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Keith wouldn't say that he came close to hitting the guy with his bike, but he's not really surprised when his would-be victim throws up his arms and yells an expletive with great force. Keith sighs, but still pulls over and kills the engine.
He can't quite decide if he actually cares, but the college campus is small, and he swears that Shiro is at the apex of most, if not all of its social circles. Any story of an 'asshole on a bike' would be too easily linked back to Keith. Really, he's just confronting this now to avoid a lecture from Shiro later.
The man is still storming over, fists clenched, and Keith is starting to think that actually a lecture from Shiro doesn't sound too bad. But there's something about this guy, something that's right on the tip of Keith's tongue.
Keith's mind has always felt like a boundless void. A small, safe border within a dark chasm of nothing. Or perhaps not nothing, but nothing he can reach.
But looking at the young man in the khaki green jacket, meeting his oddly familiar eyes lights a match beyond that boundary. Not enough to see anything, but enough to confirm that something is there.
That match is the reason Keith takes off his helmet.
It's the reason Keith almost hit him in the first place.
But then the man's eyes widen, and he stops just a little too far away to hold a conversation.
"Keith?!" He shouts, lowering his arms slightly just so he can throw them up in the air with even more vigour. "What the hell man? I was walking there!"
Keith stares at him, eyes narrowing. That stubborn match is still there, flickering in the darkness, a beacon to nowhere. But its tiny flame refuses to grow, refuses to grant him the knowledge he desperately needs to navigate this situation.
He swears he doesn't know this guy. He can't. Because that would mean that somehow Keith forgot him.
"Who are you?" Keith asks himself as much as he asks the man. He feels like he should be important, all-encompassing, but Keith still can't place him.
The man takes one step forward and looks incredulous.
"Err… the names Lance?"
Keith's mind catches alight.
He's in the middle of a blazing inferno, and everything else burns away, everything except the man before him.
Lance.
Lance wearing a Garrison uniform, an unnamed cadet that once caught his eye. Lance, wearing his signature jacket, bursting into Keith's life and leading them all to Voltron, to their destiny. Lance, a warm hand in his, we make a good team falling from his lips.
Lance, a thousand back and forths until one mission that had come too close, that had almost cost them everything. Lance, pulling Keith closer, Lance touching his face. Lance, one hand wrapped around Keith's waist and the other tangled up in Hunk's hair.
Hunk.
Has Lance already found Hunk, this time around? Has Lance found the love of both their lives? Has Lance brought them all together again, ready to pick up where their old life left off, ready to usher in a new wave of happiness and peace, away from all the death and war and destruction that used to stalk them across the universe?
Keith stumbles over nothing and Lance steps forward, arms outstretched. He looks like he can't quite decide whether to catch him or laugh when he falls.
Where is Hunk? Is what Keith wants to ask, but he settles for "Lance, I'm sorry - of course I remember you."
Keith wants to pull Lance closer, to feel his husband's arms around him. He expects it, just for a moment - but Lance doesn't step in, and Keith has already played all his cards.
"Well I should hope so," Lance says, dragging a nervous hand through his hair, "I mean we were like rivals in first year chem lab you know? Lance and Keith, neck and neck?"
What?
The fire within Keith is still all-consuming, and memories keep coming to life under the blaze. Now he sees Shiro, Pidge, Allura and Coran, and a Castle ship that felt like home. And Lance and Hunk, two ever-present constants.
But the Lance in front of him looks perfectly content now that Keith has acknowledged his existence. He gives Keith an antagonistic grin, as the Lance in Keith's memories showers him with fond looks and over the top declarations of his affection.
"Yeah," Keith finally manages, and he almost chokes on it, "um - I could give you a lift to wherever you're going, you know - to make it up to you?"
"What makes you think I want a ride on that death trap?" Lance asks - and quiznack Lance - how does he not understand how rude it is for him to raise one eyebrow at Keith in a flirty smirk when memories of him are still threatening to overtake Keith.
Not to mention that Keith knows he doesn't mean it. Keith's not exactly the same as he was, after all, but he's still made of fire - still stubborn and hot-headed and ready to combust. So Lance must still be a tidal wave in a storm, fierce determination and an overwhelming sense of right and wrong, a calmness under the surface and half of Keith's home. He must still have that potential. And the Lance Keith knows would already be on Keith's bike, would be fighting Keith for the drivers' seat.
"Just get on the bike," Keith grumbles, and tosses Lance his spare helmet.
He tries desperately to focus on the here and now. It's hard, especially when Lance wraps his arms around his waist, but the memories fade into the background somewhat as he kicks his bike into gear.
Even then, the grass looks greener than it ever has before, now Keith has the Nevada desert to compare it to.
Lance doesn't say anything that Keith can hear, but he taps Keith's shoulders whenever he needs to turn, and seems content to lean against Keith's back the rest of the time. When Lance finally points at Keith to pull over, they both pull off their helmets as Lance gets off his bike.
Keith's mind has all but burnt itself out, leaving fertile soil in its wake and small embers that somehow keep everything illuminated. It's less overwhelming now, only short flashes of Lance's eyes and Hunk's smile popping up on their own, the rest of his memories waiting patiently for Keith to call on them.
Still, he half thinks Lance will lean over and kiss him before he leaves. Instead he just throws out one final quip.
"Thanks again for not killing me, mullet."
"No problem."
Lance turns back just to grin at him, and Keith can't leave it like this. He can't exactly show up at Lance's door if he wants to see him again. The world is large - and leaving Lance now might be losing him forever.
"Lance, wait a sec!"
Keith jogs over to him.
"Let me give you my number," Keith continues, berating himself for not coming up with something better, "maybe we can study together for chemistry?"
Lance's lips pull up in a Cheshire Cat grin, the same one he tossed Keith when he stole his coffee every morning.
"Keith, if I didn’t know better I'd think you were flirting with me."
Keith can barely constrain his eye roll. Flirting with his husband? Perish the thought.
"If you don't want it…" Keith starts, because he can't help but rise to Lance's bait, but honestly if Lance doesn't want his number Keith has no idea what he'll do.
"No, give it to me," Lance says, and he makes a big show of entering it into his phone. He then turns the device around with a flourish to show Keith the new contact - named 'Mullet Man 👽'.
Keith can't help but snort. When Pidge installed a text messaging protocol into their suits, Lance's contact name for him had been something similar, with about sixteen heart emojis.
"An alien emoji?" Keith asks, eager to extend this conversation in just about any way he can.
"Because anyone who'd choose that haircut must be at least part alien."
"Yeah, yeah," Keith grumbles, but it holds no real hurt. He knows Lance actually loves his hair, he's heard it enough times over the course of their marriage. When he let it grow longer, Lance had even insisted on braiding it, long afternoons with Lance's strong fingers stroking through his hair and a deep contentment in the pit of Keith's stomach.
Keith wants to give Lance a memorable goodbye, anything that could trigger his own memories. But instead Lance just waves as he turns to head inside, and Keith lets himself stare for a moment, before he gets back on his bike.
When Keith arrives home Shiro is sitting at their kitchen table staring down at a large pile of papers, a red pen in one hand and a harrowed look on his face.
It's not an unusual expression for him, almost evenly directed at whatever report he's writing, the indecipherable notes from his supervisor on a copy of Shiro's dissertation, or the results of an experiment that failed to replicate a well-known effect from the literature. But there's nothing that makes Shiro more stressed than his part time teaching job, even though Keith also knows it's his favourite part of the college experience.
Shiro is probably more burnt out as a post grad than he ever was fighting the most deadly empire the galaxy has ever known. Just thinking about the sheer number of red bulls Keith has seen the once hero of the Galaxy Garrison chug while all but pulling out his hair over the experimental analysis of his dissertation brings a small smile to Keith's lips.
"Hey, how was class?" Shiro asks, snapping his face up to meet Keith in the familiar stance of someone who is eager to be distracted.
Normally Keith would give a one word description and then quip about the work Shiro is obviously trying to avoid. But today he pauses, actually having something to report.
"Class was fine, but I… ran into someone on the way home," Keith starts, unsure how to bring it up.
"Who was it?"
"Umm, an old… friend, I guess." Keith shrugs, trying to play it cool. The further away from Lance Keith gets the more he thinks the whole thing sounds a lot like a hallucination. "His name's Lance - we were in first year chemist…"
Keith trails off, because at the mention of Lance's name Shiro drops his pen. He looks up at Keith, his look suddenly guarded, but Keith can see the question behind his eyes.
Keith doesn't know how to handle this. He's never been good at emotional moments. Shiro has always been the closest thing to a brother Keith has ever had. Now he just knows that's been true in more than one life.
"How are you more stressed as a post-grad than you were as the Black paladin?" Keith asks, instead of anything sensible.
Shiro just laughs, pulls Keith into his arms and ruffles his hair.
"Welcome back Keith," he says.
"It's good to be back."
Something seems different about Lance when he arrives home. He'd left that morning in a rush, the result of a late night and an optimistic-ly scheduled 9am class, but it's not his mis-matching socks or the fact that his hair is clearly still unwashed that catches Hunk's eye.
Maybe it's the fact that he's normally exhausted after Professor Montgomery's advanced organic chemistry lectures, but this morning he seems wide awake and almost thoughtful. Maybe it's just that he's back fifteen minutes earlier than normal.
"Hey Lance," Hunk says, looking over the back of the couch at his roommate, "got an early mark?"
"Nah," Lance takes off his shoes, but he doesn't immediately face-plant on the couch or shuffle to his room to go back to sleep, which just adds to the oddness, "I err… I got a lift back."
"Who from?" Hunk doesn't mean to pry, but he's never been one to leave a question unasked. Besides, most of their friends live on or near campus, so they don't know many people with cars.
Lance rakes a hand through his hair, even though he normally wouldn't deign touching it in its current condition, and Hunk is pretty sure he sees him blush.
Which is fine. More than fine. Hunk may have some more than platonic feelings for Lance, but he's not about to try and stop him from finding someone. They're roommates and best friends, and Hunk will force himself to learn to be happy with that if necessary.
"You remember Keith, you know, from CHEM101?"
Hunk doesn't. He hadn’t even known Lance back then, and had been more focussed on trying to cope with being away from home for the first time than on making friends.
He doesn't even remember a 'Keith' from Lance's stories from the semester before they became roommates. There weren't many recurring characters in those stories anyway, apart from a girl from the uni gym named Allura who Lance still takes cycle classes with once a week, and later in the semester, Pidge. And an unnamed antagonist.
"He was your rival, right?"
Hunk takes a stab in the dark, but he feels less surprised than he should be to discover that he's right.
"YES!" Lance jumps over the back of the couch to sit next to Hunk, which definitively shows that he has far more energy than normal. The walk from campus might be around 20 minutes, but even that probably couldn't explain all the difference. "Even you remember him! He didn’t remember me at all, can you even believe it?!"
The way Lance talks about him, Hunk really can't. Then again, Hunk can’t imagine not remembering Lance, not finding his gaze drawn to him in even the most crowded of rooms.
"And then, to top it all off," Lance continues unabated, "he almost hits me with his stupid motorbike! I could have just been a splat on the pavement, Hunk, you could have been at my funeral right about now."
That's not how funerals work, but Hunk can't help the worry that starts desperately clawing its way from the inside of his stomach up his oesophagus.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
Lance pauses when he looks at Hunk's face.
"Yeah I'm fine," he says, smiling and placing a hand on Hunk's shoulder, "he only almost hit me. He even gave me a lift home as an apology."
"Still, he should be more careful."
"I mean it wasn't all bad," Lance says, all but waving Hunk off, "I even got his number."
Hunk ignores the rock that drops into his gut. There's something pulling at the edge of his thoughts, something about Keith that suggests… something. But Hunk forces his attention away from it. He doesn't want to focus on Keith and what he so obviously means to Lance.
And there's that damned blush again.
Hunk isn't sure why he does it. He normally would never lie, especially to Lance of all people. There's no rhyme or reason as to why his gaze lingers on Lance's phone, why he can't get the name 'Keith' out of his head.
At first he'd assumed it was jealousy, it was that rock taking up permanent residence in his stomach. But even after Hunk pulls out the jealousy and untangles it, even when he's as close to happy as he thinks he can ever be imagining Lance with someone else, the pull remains.
He reasons that Lance wouldn't really care, if Hunk actually told him the truth. It may lead to some slightly awkward questions - questions Hunk does not have an answer to - but Lance would probably brush it off eventually. What he's doing is not black and white, really it's a very light moral grey.
That's part of the reason, definitely. Hunk could have held himself back if he knew not doing so would cause Lance pain. But he's also self-aware enough to know that his curiosity is often more powerful than his will.
"Hey Lance, my phone died - can I use yours to call my parents?"
He yells it across the apartment, because he can't ask Lance to his face. He can't lie with Lance's easy trust in view, even if he knows that really he's not going to be causing Lance any harm.
"Yeah sure! It's on the dining table!" Lance replies, followed by his passcode which is probably loud enough for their neighbours to hear.
Hunk smiles as he realises that it's the ages of Lance's nieces and nephews. He unlocks the phone and opens Lance's contacts, but he doesn’t stop where his parents' home phone is listed under 'H'. Instead he scrolls further, before hovering around the 'K's as slightly deserved shame pools in his gut.
But Keith's name isn't there.
Hunk stares between 'Karina' and 'Kool Aid Man' for a long moment, willing for something to appear between them, but the universe has never bent its rules to Hunk's force of will, and it isn't starting now. Hunk knows that Lance got Keith's number, Lance told him himself - so where would it be?
In the absence of any instructions from his brain, Hunk's thumb scrolls down the page once, twice, before abruptly pausing when he gets to the 'M's. There, sitting right before the entry for 'Nancy from study group' is one for 'Mullet Man 👽'.
The phone morphs then, in Hunk's mind's eye to become something else. Suddenly he gets a glimpse at a conversation on some other communicator, 'Mullet Man' followed by a series of hearts and purple alien face emojis. Then, beyond even that - the hint of a smile framed by black hair.
"Did you find it?" Lance calls again, and just for a moment Hunk fumbles.
"Yeah! Thanks man."
"Anytime Hunk, you know that!"
Hunk stares at the name for a second longer, because honestly what are the chances that this one name out of more than a hundred is the one Hunk is looking for, just because it calls to him?
But it doesn't matter, because he's run out of time. Either it's this name or it’s nothing.
Hunk scrawls the number on the side of his arm in dark marker, before pulling his jacket back down over it. Then he scrambles to call his parents before Lance can grow any more suspicious.
Hunk doesn't do anything with the number for four days.
He copies it diligently onto a piece of paper before he scrubs it off his arm, and puts it in the drawer beside his bed.
Out of sight out of mind, he thinks, but the note must be an exception to that rule, because it's like he can feel its presence next to him where he sleeps - a stand-in for something Hunk cannot name.
During the day the note itself doesn't bother him, but every person with shoulder length black hair suddenly draws Hunk's attention like a beacon. He waits with bated breath for countless strangers to turn so he can get a glimpse of their faces - but it's never what he's hoping for. Even though he doesn't know what that is.
Except that deep down Hunk knows that he does. He's waiting for that smile in his mind's eye. Someone Lance nicknamed Mullet Man. He's waiting for Keith.
But Keith doesn't find Hunk, and Hunk doesn't catch him out of the corner of his eye. So after four days, when Lance is at work and Pidge is distracted with trying to create solar panels out of recycled scrap, Hunk calls Keith.
He takes the number out of the draw, and it almost vibrates in his hands. Or maybe his hands are just shaking.
Either way it feels like an omen.
He painstakingly enters it into his phone, terrified of missing a single digit, even though he's basically been playing a game of telephone with himself and this damn number since he got it and any one of his copies could have introduced an error.
He stares at it there, entered on his phone screen. He wishes, not for the first time, that the Earth would envelop him, that he could sink under its surface to a place where his heart isn't trying to beat right out of his chest.
It has never worked, this desire. There's always been a block on his mind keeping him grounded. He doesn’t know where he could have learned such a useless technique but Hunk can't stop trying. It's like some sort of previous conditioning has proven that it should work.
No, Hunk's heart rate doesn't slow. But he eventually gets so frustrated trying to calm himself down that he clicks the call button before he can even really think about what he's doing.
A squeak escapes his throat as it hits him, but he simply holds the phone to his ear as it rings. He's come too far to back out now.
That being said, if this call rings out there is an approximately zero percent chance that Hunk will leave a message.
But after ringing five times the other end picks up.
"Hello?"
Somehow, throughout all of it, Hunk had not planned for this eventuality.
"Hi," he all but stammers, glancing frantically around their living room as if one of their books or their lamp might save him, "umm, am I talking to Keith? A friend of mine-"
Fortunately Hunk is cut off before he can say anything more, by a ragged gasp and then a tone of voice so hopeful and fragile that it stops him right in his explanation.
"Hunk?"
That's the tone of voice Keith had when he told us he loved us for the first time, Hunk thinks out of nowhere.
And then the stable ground of Hunk's mind gives way.
He's falling, falling through the Earth into a cavern filled with yellow light, a lifetime of images carved into the walls and catching his attention as he goes.
Keith kissing him in the morning, Lance pulling him close at night. They were married on Varadero beach, and a summer storm hit halfway through the ceremony. Living with both of them was like heaven, and he smiles just at the warmth that spreads through his chest at the memory. He remembers that he and Pidge made a colour-coded, self-updating map of the galaxy, that he taught Allura the joys of baking and Coran showed him how to make Altean flower crowns.
The memories are going too fast, and they hurt Hunk's hands when he tries to grab hold of them.
"Hunk, are you okay?" Comes Keith's voice from far away, and Hunk tries to reach out to him, but he can do nothing to stop the descent.
"Keith." he breathes, ragged against the air rushing past him in his mind's eye. The memories have changed, to images of giant robots and a constant presence in Hunk's mind. The memory of it sets him aback, and he wonders how he's lived without it for so many years. "We were…"
"Wait, are you remembering right now? Where are you?" It still sounds like a dream, Keith's words. Like a song through a fifty year old radio.
"At home," Hunk says, not thinking.
Keith makes a half-strangled noise, and Hunk finally realises and adds "I live with Lance."
From memories of the Yellow Lion come memories of why they were up in space in the first place. Hunk remembers war. Battles and skirmishes and suddenly realises he knows the difference between the two. He sees countless times that everything could have ended, where everyone he ever loved could have vanished without a trace. He hears his own screams, sees himself carrying Lance and Keith and Pidge and Allura to the healing pods, and sometimes stepping out of them himself, with the familiar disorientation of cryo-sleep.
"Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay where you are."
The phone clicks, and Hunk's last lifeline to reality cuts itself out. He sits still, desperately trying to calm his breathing. He cognitises where he is - he's at home, on his couch. None of the memories are real.
Well, they are real - Keith himself seems proof enough of that. But they aren't of the here and now, and they can't hurt him.
Eventually Hunk hits the bottom of the cavern of his mind, and a jolt goes through him. It's still a shock to his system, a lurch in his stomach, even though there isn't any pain. But once it's over the memories lose some of their hold. It's almost like double vision, the way he can see their living room now, but can also call the memories to himself when he needs to.
It's while he's getting used to the dichotomy that the doorbell rings.
Hunk lurches to his feet and moves to answer it, and Keith stands on the other side, holding a motorbike helmet in one hand, his hair still ruffled from the ride over.
"Hunk," Keith says again, this time with pure relief, and pulls Hunk into his arms.
It's calm, and the memories continue to recede as Hunk focuses on the warmth around him and hugs Keith back.
"I'm sorry for worrying you."
"It's okay. I'm glad you called. Are you…?"
Hunk shifts so that Keith is wrapped against his side and he leads him in.
"Yeah. The worst of it has passed," Hunk says, leading Keith to the couch.
Hunk is almost ready to give Keith a bit of space, but Keith is having absolutely none of it. He runs his fingers through Hunk's hair and pulls him in for a kiss once, twice, three times. His touch is light, like it always is, but Hunk follows Keith's directions easily, just as in need of reassurance that they're both here and now.
They pass long moments like this, whispered sweet nothings and gentle hands grounding each other. Eventually, after Hunk's heart rate has slowed to a manageable level they curl up together on the couch. Keith traces his fingers across Hunk's palm, before he pauses and pales slightly.
"Umm… Lance doesn't -" Keith starts, scratching the back of his head, "- is he here?"
"He's at work," Hunk says, "although-"
"Hey Hunk, who was at the door?" Pidge calls from the other room, cutting him off. She sounds distracted, probably only half-conscious of her own question. Hunk knows for a fact that she wouldn't have moved her physical self or her mind off her current project to ask it.
Hunk doesn't really know how to describe Keith, how to describe any of it. There's a slimmer of a possibility that Pidge remembers the past just as they do, but a far greater chance that Hunk risks freaking her out by saying too much.
"An… old friend," he eventually settles on, and Keith huffs a laugh as he settles further into Hunk's side.
The other room goes strangely quiet for just a moment. Then Pidge's office chair squeaks as she obviously shifts.
"…Keith?"
"Hey Pidge," Keith calls back, and suddenly there are running footsteps across the floor, and Pidge is all but flying around the corner.
"Keith!" She shouts this time, and he doesn't get up, merely opens his arms so she can dive bomb where they're both sitting on the couch.
Pidge explains that she's known since she was little, seeds planted in her subconscious by the way that her given name sounded strange to her ears. They were watered with the wrong pronouns and every science book in her father's study which spoke of the stars.
Her knowledge grew slowly, as she did. She remembered each of them in turn, and then their adventures. Now her mind holds a forest as luscious and staggering as the ones on Olkari.
Hunk rustles her hair and lets the pride flow through him. Pidge has always felt something like a younger sister to him in both of his lives, and he can't hide his emotions at just how happy she is to see them.
"So it wasn't so much coincidence that we happened to be lab partners in PHYS103…?" Hunk asks, already knowing the answer.
"Nah, I hacked into Iverson's computer," Pidge leans back, making herself comfortable. She's mostly moved from being sprawled on top of them in her initial exuberance to being sprawled beside them, but her knee is still digging ever so slightly into Hunk's thigh.
But with Keith's arm around him and Pidge beside him, Hunk wouldn't change it.
They reminisce for hours, make jokes that Hunk suddenly remembers are funny as he tells them, and make plans to surprise Shiro during the next class he's teaching.
Conversation evolves into a hang out that's just like old times. Just them, as if Earth was a million miles away, pulled together by their shared past and experiences, kept together by their love for each other. Or, it would be just like old times, if the rest of their family were with them.
Pidge tracked down Allura not long after Lance met her, and she remembered sometime last year. Coran has known probably since before any of them were born. Which just leaves one missing piece, one gap in their happy ending.
But there's no real rhyme or reason to when people remember, so it sounds like they might just have to wait.
The jangle of keys outside, however, tells them they might have to wait, but right here and now they've run out of time.
Keith looks about ready to bolt. Hunk would wonder the point, given that the one door out of their apartment is currently being occupied, but Hunk has seen Keith climb out of enough windows to know where his mind is going.
Honestly it's not a bad idea. They're only one floor up, and Keith has definitely managed more daring escapes.. Hunk's about to point Keith in the direction of his window, which is the largest and out of view of the street, but Pidge puts a hand on Keith's arm and shoots them both a reassuring smile.
"Are you sure?" Keith asks quietly, eyeing the door.
"Trust me. I've been doing this for years."
Hunk forces himself to sit back in position, although he moves back far enough from Keith to be arguably platonic.
Pidge throws him a thumbs up and turns on the TV, softly so that Lance won't hear the difference. Hunk tries his best to return her thumbs up, but he's sure his smile is much less convincing.
Lance jostles his keys and bites back a yawn. He wonders, not for the first time, how long he could afford food and rent if he quit his job at the pharmacy.
Last time he did the sums it was two and a half weeks. Which is a bummer, considering that Lance still has 45 years until retirement.
His day hadn't even been that bad, just the same monotony and low-level exasperating that it always is. He'd explained to at least 3 kids why he couldn't just "take their word for it" that they definitely had a prescription for whatever they were asking for, no need to look it up in the system.
And of course the same - post grad? Professor? It's honestly hard to tell under their hoodie - that Lance has seen at least once a week came in to buy a frankly worrying amount of caffeine pills.
Is he selling them? Is he using it for some sort of craft project? Lance isn't sure, but he sure hopes for the sake of that guy's heart that he's not taking them all himself.
He tries his best to push it out of his mind as he slides his key into the lock. The best part about his job is that he literally doesn't need to remember it exists until his next shift on Friday.
When he gets inside, fully intending to drop his bag and flop dramatically onto the couch, he finds it occupied by none other than Hunk and Pidge (which is pretty normal) and Keith (which is not). Lance stop half way through dramatically dropping his bag to the floor, and instead hoists it back up to his shoulders as he takes off his shoes.
"Hey Hunk, Pidge… Mullet", he says, hoping that going on the offensive will hide the pre-emptive embarrassment that's crawling up the back of his neck for no good reason.
"Hey Lance," Pidge says, looking over at him from where she was watching some sort of cartoon kids show that Lance has never seen any of them show any interest in before. "How was work?"
"It was good," Lance says, placing his bag gently on the table instead and pulling out the apples he bought, "Caffeine guy was back, but no one started a fight this week."
Keith perks up at that.
"There are fights at your work?" He asks, sounding slightly incredulous and maybe a bit jealous.
"Only during finals week when everyone's fighting over redbull usually", Lance shrugs, and wanders over to sit on the arm chair next to the couch.
"I see you've all met," he continues, giving them all a slightly pointed look.
"Oh yeah, we all.." Hunk starts, trails off halfway through, and lets out a nervous chuckle.
Lance narrows his eyes. He can read Hunk like an open book, he's always been able to. Something's off about this, less than a week ago Hunk seemed surprised to hear Keith existed, and now he's here cosying up to Lance's roommates? What is he-
"We met at robotics club", Pidge finishes for Hunk, cuddling herself deeper into the couch.
Lance didn't know their college had a robotics club. He's pretty sure he's heard Pidge complain about it at least once.
"I didn't think we had a robotics club," he says.
"Me and Hunk started one," Pidge laughs, "you're welcome to join if you want, we can't get funding until we get 20 members".
How is this the first Lance hearing about this?
"You like building robots, Keith?" Lance asks, dubious, because he doesn't seem like the type.
"Hunk and I are the people that build their own robots," Pidge says definitively, "Keith just watched too much mecha anime as a kid."
Hunk pipes up again from his corner of the couch. But far from add anything useful to the conversation, instead he just starts these barely-contained giggle that grow quickly into a very uncontained and overwhelming giggles.
Lance can't help his stare. Hunk has been Lance's best friend for two years now, and held his interest well before then. Hunk is usually so contained, so deliberate in what he does. But sometimes he lets loose, and every time it manages to take Lance by surprise, in the best way.
As if on cue, one of the children on TV makes a dramatic gesture, and it pans out to a large humanoid robot pulling the same move, on a vastly increased scale.
Keith leans forward then, and unlike anything Lance has seen him do before, looks at Hunk and says in a complete deadpan...
"Hell yeah, go autobots".
Hunk is completely gone then, losing any remaining shred of his composure.
Lance tries and fails not to join in, seeing Keith and Pidge have already been pulled into the laughing fit too.
But there still seems to be a layer that Lance isn't understanding here, some layer to the joke that he's not privy to. He watches the laugh, more comfortable with each other than acquaintances have any right to be. Keith looks like he's always been there, and the thought worries Lance.
Keith spent a semester stealing the top spot of first year chem, Lance hopes he isn't planning on stealing Lance's friends to match.
But then they all settle down, and Keith draws Lance into the conversation as much as any of them. They talk about classes and timetables and the latest campus gossip, and the extreme domesticity starts to trickle back into regular banter.
Still, even then Lance doesn't fail to notice that Hunks hands drift towards Keith's arm more than once, only darting back at the last minute.
Not something that Lance has reason to worry about, but it leaves a slightly off taste in his mouth anyway.
All it takes is that first meeting, and suddenly Keith is part of the furniture. Suddenly a part of their group, as if he'd always been there.
Hunk and Pidge seemingly invite him everywhere, and half the time other people will show up too. Some post grad named Shiro, who is perhaps one of the kindest, and most put-together people Lance has ever met. Until the next time he shows up at the pharmacy with his ratty hoodie, and unshaven face. And Lance came face to face with the other side of Shiro, his secret identity. The caffeine guy.
That leads to many a conversation and an badly planned and hastily cancelled intervention. That Lance was involved in somehow.
At least Lance learns that he gives out at least half of the caffeine tablets to his students. Which still left a mildly alarming amount - but Keith's expression told Lance that he'd handle it.
Lance can apparently read Keith's expressions now.
They're also insistent on inviting Allura along, which - Lance didn't even know she was friends with Hunk and Pidge - she was supposed to be Lance's cool gym friend! But somehow, and Lance isn't quite sure how, she fits right in.
There's even a professor who shows up occasionally. He's always bringing them food and reminding them about the importance of proper nutrition?
Lance learns that his name is Coran, and honestly he's pretty cool. He's always happy to listen to Lance's ramblings about school or his family. He tells Lance about his research and proper moustache maintenance.
But Coran teaches Ancient Mythology - how did he even meet five different science majors?
It's not bad. It's not.
It's just weird.
Lance's world is just shrinking around him at an alarming rate, and there's something crystalising around him that he can't quite figure out.
The bad part is - also technically not bad. To anyone but Lance. To Lance it's somewhat devastating.
Or, no. It's good. It's wonderful actually, because Hunk is wonderful and deserves the world. Hunk deserves whatever he wants. Even if, for whatever reason, what he wants is Keith.
Which is fine. More than fine.
Lance has known Hunk for many years, and had unrequited feelings for him for almost as long. He's used to it.
Lance has known Keith for two years, and had unrequited feelings for him for almost as long as well. He never expected anything to come of it.
But Hunk and Keith have known each other for what - a week? Two? And been dating almost as long as that.
It must have been love at first sight, or a close enough thing.
Lance has seen them both so many times. And they didn't manage to fall in love with him any of those times? Rude.
It's unfair. He's being unfair.
He's happy for them, he really is. He would never want anyone or anything to come in the way of their happiness together.
Lance's real complaint is not with Hunk or Keith. It's with the universe itself.
Dear universe, when the two people Lance has a crush on start dating people who clearly aren't him, could you at least give him the decency of not having them date each other?
How bad is it if Lance admits that right now he can't quite remember which subject this study group is even for?
He has all his books in his bag anyway, so it doesn't really matter. And all his classes feel like they're lightyears ahead of him, no matter how much sleep he sacrifices for study, so he'll be equally as unprepared for any subject this group can throw at him.
Although, that being said, he and Hunk only share one class this semester, and his best friend's presence on his left and the warm hand carding through his har as he lays his head on the table is a pretty big hint.
One would think that the fact that Hunk has a boyfriend would take this kind of casual intimacy off the table, but Hunk and Lance have never been ones to restrict themselves based on heteronormative boundaries and Keith, for all his flaws, is surprisingly un-jealous in the face of all of it.
Speak of the devil -
Lance feels more than he hears a number of items being placed on the table to his left, and then a mullet and its human host round the table into the sliver of the world currently in Lance's field of vision, holding two large takeaway cups of coffee.
It's from the coffee shop a few blocks away from campus, that's cheaper and better than any on campus, but also quieter. It's basically a performance art piece on human laziness.
Damn does that coffee smell good.
Keith deposits a cup in Hunk's free hand and gives him a chaste kiss, and Lance isn't sure who he's more jealous of. He decides both of them, because being jealous of them for the coffee doesn't make his heart ache.
"Thanks Keith."
"Anytime, love."
And that's another thing about Keith. Beyond his seemingly endless patience for his boyfriend's 'lovably obnoxious' (Pidge's words, not his) best friend. The excessive use of pet names, practically from day one, all of which are way too intimate for a courtship of less than a month.
He could almost pass it off as merely Keith being southern, if it weren't for the way that he says them. He doesn't drawl them out as if they're more a force of habit than anything else. He never treats them as a joke. He says every one as if it's impossible for him not to.
Sometimes Keith looks at Hunk like they're both sitting on their back porch, watching their grandkids play on the grass with the puppy they just adopted. Sometimes Hunk looks at Keith the same way.
It freaks Lance out.
Or, at least he pretends it does. Because that makes far more sense than the overwhelming longing for them to look at him that way too. For him to be able to look at them that way back.
But that sort of jealousy is the reason Lance is going to need therapy, so instead he decides to focus on the coffee.
"I know Keith has a mullet, yadda yadda hair crimes," he says, staring forlornly at the cup in Hunk's hand, "that being said - where can I get one?"
The three brain cells of Lance's that are still functioning expect Keith to roll his eyes, or else for Hunk to chew him out for all but hitting on his boyfriend. Statistically one of them has to be the jealous-type after all, and it's clearly not Keith.
But instead Keith just smiles at him like he has a secret, and then places the cup in his hand right in front of Lance's head.
The soft noise as it hits the table suggests that it's full.
"Oh, uh, Keith buddy," Lance starts, staring at the cup as he can feel his cheeks heat up, "I mean you don't have to… I was just joking…"
"I know," Keith says, leaving Lance's sight for a moment and returning with a third cup of coffee to lean into Hunk, "I got that for you."
That serves to startle Lance out of his stupor long enough to raise his head so he can take a sip. It's his favourite order, and still almost hot enough to burn.
"Keith," Lance says, his brain-to-mouth filter swept away in a blissful haze, "marry me. Or better yet, marry Hunk. That way I can reap all the coffee benefits without having to shell out for a wedding."
Keith leans over to pat Lance's shoulder, and Lance must have crossed about a hundred lines by now, but and Hunk are both still smiling.
"I'll do my best," he promises.
"To which one?" Hunk asks, narrowing his eyebrows in a way that Lance knows holds no malice.
Keith runs a hand through his hair anyway.
"Both."
He and Allura have just finished a run when she asks him. They're stretching in the park, enjoying the sun and gentle breeze in equal measure.
Allura is training for a triathlon. Lance is training to keep up with his nieces and nephews over the holidays. To make sure he doesn't lose the title of 'the fun uncle'.
That, and apparently exercise increases energy, and gives you motivation and endorphins and all that good stuff. As a bonus, it's literally anything other than working or studying.
"Lance, have you ever had a moment, where your mind just - expanded? The area it took up grew, or came to life or lit up or something like that?"
The first time Lance met Hunk, heard his name, the quiet reef of his mind grew a sudden and extreme drop-off. Its current pulled incessantly at Lance, trying to drag him down to the depths. There was something there Lance knew, something it was trying to tell him, but he couldn't determine whether it was good or bad. Whether it would set him free or ruin him forever.
The strength of the current should have meant that it didn't matter. But Lance had been lord of this domain his whole life. He was a stronger swimmer than the current had given him credit for, and he knew the best hiding spots amongst the coral.
Still, ever since then Lance's mind has felt less like his own. He doesn't explore it as freely as he used to, always conscious of the drop-off and the constant pull to a place deeper than Lance's understanding.
"Ummm…no?" Lance lies, shrugging like he couldn't care less, "why?"
Allura looks at him for a long moment, and Lance almost squirms under her gaze. He doesn't want to lie to her, but the contents of his mind is a sticky subject. Too many times as a kid he'd assumed that other's had what he did - a place that was all his own where his internal- self lived, somewhere he'd always known, away from the outside world.
But it turned out that it was far more unusual than he thought - he'd first been called a liar, and then teased for it. The first time one of his teachers had mentioned bringing it up with his parents he'd said he made it up and decided to stop talking about it.
That and the fact that Allura's question gives the current new life, and it skims between Lance and the coral he's hanging onto in an attempt to dislodge him. Only his answer quells it's pull.
Finally Allura just smiles her perfect smile and shifts to stretch her arms.
"I guess it makes sense. Apparently it's most common for highly creative people."
"Wait -" Lance splutters "- it makes sense - what are you trying to say about me?"
Allura's nose crinkles slightly as she laughs.
"You know I don't mean it Lance," she says, "you're wonderfully creative."
"Well, what about you?" Lance pretends the answer doesn't matter to him. But it does.
If someone like Allura had an internal place, an internal world like him - then surely that means it can't be a bad thing. If Allura had one, and the rest of them had one, maybe that would help explain how they were all drawn together. Why they all fit together in a way that Lance can't quite explain.
But Allura doesn't realise that. And instead of a straight answer she continues to tease him.
"Will it make you happy if I say no?"
"Not really."
"Suit yourself then," she says, and laughs again as Lance sticks his tongue out at her.
"Oh yeah, I gave Elian your number today," Lance says as he pours hot water into their mugs.
He says it nonchalantly, but it's so out of left field that Hunk has to look up from the slides he's preparing for their group project. Both of them have already done their parts of the research, now all they need is to copy it into a presentation. Hunk will do the basic outline, and Lance will make the slides look presentable. Hunk is so glad they took this free elective together, lest they both be stuck with dead weight project partners.
"Why?" Hunk eventually asks.
"We were talking about hobbies and stuff. Turns out they're a total robotics nut. Their team won their state championship for robotic soccer like 3 years running in high school. And they didn't even know we had a robotics club, can you believe it? You guys really need to like, advertise or something".
"Oh wow, that's crazy," Hunk stammers, trying and failing to come up with a plausible excuse as to why they wouldn't want a new member for their legitimate, definitely-not-a-cover-up-for-anything robotics club, "well… we'd love to have them."
"Great! I'll ask if they know anyone else who might be interested. I'm sure we can get you to 20 members in no time".
"Thanks Lance, you're the best." Hunk says.
It's not a lie, because Lance is one of the best people Hunk has ever met. But it's not entirely relevant to their current conversation either.
They keep working, and once Lance has put the finishing touches on their slides (which of course are to die for), they drift off to get ready for bed.
"Pidge," Hunk says, leaning into her doorway and rubbing a hand across his face as he realises this is another thing to add to his already full plate, "we have a problem."
It's Thursday night, it's Pidge's turn to cook and Lance has perfectly configured his timetable so that he has nothing on until his shift at 2pm tomorrow. Midsemester exams are over, and he's spent so much energy on studying and money on coffee that curling up and watching a movie at home is exactly where he wants to be.
Lance wouldn't give up this quiet night for the wildest party of the decade, and it's only improved by the company.
Hunk hadn't said anything when Lance had settled next to him on the couch, leaving space to his right instead of between him and where Hunk is curled up next to the armrest. And if Hunk isn't going to stop him then Lance will let himself be selfish, just this once. He'll let himself forget about HunkandKeith for a few hours, safe in the knowledge that Hunk will stop him before he crosses any boundaries. He'll let himself steal popcorn from the bowl on Hunk's lap and pretend that this is something he's allowed to have.
They're watching Bee Movie, because it's on the one streaming service they split between them, and neither of them have the brain power for anything even approaching reasonable.
It also means that Lance can spend most of the movie zoning out, thinking about how warm Hunk is beside him, and into tired daydreams of this becoming a more regular occurrence without missing anything important on-screen, which is an added bonus.
They're just getting to the Jerry Seinfeld bee (whose name Lance has not been bothered to remember) leaving the hive for the first time, when a key turns in the lock of their front door. Even tired as he is, Lance is able to piece together that from the noise Pidge is making in the kitchen and Hunk beside him, everyone who has keys should be accounted for, but he's not awake enough to do anything more than turn in his seat to see who has entered.
It's Keith, toeing off his boots into the shoe-pile near the doormat. He's got multiple bags of books hanging off his arms, and he looks even more haggard than Lance feels, if such a thing is even possible.
"Hey babe," Hunk greets him, shifting and causing his shoulder to brush against Lance's, "all done?"
Keith dumps the bags next to the door and pads over, making some sort of affirmative grunt. Lance is just about to offer to move, just about to snap himself out of the light daze at seeing Keith so inarguably domestic for the first time, but before he has the chance Keith has already flopped down beside him on the couch, far closer than he ever has before.
In one deft move Keith has grasped Lance's hand and held it straight out, only to curl up flush against Lance's side and lay Lance's arm around his shoulders. Keith rests his head against Lance's shoulder, and before Lance even has the chance to react, appears for all intents and purposes to have fallen dead asleep.
Not pretending to be asleep.
Not trying to fall asleep.
Dead asleep. Like Keith is a robot with only two modes and someone has flipped the switch.
Lance stares down at him for what could be seconds or hours, trying and failing to place Keith's actions. Each conclusion only leads to more questions. Eventually however, he comes up with some sort of concrete reaction.
"Wait a second, Keith has a key?"
He directs this question at Hunk, because he doesn't appear at all surprised at Keith's entrance. Instead he's just looking over at the both of them fondly, meaning that a total of zero of them have taken in anything that's happened on screen for some time.
"Yeah?" Hunk asks as much as he answers. "Why wouldn't he?"
"I dated Nyma for six months and you never let me give her a key!" Lance tries to stifle his voice where it wants to grow louder, but he isn't fully successful.
Of course, Hunk had turned out to be right about Nyma. She had "borrowed" his physics notes, the colour-coded pieces of art that turned their lecturer's ramblings into material a human being could actually follow, and a few days later they'd been available for sale on a third-party website along with answers to the recycled year-on-year homework sheets.
The whole thing had gotten Lance called to the academic integrity office and almost cost him his hard-won grades. When Lance had later confronted Nyma about it she had shrugged and asked if she could still borrow his notes for Chemistry.
Hunk might have been right about that one instance, but he's also been dating Keith for all of a month and it's completely unfair for his 'common sense radar' to take a backseat simply because he's the one who's smitten. Hunk just chuckles like Lance's comparison is completely off base (which - duh - it is, because Lance dated Nyma for far longer than Hunk has even known Keith existed).
"Well yeah," Hunk says, like he's talking to a child, "but Keith is-"
Then Hunk stops stock still. He looks at Lance for a moment, his face falling from amusement to a momentary flash of badly-concealed pain before smoothing out into a polite smile. Lance waits for him to pick up his sentence where he dropped it, but he never does.
"Keith is what?" Lance eventually asks.
"Keith is… also Pidge's friend…"
Hunk can't lie to Lance. Definitely not to his face. He's always been awful at it. But as Lance shifts to look at him more closely, to try and get the bottom of it, he must disturb Keith. Because a sleepy hand reaches up and shifts him back to his previous position, pats him on the cheek, and reaches across Lance to grasp blindly at Hunk's hand, all without Keith moving his head or opening his eyes.
Lance completely loses track of the conversation, because somehow this ends with Hunk holding Keith's hand, both of which are resting on Lance's knee, and all of them somehow even closer than they were before.
"You alright? I can move him if you want," Hunk speaks softly into Lance's ear, and Lance tries hard to supress a shiver.
Did he fall asleep during the movie somewhere? It would make sense, given that Jerry Seinfeld is trying to romance some random human woman despite the fact that he's a bee.
"No I'm fine," Lance mumbles back, fixing his gaze on the screen and refusing to move it.
Then, because the whole world has fallen off its axis and why the hell not, he lets the arm still around Keith start to thread through the boy's soft, black mullet. He may as well, now, while he has the only chance he's probably ever going to get.
Keith just makes a content hum and his breathing immediately evens out again.
Lance isn't sure how long the three of them sit there, curled up on their couch. Long enough for the bees to win a lawsuit against all of human kind. Long enough for all the flowers in the world to simultaneously cark it. The bees are just coming up with some secret plan to save everything, what probably is designed to be the climax of the movie, when Keith stirs.
He goes from pliant against Lance to rigid in an instant. Lance pauses the hand through his hair and looks down at the boy, who has yet to move away. Keith shifts his head so that their eyes meet, and his eyes are filled with an emotion Lance can't place.
"Lance…?" Keith all but whispers. It's overwhelming really, for Lance to be hit with the full extent of whatever this is, to be responsible for whatever earth-shattering revelation Keith has just experienced.
He pulls back his hand from Keith's hair as if burnt, and tries his best to not show that his heart has doubled in tempo.
"Uhhh hey buddy," Lance says, suddenly feeling closed in on all sides, because he's been cuddling with his best friend and his best friend's boyfriend for over an hour, and how could he ever feel that could be okay? "You must have been pretty zonked, hey?"
Keith's eyebrows furrow, but Lance isn't done talking yet.
"You probably want your boyfriend back - let me just - I'll go help Pidge with dinner -" he extradites himself from all the limbs on the couch, all of the too many of them, and bolts before either Hunk or Keith can react.
He tells himself it's for the best.
Keith stares after Lance for a long moment, as his senses slowly return to him. He wandered right into a living room that wasn't his, and forced an impromptu snuggle session with his husband from another life who he currently isn't even dating.
If there is a silver lining to all this, it's that at least he's not alone. Keith shifts closer to Hunk's warmth, into the space that he's happy for someone else to occupy only if that someone is Lance, and lets out a low groan.
Hunk's hand sneaks around the back of Keith's neck to card through his hair the way Hunk knows he secretly loves.
"I messed it up, didn't I?" Keith mutters, and Hunk chuckles softly as his hands continue their motion.
"No more than it was already messed up, I don't think."
Keith nods into Hunk's shoulder, and Hunk leans over to peck him on the forehead.
Hunk has to hand it to Pidge, she really has been doing this far longer and far more adeptly than anyone else gave her credit for.
She'd already set up a paper trail with the college before Lance's friend had even called Hunk. They didn't have enough members to set up a funded club yet, but they'd done enough to get the robotics club listed on the school intranet, and had an Instagram.
She'd booked a room for the next "first Thursday of the month" meeting, and rallied their friends to show up and pretend that this was a semi-regular occurrence.
Thursday, of course, because Lance has historically always worked on Thursdays. So it makes sense why they wouldn't have asked him before.
But the pharmacy is being renovated, so he had mentioned to Hunk that he'd at least swing by and sign the log sheet to boost their numbers.
Pidge had prepared her part of all of this perfectly. Hunk could only hope that the rest of them could live up to that standard.
What could go wrong?
Well, everyone had showed up at least.
Pidge had corralled them all around the one robotic dog she'd managed to find from… somewhere. It had been the perfect cover. Had been. For about five minutes, until Coran had popped by and distracted them all with some gossip about the dean of students. And "supplies". After that they'd all drifted off to do their own activities.
If the robot isn't larger than life or telepathically connected to them, apparently it doesn't make the cut.
He, Pidge and Elian are still working. Because if they're going to go to the trouble of starting a fake robotics club, they may as well compete in the local robot soccer tournament. And get some sort of recognition, at least.
Their college is small, but Hunk feels confident that they can punch above their weight.
That doesn't make the scene much more convincing when Lance wanders in twenty minutes later, to see:
Hunk, Pidge and Elian doing robotic-related activities, as advertised.
Shiro completely passed out in an Optimus Prime bean bag (supplied by Coran).
Keith and Allura sparring with foam swords (also supplied by Coran).
"Hey Lance," Hunk says, trying for nonchalance but knowing as soon as the words squeak out of him that he did not succeed.
"Hey… robotics club," Lance replies, "quite the turnout, isn't it?"
Elian waves, and saves them by being completely normal. "I have some friends coming by later, they're interested in signing up."
"Well that's good," Lance wanders over to inspect the robot dog, "good to boost the percentage of members who are conscious."
"Hey! I'll listen to your complaints once you've started your own club," Pidge quips back, and swats Lance's hand away from the dog. "Sign up sheet's over there, and Coran left us some muffins if you want some."
"Hell yes," Lance fist pumps, and wanders off, satisfied.
Hunk doesn't think Lance will come back over to them, and sure enough he wanders over to watch Keith and Allura spar as he eats his muffin. Well, he probably assumes that they're play-fighting. But neither of them are holding back nearly as much as they should be, so it's not a very convincing cover.
"And this is related to robots, how?" Hunk can hear Lance ask.
Hunk sees Keith's lips curl up. He knows how much Keith relishes Lance's positive (or anything other than negative) attention. It makes sense, how often he used to get it, and how little he has received since becoming a college student.
Keith outlived both of them, the last time around. He's told Hunk about the long years alone, as he slowly felt himself fade away. And Hunk thinks he sees a glint of that same loneliness reflected in his eyes whenever he looks at his husband turned stranger.
"Oh sorry," Keith says, sidestepping Allura's swipe and shifting his balance, "do you not want to sword fight?"
Lance is quiet for a moment then, and Hunk swears he can feel the tension from across the room.
"I'm taking the winner."
Lance is doing the sums again.
If he quit his job at the pharmacy he could survive 1 week and five days without dying of starvation.
How has the number gotten lower?
"12 days huh?" Pidge says, leaning over his shoulder and immediately recognising the familiar equations, "it was 16 last time right? That's a bummer".
"Rent is a nightmare and capitalism is a prison," Lance laments.
Pidge looks thoughtful.
"Could we get another roommate? That'd save some money on rent?"
"There are three of us in a three bed. I'd rather more shifts at the pharmacy than have to share my room with a stranger again", Lance groans, leaning his head on the table.
"What about Keith?" Pidge asks.
Lance rolls his head to one side, so that he can just see Pidge out of the corner of one eye. It has potential.
Pros: He knows Keith. Keith will get along with everyone. He's already at their apartment a bunch anyway. He and Hunk can share a room - cheaper rent with almost none of the downsides
Cons: the jealous lump that has taken up residence in his gut isn't a big fan of the idea.
From Pidge's perspective, surely it's a win win. Assumedly, she can look at Hunk and Keith and feel simple happiness for them. She can see that they're perfect for each other, and that doesn't leave a bad taste in her mouth because that makes them imperfect for anyone else.
"You wouldn't mind another roommate?" He asks instead.
Pidge shrugs. Her parents still send her money for expenses, which makes sense given that she's only sixteen. So she doesn't have as big of an incentive here.
Not to mention that she'd need to talk to her parents about the change, and potentially that'd trigger Matt keeping a close eye on them all for a while again.
Which is fine, Matt's pretty cool. He really cares about his sister, and so he was on Lance and Hunk's good side as soon as he realised they did too.
Recently, Lance learned that he's taken a bunch of classes with Shiro, and is good friends with Shiro's boyfriend Adam.
Lance's world is not just small, it's bordering on microscopic.
"The less I pay on rent, the more money I have for houseplants," she just says shrugging, "and we know Keith - he'd be a good roommate."
Lance sighs, pretending it's because of his deeply-held dislike of Keith, and not because that's further from the truth than it should be.
"It's not a bad idea", he admits. "They've only been dating like 2 months though, aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves?"
Pidge gives that smile that's becoming more and more common on all his friends' faces. The smile that makes him think there's a joke with a punchline he just doesn't get.
She shrugs.
"I dunno. Something tells me that Keith's not going anywhere."
Lance thinks that's the end of that, but the next week she pulls out her laptop and shoves a real estate listing between Lance and his toast.
"Look at this house! Six bedrooms - and not that much more than our apartment. If we split this seven ways - we could halve our rent and have way more space. I could rig solar panels onto the roof, and there's a backyard! We could get a dog!"
Lance stares blearily at a house that is, frankly, beautiful.
Keith looks over, because he's in their kitchen for some reason, and sets aside his half-finished coffee so that he can accept Pidge's laptop and start scrolling through photos.
Hunk leans over his shoulder to look.
"It's nice," he says.
"It also has six bedrooms," Lance interjects, because that seems like an important bit of this that everyone else is ignoring, "and we'd need seven people to split it."
"That's the easy bit," Pidge says, stopping Keith's scrolling and pointing at the big back garden.
It is lovely. It's a college town, so the place has a certain shabby chic to it. It definitely isn't been marketed as a boutique establishment. But that doesn't mean Lance doesn't like it.
The master bedroom has a bay window, and is easily spacious enough for two people, maybe more. It has soft blue wallpaper, and Lance is half in love with it already. He can already imagine where he'd put a seat, how he'd display his records. But obviously that room would go to one of the couples, so he ignores it and pretends to focus on the rest of the house.
It's nice, it really is. With enough nooks and crannies for a group of people and all their eclectic furniture and interests.
"You, me, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Allura, and Matt," she continues counting off her fingers. "Maybe Adam? We'd need to check with Shiro."
Lance glances at Hunk then. He's not sure what he's expecting - the same kind of nervous embarrassment when a distant relative asks you and your new partner when they should be expecting a wedding announcement? The grimace of someone else expecting too much too soon?
But Hunk just has his thinking face on - like he's going over the logistics in his head. How they'd split up the space and the electricity bill. Would their couch or Keith and Shiro's work better in the main living room? Not like he's processing that someone just nonchalantly suggested his boyfriend move in before they've even discussed it.
Keith doesn't look phased either. He just sips his coffee and says "I can ask him."
Like he's not an issue. Like he and Hunk are a sure thing. Like they've been tied together so long that they no longer even notice the threads.
Why is Lance the only one worried about this? Why is he the only one freaking out?
Hunk glances at him, and raises an eyebrow. He can probably hear Lance's blood pressure spiking from here.
"What do you think Lance?" He asks. "It's a big change. We can all take some time to think about it."
Pidge and Keith are quick to agree, almost in one voice. As if Lance was the only one who might possibly have any objection.
He picks up his toast, and takes his leave.
"I need to get ready for work. But yeah? Maybe? We should ask Shiro, Allura and Matt."
He hears three sounds of agreement and continued chatter over the listing as he leaves the room.
Lance might have miscalculated, okay?
He lost a bunch of shifts while the pharmacy was being renovated, so he'd picked up as many as he could get once it had re-opened to make up his depleted savings.
But of course, he'd spent his free time on frivolous things like hanging out with his friends and enjoying his life. Not getting a head start on the assignments that are now piling around him with exams looming on the horizon.
Not to mention that this semester he's taking Professor Montgomery's hellish Advanced Organic Chemistry. Which, on top of being a required course for Lance's major and not something he would have chosen, is run with an almost perverse pleasure in making the lives of students everywhere miserable.
All that to say, Lance has an eight page research paper due at midnight that he's barely started. He's exhausted from a long shift at work. And it's seven forty five pm.
Oh, and did he mention that Professor Montgomery gives an automatic zero on late work?
Yeah.
He's screwed.
So of course, instead of buckling down and starting on his report, he's loudly ranting in his living room about how unfair his life is to his roommates. And of course Keith, who is curled up next to Hunk on the couch holding a cup of tea and his Math's textbook - already studying for an exam that Lance also has next week. The asshole.
"Wait -" Pidge says, after nodding in agreement for several minutes "- Keith you're in Lance's class right? Shouldn't you be panicking too?"
Keith shrinks back into the couch cushions a bit then.
"I… handed mine in yesterday," he admits, "but it's a tough topic. I can give you some of my sources if you want Lan-?"
"I can do it myself Keith," Lance snaps, cutting him off. Lashing out at Keith the way he knows he should be lashing out at himself, "I know you think you're so much better than me. That I'm just Hunk's friend, and you're stuck with me, and have to pretend you want to help my pathetic ass. But I'm not a total idiot, and you're not as smart as you think you are. And I don't need your stupid sources!"
Keith stares at Lance for a long moment, trying hard not to look like he's just been slapped in the face.
It's not Lance's fault, he reminds himself. It's not Lance's fault that he knows you as a stranger. It's not Lance's fault he doesn't trust you.
It's not his husband saying these things to him, even though it is.
Lance stares at Keith, watching him flinch back. Lance has enough self-awareness to realise when he's messed up, okay? He realises that he's been harsh.
"Keith? I'm sorry… I just…"
"It's fine Lance. I'm sorry too," Keith says, showing a maturity and patience that is almost unrecognisable from the Keith in first year who once started a fist fight with another student over something they said in a lab class.
Admittedly, the kid was James Griffin, so what he said almost certainly deserved it, but the Keith from back then wouldn't have just sat down and taken shit from anybody.
Why do the people in Lance's life seem to keep developing the patience of a saint every time he looks away?
"I wasn't trying to suggest that you can't do it yourself." Keith continues. "You're one of the smartest people I know, and I know how hard you've been working and how much stress you're under. That's the reason I wanted to help, not because I pity you, but because I respect you so much. But you're right - you don't need my help, and I shouldn't have assumed you'd want it."
Lance can feel that there's something in this conversation he's not grasping. Keith's gentle voice and words don't match the barely concealed horror on his face. There's something he's holding back, but Lance doesn't know what it is.
But like Lance said before, he barely knows Keith. Keith is just Hunk's boyfriend. And if anything Lance should be backing off, retreating and letting his feelings fade, instead of getting closer and making his feelings about Hunk and Keith any more complicated.
He doesn't know Keith, not really. He doesn't know why he reacted the way he is, or how to fix it.
So instead of investigating, Lance keeps his distance. Instead of trying to help Keith now, he takes the conversational out and leaves his mess for Hunk to clean up instead.
Instead, Lance just says "Okay".
Lance went to bed eons ago, but he hasn't yet managed to fall asleep.
Writing his research paper up until the wire of the midnight deadline probably has something to do with it. Or rather, the 5-Hour Energy he'd consumed around the 10pm mark in a last fit of desperation after he'd almost fallen asleep on his keyboard is probably at least part of the reason for his insomnia.
Still, finding the cause of his problems doesn't really negate their effects. According to the clock by his bed he still has at least an hour left of energy to contend with, even as his limbs jitter slightly in their stillness.
He closes his eyes resolutely, because Lance is master of his own domain dammit, he barely takes orders from Professor Iverson, there's no way he's losing to the label of an energy drink.
Ten minutes later he opens his eyes again with a sigh, and decides that, sure, he can get a glass of water or anything other than forcing his body to lie still. It still doesn't mean defeat, caffeine.
Lance yawns as he walks across the flat, which just seems like a cruel taunt from his body and brain. But he pauses when he realises that there's a light on in the kitchen, and that low voices are easing their way into the hallway.
He recognises the voices as Hunk's and Keith's, and maybe Pidge had a point about Keith moving in if he's staying over this often. At least this way they'll save on rent. Besides, even he can admit that having Keith around isn't the worst thing. Internally, at least.
Lance pauses for just a moment, trying to decide whether to continue on his quest or slink back to his room in defeat before he's seen. He eventually decides that, hey, it's just Hunk and Keith, there's no reason he can't go into his own kitchen just because they're already there, but when he steps forward he realises their voices betray a far more serious tone than he first thought.
"I'm not trying to say this isn't hard for you too," Keith says, and somehow Lance knows that he's just on the precipice of tears, even though he has never seen Keith emotional before, "I just… he basically hates me at this point, and I'm not sure how much longer I can wait..."
"I understand," Hunks voice filters though after Keith's, and the slight sound of bodies shifting, "I miss him too, Keith, but I realise that I still have him as my best friend. I can't imagine having him as less than that."
Lance needs to leave. He needs to turn around and walk down the hallway and blindly hope that Hunk and Keith don't hear him when he does so.
But his legs, which were so eager for movement just moments ago, are suddenly frozen in place. They have been ever since Hunk mentioned the words 'best friend'. Either Hunk has graced someone else with the term, either Lance means less to Hunk than he ever thought he did.
Or else Hunk and Keith are talking about him.
"I keep making way too much coffee in the mornings," Keith jokes, in a clear attempt to lighten the mood somewhat, "my hands were shaking all day yesterday because I accidently drank my whole cup."
Hunk laughs softly in the quiet night, and Lance wants to remember that sound forever.
Usually when Hunk laughs with Lance it's loud, uninhibited. The parties they go to, the conversations during movie night and the study sessions in the library - they're best friend conversations, not without closeness, but without the intimacy Lance can almost feel in the air here. Lance longs for it, wants to be sitting at their dining table. He wants to be that close to Hunk, close to Keith.
Instead he's stuck on the outside looking in, an unwanted interloper.
"I almost kissed him on Monday," Hunk admits, and Lance's eyes widen in fear. It was bad enough when he'd walked into a serious conversation, but now he's here as Hunk steps on an emotional land mine.
He's already preparing himself to sneak away under the cover of shouts when he hears Keith snort.
"Was he wearing that red sweater? I know how you get when we wear each other's colours."
"Ok, first of all," Hunk starts, too loud for the late hour, before he catches himself and shushes Keith's laughter, "first of all, last week you told me, and I quote 'you should wear blue more often' so don't you even start. Second of all - it looks like your old one - you know? That Lance knitted you for our 5th anniversary? I just, I kind of forgot where I was for a second."
Keith snorts again, and damn Lance if that isn't weirdly adorable. He decides to focus on that fact rather than that Hunk and Keith are definitely talking about him, and talking nonsense at that.
"God I love you," Keith whispers.
"I love you too," Hunk replies. Lance regrets ever hearing those words, because he could have gone his whole life without knowing how Hunk and Keith sound when they say I love you. It's only adding fuel to a fire Lance desperately needs to quench.
"I can't say when he'll remember," Hunk continues, "but I can promise that I'll be here with you until he does."
"Thanks Sunshine," Keith says, and that's Lance's nickname for Hunk, the little copycat!
Sure, he may never have mustered up the nerve to use it for him, it feels far more intimate than Lance has ever allowed himself to move. Sure, the nickname may make more sense coming from Keith, it might be more in keeping with his place. But there's something like a reminder from the depths of Lance's mind, the parts he never lets himself explore, that makes him sure that he is the creator of that term of endearment.
The sound of a chair scraping on their kitchen floor snaps Lance out of his thoughts.
There would probably be nothing worse in the universe then being found here, right now, listening in to what he's just heard.
Lance turns tail all at once, barely avoiding bashing his head into the wall as he over-balances. But he doesn't let it phase him, marching to his bedroom with his socked feet. Back to where things make sense. Back to where he's no doubt already dreaming - in some caffeine addled haze that he hopefully will have forgotten all about by morning, because he doesn't think he could ever face either Keith or Hunk again if he hasn't.
Half an hour later Lance is left wondering why this dream involves so much staring at the ceiling.
Perhaps it's that imagined safety of everything being a dream, perhaps it's simply that his eyes have adjusted to the lack-of-light so well at this point that even the darkness of his mind seems less intimidating.
Whatever it is, when he can't get the overheard conversation out of his brain, when the current pulls at him harder than ever, Lance finds enough courage to release his hands from around the coral, to let the current pull him down.
For once he decides to stop fighting, and he closes his eyes.
The memories come to Lance slowly, like waves lapping onto the shore of his subconscious.
He drifts off to nothing, but when he wakes not enough hours later, he sees Hunk grinning at him across a battlefield, hears Hunk whispering sweet nothings in his ear, feels Keith's arms around him and Keith's lips on his because just like every battle everything went wrong but somehow they're all here and they're alive. He hears Allura telling them about Voltron, and, years later, finally getting the chance to tell him about the qualities of the Blue Lion.
Lance opens his eyes as a new person, as more himself than he's ever been. He feels grounded now, like he has the piece of the puzzle that he's been missing for so long.
He is a college student. He was a defender of the universe.
Honestly? It's nice to have this proof that the universe is still standing. That their time as Voltron accomplished something, even if it seems they're in an alternate universe where none of it ever happened.
Lance gets up and stretches as he wanders into the hall, lightness filling his chest because he knows that Hunk and Keith are so close. They've been waiting for him, just as he's been longing for them.
They're all together now, there's no more waiting to be had.
When he enters the kitchen Keith is the only one there, a book in front of him and a half-filled cup of coffee to his left. He looks like he's put himself back together almost perfectly since last night, and it takes more than fifty years of experience for Lance to see the tension in his shoulders. Keith looks up when Lance walks in and quickly lowers his eyes again with a masked look of something akin to pain.
"Hey Lance," Keith says, like he's expecting nothing, for Lance to still be trying to overcompensate for his crush, trying to be a good friend to Hunk by not letting his fondness show.
Lance half considers waiting to tell Keith and Hunk about his memories together, but dismisses the thought as soon as he remembers the eavesdropped conversation from last night. Keith needs assurance now, needs assurance yesterday, and Lance knows that Hunk will understand that.
"Morning babe." Lance says, flopping himself down around Keith's shoulders and reaching for his cup of coffee, pressing his lips against Keith's cheek before he takes a sip. "Thanks for the coffee, you're an angel."
Keith goes stock still under him, and turns his head so that they're all but nose to nose. He doesn’t say the next line in the script that they've repeated around the dining table in the Castle Ship for decades, so Lance continues for him.
"How's the most beautiful man in the universe doing this morning?" Lance asks, and any remaining doubt dissolves from Keith's face, leaving only a content smile.
"He had an early class and we didn't go to bed until late, so tired I imagine," Keith says, "but I'll check when he gets back".
It's more fun when Hunk is sitting at the table across from them, never failing to grow flustered no matter how many times Lance and Keith pull this on him. But this is still good, still comforting and new and like home all at once.
"Well then how's the other most beautiful man in the universe doing?" Lance nuzzles his face into Keith's shoulder, because he hasn't had the opportunity in years, and is just starting to remember how much he's missed it.
"I don't know," Keith chuckles and brushes a hand against Lance's cheek, "I haven't had the chance to ask him yet. How are you?"
Lance must be out of practice, because he can feel his cheeks start to warm.
"I'm better for seeing you." He says, leaning further into Keith's warmth. "How are you?"
"Right now? Perfect."
Lance hums, content to stay right where he is for the foreseeable future.
"Me too."
Lance eventually finishes his coffee on the couch, curled up against Keith, because as comfortable as Keith's shoulder is the angle had started to give Lance a strange crick in his neck and really cuddling is a vital part of any love-filled reunion anyway.
Keith is just as warm as Lance remembers. He helps to stave off the mild chill of late Autumn mornings, and Lance is perfectly content to spend the day exactly as he is. Or he would be, if there were another presence beside them.
Hunk should have finished his class by now. So Lance pulls out his phone and texts Hunk that they have a surprise for him.
What can Lance say? He likes to spice up the lives of those around him. Give them a little pizzazz. Give Hunk something to ponder on the walk home.
He lets himself bask in Keith's presence for a few more minutes, before the coffee starts to kick in and he can finally drag himself up.
"C'mon Mullet," Lance says, the term gaining fifty plus years of affection overnight, "I've got a yellow sweater you can borrow."
Keith groans, but follows.
He seems happy to accept Lance's clothes without complaint, and Lance can see his lips quirk up as he puts it on.
He does chuckle though, as Lance wanders into the bathroom to freshen up and brush his teeth.
"He's been waiting for you too Lance," he leans against the doorframe, teasing and reassuring in equal measure, "you don't need to impress him."
"I know, but have some standards Keith. Morning breath is not good enough for Hunk."
"Oh, but it is good enough for me?"
"Keith," Lance admonishes, turning around to face him even with a toothbrush in his mouth, "are you telling me that Hunk doesn't deserve the best?"
Keith stares at him for a long moment. Then he walks over and picks up his toothbrush.
Two minutes later (almost to the second Lance swears. The man is punctual), Keith turns and frames Lance's newly cleaned face with his hands.
"He does," Keith says, not skipping a beat. He leans forward, and Lance is expecting a kiss, he's looking forward to it, but instead he gets pure Keith sentiment, which is really just as good. "And so do you."
"Don't forget to include yourself on that list too, babe," Lance replies, meaning it to come out like a joke, but instead it lingers heavily, gently on the air. Honestly, that doesn't bother him. Keith needs to know it anyway.
Keith does kiss him then, chaste and sweet. It feels like a memory of what has come before, a promise of what will be again.
They curl back up on the couch, and despite all of the things still on Lance's to-do list he feels perfectly content to simply soak in Keith's warmth and fall into a light daze.
His eyes jolt open however, when he hears steps in the hall and then a key turn in the lock.
Lance is already up off the couch and halfway to the door before it opens to reveal Hunk, looking frazzled, his open backpack hanging off one arm and his other hand still brandishing his keys like a makeshift weapon.
"HUNK!"
That just seems to startle him further, and "What's wrong?" is out of his mouth before Lance even has time to really take him in.
Lance pauses.
"What do you mean 'what's wrong'?!" He asks, more than ready to be offended.
"You said you had a surprise for me," Hunk says, "I was worried you might start another fire."
Okay, that was totally uncalled for. So Lance may have once set one of their tea towels alight when he'd tried to melt chocolate for the top of Hunk's surprise birthday cake - that was really neither here nor there. That was the past, and shouldn't Hunk really let that go?
Keith lets out a full laugh from the direction of the couch, and Lance doesn't even deign him with a glare.
"I really don't know if you deserve your surprise now," he grumbles to Hunk instead, who doesn't even have the decency to look guilty for his baseless accusation.
There's a faked gasp from behind him, and then the peanut gallery chimes in.
"Lance, are you suggesting that Hunk doesn't deserve the best?"
Lance does turn around to glower at Keith this time, although the gentle tease on the edge of Keith's lips betrays a far deeper level of pure contentment, and that basically stops Lance in his tracks.
"Don't use my words against me, mullet man."
"Wouldn't dream of it, love."
Hunk looks between them then, taking in their words, Keith's easy smile, and Lance's fond look. His backpack falls to the floor and it isn't even noticed to be forgotten.
"Lance?"
Hunk sounds so hopeful, and Lance is so ready to affirm every hope he has.
"I missed you, Sunshine," he says, and gathers Hunk into his arms.
"When did you-" Hunk starts, pulling Lance closer and reinstating the pure concept of safety that only exists in Hunk's arms.
"Last night, I heard you and Keith talking, and the memories came back in my sleep."
Hunk doesn't say anything, just breathes all of him in, and Lance isn't complaining. In fact-
"And just for the record you have my full permission to kiss me whenever I'm wearing this sweater."
Hunk pulls back and smiles at Lance, before he leans in to do just that.
Lance shifts the moving boxes to be more comfortably nestled in his arms, and tries to bite back a smile as Pidge runs past him with an alarming number of plant pots towards the back porch.
He wanders past the living room, watching as the house is filled with a random assortment of eight people's things.
Matt and Keith are carrying in the TV, while Hunk and Allura rearrange their alarming number of collective couches to see if they can all fit. It's looking dicey at this point.
Up the stairs and into their room, with its baby blue walls and bay window. In the end, it only made sense for the three of them to share the master bedroom, since it was the biggest and had its own bathroom.
Lance can already imagine where they'll put a seat, how they'll store all their clothes in the small closet until they become completely mixed, until they can barely tell them apart. Where Hunk will store his latest project, where Keith will hang his bicycle helmet.
It was right where Lance was going to display his records, but he supposes he'll choose somewhere else for them. He pretends that the thought doesn't warm his heart.
He can't linger after he drops the boxes in a corner. There's still far too much to do today, they have a U-Haul of furniture to unload, and five beds to put up before they can go to sleep tonight.
Instead he heads back outside, and helps Shiro move their dining table in.
Lance had stopped himself even imagining having the pale blue bedroom. He'd resigned himself to watching someone else enjoy it instead.
Lance had stopped himself even imagining having Hunk or Keith, or a love like theirs. He'd resigned himself watching them grow old together from afar.
It turns out that Lance got both.
With his lowered rent, if Lance quit his job at the pharmacy tomorrow, he could survive four weeks and five days. Far better than before. But still a long way to retirement, a long 45 years.
But as he keeps working hard, he'll get to enjoy a house with his family, movie nights and robotics club meetings and whispered conversations around the kitchen table late at night. And he'll understand the punch lines, know how they're all connected, feel it in his bones.
He'll have Hunk and Keith beside him, their lives so deeply intertwined that they no longer even notice the threads.
And if that's their second chance at life? If that's their happy ending? That's good enough for Lance.