on the porch. Surrounded by paper, he should have been ready to focus. The strange thing was, the work just didn’t seem to have the same level of urgency as it did before.

Notes:

Bet you weren't expecting a chapter practically dedicated to Pac-man, huh? Me neither ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It started out as an in joke with myself and escalated

Also, if rivalry seems like a hazy theme for this chapter, that's because it is. This was all supposed to be part of cosy but it got too long and I haven't managed to write the actual cosy bit yet so tomorrow! (or the day after I've really got to do coursework!!)

Chapter 11: Cosy

Summary:

Stargazing. With blankets and hot drinks

“How’s the search going?”

“It’s… not.”

Keith had spent hours staring at the hills and maps trying to bring meaning to splotches of beige. All that he had achieved was increasing his level of frustration. They could be anywhere. Top left, bottom right, slap bang in the middle. He’d long given up trying to estimate heights to match himself to contour lines, simply trying to find a patch of beige that matched his current predicament of holing up in a flat plane in the middle of a bunch of dunes. Which seemed to be the exact layout of every acre of the desert. He threw down his pen with a huff. He was about to flop onto his back when Lance walked over and nudged his foot into his back bringing him back up to a seated position.

“What’s the problem?”  Lance asked, coming down to crouch beside him. He dragged Keith’s notepad over to himself and flicked though the pages of arrows, numbers and various attempts trying to recreate the area they were currently in. It all looked so crude now.

Keith sighed in defeat. “If they were just star maps I could work with them.”

Lance twitched at this suggestion. Letting the pad drop closed, he hummed, pursing his lips and making calculations that flickered over his eyes. “Star map, huh? I reckon I could work that.”

“Really?” Keith’s cells buzzed back to life at the prospect. A map without beige almost seemed like a distant memory.

Lance nodded already back on his feet and dropping into the yard. “Sure. It’s like changing a card type. If this map could have lived another life as a star map, I’ll be able to find it.”

Keith didn’t think Lance realised quite how much of a blessing those words were.

“Man,” He sighed, leaning back on his hands just to admire the angel, “those powers of yours are real handy.”

And somehow, Lance became more angelic. He beamed at Keith, chest swelled and hair swishing around pink ears. A shot of pure sweetness. And it made Keith’s heart hit overdrive with the rush. He put a hand to his chest, trying to force his beats to slow down though he refused to look away. But then a glint shot into Lance’s eye, like an arrow of mischief, and he was near leering at Keith. “You could say, I’m a star.”

And he ruined it. Keith groaned, rolling his head around his neck and ignoring how his heart was still racing. “Just do the spell.”

Lance made a noise, but got on with his work, albeit with a backtrack of grumpy murmurs. Keith ignored them, watching as Lance picked out a map, before crossing his hands over it and shutting his eyes. The paper vibrated. Then, slowly, splodges of ink started appearing across the surface like thick drops of rain. They cut through the beige like giant holes, oozing across the paper in deep blue stains. White dots were scattered across the patches, and arcing white lines too, forming a map Keith was much more familiar with. Even if his console did all the work for him, Keith always tracked his progress with maps, using them to see which planets were nearby and decide which were worth seeing. He felt more confident already.

“There!” Lance announced, opening his eyes and grinning at the paper. “Just need stars now!”

~✿~

Keith swung his legs on the edge of the porch. His map lay beside him, Lance’s flashlight rolling over it and the sky was slowly tinting blue. The air smelt fresh, and faintly of blossom. Sweet, like spring, though the gentle breeze was starting to become biting.

“Drink?”

Keith turned to find Lance stepping out onto the porch. He was sporting a thick woolly hat and fleece left open to flitter in the night air. There was a blanket tucked under one of his arms and two steaming mugs clutched in a hand each.

“I thought you were going to bed?”

“Course not! Couldn’t leave you out here on your own.”

Keith shrugged, accepting a mug as Lance came to sit beside him.

“Thanks,” he said, steam puffing onto his cheeks. He took a sip and immediately melted as the sweet, gingery warmth spread across his mouth and slid down his throat. It settled in his chest like a cat sleeping against him. Or a chicken. Keith sighed, hardly noticing Lance throwing out his blanket and tucking it across the two of them. Lance shuffled under, body heat getting trapped between them. Like a little radiator, Keith mused. He slid the faintest bit closer, being sure not to stray too far from the mug of ginger tea that was like a hearth in his hands.

“So, how’s the mapping going?” Lance asked, nudging his shoulder. Keith found himself smiling at their closeness.

“Not quite enough stars yet.”

Lance nodded, turning to stare up at the navy blue stretching above them. There were a fair few twinkles nestled in at the moment, but Keith sensed there were more staying obediently quiet until night truly blanketed over them. Lance’s face was mostly shadow, only the silvery light of the waning moon there to paint it faintly with colour but Keith watched it anyway. He noticed how his eyes were subdued, pupils reflecting the sky as he gazed longingly and Keith remembered the last time he’d shared an evening like this. The night Lance introduced it to him. Keith had discarded it as a dream but seeing Lance now, full of wistful wonder, he realised he couldn’t have possibly made it up.

“You like the night sky?” Keith asked gently, wanting to match the peace of the night but craving someone to share it with.

Lance nodded faintly, like he didn’t want to take his eyes from the view, “somehow it always puts me at ease.”

Keith hummed, taking another sip of his drink. Lance drank his too, cheeks shiny in the mist.

“Reminds me of home.”

“Yeah?”

Lance sighed, the movement sending the cloud of steam dissolving into the night. “Yeah. Same ol’ sky. Maybe not the night, though. Home was, well, very loud.”

“Even at this time?”

Keith always found the later he was up, the quieter the house got. He’d end up tiptoeing to the kitchen and somehow still managing to wake Shiro who would demand silence. It wasn’t Keith’s fault his brother slept like a dolphin.

“Even later. My ma always liked babysitting, which usually ended with packing up half asleep kids into a car at gone ten pm. Or babies. They aren’t great overnight guests.”

“I can imagine.”

“Was good though.” Lance added, voice wispy and wistful, “felt nice, y’know? To never be alone. I liked having people to look at the sky with me.”

How many times did Lance have to do that now? Having to imagine his family sat around watching the sky without him, wrestling over who got the best seat, whilst Lance sat in a desert, no voice but his own to hear. Maybe he’d cuddle Vi? Keith hoped he cuddled Vi.  

“What about you?” Lance said suddenly, as if sensing the twist in tension, “bet this is old news to you, huh, space cowboy.”

“No?” Keith had seen a lot of skies, but it seemed he’d grown an attachment to this one. “I mean, you do get used to it, like seeing stars and stuff. I actually thought I was numb to the whole beauty of it, but now, seeing this one, being here…” He trailed off, noticing something in Lance’s expression. It was usually pretty malleable, Lance always acting over the top and expressive, but somehow it was syrup now. His cheek dripped over his hand, eyes squished against the skin as his mouth slid quietly to meet them. Warm like dough. Keith quickly averted his eyes. When did he earn the right to see that kind of expression?

He shifted closer, hand dropping onto the wood to sit between them. An invitation? His cheeks burned at the thought. But he left it there anyway. If anything, it helped ground him as he fought the urge to rest his cheek against Lance’s open shoulder. It was the nights fault. All this low light and gentle tugging of sleep had him forgetting how to act rationally. Keith’s back was perfectly capable of supporting itself, thank you very much. And his hand was simply cold.

“What’s it like where you’re from?” Lance asked, tucking his knees up to his chin.

“Hmm?”

“The sky at night. Is it any different back home?”

Keith thought back to his home. He hadn’t been in so long. It was a small apartment, the same he’d lived in his whole life. Shiro had moved out a good few years ago and with Keith travelling he hadn’t been back in a long time either. But it was still home, always would be, as his mother would say. The thought of it filled him with nostalgia. It may have had crappy raggedy carpets and sofas with the stuffing falling out, but it was their crappy raggedy carpet and sofas with the stuffing falling out. And Keith loved it. The flat was on the ground floor, so they had a small patch of overgrown grass for a garden which Keith had always felt an affinity to. Many a night, he would lie out on the grass staring up at the sky. Sometimes his mother would join him and Keith would point out every single star he would visit. She failed to mention that visiting stars was a conclusively bad idea but Keith still smiled at the memory. He soon learnt how to tell planets from burning hot furnaces of fusion and visited them instead.

“s’different.” Keith said quietly, head still tilting towards Lance’s shoulder as if the two were magnets. “There’s a lot of light pollution back home. And, like, three moons.”

Lance tutted, “greedy planet.”

“Yeah, one’s enough.”

“I’d like to see it though.”

Keith stopped looking at the sky. Lance’s voice was thin, mouth turned down at the corners. He looked like he was challenging the stars, daring them to let him go. Keith grew bolder at the sight. He scooted closer, until his arm fit tight against Lance’s. Then he grabbed his hand from its spot tucked against ceramic. Lance’s palm was warm, slightly sticky and stiffened at the contact. For the barest second Keith’s lung ceased to function. Was this okay? Was it too far? But slowly Lance melted. He twisted in Keith’s grip, fingers dancing along his until they fit snugly together. And with a final squeeze, Keith’s heart soared.

Keith lost track of how long they stayed like that, hand in hand. At some point though, he’d brought the map onto his lap and started circling points. Lance watched keenly, wanting to know every detail of what he was doing until he was teeming with newly found knowledge. He helped point out constellations, giving them names and finding new ones that Keith couldn’t for the life of him decipher. He still admired them though. They worked until they’d mapped the entire paper with new findings and matched them up with Keith’s old ones. Keith was sure he could pinpoint their location on the desert maps now. Still, he made plans to move.

Instead, the two carried on watching the stars. They talked, laughed, mumbled and yawned until Keith’s eyes felt weighted with wax seals. Somehow, they’d ended up lying side by side, watching the sky blink down at them. Keith could fall asleep so easily. Hearing the soft fluttering of leaves in the wind and the faint smell of the vanilla that came with it. Keith commented on the unusual scent and a sleepy Lance slurred something about night scented flowers. He seemed to be falling asleep but Keith was struck. As if the night wasn’t romantic enough, Lance added sweet fragrances to the mix? A swell of adoration burst through Keith’s body. How had he ended up here? With the most adorable person he’d ever met, half asleep by his side? His eye lids may have been heavy, and he could barely compile a single thought, but Keith couldn’t help but feel that in that moment, he’d found everything he could ever need in life. It felt like his heart would burst from his chest and he squeezed their entwined hands to try and stop it. Lance hummed, head rolling against the porch. He had fought valiantly in their losing battle against sleep, but it was time for retreat. And before Keith’s dreams could steal him away too, he tilted his head down, travelling the barest distance to press his lips into the warmth of Lance’s hair. A seal on their night.

Notes:

Sorry, I'm a bit behind on updates! But I did hand in my last ever coursework today so woop woop got more time to write!!
Also, I really could have fallen asleep writing that last part so hopefully, it's cosy for you too~ (and not full of mistakes lol)

Anyway, as always, thanks for reading!! ♥

Chapter 12: Ocean

Summary:

Good morning, and welcome to cooking breakfast with Keith~

They were making a habit of this, Keith realised, as he blinked awake against a warm weight. And it was only a half way good one, if the various aches in Keith’s bones were anything to go by. He buried into Lance’s shirt attempting to ignore them, but as much as the steady rise and fall of Lance’s chest wanted to lull Keith towards sleep, his back had other ideas, demanding attention with a sharp stabbing motion. Keith groaned, sitting up with the effort of someone covered in tar, body clicking far too many times to be healthy. He stretched in place, wincing as something popped. That seemed to put everything back into place, and he unrolled his shoulders, finally relaxed enough to take stock of his surroundings.

He was on the porch still, the sky a soft butter yellow. The chickens were poking about, Miss Daisy clacking her beak on the chicken wire of their pen. Another escape attempt Keith assumed. Clambering to his feet, he shooed her from the corner before stepping over the fence and lifting the lid of their house. Two eggs sat in two nests. Perfect. Keith gathered them up, gently shutting the roof and whispering a thank you to the girls before hopping across the garden and into the house, making sure Lance was still fast asleep as he passed.

Keith hadn’t cooked in a long while. And he hadn’t been present when Lance had for the past few days. But it was like riding a bike, right? And all kitchens were basically the same. Keith just had to do a quick search for a pan and wherever Lance kept his ingredients. The oven was obvious at least – a standard electric hob that sat in the middle of the counters. Keith ducked down to the cupboards sandwiching it and found pots and pans. Too easy. Lifting out a decently sized frying pan, he tested its weight in his hand. It felt good. Like a lost limb. He dropped it down on the hob with a clatter before grabbing another small saucepan and hanging onto it as he opened more cupboards. The search wasn’t too fruitful though, all the bottom ones seeming to be used for utensils and old storage, Keith even encountering a couple of old ceramic teapots and pepper jars shaped into caricatures on his way.

The top ones, hanging off the wall above him, had to have been hiding the big money he decided. Opening the first, however, didn’t reveal much in the way of prizes. All it held was their bread from the previous morning, which to be fair was useful, but the emptiness covering the rest was rather questionable. So, he opened the second. And Keith almost regretted it. The cupboard was filled top to bottom, back to front with tins upon tins of baked beans. Keith rifled through quickly, but there was no break. It was exactly like a freshly laid shelf straight out a supermarket. It was unnerving. Keith approached the next with caution, creeping open to the next set of doors, only to find more of the same. Beans. Everywhere. Keith moved to open the last, his final hope, and his stomach dropped. Beans. More beans. Just beans. Where was the food Lance had fed him yesterday? Why did he only have baked beans?

Keith frowned. Then he sighed. Then he looked over to the counter with the tiny knob of bread and two eggs waiting for his return. He’d made a promise to himself. No more baked beans. But there were no other options. And what else went better with fried eggs and toast? Keith shuddered. He couldn’t. But then he thought of Lance, blinking awake on the porch to be greeted with a full breakfast, cooked especially for him and Keith’s resolve flooded through him. He grabbed a tin, and marched back to the oven. The beans would not win. He dumped them into the pan and turned up the heat. At least boiling them might give him the shot at retribution he so desired.

Keith hummed as he cooked, grinning as the frying egg popped to life, oil sizzling happily in the pan. The kitchen smelt so good. Even the baked beans seemed appetising, their tomato flavour wafting up Keith’s nostrils and drawing him closer. Keith had kicked up the grill too, toasting the last slices of bread below it and savouring the scent of freshly baking bread joining everything else. It was good to cook. He felt accomplished. Helpful.

“Mmm, what’s cooking good looking?” Lance cooed, already in the kitchen and scooping Keith up in a blanket cocoon. Keith hadn’t even noticed him enter the house but now he was all that he could notice. Lance had hooked his chin over Keith’s shoulder, hands wondering around his sides to rest on his stomach, warm and cosy like a living bed, and Keith immediately melted.

“Breakfast.” He said intelligently.

Lance stifled a yawn, seeming to snuggle closer but somehow perking up at the word. He stretched his neck to look over the pans before pointing to the beans that were just beginning to boil.

“You sure you don’t want me to change those up? I know you’re super fed up of beans.”

Keith shook his head, “nah, they’ll be fine cooked.”

Rather, Keith was beginning to look forward to eating them. The classic combination seemed to be stirring something within him. Hunger probably. Something still didn’t sit right in his gut though, so he voiced its call, nodding to the cupboards that were all left open to display their eerie contents that would be much better suited to a nuclear test site. “But, where do you keep your actual food?”

“That’s it.” Lance replied simply, squeezing closer to lay his head against Keith’s neck like a pillow. “I’m, like, a professional at food changes now.”

“Wait.” Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, his stomach going cold. “Are you saying I’ve been eating beans this entire time?”

Lance twisted his head away, but not fast enough to hide the wide grin covering his face. It didn’t matter anyway, at this distance his laughter resonated through Keith’s back.

“Are you kidding me!?” Keith burst out, “I thought I was done with beans!”

Lance’s laughter only grew. He pinched Keith’s waist, slamming a wet kiss to his cheek before disappearing towards the table, still giggling. “Wasn’t just beans. Was sand too, for flour. And the jam was made from my home-grown strawberries.”

“Which were grown from?”

Lance hummed, before hanging his head low, amusement evident in his voice “beans changed into seeds.”

Great. Keith owed his life to a damn tin of baked beans. He still had nightmares over that damn juice, barely moving in a yellowed plastic bottle. If he was Lance, he probably could have turned it into water. Or a decent meal. Keith turned back to his breakfast, bubbling away innocently on the stove. Lance could make anything. Why would even want beans?

“I haven’t had actual beans in a while though,” Lance piped up, “and certainly none cooked just for me.”

Keith glanced back, not sure whether to believe him, but Lance was smiling. He seemed so relaxed, still sporting his bed head and blanket like it was a new fashion. There was that same doughy look on his face and Keith’s tummy turned to jelly. Maybe beans were alright. He wouldn’t even mind making them every morning for the rest of his life if he got to see those kinds of expressions alongside them. Especially after seeing the more hardened one’s last night. Lance carried pain. Keith knew that it wouldn’t go away soon. But if he could outnumber those expressions with happy ones then maybe they’d be less of a burden on Lance.

So, Keith returned to cooking, humming to himself as he flipped the eggs and checked the browning toast. Somewhere behind him he heard Lance shuffling about. Then there was a soft thud and music began floating through the house. It was a light kind of beat, with soft guitar and gentle drum beats, dotted with pops and buzz from the record player. It was a warm kind of music, like driving through country roads in the heat of summer. Keith plated up the food, bopping along to the unfamiliar song with his mind sliding into easy routine. Homely, his brain supplied. Placing Lance’s plate down first, he dropped some cutlery onto the table too, relishing in the eagerness crossing Lance’s face. He was already diving into the meal despite Keith not being quite done. The sight warmed in his chest and he crossed the room quickly to get the butter.

Keith hadn’t noticed before, but Lance had a lot of magnets on his fridge. Small animals and strange symbols pinned amongst post-it notes marked with items and arrows, probably indicating how to make various foods. Keith swooped past to grab the butter but halted as he closed the fridge door. There was a photograph too. It was clearly worn, with white veins across the centre and corners chewed up like fluff, but the image was still clear. It was of Lance, a younger version of his own, with wild eyes and crooked teeth. A smaller him stood in the front, arm hooked around his neck and throwing out a piece sign with a smile wide enough to split his face in two. Behind them was a dark shining mass, and bright red lights in the sky, spreading like flowers. Keith lingered on it a moment.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” Keith called over his shoulder, tapping the picture, before turning around, “just admiring your photo.”

Lance paused mid bite, sauce dripping to his plate as he cocked his head at Keith for a moment. Then he flicked his gaze over to the fridge and gained some semblance of understanding.

“Oh that! That’s me and my nephew, Sylvio!”

Keith hummed, placing the butter between them and digging in to his food. It tasted better than he could have imagined, eggs crisp and yolks spilling out across the toast like a river. Perfect, as Shiro would say. Keith shimmied his shoulders with pride and began gulping down the food in earnest.

“You guys close?” He asked between mouthfuls.

“Oh yeah! The twins love their Uncle Lance! I’m the best one, because I take them down to the pier to see the fireworks every summer.”

“Course you are.”

“Yeah.” Lance sighed.

“What’s it like. The fireworks?”

“Well, it’s only the best event of the year.” Lance boasted, chest puffing out, “there’s a parade and music. So much food. Like, seriously, those kids have enough energy without pumping them full of sugar.”

Keith laughed at that. Shiro and him were sugar fiends as kids, sprinting down the road to the corner shop at just the mere sight of pocket money. They chugged down sherbet and so many sour sweets they’d get blisters on their tongues. Worth it though. Maybe his mother would disagree?

“But they were always most excited for the fireworks.” Lance continued, fondness etched into every letter, “we’d climb down to the pier early to get the best spot. Nadia always wanted to sit by my feet, legs dangling above the water, but Sylvio wanted to climb. He always stood up on the wooden railing. Boy, if my mamá saw that, she’d flip.”

“Probably why they liked going with you.” Keith noted.

Lance made a noise of offense. “Hey, they liked it because it was me! Not because I let them misbehave. Besides, their dad was there too, so it was all safe.”

“Sure.”

Lance glared but it had no heat. If anything there was a smile hiding beneath it. “Anyway. They let off the fireworks from the light house opposite so we were in prime position. And as soon as the first went off, the kids went dead silent. And they were always beautiful. The colours reflected off the water, and the waves sparked with the movements. The ocean, it’s always so gorgeous, but man, have you seen it under fireworks?”

Keith shook his head.

“Breath-taking.”

Keith couldn’t really picture it, but Lance’s face said it all, the wistful eyes, hint of a smile of his lips. And he’d looked so excited in the picture, moonlit water behind him tinted in pink. Keith didn’t care if he couldn’t picture it. Because he would see it. And he would see it with Lance, curse be damned. All of Lance’s memories seemed to be laced with sadness because of it, even this one, where Lance’s cheeks began to droop. Keith didn’t want to see it anymore, hear the unspoken words.

“Tell me about the curse.” He said, nearly demanded, and Lance blinked up at him surprised. “Tell me how it happened. Tell me how to lift it.”

Notes:

I thought it would be cute to upload this in the morning then didn't get up til 12 (lol) Ah, well, it's morning somewhere in the world

I'm still behind schedule, but these chapters all end up longer than planned! But they're better for it so meh

Anyway, thanks for reading!! ♥

Chapter 13: Flirt

Summary:

Lance's haunted past in Desert City

Desert City - 3 Years Earlier  

 

Ah, downtown, the buzzing sub-city of the outcasts. And just about the coolest place Lance had ever been to. He was practically fresh out the country, barely set foot in the city and he was already holding his own. He nodded to the man unloading boxes from an unmarked van, winked at the woman smoking on the curb. God, if his mother could see him now. Oh, she would be yelling so loud they’d hear her all the way out on the other side of the desert. The thought made Lance swagger a little harder. What was cooler than rebellion, than rebellion done with flair and devastatingly good looks?

Something squelched beneath Lance’s foot, and he winced. That wasn’t a puddle of water was it? He threw his head up high, continuing his walk maybe a little quicker than before. And soon a rotten stench snuck up his nose to confirm his suspicion. Lance ducked into one of the side-alleys, stopping to pick up his foot and discovering that his shiny new leather boots were now sporting a chunky orange varnish. Lance gagged.

Hopping across the alley, he grabbed onto the edge of a bin and his fingers dropped into something half liquid. So gross. Kicking his foot into a puddle, he washed off the sick, frowning at his hand that had something dark, green and slimy covering it. Wonderful. There was a dripping drain pipe over-head, so he used that as a semi-useless shower. At least most of it was gone, enough for him to discretely wipe it on his jeans. Well, the night wasn’t off to a great start, lucky for him it was as young as he, so Lance marched back out onto the street with all the misplaced confidence of a peacock approaching a swan.

The Hare’s Hoof stood like a black hole at the dead end of the street. The bouncer practically glared through Lance as he approached, raising an eyebrow to say one word.

“ID.”

Lance offered a wry smile, sliding his wallet from his jacket pocket and flashing it at the bouncer. The man just rolled his eyes, stepping aside and Lance skipped past him. Three months legal, baby! Take that judgey-eyes.

Heading up the familiar staircase, no elbow room and creaking that bordered on dangerous, Lance swung into the bar. The room spread before him like a plain, Lance the lion, people the prey. Plush red sofas of velvet spread across the room, tables dotted between with standing lights and strange statues of busts and animals. The place was already bustling, women in glamorous dresses leaning over sofa cushions, men leering close, placing drinks on tables and towards mouths. Lance swooped down to the closest group, “evening ladies, or should I say angels?”

God he was good.

“Sure, you’re old enough to be out?” The woman closest asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing, miss?” Lance countered, producing a winning smile. The woman rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you charmer.” She said, turning back to her glass of wine.

Lance grinned to himself, hopping over to the next table and sliding into the open chair. There were three young women here, long blonde curls hanging over uncovered shoulders and sparkling silver dresses.

“Sorry to disturb you ladies, but would any of you happen to have a map?”

They frowned, looking to each other until the leader shrugged her shoulders, “sorry, can’t say we do.”

Lance sighed, gazing goo-goo eyes at her. “That’s such a shame, because I’m so darn lost in your eyes.”

Giggles erupted at his side, the closest blonde hiding behind immaculately painted nails. The girl in front rolled her eyes with a flicker of a smirk and the last shook her head in good humour. Success! Lance nodded his goodbyes before heading to the bar. It was barely ten o’clock and he was already hitting the right marks. Lance had a good feeling about this evening.

“Ah, there’s my favourite bar maid” he cooed, the girl with deep ginger curls approaching him with delight.

“Lance!” She greeted, propping her elbows on the bar and fluttering long lashes in is eyes. “What will it be this evening?”

“Oh, anything from you is good, my flower.” He oozed, stroking a finger across her cheek. The girl near squeaked, spinning around to fetch whatever drink she felt he could use. The girl, flower, as he was now calling her since her actual name had slipped him for a good few days now, was Lance’s constant in this world. She seemed about his age, always wore the rosiest pink on her porcelain cheeks and was the most susceptible to his lines. Cute.

Lance sat back in his stool to gaze around the room. More people were entering, a dice game was beginning in the back and Lance definitely saw someone switching cards under the table of another. That corner seemed to be some sort of unofficial casino and Lance knew better than to approach if he wanted to hold onto his money. He came here for the game, not for the trouble. Speaking of, a man had come up to the bar next to him. A handsome man, with spiky brown hair, amber eyes and a jaw line that could cut glass.

“Well, hello,” Lance greeted, turning slight eyes and a flash of teeth towards him, “are you a space explorer? Because I wouldn’t mind you exploring my space.”

The guy huffed out a laugh, and Lance felt it in his chest. He sat a little straight, leaning his elbow up on the bar, to look him over properly. His three-piece suit hit all the right spots. “Seriously though, how come I haven’t seen you around before?”

“I’ve been away.” He said flatly, not sparing Lance a glance. Annoying. Lance was a specimen that demanded attention. He leaned closer, dropping his voice an octave.

“Want me to tell you your fortune?”

The guy flashed sly eyes towards him and Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He was hooked.

“Sure.”

Lance smirked, digging out the pre-prepared number from his pocket – he was no amateur. Taking the man’s hand, he flipped it over and placed the paper in his palm with finality.

“There’s your future.” He said with a wink.

“Lance?”

Lance jolted at the voice. The barmaid was staring at him, eyes wide and glistening and glass gripped tight in her hand.

“Hey sis.” Came an overly smug voice next to him, “this the guy you were telling me about?”

Shit. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. What the fuck? This was bad. Lance scrambled for a way to fix it.

“You were flirting with my brother?” The girl hissed, venom leaking out her words, and grip looking so tight he was scared the glass would break.

“No!” Lance announced quickly, “I mean yes! But I flirt with everybody! It’s what I do! It’s not serious!”

“You weren’t serious with me?”

“EXACTLY!” Wait. No. The girl looked like fury itself. The glass smashed in her hand, crystals exploding across the abr.

“MOM!”

“I should go.”

Lance span from the chair but his jacket got yanked back, hard. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. The man dragged Lance back, shoving a hand over his mouth as he pulled him behind the bar and through the back of house, past the kitchens and the toilets and back room with someone dealing something he’d pretend he didn’t see. A door flew open and he was thrown out onto an unfamiliar street. There was steam bursting from vents and mouldy cardboard boxes everywhere.

“This guy thinks he can flirt with anyone he wants.” Came a scathing voice.

“He played with me mom.”

“Doesn’t know any manners.”

Lance straightened out his jacket and spun around to find three faces staring him down like demons from the top of the concrete steps. Lance was frozen to the spot. The brother on the left, sister on the right, and in the middle an older woman with hair pulled into a tangled beehive, eyes like a hawk’s piercing Lance’s heart. The mother. And Lance realised with startling dread, the tavern owner.

“You.” She spat, voice sandpapered rough. “What’s a person worth to you?”

“Everything!” Lance yelped, “Money, gold, magic!”

He struggled to find more. What kind of question was that? What kind of person was this? He needed to get away but his back was already against a wall and the alley spread into darkness both ways. “Life! Everyone’s worth a life! We all deserve to live! I don’t hate!”

“But you don’t love either.”

What? What was going on? Lance loved. Loved everyone. People. Women. Flirting. He was full of love.

The woman shook her head as if she could read his thoughts. “You don’t know what you have. Or what you do. How many daughters have you hurt with your flippant, meaningless words?”

“They know I’m a flirt!” Lance cried, annoyed at the insinuation, “I’m just playing, they know that!”

“Do they?” The woman roared, “My darling Katherine didn’t. You lead her on and you threw her out. And I’ll do the same to you.”

Lance squeezed back against the wall. He needed to leave. This was dangerous. He could feel something emanating from the woman. Something dark. Something powerful. He swallowed thickly.

“Okay! I’ve learnt my lesson! No flirting with young women!”

“You just don’t get it do you?” The man said, folding his arms against the railing.

“You’ve learnt nothing!” The girl spat haughtily.

What was there to learn? Flirting’s bad, Lance would stop. He’d rather leave with his life right now.

“You need to learn respect.” The woman interrupted, poking a sharp fingernail to his chest. Lance tried to steady his breathing, keep as far away from the blade as possible, but she was gaining on him, crowding over him in godlike glory. “You need to suffer. Feel her pain. Feel all their pain.”

She moved in even closer, darkness swirling around her fingertip and Lance realised with horror where he’d seen this magic before. Fate magic. But it was all wrong. Curse.

“I banish you.” The woman growled, shadows whipping around them like a tornado, “Live dry and lonely, lest you do more harm. Return only when you’ve learnt the pain of romance, the hurt of love. The trouble you have caused.”

Lance made to scream but it was too late, his chest ripped upwards. The world whipped around him, dark cold winds and bright flashing lights. It burned through his veins, threw his head back like he was being pulled by puppet strings. His skin buzzed, growing hotter and hotter until everything stopped.

He fell to the ground. Gasping for air, he squeezed his fingers for purchase but there were no longer cold cobbles underneath them. Instead, there was something coarse, sneaking beneath his nails and squeezing between his knuckles. Lance ripped his head up. There was a wooden cabin looming over him, empty and unwelcoming. And in every other direction there was sand. It reached all the way to the sky, not another building in site and his stomach pooled with dread. He wasn’t in the alley anymore. He was in the desert. Lance had been banished to the desert.

Notes:

There we go! Young Lance got too big for his boots, and got cursed for it! Maybe a slightly over the top punishment for being a flirt but I reckon he'll learn his lesson ;D

Thanks for reading!~

Chapter 14: Fireworks

Summary:

Keith has heard enough about the curse and hatches a plan.

“So, yeah, guess I kinda got what I deserved, huh?”

Lance shrugged off his story, lowering his knife and fork to an empty plate in a clatter. Scraping his chair along the floor, he picked up Keith’s plate too, bringing them all to the sink. Keith heard the water start but made no attempt to help. He was still reeling. Lance had been cursed for being a dumb kid? Sure, he’d done some damage, but it had been years. And he was still stuck here. How was he supposed to learn the hardships of love when he was sitting in a desert all alone? Keith’s blood boiled. What kind of lesson was that? This had gone too far, from a taste of his own medicine to downright cruelty. Keith wasn’t going to stand for it.

“No.”

He shoved his chair back hard, rising to his feet.

“No. You didn’t get what you deserved.”

The clatter of washing up stopped, Lance turning to stare at Keith who was having a hard time controlling his temper.

“Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you did hurt that girl. But you’re not anymore. You shouldn’t be stuck here. You should be out there. With your family or shaking up a town. Just- you should be free.”

“Keith…”

Shaking away his thoughts, Keith walked straight up to Lance, grabbing his soap bubbled hands and driving his words right into his eyes. “I’m going to fix this.”

Lance’s lips parted in a breath. His voice was thin, carrying a tenth of the power it usually did. “What do you mean?”

“I’m gonna go to Desert City. I’m gonna find that witch, and I’m gonna make her take off that stupid curse.”

“But-”

“Please.” Keith felt his thunder fall flat. “I want to.”

Needed to. Keith was sure his blood would never, could never, return to its regular temperature if he didn’t at least try. Lance deserved better than this. He wasn’t who he was those years before. He was softer, kinder, wiser. He wanted his family, he wanted freedom. As far as Keith was concerned, he wasn’t some flirty kid who needed knocking down a few. He was the strongest person Keith had ever met, fighting on in this desert, making a life for himself even when it seemed hopeless. Keith had to do help him. He needed to see Lance live happily. Live free. See those happy memories produce happiness once again. Afterall, he wore joy so well.

“Please can I?”

Lance stared a moment longer, eyes glistening like a deep body of water that Keith was slowly falling into. The boy managed a shaky nod, lip clipped under a tooth and Keith nearly collapsed with relief. It was enough. Keith felt the confirmation bubble through his very bones and without even realising he was squeezing Lance’s hands tight in his own. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.” Lance said, though he sounded unsure. Maybe dazed? Keith couldn’t place it in his own giddy state. It didn’t matter, he was going to get Lance out of here. And maybe a selfish part of him hoped that when he did, Lance would want to stay by his side. But he squashed that feeling down. Because it was Lance’s choice what he would do. Keith was just happy to ensure that decision happened.

“I’ll mark up the final maps.” He said firmly, releasing Lance to find his materials. Lance made a noise behind him which Keith assumed was confirmation, and he marched back outside to set to work.

~✿~

Once his route was settled, Keith estimated that the trek into Desert City would take no more than a day. Lance made the keen suggestion of packing for at least two in case of any problematic encounters or miscalculation and Keith was thankful he did because, honestly, he hadn’t even thought ahead to gathering supplies. His stomach turned at the memory of his last under prepared journey.

Lance was digging through the cupboards to find a canister for water, as Keith spoke grimly. “Do you think you could change up some of those beans before I go?”

“Already done, my man!” Lance called, smacking his head on the cupboard top with a thud. He hissed out a curse, rubbing at the newly formed bump and Keith found himself attempting to conceal his amusement. Lance threw the canister onto the countertop with vengeance before grabbing some Tupperware boxes from the fridge.

“Potato salad. Pasta in tomato sauce. And,” He tapped the top of the orange once with glee, “My favourite, garlic knots.”

“How even?” Keith asked, as Lance placed them next to the canister, heading towards the sink.

“Magic!” Lance replied gleefully, “And, like, a lot of trial and error.”

Keith bumped him away with his hip, taking the canister and filling it from the tap himself. “Thanks. Seriously, I don’t deserve this.”

“Sure you do.”

Keith didn’t believe him but wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He gathered the new supplies and hurried over to his rucksack. He needed to do something to pay Lance back for his kindness. And his common sense.

“Actually, I have something else for you too.”

Keith swiftly dumped the supplies onto the sofa to spin around. Lance was hunched into his shoulders a little, hands hidden behind his back, and swaying on his toes. Keith stepped back around the sofa to face him and Lance smiled almost shyly. Keith had the sudden urge to squeeze his cheeks. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah?”

Lance hesitated a moment longer, wetting his lips as he analysed Keith another second. Then he revealed his secret. Stretching out his hands, he presented a familiar face to Keith. He’d practically abandoned the thing when he first entered the house, leaving it on a side-table, lifeless. But here Lance was, pushing Keith’s plastic radio into his chest. It felt like the return of an old friend.

“I, uh, charged the batteries, and…”

Keith picked the radio up carefully, turning over the bleached plastic in his hands and embracing a wave of nostalgia. He did like this thing. Even if it had abandoned him in his time of need. It seemed different than before though, but he couldn’t quite work out how.

“Well, I mean… you don’t have to… but, I umm, I added a microphone.”

Keith blinked up at Lance, noticing his knotted mouth and rising red cheeks. Then he glanced back down, noticing a small notch in the top of the yellow arch and small buttons either side of it.

“It’s just- if you feel lonely out there, you can, y’know talk to me. You got my signal, and now I’ve got yours so…”

Lance went quiet, avoiding Keith’s eyes all together. But Keith felt warm, honey blooming in his chest and spreading through his arms.

“I love it.” He said, before ducking in to press his lips against the soft skin just below Lance’s ear. “Thank you.”

“Sure!” Lance squeaked, “yeah, s’cool, no problem!”

His voice wavered over every word, pitch all over the place and croaks breaking everywhere in between and Keith couldn’t find it anything but adorable. His chest tightened and he almost went in for another kiss but forced himself back to an upright position. There was no need to overdo it. Nodding to Lance he placed the radio next to his backpack, reminding himself that there were other ways to show gratitude than by covering a person’s entire face with kisses. He just needed to find something that would appeal to Lance.

Unzipping his bag, he found his old supplies sitting like mouldy potatoes awaiting compost. He almost pitied them, guilt snagging his throat for forcing them to live so long. He quickly threw out the t-shirt, followed by the tissue and the broken cup before pausing as his eyes landed on something else. His cells buzzed at a new prospect. A plan. He checked to see if Lance was still in the room before removing the items and wrapping them in the old t-shirt.

“I’m just gonna say goodbye to the girls,” he called. There was a muffled ‘alright’ from somewhere in the back and Keith grinned to himself. Perfect. Clutching the t-shirt to his chest, he popped into the kitchen, grabbing the matches from the top drawer and tucking them into his back pocket. Then he hopped outside, running to the far end of the garden to set up his surprise. He hoped the chickens wouldn’t get too much of a fright. Thinking that, he decided to actually say a few words to them before he left.

“Don’t be mad at me,” he whispered, crouching in the pen to gather the three little fluffballs into his arms, “your dad will love this.”

Then he pressed three little kisses to three little heads before finding Lance.

~✿~

“Keith, what is this about?”

Keith licked his lips, dragging Lance out onto the porch by his hands and sitting him down in the same place they’d sat the night before.

“You’ll see.” He said, flashing his teeth before running across the garden. He made sure to block Lance’s view as he ignited a match, setting it the long strings buried in the sand. Then he ran as fast as could back to Lance’s side.

“What’s going o-“

“Shush,” Keith hissed, trying not to pant too hard. He flopped against the deck, whipping around to look at the sky, “watch.”

Only a second later did the first set off. A bright shot of red flew into the sky before erupting above them with a loud bang. It fizzled against the blue, radiating out in sparks that dissolved into shining glitter. Lance’s breath hitched and Keith could barely contain his excitement. He shoved his hand next to Lance’s letting their pinkies touch as the next firework flew up.

“Keith,” Lance breathed. He was looking right at him now, with pupils blown, expression intense. It was new. Dangerous. Lance looked as if he was on a razors edge. Like he was about to fall, dive head first into something and Keith didn’t know what it was, but he knew he wanted to be there for it. The lights flashed beside them, licking Lance’s face with colour but that was all he could see - Lance. Taking his everything. Giving his everything. Keith was filled with want. Like a fire. Lance consumed him. Was this the moment? Where you took a chance? Gave yourself over to someone? His heart thudded with anticipation. His finger twitched against Lance’s. It was like electricity.

He jolted back.

Too much. It was hard to breathe. He looked out to the fireworks, deep blue flowering above him. Lance. He could feel him everywhere. And it was too much. It was scary. Exciting. Like sitting at the top of a rollercoaster and not knowing when it was going to come down. The boom of the fireworks resonated in his chest. He needed to cool down. Breathe. Calm his electrified heart. Luckily, Lance could do that too.

Without a word, he carefully slipped his pinky around Keith’s and Keith finally released his breath.

“Thank you.” Lance said as the smoke began to fall and the quiet of the desert returned. “Haven’t seen fireworks in years.”

Keith managed a grunt, still feeling like his chest was about to crack like glass. “No problem.”

“Will you-?” Lance began before stopping himself. Keith looked over but he was hiding once again. “Will you come back? Even if you don’t break the curse?”

Keith’s chest still felt too full, too fragile. But he couldn’t resist. He wrapped his hand firmly around Lance’s, risking the pace overload and the shortness of breath.

“Of course.”

Notes:

alternative ending: "Of curse"

lmao, if i was a reader i'd slap me right now. and maybe keith too. he should get in the pen lol

Anyway, thanks for reading! This chapter came out way better than when it started, I actually wasn't going to bother finishing it until tomorrow but boy am I glad I did! :) xx

Chapter 15: City

Summary:

Keith finally makes it to Desert City!

Walking through the desert with Lance at his side and without the looming threat of his show ending was doing wonders for Keith’s progress. The desert sprawled as always, but there were firm rectangles dotted along the horizon up ahead and the hills were slowly plateauing. Lance kept his mind busy too, with endless chatter and positive thoughts. Keith tried not to let the gratuitous flirting go to his head or the small squeaks Lance made every so often when Vi demanded attention a little too aggressively go to his heart. But it was damn hard when Lance redirected all his cooing onto Keith.

“You stopping for a drink?” Lance asked, voice slightly muffled by the buzz over the line.

Keith shook his head before remembering he was talking through a radio and making words instead, “no m’alright.’

There was a resulting tut on the other side of the line. Keith opened his mouth but Lance’s words were already pouring out.

“Keith it’s been like three hours and you haven’t taken a single sip.”

Like Lance would know that.

“You gotta stay hydrated out there, who knows what else the desert could throw out you!”

Keith sighed, “Lance I-“

“Water is so important! That’s like survival basics! I mean it’s-“

“Lance.”

“Rule one of the traveller’s guide!”

“Lance.”

“And rule two is not telling your buddy lies!”

“Lance, I-“

“I mean what if you pass out!? What then? Alone in the desert, not a single person out there to help you! What do you do then?”

“Maybe get some peace and quiet?”

“Hey!”

Keith couldn’t help his snickering laughter. It was nice being fussed over, but this was going a bit far. Keith was fine. He had triple the supplies he needed, the city was literally ten minutes away and he’d drank nearly a whole bottle of water already. The only thing he hadn’t done was stop and notify Lance every time he took so much as a sip.

“Lance, I’m fine.” He said flatly, barely keeping the exasperation out of his voice, “seriously. You don’t need to worry.”

Lance hummed an unconvinced hum. 

“Ya hear that Vi?” He muttered, words already dripping with sarcasm, “Keith says he’s fine. And that I don’t need to worry. Yeah, because he’s a seasoned traveller. And apparently knows everything about survival. Like only packing three tins of baked beans on a trip and keeping half a tank of fuel for a full day’s worth of flying.”

“I told you that was a mistake!”

“Mmhmm. One you would have made again if it weren’t for my expert preparation skills.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Even if that were true, he didn’t need Lance badmouthing him to Violet. He’d made real progress with the chickens. Even Daisy no longer ran in his presence. It was more of a lopsided flinch now. Besides that, Keith was convinced Henrietta had taken a shine to him, maybe even liking him more than Lance. She always sidled up to Keith when they entered the pen, making a conscious effort to peck at his grain instead of Lance’s. Yeah, Keith was pretty sure they had a bond. A mutual kind of respect that Lance could only dream of.

“Listen Vi,” Keith whispered down to the speaker, “whatever your papi is saying, is untrue. He’s just jealous of our relationship.”

Lance squawked, “am NOT. I am their father, they are blessed to have me. You! You’re just an acquaintance, a co-worker! Yeah! Hah! Polite chit chat and a meaningless signature on a birthday card is all you’re gonna get!”

“Sure.” Keith replied, smile wry. “Not like Vi gave me a snuggle before I left.”

“Wha-!”

Lance’s words quickly devolved into heated Spanish, Keith assuming to those of highest insult. He probably had his hands curled over Vi’s ears as he said them, refusing to let her innocence be corrupted but also refusing not to say them. It was unfortunate then, that they didn’t have the offensive effect desired on either party. Vi didn’t speak human full stop and Keith enjoyed the explosion, practically basking in the success of his teasing and imagining Lance’s exaggerated features as he spluttered. It was stupid, but he couldn’t help poking at Lance, getting rewarded with his unrestricted passion. Plus, the boy’s complete adoration for his chickens was really sweet. It wasn’t like he needed to know the exact definition of the snuggling anyway, or the fact that it was really more of an unexpected sneeze occurring after Keith had kissed the chicken. It was less cute affection and more hilarious accident. Actually, now he thought about it, Keith really wanted to tell Lance about it. The strange noise that sounded like a dog toy paired with the sudden shudder that magically converted her into a Tudor lady was something of an enigma. He tried to cover his snort at the memory but Lance caught it. And took on the defensive.   

“Well I’m snuggling her now and she’s PURRING.”

That made Keith laugh more. “She’s not a cat!”

“So? Chickens purr!”

“Do not.”

“Do!”

Shamefully, that argument managed to get them all the way to the city.

~✿~

Stepping out from the sand and onto tarmac wasn’t as liberating as Keith had imagined it would be. Browning buildings with small plastic windows and rust poking out the walls rose high on both his sides as he lumbered down the streets. Cars zipped past like beetles, humming and popping, exhaust saturating the air as they went, reminding Keith just how nice it was to be in a desert surrounded by nature. Though Lance had given him strict instruction that if there were lots of people around, he wasn’t in the right place. Which was promising. Though knowing Lance’s seedy past and now having witnessed just how dilapidated the main hub was, Keith felt a chill rattle down his spine. Banishment to a cosy cabin in the desert didn’t seem so bad now.

Spotting a side alley with cobbled ground Keith crossed the street and slipped into the darkness. The buzz of traffic near instantly gave way to groaning winds and dripping pipes. He trod carefully, narrowly missing half a mouldy sandwich and the rat trying to drag it back towards the drains. Lovely.

“I can’t believe you actually lived here.” Keith muttered, eyeing a pile of sick before deciding to pick up the pace.

“Well, technically I didn’t. I just came here for the…”

“What? Atmosphere?”

“Yes!”

Keith tutted, ducking out into the backstreet. There certainly was an atmosphere here. One of indifference and misdemeanour. It didn’t seem to fit Lance at all. Maybe that was the point? Rebellion he’d said, refusing to believe the life of altruism was for him. He really was a frightfully misinformed youth. Keith was glad he’d met the current Lance: self-assured, considerate and unafraid of snuggling up to a chicken every day. Keith only wished he could take a leaf out of his book, maybe gain a little confidence to initiate some snuggling of his own. No, he told himself firmly. This trip was about helping Lance not yearning for his undivided attention. 

Keith turned with the road, facing a group of buildings that converged to a wall. The end one had a metal sign nailed above the door, hanging by a thread and creaking in the wind.

“The Hare’s Hoof.” He read aloud, watching a woman fall over herself out the door, laughing and grabbing onto the wall as the bouncer slid smoothly to the side, offering zero attention and zero help.

“The one and only!” Lance cried and Keith could feel his grin radiating out even through the speaker. “The haunt of my youth!”

“I wouldn’t be so proud of that.” Keith said dryly, approaching the bar with caution as a man blew smoke straight into his face. Fighting against a cough, he lowered his voice a touch, “why would you even come here, this place is trash.”

“It’s not that bad…”

“How did you even survive here?” Keith continued, ignoring the weak protest, “I feel like I could take a bath under a running shower whilst using bleach as soap and still wouldn’t be clean. It’s just gross.” And completely unlike the fresh radiance Keith always saw in Lance.

“Hey, at least I’m not the one who wore the same t-shirt for literal months!”

“I was travelling light!”

“And baby,” Lance oozed, losing his pitch to dive into something smooth that made Keith’s stomach roll, “you light up my life.”

“Shut up.” Keith hissed, trying to ignore the warm feeling slipping under his collar. He couldn’t decide whether being with Lance in that moment would be preferable or not.

“Is that a blush I see?”

Okay, he was definitely better off here.

“Lance, you can’t see me,” Keith said, knowing full well if Lance could have seen him, he would have been entering a fresh new world of teasing.

“Fine, is that a blush I hear?”

Keith scoffed. “Blushes don’t make noise.”

“Yours do, they’re like weeyoO-”

Keith shoved his hand against the off button before that could get any louder. Peace ran supreme in the street as he waddled up to the bouncer. Thank goodness, the man had a cold look in his eye and Lance’s screeching would have probably had Keith turned away on the spot. Though as the large man raised a bushy eyebrow his direction, Keith regretted cutting the call so soon. He could really do with Lance right now, a hand to lead him into this scary new world. But having a voice spewing nonsense out his pocket probably wouldn’t have helped him blend in. Or find the mysterious witch he was about to pounce on. So, he decided this was for the best, as he tugged out his ID and crept up the stairs into the darkened bar.

Keith didn’t waste time scouting out the surroundings. He went straight to the bar, hopping onto a stool and tapping his hands along the table top. Nervous. That’s how he must have looked. Confidence. That’s what Lance had said to portray. Didn’t matter about your dress or your face or your manner if you just radiated confidence. Shiro had said something along those lines years ago too, when Keith kept refusing to go into the bank to open his first proper adult account. Back then, Keith had been keeping his money in bags under his mattress, not wanting to deal with immaculate clerks in clean dress who would never believe Keith could have got his money by innocent means. Of course, it was from his job, just months of real cash wages built up to look suspicious.

Back then, he actually did belong there. Paying money into a bank was just one of those adult tasks Keith was always avoiding. This, however, was investigating dangerous people in a dodgy bar where he definitely was out of place. The stakes were a little higher. But Lance wasn’t money that could remain stuffed under his mattress for months. He was a person. A person important enough to Keith that he was about to initiate conversation with a whole stranger. Maybe having a drink first wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

Keith was vaguely aware of people entering the bar behind him, others settling into booths nearby and the stool next to his shifting but he stared forward. He just needed to find the Tavern owner. An older lady with greying hair and a bird-like face who he now noticed was walking straight towards him.

“What can I get ya?” She asked, bustling down the bar, grabbing glasses as she went. Keith froze up, staring widely. How was he supposed to do this? You couldn’t just accuse someone of cursing your friend. But equally if he didn’t mention something about curses he wouldn’t get any answers.

“Hello?” A glass was being waved in his face and Keith jumped back.

“Pint!” He spluttered, “Pint. Please. If you could.”

“Sure, no problem.” She said, taking a second to give Keith a good withering look, as if to imply there was a problem and it was definitely him. He really shouldn’t be here. Glancing to the door, Keith found another group climbing the stairs, dressed in dark suits and low hats, briefcases in hand. Illegal casino right? Keith whipped back around hoping they didn’t spot him and label him their next victim. He rather enjoyed keeping his money. However, his eyeline didn’t quite make it back to the bottles lining the wall. Instead he found another pair of eyes on his, bright amber and slanted right at him. Watching.

Keith forced on a smile. Another one of Lance’s tips, though he doubted his was anywhere near as effective as the blinding grin Lance boasted. A small, slightly pained grimace was all Keith had. It would have to do.

“What you here for?” The man asked, taking a long sip of something the colour of piss. He was young, with spiked brown hair and the kind of eyes that saw everything and told nothing. Keith shuddered.

“Uhh… a drink?”

What else would he be here for? Well, apart from breaking a curse put on a man he’d found in a desert by the very owner of this bar, but that wasn’t exactly small talk appropriate. Or maybe this was his chance? An invitation to gather some reconnaissance. Keith cleared his throat. “You heard about anything happening recently?”

Vague seemed good. Safe. Like a conversation starter more than an interrogation.

The man just shrugged, “lots happens round here. Lots of rumours, y’know?”

Keith nodded as if he understood, which he didn’t. He may have started this whole vague thing but he didn’t appreciate it being mirrored.

“Curses?” Keith ventured, because why not? This guy clearly knew something, and Keith had never been one for tiptoeing around elephants. But it only took a second for him to swallow his words. The guy flicked sharp eyes over Keith near instantly, movement a little too sudden and a little too analytical for Keith’s liking. That definitely hadn’t been the right decision. Luckily the tavern owner returned, dumping Keith’s pint on the table in front of him to save him from whatever mysterious circumstances the stranger had in mind for his murder to be under.

“Thirteen gold.” She demanded, sinking into her hip.

“Oh right!” How could Keith forget he needed to pay? Quickly, he ran his hands over his pockets, before opening his jacket to dig out his wallet. There was an audible gasp and he stopped short, suddenly feeling like a gazelle in the middle of a plain. His hand tugged out the wallet and he slowly looked back up. Amber eyes were near red now, glaring and matched by the woman pulling his drink back and leaning into its space.

“Why are you so interested in this establishment?” The man asked, eyes piercing deep into Keith’s skin. 

Keith floundered. Apparently that wasn’t the right response as the woman grabbed him by the chest and hauled him into the bar.

“Asking questions huh?”

“N-no!” Keith attempted, shirt squeezing his neck painfully as the woman’s grip only tightened. She reached into his jacket, snatching the radio and slamming it down on the bar.

“Really cop? I can see your wire.”

Oh God, Keith really wished he hadn’t cut the call now, Lance’s voice would have probably saved him.

“Look, I’m not a cop, I just wanna know about a curse.”

The woman slammed a fist down on the radio, plastic crushed, circuits bursting out.

“We don’t deal in the likes of you.”

“Bu-”

“BOUNCER!”

“No! Please!” Keith could hear movement behind him, but kept his ground, “I need to know-”

“Take him out.”

“No!” Keith grabbed the radio from below the woman’s fist, trying to use it as a weapon but his arm was suddenly ripped behind him.  

“How d’ya mean?” A voice boomed in his ear. Keith jolted at the proximity before he began kicking.

“Any way you want.” The woman grinned slyly, and Keith struggled more, tearing at the thick arms tight under his that were already hauling him backwards.

“Please! I need-”

“Shut it.” The bouncer hissed but Keith ignored him, scrambling for the wall as he was dragged down the stairs.

“PLEASE!”

The word tore from his throat leaving it raw but he didn’t care. Didn’t care that his fingers were bleeding from the rough concrete or that the bouncer was practically crushing his ribs in a death grip. He just needed to be heard. Why couldn’t they hear?

“PLEASE! YOU CURSED-”

The word broke into a cry as his face was slammed into the concrete. Vision starring, head spinning, he vaguely registered his feet fumbling down the last of the stairs. All he could think about was Lance. How he needed to help him. How he needed to go back. As soon as the bouncer threw him onto the street, Keith lunged for the door. But his legs were sluggish, his movements jarred. Before he could even focus on the stairs, his arm was caught in a vice grip and pulled back, hard. He had just a split second to see a fist curled tight before something hard and something fast slammed into his temple. His vision went black.

Notes:

Alternative title for this chapter is: Last week I found out that chickens can purr and had to include it in the fic somehow.

Also, sorry this was super late and that the next updates are also going to be super late! I'm at home at the moment and am supposed to be revising so I can't spend as much time writing as I'd like, but it will get done, just obviously the schedule has gone out the window :D

Anyway, thanks for reading~ ♥

P.S. Please look up sneezing chicken it’s the absolute funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

Chapter 16: Distance

Summary:

Lance's side of the call Keith thought he'd cut.

“Keith? Keeith? Kee-ith?”

Lance tapped his fingers across the table in quick succession.

“Dammit.” He huffed, letting his body fall over the chicken in his lap and burying his lips in her soft feathers. “He muted me.”

Violet wiggled her little butt, feathers tickling Lance’s mouth as she let out a soft peep. She missed Keith too. Lance felt it in her low rumbles and the fact she’d been letting Lance fuss over her for the last three hours. Or maybe she just sensed that Lance missed him? No, that couldn’t be true, it had only been three hours. Lance didn’t have attachment issues.

He sighed, letting his ear fall against Violet’s wing, listening to her low purring, yes Keith purring, and closing his eyes. There were still noises buzzing over the radio, bumps and shuffling meaning Keith was probably climbing the stairs into the bar, but no voice to confirm that. Lance had heard him getting stopped for ID and had abruptly quietened his obnoxious siren noises, figuring the sound wouldn’t exactly be conducive to blending in. Keith hadn’t made a comment on it though, and Lance prodded him immediately, briefly doubting his own annoyance skills. When he still received no response, he had no choice but to accept the fact he had been muted. Damn him. Lance had wanted to wish him good luck, but whatever. It wasn’t like he was needed. Lance pouted, pulling Violet to his chest. So much for team work. He sank back into his chair, fiddling with the volume control until he could hear actual voices carry across the waves instead of just white noise.

“Pint!” Came Keith’s slightly shrill voice, “Please. If you could.”

Lance couldn’t help huffing out a laugh. Keith was so awkward. Lance only wished he could have been there to help. Or, well, maybe just tease him. Lance’s priorities weren’t what they used to be. In fact, Lance almost surprised himself with how calm he was with his whole situation these days, barely giving the curse a second thought. Afterall, Keith had said he would return, with or without a remedy, and that thought alone made Lance’s heart swell like a hot-air balloon. He was floating on clouds. With affection, with flattery, with fulfilment, with… something else. Lance was getting ahead of himself. Yes, Keith’s return was more than welcome, but Lance was cursed, and Keith didn’t deserve to be trapped here too. So, Lance needed to stay on task and this curse had to go.

Keith seemed to be having a conversation now, digging for information by the sounds of it. A good tactic, Lance thought, although it sounded forced, Keith’s nerves working their way up his throat and into his words. But he was doing great, and Lance tried to radiate positive vibes towards him, fingers fiddling with the mic. Maybe he should have tried to find some headphones? An earpiece would have been subtle enough that Keith wouldn’t have had to mute him and Lance could have offered extra support.

“Lots happens round here. Lots of rumours, y’know?”

Lance snorted. Who was this guy? Mysterious stranger at the bar. Honestly, even Lance hadn’t been that bad.

“Curses?”

Oh Keith, poor naïve Keith. Making conversation despite having no idea he was being flirted with. Lance’s heart almost went out to the other guy, Keith was a beautiful idiot, a beautiful idiot that couldn’t see beyond his mission. Lance sighed, tickling under Vi’s neck. A beautiful idiot that didn’t seem to notice that his every movement had Lance tripping over himself to get another hit. Something as simple as a compliment had Lance igniting, let alone the casual touches Keith offered. Lance was struggling just to breath in his presence, and yet the man himself barely noticed, deflecting all of Cupids arrows into Lance until he received a near fatal dose. For Christ sake, the guy had set up a romantic firework display right in Lance’s backyard! How was he supposed to interpret that!? Lance had never wanted to kiss someone so badly and yet his lips still burned with the missed opportunity. What was a boy to do? Grab him by the cheeks and shove their lips together? Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea…

“Thirteen Gold.”

Lance tuned back in with the new voice, trying to ignore the sudden dryness of his throat.

“Oh, right!”

The speaker rustled with the squashing and slipping of fabric, Keith obviously having forgotten to get his money ready and Lance fought against a coo. How? How was this boy so stupid? And how did that make him even more attractive?

Suddenly the sound dropped, and Lance tensed.

“Why are you so interested in this establishment?”

That was much louder than before.

“Asking questions huh?”

Lance leant forwards, grip tightening on the mic stand.

“N-no!”

Keith’s voice was shaky, and strained, like pressure forced it thin. Lance didn’t like it one bit. Then there was a loud noise, a high-pitched shriek sparking out the speaker.

“Re-“ The words were giving away to static, “cop? I c-n… your wi-re.”

“Keith?” Lance called, trying to retune the station, static only buzzing louder alongside his thudding heart.

“Loo-“ The line crackled loudly and Lance yelled again but Keith kept talking, “cop, …wan-na…”

Lance swore, launching Vi from his lap as he leapt up, pulling the speaker closer, trying to find some way to override the signal. Keith was in danger, he felt it in his stomach, heard it in Keith’s desperate words and the haunting voice he was beginning to recognise.

“KEITH!” He yelled

“curse.”

The radio erupted with a bang, loud pop exploding over the line. Lance staggered backwards, hissing at the ringing left in his ears. Then it was static. Only static. The kind Lance remembered from weeks of scouring air waves for something.

“Keith?” He called, slowly returning to his seat. The buzz gave nothing back, like rustling leaves in the night. Lance smacked the speaker, throwing his chair back. Something had happened. The radio must have been destroyed, Keith probably in the fight of his life. What if he got cursed too? Bile flooded Lance’s mouth. He couldn’t, Keith couldn’t. He was only trying to help. And Lance, Lance had sent him into a death trap. He shook his head. Maybe he was mistaken, maybe it wasn’t the witch’s voice. Maybe it was somebody who saw reason? Keith would explain the radio and they’d all laugh about it later. It would be fine. But, then again, it couldn’t have been a coincidence that the signal cut as soon as Keith said curse. Lance shuddered.

Looking out across the yard, he felt helpless. The sun was low in the sky, wind ruffling the petals of his flowers, chickens poking around their coop, sands unchanging. It was all so quiet. So stagnant. So lonely. Lance looked back at the speaker. Buzzing. Static. Infuriating. Lance glared. Keith was on the other side and all this thing could give out was the thick sound of nothingness. He slammed his fist against the metal, anger ripping from his throat. It was one thing for Keith to leave on a dangerous mission, another to lose all contact, but the universe had to have some sort of vendetta out for Lance if it was going to cut off all communication just as Keith fell into real trouble. For all Lance knew, Keith could be lying in some other desert, under some other curse, awaiting some other help that would never arrive.

Lance did know something though. Keith was scared. And Lance never wanted to hear that tremor in his voice again.

Grabbing the radio equipment, he felt determination flash through his veins. Keith had said when they first met, that he had followed Lance’s signal using just a portable radio and a compass. Lance could do the same. He hovered his hands over the wires, letting them rework into a new device, grabbing Keith’s compass from the shelves. Lance had found it under the sofa just after Keith had left. At the time he’d sighed, griping about how irresponsible Keith was. Now, it was a shining beacon of hope and he held it tightly in his hands, his last connection to Keith. Pressing a quick kiss to the glass, Lance slotted it into place, the final piece on his hash of plastic and wires, sitting like the egg in a bird’s nest.

With a final click, the needle whirled to life, spinning until it landed in the exact direction Keith had headed earlier that afternoon. Lance sighed in relief. At least he hadn’t been thrown out into a faraway cabin like Lance had been. Next, Lance grabbed a bag from under his sink, throwing tins of food and bottles of water in. Tossing the lot over his shoulder he marched into the garden and turned to stare down the desert. Cactuses lined his exit, spreading between the house and the chicken coop. He took a deep breath.

“You’re gonna let me through, alright.” He muttered, spreading his legs like an athlete on the starting blocks. Then he ran.

Lance stumbled as his foot caught on a cactus, vision flicking from open desert to garden as he tumbled straight into his flowerbeds. Dirt shucked up his jeans, as his bag flew out to bulldoze plants, landing further back than he started.

“Fuck,” he hissed, climbing back to his feet and brushing mud from his jeans. The horizon taunted him, wavering in the disappearing heat, unattainable.

Lance growled, batting his way back to his starting point. Slotting his feet back into the same notches of sand, his muscles tightened in anticipation. “I will get out.”

Lance tried again. And again. Throwing himself into the ground time after time. Burn marks rubbed up his arms, scratches criss-crossing his legs and bruises flooding his side as he landed on his shoulder too many times to count. Lance was panting, fisting at sand as his stood. He’d made a distinct path through his flowerbed now, dead heads and cut stems squished into the ground by pelting feet. He ran again, bracing himself as if he was about to crash through a door. Only he was fighting air, and landed hard, sand bursting out from the groove he’d created. Lance huffed marching up to the boundary yet again.

“Is this some kind of sick joke!” He shouted, throwing out a finger at the invisible wall. “‘cause I’ve had it!”

He began pacing, frustration burning through his veins. “You want me to fall in love, you don’t want me to fall in love, I don’t understand! Keith is- he’s in trouble and I can’t do a damn thing about it!”

Lance stopped to grab fistfuls of his hair, brain reeling as he tried to grasp what he could do. “Why? Why is it when someone finally comes along, someone I connect with, someone I care about, I still don’t get to leave! Is this because I didn’t kiss him? I didn’t get to find out whether this was one-sided? Or maybe it isn’t! Maybe it is mutual and you’re too bitter to let me go!”

Lance threw down his fists, glaring at the sky. “That’s it, isn’t it? I made that girl fall for me and you wanted me to suffer to, only Keith’s way too sweet for that!”

Lance’s fight suddenly turned to lead in his stomach, and he sunk to his knees. Keith really was too sweet for that. Even if he didn’t share Lance’s feelings, he didn’t mean to lead anyone on. Lance hadn’t taken a second thought to that girl, hadn’t taken a second thought to anyone back then, but Keith had. And now he was out there trying to save Lance, only getting punished in the process.

“Please.” Lance whispered, burying his head into his knees, “I need to- I need to help him, need to know he’s okay.”

Lance’s eyes felt warm, and he sniffed hard, wiping at the tears. His chest ached, stomach tied in a thousand knots and a lump the size of the sun was burning a hole in his throat. But he couldn’t care less. All he wanted was for Keith to be okay. Was that too much to ask? Tentatively, Lance reached forward, fingers crossing the boundary of the cactuses. Lance dared to believe, hoped that he’d finally be allowed through. But then his fingertips disappeared, and he erupted like a volcano.

“WHY!?” He yelled, throwing his head back to the sky as fresh tears streamed down his cheeks, “Keith needs me! I need him!”

And with a last roaring cry, Lance threw his fists into the sand “IT HURTS!”

Suddenly, the sky exploded. A cacophony of shattering burst out into the desert as diamonds flickered into life like a mesh around the lot. And as immediately as the lilac glass appeared, it crashed down, shining fragments spilling into dust on the sand. Lance sank back on his heels, panting as he became surrounding by a waterfall of gems, sparkling in the evening sun. A weak laugh spilt from his lips as he slumped over, watching the sky disappear and reappear the same as before. Only it felt different. He weakly reached out, shaking arm hovering over the cactuses before he pushed forward and nearly collapsed. His hand felt a fresh breeze, air he hadn’t accessed in years.

Lance’s energy came back in a burst. He rocketed back to life, launching himself to his feet with a whoop, practically falling over himself in giddy excitement. He was free. He could leave. He could save Keith. Lance spun on the spot, throwing laughter to the sky. Finally! He never thought he’d see this day let alone feel the elation like a supernova crashing into his very body. His eyes landed on the hills beyond. Hills he could barely imagine visiting, let alone crossing and his heart soared. He broke into a sprint, leaping over the boundary with glee. He was out. In the desert, with fresh sand under his feet and new air in his lungs. The excitement burst out in another whoop and he galloped towards the hills.

“Wait up Keith!” Lance yelled to the sky, unable to stop the grin tearing across his face, “I’m coming for ya!”

Notes:

Nearly there!! And Lance is finally free! Just need to reunite these boys ♥

Thanks for reading!! ♥

Chapter 17: Fate

Summary:

Lance and Keith reunite!

When Lance arrived in Desert City, moonlight was bouncing off windows and a cool breeze ruffled through his hair. The chill was a welcome relief for his skin though - sticky enough that his shirt made a noise like tape when he peeled it from his chest. His lungs enjoyed the fresh air too, a balm soothing the ache they carried from all the heaved breaths he’d taken trying to run all the way from the shack to Desert City. Lance had done well though, managing the vast majority of the journey on his toes and the smug feeling only swelled when he realised he had halved Keith’s time.

“GET OUTTA THE WAY!”

Lance jolted at the sudden shout, glancing up just in time to see a flash of colour before he was swerving out the way. A figure in orange was barrelling down the street, notes and change tumbling to the pavement after them. Lance’s jaw dropped open. Had he just become an accessory to a crime?

“HEY LOOK OUT!”

Lance’s shoulder was slammed to the side as a woman in blue took hot pursuit. She barely spared him a glance as she whipped past, shoes clattering against the street, face set firm on her target. Guess Lance wasn’t in trouble this time. He turned back around, rubbing his sore shoulder and silently cursing the both. Why did he ever leave home to come here? At least in the countryside there was enough space that you could fill the road with cows and still manage not to hit anyone as you ran from a crime scene.

Lance’s grip tightened on the ramshackle radio. It was hard to avoid crime around here, no matter how petty. There was no escaping that fact. And Keith hadn’t even been in the main part of town. A shiver ran its way down Lance’s spine like a cockroach. Anything could have happened to him by now. The thought wrapped itself around Lance’s mind like a rope, squeezing tighter and tighter.

Doubling his speed, Lance hurried down the street keeping his eyes glued to the compass needle. He made sure it remained parallel to the road as best he could, thanking the late hour for the lack of people out and about. Whilst that made the City a little eerie, it meant far last obstacles could block his course. As Lance headed towards a crossroads the needle turned more and more, making picking a direction easy. Switching onto the next street, Lance found the needle still tilting inwards towards the buildings. He quickened his pace. It was turning and turning, closing in on ninety degrees before he over shot it and had to back up.

The needle pointed directly towards the central town house lining the street, with peeling white paint and dirt stained walls. Shabby concrete steps lined with a rusted railing that broke into a point half-way up led to an open door that let orange light spill out like vomit. Above the door was a near illegible sign painted in green, with half the letters having been scrubbed off to leave it reading ‘Inn’ preceded by a simple profanity. Lance smirked before hopping up the steps. This seemed like a classic Desert City establishment.

Entering the lobby, Lance found it was surprisingly nice. Outdated, but nice. The walls were covered in a peach wallpaper and the front desk was a professional looking thing, with smooth varnished wood and a spider plant sat on top. Nobody was stood behind it, just the little cubbyholes filled with keys and letters. Lance crept forward, sensing movement in the back and hoping to avoid it. Peering behind the desk he found a phone, computer monitor, lots of pens and a thin notebook with paper spilling out the edges. Left open, he told himself as he peeled the cover away. The pages were filled with dates, names, addresses and ticks and crosses corresponding to various headlines. The reservations! Lance quickly flicked through the most recent entries.

Running his finger along the dates, he came to the latest ones, pouring himself over the names. His stomach was slowly turning in on itself as the remaining list got shorter and shorter.

“Oh like who, Marie!? It’s practically closing time!”

Shit! Lance tensed as he heard a voice, the click-clack of heels gaining on him. He slipped under the desk, rushing through the last names. Beasley, Kensington, Smith, Jones…KOGANE! Thank god! Lance slumped against the wood, tracing the name with his fingertip. If Keith had checked himself into a hotel he must have been fine. Unless somebody had forced him to? What if he had been held at gunpoint? No, Lance told himself taking time to breathe, that was way too extreme. Especially when the tavern owner had powerful curse magic literally at her fingertips. So Keith must have come here by choice. But that still didn’t rule out any curses. Keith was here, but how much of Keith remained? What if he couldn’t leave the city? What if he couldn’t remember Lance?

“Marie! I’m closing the door!”

Oh God, the woman was in the same room. Lance shrunk even further back, curling over his knees. This would be the worst way to go, seconds away from finding Keith only to be kicked out of the Inn and left to fend for himself on the street.

“There’s still ten minutes on the clock!” Came a different voice, muffled through the walls but distinctively a shout.  

There was a loud groan. Then feet were being dragged against the floor and the woman hopelessly called back in defeat, “ten minutes!?”

It seemed this person was fed up of her job, and Lance could not be more thankful as she returned to the backrooms, assumedly to moan to Marie. Lance didn’t wait to hear more, throwing the notepad back on the desk and running for the staircase that disappeared around the corner. Keith was in 23B. Lance assumed that meant second floor, third room and… B? Must have been the corridor side.

Racing up the carpeted stairs, Lance checked the plaque on the landing to confirm his theory before diving through a swinging door. More doors lined the dimly lit hallway, pea green carpet covered in stains Lance decided not to look too hard at. He slipped through the passageway, counting dusty metal plates until he reached it - 23B - standing at the end of a windowless corridor. He lifted his fist before thinking better of knocking. What if this was the hostage situation his brain had helpfully lined out for him? Lance took a deep breath. Then he stepped back.

The hotel would forgive him with enough compensation, right?

Too late, Lance slammed his foot against the lock, kicking the door free of the jamb.

“KEITH?” He yelled running in. Then he nearly collapsed on the spot.

Keith stood wide eyed across the room, fresh cup of tea steaming in his hands as he froze mid-step, heading out the kitchenette and towards a god-awful pink sofa. He was in his day clothes, hair pulled up in a fuzzy pink towel hat and his mouth was gaping like a goldfish. Lance didn’t care. As soon as came to his senses, he was running forward.

“Keith! Are you okay? Are you cursed? Are you alone!?” Lance grabbed Keith by the shoulders and shook. Then his breath hitched.

“Keith.” He repeated, more softly this time as he finally took in the face in front of him. Keith’s skin was purple, ugly bruises blossoming across the surface, dotted with harsh red grazes. It looked painful and Lance tentatively reached out his hand to caress the almost cosmic colours decorating his cheek. So caught up in his analysis, Lance nearly missed the way Keith’s lips twitched before a smile slowly enveloped between them.

“You’re here.” He said, voice so delicate Lance might have missed it had he not been so close.

“Y-yeah.” Lance forced out. Keith was looking at him, all tenderness and affection, and it made his skin feel funny. It was distracting. So, he chose to stubbornly ignore it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m okay.” Keith replied, and Lance noticed now there was a small cut on his lip that made his chest pang. “Not cursed. And I’m not alone anymore.”

Keith moved the faintest bit forward, trying to take Lance’s hand, but he batted it away. He wasn’t finished. Tracing the bruise above Keith’s temple, he felt his stomach twinge as he realised the bright colour was just a disguise for the large bump thrumming behind it. “You need to ice this.”

Keith hummed. Leaning into the touch, he smoothed his hand down Lance’s arm, cupping his elbow. “It’s been a few hours, I don’t think it would help.”

Lance bit his lip. If he had just made it a few hours earlier, maybe Keith wouldn’t have been in such a mess. Damn curse. Damn tavern. If he ever returned to the Hare’s Hoof it would be too soon.

“At least let me see the damage.” Lance said through a pout, glancing back to Keith’s eyes.

Keith ducked his head in response, and Lance dipped his fingers under the towel, observing how the redness spread up his scalp. He pulled the fabric away, stroking his fingers into Keith’s hair before stopping abruptly. That couldn’t be…? Lance pulled back, twirling his finger around a strand to gently tug it forward. It still didn’t add up.

“Why’s your hair blond?”

Keith choked. “I, uh…”

Shifting on his feet, Keith coughed again and Lance bored his eyes into him, waiting for a response.

“I bleached it.”

“What! Why?”

“Well, I…” Keith scratched at the back his head, letting more strands fall down in all its patchy glory, “I didn’t want them to recognise me. When I went back.”

“You were going to go back!?” Lance asked incredulously, dropping the towel with a loud thump. Keith winced, cheeks glowing even redder.

“Well, yeah.”

Lance’s heart thumped against his ribs. Keith, he- he’d really do that. Damn idiot. Lance could barely think let alone talk, something warm and bubbly thrumming under his skin. Keith’s eyes slowly met his, intense pupils shining like onyx. He opened his mouth, preparing to speak but Lance didn’t let him. He surged forward, catching rough lips between his own. Keith made a startled noise, stumbling back a fraction and Lance almost pulled back. But then Keith was pushing forward, meeting Lance’s pressure like warm sunshine and he melted against the other. Lance breathed him in, his hair that smelt fresh like daisies from the lingering hotel soap, his skin rough but inviting like the walls of a home, his arms warm and all-encompassing as Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist. Then he was being squeezed impossibly tight and Lance let out shriek, giddy laughter erupting from his chest as he bounced higher in Keith’s hold. The kiss fell apart, Lance unable to control his happiness as he fell into Keith’s shoulder, burying himself there.

“What?” Keith asked, peeling back to watch him, hands smoothing over Lance’s side.

Lance shook his head, looking up at him from his new favourite spot. “Nothing. Just, you’re an idiot.”

“Hey!” Keith pinched his hips, making Lance yelp. “I didn’t know you’d break your own curse!”

Lance blushed then. Had he really broken his own curse? He’d been so caught up in finding Keith he’d forgotten. But it was Keith who broke it really, even if it was indirect. And that made his heart surge. Lance had to have done something right in his life to earn such an incredible person’s affections. He leaned back, still caught up in Keith’s hold as if they had been tied together. Keith’s eyes were melted in undeniable fondness, lips shining and pink from the kiss they’d just shared, cheeks the faintest bit red and before Lance could even think about it, words were sliding from his lips like honey.

“I love you.”

Keith blinked, breath brushing quickly over his lips. Then he was melting all over again, wrapping Lance up in his arms like a warm blanket.

“I love you too.” He said, words just breath against Lance’s lips. Then they were kissing again, with more ferocity. Like Keith was trying to pour every single feeling he felt through one single action. Lance was only happy to oblige, curling his arms around the other’s neck and meeting him with equal vigour. Magic, curses, fate, none of it mattered when Lance gave himself to Keith, feeling love burn through his veins as he basked in his newfound freedom.

Notes:

We're here! I'm gonna add a little epilogue too, and tie up loose ends but it felt nice to have their reunion separate ♥
(also I got too excited and wanted to upload it now!)

Thanks for reading and any comments and kudos!! This fic got way longer than I thought it would but it's worth it :D

Chapter 18: Future

Two hands were pressed to Keith’s stomach as he sank back into a cushiony warmth no chair could match. Arms squeezed tight around his middle and a voice, bright and brisk, sang out behind him.

“That’s right, lovely listeners! You’re listening to the final show for Desert Radio with Lance! Hope you’re feeling good!”

Keith really was. Especially when Lance pressed in closer, lips brushing gently against Keith’s neck as he stretched forward to put the next record on.

“You wanna say anything co-host?”

Keith squirmed at the tickle of his breath on his sensitive skin. “No m’good.”

Lance sighed, like he always did when Keith refused to speak. Keith knew that it wasn’t because he particularly wanted Keith to speak, it was that he thought Keith was being shy. And Keith hadn’t bothered correcting him. He had assumed Lance might have taken the hint in the last few weeks. It was a wonder really, that Lance hadn’t realised the only reason Keith joined him was for the warmth of his body wrapped around his own and the lilt of his voice that rumbled against his back in gentle rhythm. It was hassle free cuddle-time and Keith was very simple person. Or maybe he was shy, just not in the sense Lance had assumed. Lance would work out the truth in the end. Or else, Keith would be forced to tell him. Keith liked this down time - the feeling of warm breath ruffling his hair, soft lips drifting lazily across his skin, Lance’s voice effortless in late afternoon sun. Maybe Lance was ready to part with the show, but Keith wasn’t.

A sharp pin-prick to the thigh, reminded him he wasn’t the only one with these fanciful notions. Lance was smoothing his hand over Violet’s wings – the shining crown topping their cuddle pile. Keith found he could understand why she had decided to make herself co-host all those years ago, it was pretty great gig, sat in a warm lap with affection swathed over you.

“What about you beautiful?” Lance asked, tickling a thumb under her chin.

Violet gave a shudder, feathers ruffling up with the effort and Keith would have found it cute if it weren’t for her claws digging deeper. Why couldn’t they have sat the other way around?

“See, she wants you to talk!” Lance said with a laugh, scooping up the chicken before she pierced a vein. Keith gave him a pointed look which Lance blatantly ignored in favour of unhooking her claws from his jeans and placing the bird back on the floor.

Keith shook his head, “I’ll say goodbye.”

Lance reignited then, grin covering his face so quickly it was almost as if he’d been colluding with Violet. Then he was looking away again and Keith almost missed the radiance despite still being held tight in his hold. Lance lifted the needle off the record, clicking the button Keith had learnt switched the microphone on, before leaning in to speak.

“Well, it’s time folks! I’m sorry to say, your silver-tongued fox is leaving today! I know, it’s hard not to cry!”

Keith snorted. Lance gave him a harsh pinch in the side.

“Yes, it is sad.” He said, glaring at Keith who shrugged, before leaving a well-meaning kiss against his cheek. Lance rolled his eyes. “And you’ll miss me. Everyday. Every single one. But I am moving on! To better things, and I only have you to thank for it!”

Lance turned to Keith then, who had been happy enough just to watch the tilt of his jaw as he spoke. The sudden movement made him jump, as if he had been caught stealing from the biscuit tin. Lance’s smile made him relax though, it was small but somehow powerful, sparkling blue eye’s just crescents as his cheeks turned to round pillows.

“I’m going travelling.” Lance said, smoothing his hand over Keith’s leg and continuing to send him that gooey edged smile as if he couldn’t help it, “with someone incredibly important to me. And without you, none of this would be possible.”

Keith blinked widely, heat rising in his cheeks.

“So, thank you.” Lance whispered, squeezing Keith’s thigh, “for listening.”

Keith shook his head. Then he was leaning up, pressing his lips right up to the shell of Lance’s ear, “you’re such a sap.”

“I know.” Lance laughed, catching the corner of Keith’s lips before he could sit back all the way. Then he winked, because of course, if Lance was the sap saying it, Keith was the sap blushing because of it. Keith was exposed. His heart rushed with the knowledge that he didn’t even have to speak for Lance to discover his deepest secrets. It was exhilarating. Lance made him giddy. Keith should have been embarrassed. But instead, all he could feel was overwhelming affection. Besides, this worked two ways and Keith had the rest of their lives to get his revenge. He was in the long game now, and what was one loss for a thousand potential gains?

“You ready?” Lance asked, resting his cheek against Keith’s own.

Keith nodded, sitting up until they were both above the mic.

“This has been Lance-”

Keith bit his lip before Lance was nudging him, “a-and Keith.”

“On Desert Radio for the last time ever!”

“-Goodbye!”

“-Goodbye!”

Lance clicked a button and the static erupted once again. It was a strange noise – of comfort and loneliness. Keith sighed. He’d miss the show. But then again, he had the host at his side now, and wasn’t that far better?

~✿~

“That’s the last of the boxes!”

Keith jolted as Shiro clapped his hands together, ridding them of non-existent dust. He’d become sort of entranced by the show ending he’d forgotten his own brother. Shiro stood silhouetted in the door frame, light bouncing off the single white tuft sticking up out his black hair. Keith reached up to tug at his own. He’d never understand Shiro. The first thing Lance and Keith had done when they’d got back to the cabin was return Keith’s hair to black and yet Shiro chose to have a single patch of white. He looked like a chicken, just white and black instead of red and white. No wonder they all adored him; he was one of them. Violet trotted up to his boots and was immediately pulled into a cuddle. Keith noted bitterly there were no claws in that one.

“Thanks Shiro!” Lance called and Keith felt a rush of hands pushing at his hips. He looked down to see Lance’s face flushed and eyes insistent on his. Only then did he remember that he was effectively trapping the other. Keith didn’t quite share the same sense of urgency though, taking great effort just to stand up.

“No problem.” Shiro replied easily, still cooing over Violet, “I have to say though, the ship looks a little different to how I remember it.”

Keith shrugged, avoiding his brother’s suddenly scrutinising gaze. Technically, he had brushed over the crash, maybe even implied it had never happened, but Shiro had nothing to be suspicious about! The ship was as good as new, Keith was alive, it was all good. The suspicious glares were uncalled for.

“Lance added some extra space.” Keith said, dodging the topic with expert flair.

Lance’s house was a lot emptier now, but it was worth it. The ship now contained two seats in the cockpit, extra space in the back to set up beds and more storage for all the cans of beans they were to bring. It really was the perfect ship to travel the universe in.

“Huh.” Shiro said, giving Keith a look that said they both knew there was more to the story than aesthetic changes. Keith ignored it. There were some things Shiro didn’t need to know about, like the engine that had been completely restored from death.

“Well then,” Shiro said, returning to his normal, non-passive aggressive self, “Lance, good job.”

Lance glowed. He’d taken a complete shine to Shiro ever since he’d arrived, adoring his princely presence and chivalrous attitude. It was great. Really. Keith didn’t feel as if on the receiving end of a bee sting every time Lance practically swooned in front of his brother. Shiro didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to, having the grace to move the conversation along.  “Anything else you need?”

“Nah we’re good!” Lance announced, springing to his feet like a ball of nervous energy, “just the final touches to the house and then we’re off!”

“Good. Then I’ll meet you down in the Plaza?”

“Sure.”

The Plaza was the infinitely nicer town just outside Desert City. Shiro was staying there whilst he helped the two of them move into the ship and had convinced them to meet there for send-off drinks before Lance and Keith set off to Lance’s parent’s house. Warmth flooded through Keith at the thought. Drinks. Plans. It felt right.

From his place inside, Keith watched as Lance walked Shiro to his ship, talking some sort of nonsense with wide gestures and tripping over his own feet like a baby gazelle. It was nice - strangely familiar for a sight he’d never seen before. Jealousy aside, Keith really did enjoy the fact his brother and boyfriend got on. It felt important. Like his family was growing - a little garden all of its own. Keith felt proud. But more than that, he felt together.

~✿~

“Got everything you need?” Keith asked, tapping against the empty work surface as Lance re-entered the house. Lance nodded but there was something hollow in the action. There was one task left. And it was a tough one. Keith almost didn’t want to do it, but Lance had assured him it was the right thing to do.

“Let’s get this over with then.” Lance said brightly, even though his eyes were shining with unshed tears. He whistled, Violet trotting over obediently and he wrapped her up in his arms. “To the coop.”

Lance placed Violet alongside the other two birds, tucking them together in front of them. The three stared up with unblinking pebble eyes and Lance took a deep breath. It shook on the way out. Keith snuck closer, slipping his arm through Lance’s. He wasn’t alone now, and Keith hoped the action would remind him of that fact.

“Well ladies, it’s been a pleasure.”

Lance’s voice wavered and he sniffed hard, the beginnings of tears residing in his eyes.

“Henrietta, my angel, you were always so well-behaved. Miss Daisy, not so much.” Lance laughed weakly and Keith squeezed closer. Tears were definitely falling from his eyes now, chickens tilting their heads in unison. Keith felt a pang in his chest. Then Violet was pecking the wet spots on the ground and suddenly his eyes were hot and liquid.

“Vi, baby-“ Lance’s breath caught in his throat and he was leaning heavily into Keith now, “don’t. It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m just- I’m gonna miss you guys.”

Lance shook his head, swiping his sleeve over his eyes.

“This is for the best.” He said, more to himself than anyone else. Like it was his last conviction, though it seemed to be collapsing like his voice.

When Keith had first mentioned travelling, after they’d resettled from all the drama of the curse and his face no longer resembled an apple flung repeatedly from a tree, he’d asked Lance about the chickens. It seemed odd that they’d been left poking around a desert all alone with a cabin out of use until a certain curse victim came along. Of course, he soon found out they hadn’t originally been there. The girls were just another one of Lance’s magic tricks, three little beetles with smooth bodies and striped backs who had trotted into his estate. Inspiration had struck, and lo and behold, Lance was the proud new father of three darling chickens.

But now they were leaving. And it was one thing to change beetles into chickens, but another to take them completely away from the desert they were born into. Lance was right, they had to be turned back. Keith just didn’t like the fact it hurt so much.

“Okay.” Lance said again, taking another deep breath, “come on babies, sit still for papi.”

The chickens wriggled between his hands, sharing bewildered looks and confused head bobs. Henrietta curled her head over his fingers, craning her neck to blink beady eyes at Keith. He tried for reassurance, covering Lance’s hand with his own and poking at her feathers. It didn’t seem to calm her.

“Here we go.”

Lance shut his eyes. Keith wished he could too. The wind started picking up in front of them, whirling across his fingers where they lay against Lance’s. Glittering sparkles started glowing in the air. Feathers were ruffling. There were squawks. Angered pecks. Batting of heads. Squirming. Lance’s lip curled and the wind whipped harder. Sparks were bursting between his hands bouncing off feathers.

“Come on.” Lance hissed, eyes screwed tightly shut. Keith had never seen him so intense. His magic usually came easily. It required concentration sure, but in a calm manner. It never seemed painful. Or difficult. Then again, Keith had only seen him use it on inanimate objects. And Keith’s hair. Lance had actually talked to Keith the entire time he changed his hair colour, berating him for his stupidity. Keith had been annoyed. He was proud of his idea – dying his hair was a great way to hide his defining features. Lance didn’t seem to agree though and Keith had almost refused to co-operate. In fact he had refused, even if it was just briefly. The action actually threw Lance off and it turned into a war, Keith’s hair repainting itself, colour sliding up and down...

“Hold on.”

Keith grabbed Lance’s arm.

Lance whipped around, eyes blood shot and shining, hands still letting out blue sparks. Keith’s chest ached, but the feeling was already getting squashed by a whole other emotion. One of overwhelming happiness.

“Don’t change them.”

“What? No, Keith. We discussed this. I know it’s hard but it’s right. They’re beetles, they should be beetles.”

Keith shook his head, smile daring to tug at his lips. “They’re beetles who don’t want to be beetles.”

“I don’t-?” Lance cocked his head, turning back to the chickens. The sparks had stopped, Lance’s hands relaxing, and the birds seemed to very much enjoy this fact, already pushing against each other to move forward.

“They don’t want to…” He echoed. Then Lance dropped his arms and the chickens all came running at once. They collided with his chest, a burst of chirps and feathers. Keith laughed, Lance copying long after, squeezing them tight against his face and soaking their feathers with tears.

“I won’t change you babies! Never okay!” He cried out, falling into Keith as if the strength had left his body. Keith was happy to catch him, grinning through watery eyes as he accepted very sharp kisses from some very excited chickens. “Oh my god! You’re gonna make such good space chickens!”

Space chickens? Keith looked over to the ship, windscreen revealing the two seats fitted snug next to each other in a cockpit barely big enough for one. Now they were going to add three space chickens to the mix? That seemed liked a disaster waiting to happen. Keith couldn’t wait.

Notes:

Whoops! Better late than never! From the start I was like and he'll turn the chickens back to beetles, but i grew too attached!! So I struggled writing this, but I do think space chickens would be the kind of disastrous idea only Keith and Lance would go for :D
I hope you enjoyed! To be honest this chapter could have gone in many directions I almost felt like I should have left it open ended so that it would suit everyone but then I figured I had loose ends (mainly chickens) I wanted to deal with! Plus, fluff!?

Anyway, thank you for reading and for any kudos or comments!! They really mean a lot ♥

Until the next time~