Chapter Text
The mission had been a rousing success. Resources had been distributed throughout the planet Eya, and the last of the Galran rebel faction in the sector had been dispelled thanks to a clever maneuver orchestrated by Kolivan and Keith. The victory left the Blade’s hub buzzing with celebration, but Keith found himself retreating to his room.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he shut the door behind him. The hum of distant chatter and laughter filtered faintly through the walls, a stark contrast to the stillness of his quarters. Ever since Krolia had stepped up to help Kolivan manage the recovery missions, the atmosphere among the Blades had noticeably lightened. Rules had loosened, camaraderie flourished, and even Ezor and Zethrid had seamlessly carved out their place in the ranks.
Keith didn’t mind the changes—they were good. Necessary, even. But moments like this reminded him how out of step he sometimes felt with the others. Celebrations weren’t really his thing. He’d tried, once or twice, to let loose. Ezor and Zethrid had gleefully thrust drinks into his hands, their teasing infectious, but the buzz didn’t settle the awkwardness gnawing at his edges. The longer he stood there, the more drained he felt, and eventually, he’d start wondering why he hadn’t just gone to bed.
Tonight, he spared himself the trouble.
He sank onto the edge of his cot, the stiffness of the mattress pressing against him through his uniform. The room, sparse but clean, had become a comfortable sort of base over the years—a far cry from the desert shack he’d once called home, but the simplicity remained. He leaned over, reaching for the travel bag propped against the foot of the bed.
Packing up for Earth should have felt routine by now, but an undercurrent of anticipation wound through his chest. The mission had been long, and he’d been away longer than he liked. As much as he valued his time with the Blades, there was something grounding about stepping off a ship and seeing familiar faces waiting for him.
Keith began folding his uniform jacket with practiced precision, tucking it into his bag before reaching for a fresh shirt. His mind wandered as his hands worked, thinking about what tomorrow would bring. He’d head to the Garrison first to debrief with Shiro and Adam—maybe snag some of the terrible cafeteria coffee they all secretly enjoyed. Then there was lunch, their tradition whenever Keith came back from missions.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. Shiro and Adam would probably already be bickering over some minor Atlas protocol by the time he arrived. Lance would chime in, turning the conversation into a full-blown debate just for the fun of it. Pidge would side with Shiro out of pure spite, and Hunk would try—and fail—to mediate. Keith could already hear Lance’s exaggerated outrage, could see the way his face lit up as he bantered.
His chest ached faintly at the thought. It wasn’t like he’d admit it, but he missed those moments.
He snapped the bag shut with a quiet sigh and leaned back, the cot creaking beneath his weight. Tomorrow would come soon enough. For now, he let himself savor the thought of going home.
Keith’s gaze drifted to the small window above his cot. Beyond it, the inky expanse of space stretched out, dotted with faint glimmers of starlight. It was strange, how something so vast could feel so familiar. Yet, as much as he belonged out here among the stars, there was something grounding about Earth—a pull he couldn’t quite explain.
He shook his head, a soft snort escaping him. Sentimental wasn’t a hat he wore well, but maybe it was unavoidable when you spent enough time away from the people you cared about.
As he leaned over to secure his travel bag, the faint chime of his comm echoed in the room. Keith straightened, reaching for it and scanning the message.
Kolivan: Good work today. I’ve submitted your mission report to HQ. We'll head out tomorrow morning.
Keith’s lips quirked. Kolivan had always been straightforward, his praise delivered sparingly and with precision. That made it matter more, somehow.
Keith: Thanks. See you tomorrow.
Tossing the comm onto the cot, Keith stood and grabbed his jacket from the chair by the desk. The hum of the celebration still lingered outside his door, and for a moment, he considered joining in. Just for a little while. Ezor would probably have something ridiculous planned, and Zethrid might even be halfway to challenging someone to a sparring match for old times’ sake.
But the thought of squeezing through the crowd, dodging the inevitable questions about why he was leaving so early, felt exhausting. He loved his team here, they were great companions and did a lot of good work, but it just wasn’t the same. Something was always missing. Someone maybe. A few someone’s. Keith sighed and set his jacket back down. He would party with them another time. He just wasn’t in the right headspace tonight.
He leaned back on the cot, arms resting behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. His thoughts drifted to the others: Shiro and Adam, Pidge and Hunk, even Lance. He wondered what they’d all been up to, if they’d changed in the months he’d been gone. Quiznack, what was he doing? It had only been two months. Nothing could have changed that much. He was probably just tired.
The memory of their last lunch together flickered in his mind, clear as day. Lance had spent half the meal poking fun at Keith’s haircut, even dragging Shiro into it with dramatic comparisons to old Garrison yearbook photos. Keith had rolled his eyes at the time, but now, the thought made his lips twitch in a faint smile.
The cot creaked as Keith shifted, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. Tomorrow, he'll be back with them. Back where things felt less complicated, even if only for a little while.
For now, he let the anticipation of it carry him into sleep.
The descent to Earth was smooth, the Blade’s pod cutting through the atmosphere with practiced ease. Keith barely noticed the slight vibrations beneath his feet as he sat in the cockpit alongside Kolivan, Krolia, and two other Blade operatives. The chatter from the control panel was minimal—just a few routine check-ins—and the quiet gave Keith time to take in the view.
Earth spread out below them, a swirl of blues, greens, and whites that always managed to catch him off guard. No matter how many planets he’d visited or how far he’d traveled, there was something different about seeing this one. Something that felt like… home.
As the pod settled onto the landing platform at the Garrison, the familiar sight of the base sprawled before him. It had changed since the days when he’d been a cadet—sleeker, with upgrades clearly influenced by Altean and Blade technology—but the core of it was the same.
The hiss of the pod’s hatch opening pulled him from his thoughts. Kolivan stepped out first, his commanding presence drawing the attention of nearby personnel. Krolia followed, her calm, steady gait unmistakable even in the crowd. Keith brought up the rear, slinging his travel bag over his shoulder as they made their way toward the debriefing center.
The air smelled faintly of engine grease and freshly cut grass, a mix that tugged at something nostalgic in Keith’s chest. He kept his eyes forward, though, focusing on the path ahead.
“Krolia, Keith,” Kolivan said, glancing back at them. “The debrief will begin shortly. I trust you’re prepared to present your findings?”
“Of course,” Krolia replied smoothly.
Keith nodded, adjusting the strap of his bag. He’d gone over the mission details in his head a dozen times already—he was ready.
But as they neared the building, Krolia reached out and lightly touched his arm. Keith slowed, glancing at her.
“Go find your friends,” she said softly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
“What?” Keith blinked. “The debrief—”
“Can wait,” Krolia interrupted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Kolivan and I can handle the formalities. You’ve been away for months, Keith. They’ll want to see you.”
Keith hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the building. “I don’t mind staying for—”
“Keith,” Krolia said, her voice firm but kind. “Go.”
For a moment, he stared at her, unsure whether to feel annoyed or grateful. Finally, he sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching in a reluctant smile. “Fine. But don’t let Kolivan throw me under the bus while I’m gone.”
Krolia chuckled softly, giving him a light shove. “Go on. And tell Shiro I said hello.”
Keith turned and started walking, his steps a little lighter as he left the group behind. He made his way toward the main compound, weaving through the familiar corridors of the Garrison. The faint hum of conversation and the distant clang of machinery filled the air, but his focus was elsewhere.
Shiro and Adam would probably be in one of the mission briefing rooms, he guessed, or maybe grabbing lunch. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge—well, knowing them, they could be anywhere.
He tapped his comm as he walked, sending a quick message to Shiro. Just landed. Where are you guys?
It didn’t take long for a reply to pop up.
Shiro: South wing. Briefing room 3. Hurry up—we’ve got terrible coffee waiting.
Keith smirked, tucking the comm back into his pocket as he picked up his pace.
Keith found Briefing Room 3 without trouble. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear familiar voices inside. He pushed it open to see Shiro and Adam seated at the table, a pair of steaming coffee mugs between them.
“Keith!” Shiro stood immediately, his face lighting up as he crossed the room to pull Keith into a brief but firm hug. “Good to see you.”
“Hey, Shiro,” Keith replied, the tension in his shoulders easing at the familiar presence.
Adam stayed seated, a warm smile on his face. “Look who decided to grace us with his presence. Still the same old Keith—always running off to save the universe and making the rest of us look bad.”
Keith smirked faintly as he took a seat across from Adam. “Someone has to pick up the slack.”
Adam chuckled, raising his mug in mock salute.
Shiro sat down beside Adam, his expression softening. “Seriously, it’s good to have you back. How was the mission?”
Keith shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Straightforward, mostly. Kolivan handled the planning, and Krolia handled... everything else.”
Adam grinned. “Sounds about right. Your mom’s a force of nature.”
“She really is,” Keith said, shaking his head. “Anyway, the Galran rebels in that sector are done for. Eya’s stable for now. It feels good to get some actual results.”
Shiro nodded approvingly. “It sounds like you’ve been busy.”
Keith glanced at the coffee mugs and raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. The terrible cafeteria coffee?”
“Traditions are important,” Adam said, deadpan.
Shiro smirked. “And this is the only thing keeping the Garrison budget afloat, apparently.”
Keith huffed a quiet laugh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “So, what’s new with you guys? Still busy with the Atlas?”
Shiro exchanged a glance with Adam, and they both smiled.
“Busy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Shiro said. “Between running drills, integrating new recruits, and repairing every little thing that goes wrong with the Altean tech, we’ve been swamped.”
Adam sighed dramatically. “I told him he needs to take more time off. He says he’ll listen, but somehow he keeps getting pulled into twelve-hour shifts.”
Keith smirked. “Some things never change.”
Shiro rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
“Oh, and the wedding preparations,” Adam added with a grin. “That’s been... an adventure.”
Keith perked up. “You’re still planning it? I thought you’d have everything done by now.”
Adam groaned. “You’d think so, but no. Every time we cross one thing off the list, five more pop up. Did you know there are three different kinds of seating arrangements we’re supposed to choose from?”
Keith shrugged. “Sounds like you’re overcomplicating it.”
“Exactly what I said,” Shiro muttered, earning a nudge from Adam.
They talked a while longer, the conversation flowing easily between mission updates and wedding stories. Keith let himself relax, the familiar banter grounding him after weeks away.
Eventually, he leaned back and asked, “So where’s everyone else? I thought we were all getting together.”
Shiro and Adam exchanged a look, and Shiro was the one to answer. “Hunk’s visiting Shay and her family. He’s been helping them with some rebuilding efforts.”
Keith nodded, though disappointment pricked at him. “That makes sense. What about Pidge?”
“She’s working on something with Matt and her dad,” Shiro said. “Some kind of tech project for the Garrison. You know how she gets when she’s knee-deep in her work.”
“Yeah, I do,” Keith said softly.
There was a pause before Keith asked, trying to sound casual, “What about Lance?”
Shiro’s lips twitched into a knowing smile, and Adam leaned back, his arms crossed.
“He’s visiting his family this week,” Shiro said. “He told us he’d be back in a few days.”
Keith’s chest tightened, and he looked away, hiding his reaction. Lance had promised he’d be there.
“Oh,” he said, keeping his voice even. “That’s... good. I’m glad he’s spending time with them.”
Shiro studied him for a moment before nodding. “He’ll be sorry he missed you. He was looking forward to seeing you after your mission.”
Keith wasn’t sure he believed that. Lance had a way of saying things he didn’t mean, and maybe this was just one of those times.
“I’ll send him a message,” Keith said, standing. “Just to let him know.”
Shiro smiled, though there was something understanding in his gaze. “Good idea.”
Keith pulled out his comm as he left the room, composing a quick note. Hey. Just got back. Sorry I missed you—hope you’re having a good time with your family. Let’s catch up when you’re back.
He hit send, slipping the comm into his pocket.
It didn’t take long for a notification to pop up: Message Failed.
Keith frowned, staring at the screen. His chest tightened again, but he brushed it off. Maybe Lance’s comm was just out of range.
Shoving the comm back into his pocket, Keith turned his attention forward. There was no point in dwelling on it—Lance would reach out when he could.
At least, that’s what Keith told himself.
It had been a few days since Keith had returned to Earth, and still, there had been no word from Lance. The silence was beginning to weigh on him. At first, he tried to convince himself that Lance was just busy with his family, or maybe the comms were having issues. But after a few more failed attempts to reach him, Keith couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling creeping in.
He had sent Lance a couple more messages—simple ones, just saying he’d missed him and hoping to catch up soon—but none of them had gone through. No response, not even a short acknowledgment. Keith had tried calling a couple of times, only to be met with the same result: Message failed to send.
Keith had spent the past few days staying busy. He met up with Shiro and Adam, spent some time getting reacquainted with the Garrison, and tried to focus on anything other than the growing knot in his stomach. But no matter what he did, his thoughts kept drifting back to Lance.
He pulled his comm out again and shot a quick message to Hunk, hoping that maybe he’d heard from Lance.
Keith: Hey, you heard from Lance lately?
Keith waited anxiously, staring at the screen in his hand. His mind raced with all the possible scenarios, none of them good. He hadn’t expected a reply this quickly, but Hunk’s message popped up almost immediately.
Hunk: Not since I left for Shay’s. Why? What’s going on?
Keith chewed his lip, tapping out a quick response.
Keith: I’ve been trying to reach him. He hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent.
Hunk: Hmm. That’s weird. Let me check with Pidge, maybe she’s heard something.
Keith exhaled slowly, his heart beating a little faster. The silence was starting to feel deafening. He stared at the comm, waiting for Hunk’s reply.
A few moments later, another message came through.
Hunk: Okay, I asked Pidge. She said she hasn’t heard from him either.
The knot in his chest tightened.
Keith: Are you sure? Shiro told me he’d just taken a few days off from work for family stuff.
There was a pause before Hunk’s next message arrived.
Hunk: Yeah, that’s what he told me, too. But now that I think about it, Keith, there was something off about him the last time we talked.
Keith: What do you mean?
Hunk: Well, it was a couple of weeks ago, right before you left on your mission. He called me and Allura just to catch up, but he seemed kind of... cagey, you know? Like he was avoiding certain topics, acting distant. Almost like he couldn’t concentrate on the conversation.
Hunk: I don’t know, Keith. It was weird. I thought maybe he was just tired or had a lot on his mind, but it didn’t feel like him. Like he was in a fog.
Keith sat back in his chair, his mind spinning. Brain fog was something Lance had never really dealt with, not in the way Hunk was describing. Keith remembered how they used to talk for hours without any effort, how easily Lance would slip into his usual energy, even during their most difficult moments. This... this didn’t sound like Lance at all.
His thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of how to respond. There was a sense of urgency in him now, something deeper than simple concern.
Keith: You’re sure?
Hunk: Yeah, man. I wish I could say it was nothing, but I don’t think it is. I know my best friend and this doesn’t sound like him.
Keith’s heart rate picked up as the gnawing feeling in his gut intensified. He had no idea what was going on with Lance, but something wasn’t right. And Keith couldn’t sit around waiting for answers anymore.
He immediately started typing a response.
Keith: I’m going to check on him. I’ll let you know what I find.
Hunk: Keith, wait. You don’t know where he is, and—
But Keith didn’t wait. He stood up, his hands shaking slightly as he shoved the comm into his pocket. He could feel the weight of the words that had just been exchanged sinking into his chest. Lance had seemed... off. And now no one had heard from him in days? It wasn’t like Lance to disappear like this.
The last time he’d seen Lance, there had been a subtle tension between them, an unspoken heaviness Keith couldn’t quite place. Maybe this was connected to that. Maybe something had happened, something that Lance wasn’t ready to talk about. But Keith didn’t need to wait for answers. Not anymore.
He had to find him.
His feet moved before he’d even fully processed the thought. Keith didn’t waste any time, heading straight out of the cafeteria, his mind racing. He had no idea where to start looking for Lance, no idea where to go or who to ask. The nagging feeling in his gut only deepened as the weight of his own uncertainty settled over him. What the hell is going on with you, Lance?
He felt the familiar pull toward Shiro—always the one who seemed to have answers, who knew what to do when everything else was unclear. Keith had never been great at figuring things out on his own, especially when it came to matters like this. So he made his way to Shiro’s office, hoping his older brother had some kind of solution, something that would put his mind at ease.
When he knocked, Shiro’s voice called from inside. “Come in!”
Keith pushed the door open, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. Shiro was seated at his desk, reviewing a few reports, but looked up with a raised eyebrow as Keith entered.
“You okay?” Shiro asked, sensing the tension in Keith’s posture.
Keith didn’t even hesitate. “I need your help.”
Shiro leaned back in his chair, expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t find Lance,” Keith said, the words coming out almost before he could stop them. His eyes locked onto Shiro’s. “I haven’t heard from him in days. And no one else has either. Hunk says he was acting weird before I left for the mission, but he didn’t think much of it. Pidge hasn’t heard from him either, and I’ve tried calling him multiple times. Every message I send fails.”
Shiro paused, taking a moment to process what Keith was saying. He leaned forward, folding his arms across his chest as he studied his younger brother.
“Okay,” Shiro said slowly, “I’m sure it’s just a glitch with the comms or maybe he’s just really busy. You know how Lance gets when he has a lot on his plate.”
Keith wasn’t convinced. “No, it’s not like that. Lance has always kept in touch, even when he’s busy. And this isn’t just about a few days. He promised me he’d be here when I got back from the mission, and he hasn’t responded to any of my messages. Something’s off.”
Shiro sighed, clearly trying to find the right words. “Keith, I get it. You’re worried. But I think you might be overreacting. Lance is strong. He’s been through a lot, but he’s always bounced back.”
Keith shook his head, the unease deepening. “This isn’t like him, Shiro. I know him better than that. He doesn’t just disappear for days without saying anything, not unless something’s wrong.”
Shiro studied him, his expression softening with understanding. He knew Keith better than anyone. He knew that when Keith got this anxious, it meant something serious was weighing on him.
“You’re right,” Shiro finally said. “It is strange. But you know, Lance can be stubborn. He might be dealing with something he hasn’t told anyone about yet. That doesn’t mean he’s in danger.”
Keith exhaled sharply. “I can’t just sit around and wait for him to figure it out. What if he’s in trouble, Shiro? What if he’s hiding from us?”
Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. “Look, I know you’re worried. But instead of jumping to conclusions, why don’t we go through the logical steps first? Start by checking with his family. They’d know if something was up. Maybe they know where he is or what’s going on.”
Keith stared at Shiro for a moment, unsure if this was really the solution he was looking for. But as he thought about it, he realized Shiro was right. His family would be the most reliable place to start. They knew Lance better than anyone, and if something had happened, they’d be the first to notice.
Keith nodded slowly, though doubt still lingered in his mind. “You really think that’s all it is? Family stuff? Maybe he just... needed some space?”
Shiro gave him a reassuring smile. “I think he’s probably just been busy. But it won’t hurt to check in with his mom or his brothers. And hey, maybe they’ll even have an update on when he’ll be back.”
Keith looked down at the floor, the tension in his body easing slightly, but the anxiety still gnawing at him. “I just don’t want him to be alone if something’s wrong.”
Shiro squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”
Keith gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, Shiro.”
Shiro clapped him on the back. “Anytime. Now go, check with his family. And if you still can’t find him, we’ll figure out the next step.”
Keith left Shiro’s office with a slightly lighter heart, but the gnawing worry still lingered. He had a plan, at least. He was going to check with Lance’s family, and hopefully, that would be the answer he needed. If it wasn’t... well, Keith wasn’t sure what he would do then. But he wasn’t going to sit idly by and wait anymore, he didn’t have the patience for that. Especially when it came to his family.
Keith stood in front of his comm, thumb hovering over the dial. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest. A million thoughts spun through his head, none of them leading anywhere good. What if this is nothing? What if I’m overreacting? The hesitation nearly stopped him. He tried to talk himself down, but then Lance’s face flashed across his mind, the warmth in his smile, the way he always made sure to check in—even when things were tough. And now, not a single word for days.
Keith couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut. Something was wrong, something more than just an inconvenient delay or an overly busy schedule. No, this was different.
He pressed the call button.
The holoscreen flickered to life, and Veronica’s face appeared. She looked up, surprised to see his name, her warm smile briefly faltering as she registered the concern in his eyes.
"Hey, Keith! How’s the mission?" she asked, her voice light, a faint trace of apprehension creeping in around the edges of her tone.
Keith tried to return the smile, but it felt hollow. "Good, really good. Glad to be back on Earth," he said, voice a little too tight. His throat felt thick with something he couldn't name. He pushed past it. "Is Lance there? I’ve been trying to reach him, but no luck."
Veronica blinked, her face shifting into confusion. She hesitated, then glanced away for a moment, brow furrowing. "Lance?" she echoed, clearly surprised. "Uh, no, he’s not here, Keith."
Keith’s frown deepened. “What do you mean? Is he in town?”
"No... not really," Veronica replied, voice softening, but her eyes narrowed, now holding a touch of concern. "He’s not here, Keith."
Before Keith could process this, Axca appeared next to Veronica, her presence sudden and almost too familiar, the hint of a scowl pulling at the corners of her lips. She wrapped an arm casually around Veronica’s waist, leaning in with a matter-of-fact tone.
“I think you’re confused, Keith. Lance visited a few weeks ago, while you were still on mission,” Axca said, her voice calm, but the undertone of concern was hard to miss.
Keith’s fingers gripped the edge of his comm, his pulse quickening. What? His mind scrambled to make sense of the timeline. Weeks ago?
He rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the rising panic. “Shiro said Lance took a few days off to visit family this week. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for days.” The words sounded reasonable, but Keith couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut that told him something was off. Something had changed.
Veronica’s expression faltered, her brows knitting in confusion. "That can’t be right... He told us he was going off-planet for a mission," she said, the confusion evident on her face. “He said he wouldn’t be able to check in for a while.” She paused, voice turning quieter, more uncertain. "Actually, he said he was with you... that’s what he told me."
Keith’s chest tightened at that. Lance said he was with me? That didn't sit right. Lance hadn’t mentioned anything about that. But why would he lie? Why keep everyone in the dark?
Axca’s face shifted from confusion to suspicion. "We haven’t seen Lance in weeks... and now he tells you he's here visiting? That doesn’t add up."
Keith felt a knot form in his stomach. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Hunk mentioned that Lance had been acting off recently, but I figured it was nothing... I was hoping it wasn’t a big deal. Did something happen? Have you heard anything?”
Veronica’s lips pressed into a thin line as she shook her head. "He seemed fine last time I talked to him. But I—I can’t make sense of this. Why would he just disappear like this?"
"It’s unlike him," Axca agreed, voice tight with concern. "Has anyone else heard from him?" she asked, her gaze unwavering.
“No one,” Keith said, his voice barely a whisper, the weight of the words pressing on him. "Not Hunk, not Pidge, not even Allura. No one’s heard a peep from him for days." His frustration bubbled to the surface. "I knew something felt off. I should have done something sooner. Where could he have gone?"
Axca gave a sharp nod. "I’ll check with a few of his Garrison buddies, maybe Marco. See if they’ve heard anything. I don’t want to tell mama yet in case it turns out to be a misunderstanding."
Keith’s eyes searched Veronica’s face as she handed the comm over to Axca, then disappeared from view. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably long as Keith fought to keep his anxiety in check.
Axca studied him quietly, her gaze softening. "I’m sure he’s fine, Keith. He’s probably just—"
"This doesn’t feel fine," Keith cut in, his voice raw with frustration. “He doesn’t just vanish without a word. Something happened. And now I’m stuck with this gut feeling that I can’t shake. Why would he lie about where he is? Why would he be acting like this?”
Axca exhaled slowly, her expression shifting into something softer, but tinged with her own concern. "I get it, Keith. But we don’t have all the answers yet." She stepped back as Veronica reappeared on screen, her face pale with worry.
"Nothing. I’ve called everyone I could think of, no one’s heard from him. Something’s definitely wrong," Veronica said, her voice quiet, but the fear was unmistakable. Her gaze met Keith’s with the same realization. “You’re right, Keith. This isn’t just... nothing .”
Keith’s breath hitched, his stomach dropping into his feet. The cold rush of dread that had been simmering beneath the surface suddenly broke through in full force. He’s not fine. Lance is out there, and I don’t know where he is. He’s alone.
Without thinking, the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I’m coming over.”
Veronica blinked, clearly taken aback by the suddenness of his decision. “Wait, what do you mean, Keith? Are you—”
“I’m going,” Keith said firmly, already moving toward his bag. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t just sit here and wait. We need to find him.”
He tossed a few essentials into his bag with shaking hands, his mind focused only on one thing—finding Lance. He couldn’t stand the thought of his friend being out there, unreachable, hiding from everyone. The uncertainty was suffocating.
“I’ll explain when I get there,” Keith said quickly, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. “Just... keep an eye out for him, alright? If he shows up, I need to know.”
Veronica exchanged a worried glance with Axca. They both seemed to hesitate, but after a brief moment, Veronica nodded slowly. “Alright, Keith. We’ll wait up. Just... please, be careful.”
“I will,” Keith said, his voice barely above a whisper. He ended the call quickly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out of the room without another word.
It was a few hours drive to the McClain’s farm, which unfortunately gave Keith plenty of time to think and provide no answers. The night was dark, the air thick with the weight of uncertainty by the time he arrived. Keith’s tires crunched against the gravel as he drove down the winding road leading to the McClains’ farm. The old farmhouse loomed ahead, nestled in the rolling hills, and as he got closer, he saw the dim glow of porch lights flicker in the distance. Keith’s heart hammered in his chest. It was late, but there they were—waiting.
As soon as he parked and hopped off his bike, Mama McClain’s silhouette appeared on the porch, her frame outlined against the soft yellow light. Veronica stood beside her, her expression a mix of worry and weariness.
Keith swallowed hard. The weight of what he was about to do pressed down on him. He’d been hoping for answers. Now, he just wanted to find Lance.
Before he could make his way up the porch steps, Mrs. McClain was already moving toward him. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, comforting embrace. Keith froze for a moment, stiff from the unexpected closeness, before he awkwardly patted her back. He’d only met her a few times over the last year, but she never failed to give him a bone crushing hug with every greeting. This one felt a little heavier though.
"Keith," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I’m glad you came. We’ve all been worried about him."
He gave a tight, almost shaky nod, unsure of what to say. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like this—someone who wasn’t trying to pull him into some mission or plan. This was different. This was personal.
"I know, Mrs. McClain," he said softly, his voice hoarse. "I’m gonna find him."
She pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on his shoulders as she met his eyes, her gaze steady, but tinged with worry. "I know you will. You’ve always been there for him, Keith. I trust you."
Keith nodded, feeling both humbled and terrified by her faith in him. Veronica stepped forward, offering him a small, understanding smile before gesturing toward the house.
“Come on in. We’ve gone over everything we know, but maybe with you here, we can put the pieces together.”
The scent of warm bread and earthy farm smells greeted him as he stepped inside. The cozy living room was dimly lit, a quiet clock ticking away the seconds. Keith’s eyes fell on Mr. McClain and Rachel, who were seated at the dining table, offering silent nods of acknowledgment. Mrs. McClain immediately headed into the kitchen, the sound of dishes clattering as she busied herself. Veronica flopped heavily onto the couch, her face a study in exhaustion. Keith pulled out his comm and quickly sent a message to the team.
Hey guys, I’m at the McClains. Still no sign of Lance, but if you can check in with anyone on your end, I’d appreciate it.
He hit send, his eyes scanning the room. Axca walked in shortly after, giving him a small nod before kissing Veronica on the cheek and settling beside her on the couch. She glanced at Keith, concern etched on her face.
“Heard anything else?” she asked.
Keith shook his head. "I kept an eye on my comms while driving, but nothing."
“Well, let’s figure this out then,” Mrs. McClain said, her voice full of purpose as she sat down beside Veronica, placing a feast of food on the coffee table. Keith was momentarily distracted by the delicious smell of freshly made empanadas. No matter what was happening, food was always a comforting presence at the McClains’ house and you could count on getting some carbs shoved in your face at any given time.
“Where should we start?” Veronica sighed, rubbing her eyes.
"We know he’s been lying to us. He told you he was going off planet for a mission, right?" Keith asked, his eyes searching their faces as he sat on the loveseat across from the couch.
Veronica nodded. "That’s what he said. But he hasn’t been answering his comms, not even to Mom, and that’s not like him."
Mama McClain sighed, looking down at the table, hands wrapped around her cup. "And he promised me he’d be home for dinner last week… but he never showed. He’s been distant lately, but I thought he was just… busy with work, you know? The Garrison stuff, and—"
"But he’s been acting weird," Veronica interjected, her voice tight. "I talked to him a couple weeks ago. He seemed off—more than just distracted. Like his head wasn’t fully in the conversation." She shook her head, biting her lip. "But I didn’t think anything of it. I just thought he was tired."
Keith felt his stomach twist. That’s exactly what Hunk had said.
As he was about to respond, there was a knock at the door. Veronica and Mrs. McClain exchanged looks, their concern deepening as they stood to answer. The door creaked open, and two figures stepped inside—Lance’s older brothers, Luis and Marco. Both were dressed casually, their faces grim as they took in the situation.
Luis spoke first, his voice low. "Still no sign of him?"
"No," Veronica replied, her hands twisting in her lap. "Keith’s been trying to reach him, too. Where’s Lisa?"
“Watching the kids.” Luis said as the two brothers sat next to Keith, “It’s a little past their bedtime you know.”
Marco shook his head, looking at Keith. "We’ve been calling, checking with his hometown friends, but nothing. It doesn’t make sense."
"Lance wouldn’t just vanish like this," Keith said, more to himself than to anyone else. "This isn’t like him at all."
“Where do we even start looking?” Rachel asked quietly, her voice small and fragile. Keith’s heart ached at the sight of her worry. Lance had always been a constant for her—a protector. He could see the way Rachel looked up to him, much the same way Keith had looked up to Shiro when he was younger.
Mrs. McClain set her cup down, standing to place a gentle hand on Keith’s arm. "We’ll find him," she said, her voice calm and steady. "Maybe he just needs some time, Keith. He’s always been good at running off when he’s overwhelmed."
Keith looked at her, trying to absorb her words. "You think he’s just hiding?"
Mrs. McClain paused, her eyes softening. "When Lance was younger, whenever he felt overwhelmed, he’d disappear for a bit. We’d always find him, but it would take time. He has a way of isolating himself when he feels like he’s too much for everyone else."
Her gaze met his, filled with motherly wisdom and a hint of sadness. "I’m sure he’s okay. But when we find him, he’s going to get a good talking-to.”
Luis smiled a little wistfully, “Usually when he was having a hard time all we had to do was check the treehouse. I don’t suppose anyone has looked in the old fire hazard out back?”
Rachel shook her head. "He’s not there," she said softly, her voice barely audible. Mr. McClain gently squeezed her knee.
Keith stood still, the weight of Mrs. McClains words still sinking in. He hadn’t really thought about it that way, hadn’t considered that Lance might be retreating into himself, pulling away because he didn’t want to burden anyone. But it made sense, in a way. Lance had always been the one to mask his fears with jokes and bravado.
"I’ll keep looking," Keith said quietly, the fire in him reigniting. "I won’t stop until I know where he is."
"Good," Mrs. McClain smiled at him, the warmth in her eyes comforting. "I’m sure Lance will come back when he’s ready. But for now, we all need rest. It’s late and we’re all emotional. Let’s get some sleep and keep talking tomorrow. Unfortunately we don’t have a spare room, but we can set up the couch for you Keith."
Keith hesitated, the exhaustion creeping up on him. He was drained, mentally and physically. "No, no you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to be in the way," he said, glancing toward the couch in the living room.
"You’re not in the way," Veronica said with a small smile. "Stay the night. We’ll keep looking tomorrow."
Keith finally nodded, his shoulders sinking with the realization that he might have to wait. He took a seat on the couch, the fatigue from the day crashing over him. But before he could fully close his eyes, Mrs. McClain gently squeezed his shoulder.
"We’ll find him," she reassured him, her voice a soft balm in the darkness. "And when we do, we’ll bring him home."
Keith nodded, her words settling over him like a blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now, he’d rest.
Unfortunately, the next day brought no new leads. Despite scouring every possible place Lance could have gone, no one had found a trace of him. Keith's frustration simmered just beneath the surface, but he masked it well. It wasn’t just about finding Lance—it was about understanding what had happened, why Lance had disappeared. Keith had known him long enough to understand that Lance didn’t just vanish without reason.
With no new answers to be found in the area, Keith decided to head back to the Garrison base. His contacts within the Coalition and the Blades could help, especially if Lance had truly left Earth. But just as he was about to leave, he was stopped by a sudden, familiar weight on his shoulders.
Before he could even make it to the bike, Mrs. McClain was there, wrapping her arms around him in another tight, bone-crushing hug. Keith stiffened, awkwardly shifting his weight, but couldn’t deny the comfort in the gesture. It felt… real. Like he belonged.
“Remember to eat something,” Mrs. McClain murmured into his shoulder, her voice muffled. “You look so thin. Be careful on the roads, and don’t drive too fast. Oh, and I also—”
“I’ll be okay, Mrs. McClain, really,” Keith interrupted, his voice light, trying to reassure her, though he wasn’t entirely sure who needed it more, her or him. He awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No need to worry.”
She pulled back just slightly to look at him, her expression warm but full of concern. “Oh, I’ll always worry about you boys,” she said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of affection and frustration. “Running off into space, doing crazy things…”
Keith chuckled, his heart swelling with an emotion he wasn’t quite ready to name. She really did care, and for some reason, that was comforting.
“When you find Lance, tell him we all love him,” Mrs. McClain continued, her gaze firm but gentle. “Tell him I’ll be waiting with a hug and a chancla.”
Keith couldn’t help but smile, the thought of Lance getting an earful from his mom somehow made him feel like things might be okay. “I’ll let him know, Mrs. McClain. I promise.”
Veronica, who had been standing nearby, rolled her eyes playfully behind her mother’s back. She stepped up beside Keith and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “Just find him and drag his ass back here, okay?”
Keith chuckled, rubbing his shoulder where she’d hit him. “Will do,” he replied with a grin. He could feel a weight lift off his chest, even if it was temporary. The warmth of their concern was both a relief and a reminder that he wasn’t doing this alone.
“I’ll update you guys tomorrow,” Keith added, already starting to feel the pull of the road. He wasn’t sure how much longer they’d have to wait, but he knew he couldn’t stop until he had answers.
As he climbed onto his bike, the familiar hum of the engine beneath him felt strangely comforting. But as he glanced back at the McClains—standing there, watching him—he knew that the next step of this search was going to be harder than he’d anticipated.
Keith couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at him. The last few days had been nothing but a blur of dead ends and growing worry. Shiro and Adam had both checked in, their concern evident in their voices, but they, like everyone else, were grasping at straws. Allura and Coran had been monitoring every possible lead from New Altea, but there was still nothing definitive. It was as if Lance had just vanished, leaving no trace behind.
Keith, however, couldn’t let go of one thing: the feeling that Lance wasn’t gone. Not really . He was just… hiding. Keith had never been one to trust gut instincts, but this time, it was different. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. Something about the silence, the way Lance had just disappeared , didn’t sit right.
That night he called Hunk and Pidge to update them, though there wasn’t much to say. Both of the ex-paladins looked tired, and worried, an expression that was becoming familiar the longer Lance was gone. Keith had forgotten how much he used to hold the group together.
“He’s an idiot.” Pidge muttered, “A crazy, daring, stupid idiot.”
Keith laughed bitterly, “Nothing’s changed then I guess.”
Hunk smiled, “Hey, at least he’s not trapped in a capacitor chamber somewhere again.”
“That was a fun day.” Keith grinned, “Took us thirty minutes to get him unstuck.”
“Forty five.” Pidge corrected, “I timed it.”
“I’m gonna stick him in another one if we don’t find him soon.” Keith sighed.
“I’ll help.”
“There will be no sticking anyone anywhere on my watch.” Hunk butted in.
“Spoilsport.” Pidge groaned, “He deserves it.”
Hunk shrugged, “He’s our best friend. He’ll get what’s coming to him, but I really don’t feel like trying to get him unstuck again.”
“Fine.” Pidge huffed, “But he’s definitely getting punched at the very least.”
“Agreed.” Keith nodded.
They talked for a little longer before wrapping up. Keith set his comm on the desk and stood, stretching with a small groan. He’d been studying Lance’s reports from the last month or two, trying to track down any clue of where he’d gone.
From what he’d found, Lance had been working on a proposal for a new Coalition base with resources for displaced races. Keith was impressed with the amount of effort he’d clearly put into it. Shiro hadn’t known much about the project, but apparently Lance had been working on something for weeks now. Keith tried to ignore the fact that Lance had never told him about it. As he sat there his tired thoughts began to wander, just thinking over everything.
He’d thought back to every conversation, every interaction he’d ever had with Lance, trying to make sense of it. There was one that kept coming back to him—one that had seemed like nothing at the time but now felt like a clue.
A few months ago, back when things had been tense and everyone had been trying to recover from everything they'd gone through, Lance had joked about needing to get away. They’d just finished a huge recovery mission, the Garrison and Blades working together. It was the last field mission Lance had been on, and it definitely took a toll. Afterwards while everyone was getting back he had said something about ‘pulling a Keith’ and retreating into the desert for a few years. It had seemed odd at the time, but looking back Keith couldn’t help but feel like there was something there.
Keith had rolled his eyes at the time, half-laughing at the absurdity of it, but now, in the midst of the growing unease, he remembered the words with crystal clarity. Lance had referred to it as a “hermit’s paradise.” He’d even made a joke about using the same old shack Keith had called home after getting kicked out of the Garrison. At the time, Keith hadn’t thought much of it. He assumed Lance was just being dramatic. But now, with everything that had happened, it felt different.
Keith couldn’t shake the image of the shack—the little place Lance had mentioned in passing all those months ago. It was a ramshackle building out in the desert, a place that, in Lance’s words, was quiet, isolated—just far enough from everything. It sounded like the perfect place to hide. The perfect place for Lance to go when he needed to escape everything.
It wasn’t a lead, not in the traditional sense. But it was the only lead Keith had. He couldn’t shake the gut feeling that if he went there, if he checked the shack, he might find something—maybe even Lance himself.
The more Keith thought about it, the more he realized that everyone else seemed to be searching everywhere but where Lance might actually be. No one had brought up the shack. No one had suggested it as a possibility. Maybe it was because they hadn’t known about it the way Keith did. Maybe it was just too far out of the way. But Keith couldn’t ignore it anymore. He’d been thinking about it for days now and there was something pulling him to it that he couldn’t put his finger on.
He thought about calling Shiro or Hunk or even Adam to let them know what he was thinking. But Keith didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. It was still just a hunch. A gut instinct that told him to check the shack. The last thing he wanted was to drag anyone else into something that might not lead anywhere. He would go alone, check it out first. If Lance wasn’t there, then he could regroup and continue searching with the others.
But if Lance was there, hiding away from everyone… well, Keith couldn’t let that go on. He couldn’t leave his friend isolated, even if that’s exactly what Lance wanted.
The desert was quiet as Keith rode his bike toward the shack, the landscape barren and unforgiving. He felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. What if he was wrong? What if he was chasing a lead that didn’t exist? But no matter how many times he tried to reason it out, the thought wouldn’t leave him. Lance was out there. Keith knew it. So he left a message for the others, packed his bags for the last time and hopped on his motorcycle, peeling out of the base and into the dirt.
Keith's mind raced as he rode, the engine humming as he pushed the throttle harder. It had been a while since he left, and the sun was almost completely set now, and the desert stretched out before him in a darkening sea of dust and quiet. He was so close.
His chest tightened with a mixture of hope and unease. This was it. Lance was hiding out, and Keith was going to find him, whether Lance wanted him there or not. He had to make sure Lance was okay.
The non-existent road was bumpy and uneven, the tires kicking up dust as Keith maneuvered through the rocky path. It wasn’t long before he spotted the rundown shack in the distance, silhouetted against the darkening sky. There was some light coming through the windows, and it was in better condition than when Keith had stayed there. Apparently in the time Voltron was running around the Universe fighting the Galra, the Garrison had discovered his old hiding place and used it as a base to try and find the missing teenagers. It had long since been released back to Keith’s ownership after their return, but they had made plenty of improvements since he last used it. He never thought he’d come back.
Keith slowed as he approached, the familiar scene of the shack feeling surreal in the growing dusk. He parked the bike and cut the engine, listening to the eerie silence of the desert. Nothing. Not even the sound of wind.
Stepping off the bike, Keith hesitated for just a moment, his boots crunching against the dirt as he walked towards the shack. Even with the new windows and door, Keith could tell it still wasn’t the greatest living conditions. He could see some holes in the wall that were all too familiar, and the old creak of the front porch reminded him to be careful where he stepped. Steeling himself, he knocked on the door.
It was silent for a minute before he heard footsteps approaching and the door opened with a long creeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak.
And there he was.
Lance McClain, standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the dim light inside. His hair was unkempt, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
"Hey," Keith said, his voice thick with nervous energy. He hadn’t expected it to be this hard. Hell, he hadn’t expected Lance to be standing there at all.
Lance blinked, the shock on his face morphing into something more guarded. “What the hell? Keith? What are you doing out here?”
“Looking for you,” Keith replied, trying to keep his voice steady as he readjusted the helmet tucked under his arm. His mind raced, searching for the right words, but all he could feel was the tight knot in his stomach. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this going.
Lance’s lips curled into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, you found me.” There was an awkward pause, the tension thick in the air.
Keith swallowed hard. The words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to shout, to demand answers, but he also wanted to just hold Lance and make sure he was okay. But he wasn’t even sure Lance wanted that.
“I... thought I could stay out here for a while, without any solicitors,” Lance said, his tone almost light, but there was an edge to it. “Guess I was wrong.”
Keith’s frustration bubbled up, his pulse quickening. “Why did you leave?” he blurted out, unable to contain the question any longer. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Lance’s face flickered with a hundred different emotions—shock, anger, guilt—but it quickly closed off, hardening into something unreadable. “Look, I appreciate you coming out here. I’m sure everyone’s worried,” he said, his voice strained but steady. “But I’m fine. You can go back and tell them I’m alive, alright? Be careful on your way home.”
The finality in his voice hit Keith like a slap. Lance was shutting him out. Again.
Keith’s eyes widened as the door started to close. “Lance?!” He stepped forward, his hand slamming against the door before it could shut completely. “Lance, open up! What the hell is going on? Don’t just shut me out like this!”
The door creaked against his palm, but Lance didn’t open it. Instead, he pushed back on the other side, the weight of his silence pressing down between them.
Keith felt a wave of heat rush to his face, a mix of anger, confusion, and hurt swirling together. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands trembling with frustration. “Lance! Goddammit, don’t do this. I’m not leaving until we talk.”
But the door stayed closed.
He stood there for a moment, feeling the burn of his own anger seeping into his bones. This was insane. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t know if he was supposed to yell at Lance or beg him to open the door. All he knew was that he wasn’t leaving without an answer.
Lance was still behind the door, still refusing to let Keith in. And that was the worst part. Keith could feel the barrier between them, thicker than ever.
With a frustrated sigh, Keith stepped back. He stared at the door for a long beat, anger and helplessness mixing together into a tight knot of emotion.
He didn’t know what else to do. But one thing was certain—he wasn’t going to leave Lance out here alone.
“I’m not leaving!” He yelled.
He heard a faint snort on the other side of the door, “What, just gonna camp out in the dirt Kogane?”
“Maybe I will!”
“Yeah right. Go home Keith.” He heard footsteps recede.
With a growl of frustration, Keith dropped his helmet onto the porch, a harsh clatter breaking the silence. He turned and walked over to the corner of the porch, sitting down with his back against the railing. The desert air was cool, but it wasn’t enough to shake the simmering frustration building in his chest.
Lance wasn’t going to let him in. Not tonight.
Keith’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t just leave, not now. He wasn’t going to give up on him. Not when Lance needed someone the most.
He curled his knees to his chest, his eyes scanning the empty desert around him.
The night stretched on, still and unforgiving. Keith’s anger simmered, but deep down, he was scared. Scared that Lance was beyond reach, scared that this was the last time they’d ever really talk.
Still, he stayed.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
Notes:
Surprise shawty. I started a new fic while in the middle of burnout from a different fic because I can't help myself haha. ha. ha...
To be honest my creative flow for Below and Above is at an all time low right now so the story is going on a bit of a pause while I work on this one instead. I've taken a break from writing recently due to finals coming up and the semester ending so I'm also figuring out a lot of life things at the moment, but we persist and survive off of random sporadic creative bursts.
I don't know how long it's going to be yet, but I do know that not all chapters will be this long. I just had a spurt of energy so I'm sure chapter lengths are going to fluctuate. Hope you enjoy!
Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you, go eat something yummy, drink some water, and remember not to do anything Shiro wouldn't do.
Chapter Text
The next morning arrived far too soon, and the first thing Keith felt was the rough shaking of his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open, squinting against the harsh sunlight spilling across the porch, casting long shadows over his sprawled-out form.
"Keith. Samurai. Reckless idiot. Keith, wake up, you stale eggo waffle." Lance's voice was hoarse from sleep, but there was a familiar warmth to it, an odd mixture of teasing and concern as he shook Keith’s shoulder harder.
Keith groaned, blinking up at Lance, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep out here, but somehow, the exhaustion had taken over the moment he’d sat down on the porch. And now Lance was looming over him, holding a steaming cup of coffee, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance.
“You actually slept on the porch? Who does that?” Lance scoffed, his eyebrows raised, but there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he spoke, like he didn’t know whether to be mad or relieved.
"A concerned friend," Keith muttered, rubbing his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows, fighting the grogginess. He hesitated for a moment before sitting up fully, reaching out for the cup of coffee Lance was holding out to him. "Thanks."
Lance stepped back, crossing his arms, but his gaze softened as Keith took a sip. "I really didn’t expect you to be that stubborn, you know," Lance paused, “Actually that was my mistake, I know exactly how hard headed you are."
Keith took another sip, grateful for the warmth spreading through him. It wasn’t just the coffee that was doing it, though—there was something about the way Lance looked at him, like he was finally letting some of the walls down, if only just a little. "I didn’t have much of a choice. No way I was leaving you here after last night," Keith replied, his voice dry.
Lance looked sheepish, “Yeah. Sorry about being an asshole. You really caught me off guard but that’s not an excuse.” His voice softened as he added, almost as an afterthought, "You didn’t have to sleep out here, though. I wasn’t... I wasn’t trying to push you away. I just..."
“It’s fine Lance.” Keith said, “I’ve slept in weirder places.”
“Sadly I believe you, because I have too.” Lance sighed, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself. He stepped aside, opening the door fully, gesturing for Keith to come in. "Come on, I guess you’re staying."
Keith smiled and grabbed his helmet, following Lance inside. They both stood there in the entry awkwardly for a moment, neither of them sure where to start. Lance stiffly gestured to the kitchen and the two of them sat down at the counter, coffee warming their hands as they fiddled, unsure of what to say.
“Seems like it's gonna be another hot day.” He immediately regretted the words, but not the smile it brought to Lance's face.
“Really? That's the point we’ve hit? Talking about the weather?” He teased.
Keith flushed, “I don’t know, what should we talk about?”
Lance shrugged, “Alright, I can go with this. Unless something is horribly wrong, it’s going to be hot enough to melt my plastic pots again. Has been all week, but I mean, we are in the middle of the desert.”
Keith sighed, “Glad to see the life of a hermit hasn’t changed you Lance.”
He grinned, “Never. Though the silence starts to get to you after a while.”
Ironically enough the conversation trailed off there, both of them thinking as they sipped on their rapidly cooling coffees.
The weather? Really? Keith scolded himself mentally. Out of all the mediocre small talk topics to choose from-
Lance finally broke the silence, his voice quieter than usual. "So… how’s the work with the Blades been lately? Any new missions?"
Keith hesitated, setting his helmet down on the table and taking a seat. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, it’s been… okay. The usual stuff—tracking down threats, helping with cleanup, securing some of the last strongholds. Nothing too crazy." He avoided Lance's gaze, unsure of how to make the conversation less stiff.
"And your last mission?" Lance asked, raising an eyebrow. "Anything interesting?"
Keith looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling the weight of the conversation. "Not really. We ran into some remnants of Galra forces, but it was mostly clean-up, you know? We’re kind of wrapping things up out there." He paused before adding, "I was, uh, planning to surprise you when I got back. Didn’t expect to find you… like this."
Lance nodded slowly, eyes scanning the ground as the words lingered in the air. He was quiet for a long moment, then sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I get it, Keith," he muttered, sitting down at the small table across from him. "You’re worried. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make everyone go crazy looking for me."
Keith opened his mouth to respond, but found he didn’t really know what to say. Instead, he let the silence stretch a little longer before finally speaking, his voice soft with an apology of its own. "I’m sorry for barging in like this. I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t leave without knowing you were okay. You don’t have to talk about it, but I needed to know."
Lance gave a small, almost resigned smile, leaning back in his chair. "If the roles were reversed… I would’ve done the same thing," he said with a quiet sincerity. "I don’t blame you for showing up like this. It’s just…" He paused, gathering his thoughts, but the words still felt heavy. "It’s just hard to explain, Keith."
Keith nodded, his eyes meeting Lance’s for the first time since he arrived. "I get it," he said softly, the words carrying more weight than usual. The room was still, but for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the beginning of something, even if neither of them fully understood it yet.
Lance took a deep breath, his tired eyes softening as he looked at Keith. "Thanks for not giving up on me," he muttered, almost to himself, though it felt like a weight had been lifted just saying it aloud.
“You would never give up on me.” Keith shrugged, “So I figured I should give you the same grace, even if I really wanted to kick your teeth in for worrying everyone.”
Lance gave a real smile at that, “Fair enough. Want a tour?”
“You do realize I lived here for an entire year right?” Keith raised an eyebrow.
“I’m fully aware, but there have been upgrades since you left.” Lance grinned, “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Keith followed Lance around taking in the small, intimate space. The shack was nothing like the abandoned mess Keith remembered, the peeling paint and broken windows long since fixed. The room was small, but neat, with the faint smell of fresh wood mixed with the dry desert air.
The first thing that caught Keith's attention was the new, sturdy bed in the tiny bedroom. It wasn’t much, just a mattress on a simple frame, but it looked far more comfortable than anything Keith had expected to find out here. Lance must’ve put some serious work into that, considering how minimal the shack had been when Keith last stayed here. He’d just slept on the ratty couch left behind from his dad’s old workshop. The bed was tucked against the far wall, with a patch of sunlight spilling through the lone window and making the entire corner feel cozy.
Lance leaned against the doorframe, watching Keith take in the room. "Garrison installed the basic stuff—water, electricity, you know, all the boring functional things—but I’ve done the rest. Had to patch up part of the roof, seal a few cracks in the walls, stuff like that."
Keith walked over to inspect the bathroom next, which was tucked at the far end of the room, surprisingly clean. It looked functional—nothing luxurious, but there was a new shower and a small sink, both with working plumbing now. The water pressure wasn’t the best, but Lance had clearly managed to make do with what he had. The flickering light overhead indicated the generator was working, but it was obvious that there were still some rough edges. Lance wasn’t done yet, but for the moment, it worked.
“Had to fix up the plumbing myself,” Lance added, watching Keith’s eyes flicker over the improvements. “The shower’s a bit wonky, but it’ll do. Still need to figure out how to make it a bit more reliable, but you can’t have everything.”
Keith couldn’t help but admire the quiet pride Lance had in showing him around, even if he was downplaying it. This wasn’t just about the shack—it was about Lance finding a way to make this place his own, to turn something broken into something functional, even if it was still a work in progress.
Lance walked over to a small table in the corner, which had a few mismatched chairs around it. “This area is my ‘office’ for when I have the energy to work on stuff. It’s mostly just cleaning up and organizing, but it keeps me busy.” He pointed to a rickety wooden shelf lined with old books, a few tools, and a stack of papers. “Been reading a lot when I’m not fixing things. Still trying to get my head straight.”
Keith glanced around the room again, taking it all in—the small but functional kitchen area with a single burner stove, the stack of firewood by the door, the simple chairs that sat around a small table. It was all so... ordinary. So real. Nothing about it screamed the colorful, high-tech world of Voltron. But maybe that’s why Lance had chosen it. It wasn’t meant to be a reminder of the battles or the people they used to be. It was just a place to exist, to breathe.
“Looks like you’ve really made some great improvements Lance,” Keith said quietly, his voice softer than he meant. “You’ve put a lot of work into this.”
Lance nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly a little bashful. "Yeah, well... I had to. I mean, I was alone out here. Had to make it livable somehow." He let out a long breath, looking down at his boots for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Keith's. “There’s still more to do, though. A lot more. I just haven’t figured out where to start yet.”
Keith took a step forward, giving Lance an encouraging smile. “It looks great to me. You’re doing just fine.” He paused, glancing around. “You should be proud of this. It’s a hell of a lot more than I expected when I first got here.”
Lance gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle, rubbing his face. “Well, I don’t think it’s much to brag about. But... yeah, it works.” His eyes softened as he surveyed the space. “Feels good, though. Having something to take care of. Something that’s mine, you know?”
Keith nodded, his expression quiet but understanding. This wasn’t just about a shack or repairs. It was about Lance trying to reclaim something for himself—something stable after everything they’d all been through. Keith could see how much this place, and all the work Lance had put into it, meant to him.
"Hey, don't sell yourself short," Keith said, his voice a little firmer now. "You’ve made it into a home. Not many people can say that. I certainly never did when I was living here for a year. You’ve done more in a couple weeks than I did in over twelve months."
Lance's gaze softened again, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something close to warmth in his eyes, but it vanished quickly. “I guess... maybe it is. In its own way.”
Keith didn’t press further. He leaned back against the patched wall, arms crossed, quietly watching Lance. The shack had come a long way under Lance’s care—patched holes, fixed beams, and the faint scent of fresh paint lingering in the corners. Yet, it was clear that the work Lance had done here wasn’t just physical. The real effort was in making this place bearable, a sanctuary. Keith could see it in the little touches: the neatly folded blanket on the couch, the herb pots on the windowsill, the faded family photo taped to the fridge. Lance was trying to build something here, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself yet.
“What prompted you to come out here?” Keith hedged, fiddling with the small silver chain around his neck- a keepsake from Krolia with his fathers old wedding band on it.
Lance shrugged, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “I dunno. I just... needed to get away for a while. Clear my head. And, well, I didn’t think anyone would think to look for me here.”
“It’s a pretty good hiding spot,” Keith admitted, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I should know, after all.”
Lance chuckled, the sound lighter than Keith had heard in a while. “Yeah. I guess you would.”
For a moment, the tension between them melted away, replaced by something easier, something familiar. They ambled back into the living room, Lance gesturing for Keith to take a seat on the couch. The cushions were lumpy but clean, a clear sign of Lance’s effort.
They sank into the couch, the quiet hum of the generator providing a soothing background noise. Lance kicked his feet up on the rickety coffee table, and Keith leaned back, letting his head rest against the worn fabric.
“What’s next on your grand renovation list?” Keith teased, gesturing vaguely at the room.
Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know, just rebuilding the entire roof, figuring out how to keep the damn scorpions out, maybe installing a pool while I’m at it.”
Keith laughed softly, the sound catching even him by surprise. “Ambitious. Let me know when you need a hand with that pool.”
They continued chatting, their conversation meandering from trivial details about the shack to the latest alien-related Garrison projects Keith had heard about. The air between them felt strangely light, almost normal, as if they were two old friends catching up after years apart.
For a while, Keith forgot why he’d come out here in the first place. The weight of his worry for Lance, the urgency to fix things, receded into the background. In this moment, it was enough just to be here, to hear Lance laugh again.
But beneath the surface, Keith knew this was just the beginning. The cracks were still there, both in the walls of the shack and in Lance himself.
The easy rhythm of their conversation continued until the light outside began to shift, the golden glow of late afternoon creeping through the thin curtains. Lance eventually stood, stretching with an exaggerated groan, his arms reaching for the ceiling.
“Well,” he said, voice trailing off as he glanced toward the kitchen. “Guess I should figure out what to do for dinner. Don’t have much, though. Just some canned stuff and whatever the Garrison left behind when they abandoned this place.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been living off old Garrison rations?”
Lance shot him a mock-offended look. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I’ve been supplementing with fresh herbs and the occasional trip into town. But yeah, mostly canned crap. It’s got a certain... rustic charm.”
“Right.” Keith smirked. “Because nothing says ‘charm’ like stale protein bars.”
Lance rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Tell you what, samurai. You want something better? You can cook.”
Keith barked a laugh. “I didn’t come all this way to be your personal chef.”
“Well, I didn’t invite you, now did I?” Lance shot back, but his grin betrayed his teasing tone.
Keith shook his head, standing as well and heading toward the kitchen. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
It turned out Lance wasn’t exaggerating about his limited supplies. The cabinets were a mix of dusty Garrison rations, random cans of beans and soup, and a suspiciously large stash of hot sauce. Keith held up a bottle of the latter, raising an eyebrow.
“Survival essential,” Lance said with a shrug.
Keith chuckled and set it aside, pulling out a few cans and some dried pasta. “Guess I can work with this.”
They fell into an easy rhythm as Keith threw together a simple meal, the scent of simmering tomato sauce filling the tiny shack. Lance leaned against the counter, watching him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
“Didn’t peg you for a cook,” Lance said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.
Keith shrugged, stirring the pot. “You pick things up when you’re out on missions. Can’t exactly rely on pre-packaged meals all the time. And turns out Hunk is a great teacher.”
Lance hummed thoughtfully, his expression softening. “Guess that makes sense. Still, it’s weird seeing you do something so... normal.”
Keith glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You say that like I’m incapable of being normal.”
Lance smirked. “Well, you did sleep on my porch all night. Not exactly textbook normal behavior.”
“Desperate times,” Keith quipped, turning back to the stove.
They ate at the small table in the corner, the meal simple but satisfying. Lance surprised Keith by pulling out a dusty bottle of wine he’d found during one of his trips to town.
“Thought this would come in handy someday,” Lance said, pouring them each a small glass.
“Someone’s feeling fancy.” Keith smirked.
Lance shrugged, “Hey, I will have you know getting drunk and watching the sunset in the middle of nowhere is a great way to pass the time. Doesn’t matter what container it comes in.”
Keith raised his in a quiet toast. “Well here's to that. And to not starving.”
Lance snorted but clinked his glass against Keith’s. “To not starving.”
The conversation stayed light as they ate, the kind of easy banter they used to share when things were simpler. But as the meal wound down, the silence between them grew heavier, the unspoken tension creeping back in.
Keith set his fork down, glancing across the table at Lance. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but... you can talk to me, you know.”
Lance stared at his plate for a long moment before meeting Keith’s gaze. His smile was faint but genuine, tinged with the kind of exhaustion that went deeper than physical fatigue.
“I know,” he said quietly.
Keith nodded, letting the silence settle again. For now, it was enough. They could face bigger conversations later.
When Lance finally yawned and stretched, declaring it was time to call it a night, Keith offered to clean up the dishes. Lance waved him off with a lazy flick of his wrist.
“It would just be cruel if I made you clean up after you spent the night on my porch.”
“I think you mean my porch,” Keith retorted with a smirk, crossing his arms. “You forget—I actually own this land.”
Lance snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Like you ever cared about that. Part of the reason I came out here is because I knew you wouldn’t mind me crashing at your ex—uh—hideout.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Keith said, rolling his eyes. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Lance’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Me too. Thanks for, you know, coming to check on me. I guess.”
Keith watched him for a moment, his expression more serious now. “Are you sure everything’s alright? People don’t tend to hide unless there’s a reason.”
Lance’s smile faltered, and his gaze dropped. “I’m not hiding. I just... I’ve got some things to figure out.”
“Things that require dropping everything and leaving everyone worried about you?” Keith’s brow furrowed, his tone tinged with concern.
Lance winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man. I just panicked, I guess. Needed to get away. I’ll figure it out. I just need time.”
Keith stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “Lance, what’s going on with you? You don’t just disappear out of the blue. That’s more my style, if anything.”
Lance let out a soft, bitter laugh and rubbed his temples. “It’s messy, okay? I know I owe you—and everyone else—an explanation. But not right now. Let me sort it out first. I’ll go back eventually, but I need space. And time.”
Keith studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. I won’t push. I know better than that.”
Lance’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and he shot Keith a grateful look. “Thanks.” He glanced toward the window, the moonlight streaming through the curtains. “Look, it’s really late. Why don’t you stay the night again? This time, I’ll even let you sleep inside.”
“Wow, what a treat,” Keith said dryly, though a hint of a smile played on his lips.
Lance laughed, shaking his head as he stood. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No need.” Keith flopped down onto the old leather cushions, kicking his boots off onto the floor. “I’m comfortable here.”
“Suit yourself,” Lance said, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and tossing it over Keith. “Goodnight, samurai.”
“Goodnight, hermit,” Keith murmured as Lance retreated down the hall, his footsteps soft against the creaky wooden floor.
For all the chaos and uncertainty that had brought him here, being in this tiny shack with Lance felt... right. Maybe, he thought as he settled into the couch for the night, this was the start of something neither of them had realized they needed.
The morning came too soon for Keith's liking, sunlight streaming through the windows and dragging him out of an uneasy sleep. He groaned softly, stretching to work out the stiffness in his neck as he sat up on the old couch. The quiet hum of the desert morning drifted in, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the occasional creak of the shack settling into the day.
He padded into the kitchen, sleep still clinging to him, and set to work on making coffee. By the time the scent of freshly brewed caffeine filled the air, he heard Lance shuffling around in the bedroom. Two steaming mugs sat ready on the counter when Lance finally emerged, his hair sticking up in all directions and dark circles smudged under his eyes like battle scars.
“Morning,” Keith greeted, voice low but teasing.
Lance groaned in reply, running a hand over his face. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve ingested some form of caffeine.”
Keith smirked to himself, nudging one of the mugs toward him. Lance blinked at it, surprised, before wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic and slumping into the chair across from Keith.
For a few moments, the only sounds were the soft clinks of mugs against the table and the desert breeze filtering through the open window. Keith watched as Lance gradually straightened up, the life returning to him sip by sip.
“You sleep okay on the couch?” Lance asked, his voice still scratchy from sleep.
“As well as you can on something that probably qualifies as a medieval torture device,” Keith replied with a faint smile.
“Yeah, it’s a neck killer,” Lance agreed, stretching his arms above his head. “I lasted two nights on it when I first got out here. Realized fast that something had to change, hence the bed. Found it abandoned on the side of the road on a drive into town.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “I did wonder where that came from.”
“And now you know.” Lance shrugged. “I’ll make sure to pick up some better blankets and pillows next time I’m out. Oh, and I’m making breakfast today, so don’t even think about trying to do it yourself. It’s the least I can do after leaving you to sleep outside like a stray cat and then on that godawful couch last night.”
Keith chuckled, lifting his mug. “Good to know you’re capable of guilt.”
Lance rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. The comfortable silence returned, and for a while, they simply sat there, the soft morning light painting the room in hues of gold and amber.
Eventually, Lance broke the silence. “So… when do you think you’ll head out today?”
Keith hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his mug. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I don’t have another mission for a few weeks, and nothing urgent to do in the meantime, so… I was thinking about sticking around for a bit, actually.”
Lance blinked, turning fully toward him. “Wait, what?”
“If, uh, you’re okay with that,” Keith added quickly, looking slightly sheepish.
“You want to stay out here? In the middle of nowhere? With me? Willingly?” Lance’s eyebrows shot up.
Keith shrugged, setting his mug down on the table. “Someone has to. Look, whatever you’re dealing with, you shouldn’t have to go through it alone. It doesn’t have to be me, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but—”
“Keith.” Lance cut him off, his voice quiet but steady. “Thanks.”
Keith met his gaze, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “You’re welcome.”
Lance didn’t say anything else, but there was something unspoken in the way his shoulders relaxed and the flicker of gratitude in his eyes. He didn’t need to say it—Keith knew he was glad. And for now, that was enough.
Soon enough Lance busied himself in the small kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and the tiny fridge he’d somehow managed to squeeze into the shack. Keith sat at the table, coffee mug still in hand, watching with a faint smirk as Lance muttered to himself.
"Alright, let’s see... ration bars… eggs... canned bread... is this bread? It’s kind of green..." Lance squinted at the strange space loaf in question before tossing it into the trash.
Keith raised an eyebrow. "Green bread wasn’t part of the plan, I hope."
"Ha, ha," Lance deadpanned, grabbing a box of cereal and inspecting it. "I’ve been living out here solo, okay? Sue me for not being a five-star chef."
"You weren’t exactly one on the Castle, either," Keith said, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Hey! I’ll have you know I make excellent space goo." Lance grinned, but it quickly faded as he stared down at the options in front of him. With a resigned sigh, he grabbed a carton of eggs and turned on the ancient stovetop. "Alright, scrambled eggs it is. Nothing fancy, but it’ll keep us alive."
Keith chuckled, leaning over the table. "Need a hand?"
Lance waved him off with a dramatic flourish. "Absolutely not. You’re my guest—well, uninvited guest, but still—so sit your butt down and let me work my culinary magic."
Keith obeyed, sitting back and setting down his mug. He watched as Lance cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking with far more vigor than necessary. "You don’t have to go all out, you know. I’d survive on rations."
"Rations? Gross. This might not be gourmet, but it’s better than that astronaut paste you’re probably used to."
Keith smiled into his coffee, watching Lance move with a combination of focus and clumsiness. The smell of eggs sizzling on the pan filled the room, and Keith found himself oddly at ease despite everything.
When Lance finally set down two plates of slightly overcooked scrambled eggs and toast that had been scraped free of a bit of char, he made a grand gesture as though presenting a feast. "Bon appétit, my dude."
Keith looked at the plate, then up at Lance. "You’re really outdoing yourself here."
"Shut up and eat," Lance said, rolling his eyes but grinning as he sat down across from him.
They ate in a comfortable quiet at first, the sound of forks scraping against plates and the occasional creak of the shack filling the space.
"This isn’t bad," Keith said eventually, breaking the silence.
"Don’t sound so surprised," Lance retorted, though his tone was lighter now.
Keith chuckled. "No, really. It’s good. Thanks for making it."
Lance shrugged, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, well, consider it my official apology for being a jerk. And once again, for making you sleep on the porch. Pretty sure I’ll have to apologize for that for the rest of our lives, but hey. You’ve upgraded to the couch and I call that a win."
Keith snorted. "Glad to know I’m moving up in the world."
"You’re welcome."
As they finished their meal, Lance leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. "Alright, next time, though, you’re cooking."
Keith smirked. "Deal. But I can’t promise it’ll be any better than this."
"Please, after living off space goo and green bread, my standards are rock bottom. You’ll be fine."
Keith laughed, the sound genuine and warm, and for the first time since arriving, he saw Lance relax just a little. The tension that had weighed so heavily on him seemed to ease, if only for a moment.
And that, Keith decided, was progress.
After breakfast, Keith helped clear the dishes despite Lance's half-hearted protests. The small act felt oddly normal, like a glimpse of what life might have been if they’d ever had the luxury of settling into routines together. The clink of plates and the soft rush of water in the sink filled the space between them, a comfortable silence that felt surprisingly easy.
“So,” Keith said, drying his hands on a towel, “is this the part where you show me all the improvements you’ve made? Because I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this place has running water and electricity now.”
Lance snorted, flicking water from his fingers at Keith. “Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet, Samurai. Prepare to be amazed.”
Keith raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”
Lance led him through the shack, his stride somewhere between casual and showman-like. He gestured at small details as they walked. A patched-up wall in the living room. A reinforced door frame in the kitchen. All the little details they’d missed in the first walk-around the day before.
They stopped at the back door, where Lance hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. He stepped aside, waving Keith through with a flourish. “Now for the pièce de résistance.”
Keith stepped outside, squinting against the bright desert sun. Behind the shack, a surprising sight greeted him: rows of garden beds, neatly constructed and filled with soil. Small green sprouts peeked through the dirt, their leaves vivid against the dusty backdrop of sand and rocks.
“You... built a garden?” Keith asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Lance grinned, his hands resting on his hips. “Damn right I did. Don’t look so shocked.”
“I mean, I just didn’t expect this from you.” Keith crouched by one of the beds, inspecting the tender shoots. “This is actually... really impressive. What are you growing?”
“Tomatoes, peppers, some herbs. And over there,” Lance pointed to a corner bed, “that’s my potato patch. It’s all experimental. A lot of stuff doesn’t grow well out here, but I’m figuring it out as I go.”
Keith straightened, dusting his hands off. “How’d you even get started with this?”
Lance shrugged, crossing his arms as he surveyed the beds. “Had a lot of time on my hands and needed something to do. Plus, it’s... weirdly satisfying, you know? Watching something grow, knowing you made it happen. A few months ago Allura showed me a new quintessence trick that helps plants grow faster. I practiced for a while and used it back here and suddenly things started sprouting. Kind of fun actually. I missed the weird magical side of things oddly enough.”
Keith studied him for a moment, noticing the way Lance’s expression softened as he talked about the garden. “It suits you.”
Lance blinked, caught off guard. “What does? Space magic?”
Keith gestured to the garden, then to Lance himself. “This. Taking care of something. Making things grow. You’re good at it.”
Lance’s ears turned pink as he looked away. “Yeah, well... it keeps me busy.”
They spent the next hour working together in the garden. Lance handed Keith a trowel and showed him how to loosen the soil around the roots of the plants. Keith helped reinforce one of the garden beds, nailing a loose plank into place while Lance carefully watered the sprouts.
“You’re not half bad at this,” Lance said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Thanks,” Keith replied, hammering in another nail. “Not exactly what I thought I’d be doing out here, but it’s kind of... nice.”
Lance glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It is, isn’t it?”
They fell into a steady rhythm, working side by side in the warm sunlight. The desert was quiet around them, the only sounds were the occasional chirp of a bird and the soft rustle of the breeze.
At one point, Keith leaned back on his heels, brushing dirt off his hands. “You’ve got a good thing going here, Lance. It’s peaceful.”
Lance looked out over the garden, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “For the first time in a while, it feels like it.”
Keith nodded, watching him. For all the struggles Lance had clearly been through, this little oasis he’d built felt like a reflection of the person he really was—resilient, creative, and quietly determined.
And Keith couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they’d both found a bit of peace in this strange, shared moment.
After a long day, Lance stood back and admired their work. His garden beds looked a little tidier, the soil freshly turned, and the repairs on the outer edges made everything seem more secure. He gave a satisfied nod, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Not bad for a day’s work,” he said, glancing at Keith, who leaned against one of the fence posts they’d reinforced.
“Not bad at all,” Keith agreed, crossing his arms. His gaze lingered on Lance a beat longer than necessary, watching the way his friend’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
They made their way back to the porch, their boots crunching softly against the dry earth. Keith plopped down onto the top step, stretching his legs out in front of him. Lance followed, sitting beside him and resting his elbows on his knees.
For a while, they just sat there, watching the horizon as the sun slowly set. The air was still, warm but not oppressive, and the quiet of the desert seemed to wrap around them like a blanket.
It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
Keith turned his head slightly, studying Lance’s profile in the fading light. The easygoing front Lance had been putting on all day wasn’t fooling him. He could see the tension lingering in the lines of his shoulders, the way his gaze seemed to flit toward the horizon like he was trying to escape something.
The quiet between them felt both heavy and serene, but underneath it all, Keith could feel the unspoken tension. Lance had been distant ever since he arrived, his smiles thin and his words carefully measured. Keith understood more than he’d let on—he knew what it felt like to hide from the world, to just need space away from the constant expectations. But Lance… Lance had gone further. He’d vanished.
The desert evening was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind through the sparse brush. The warmth of the sun still lingered on Keith’s skin, but the cool night air was creeping in. He glanced over at Lance again, who had been staring ahead, his posture rigid, like he was lost in thought.
Keith took a slow breath, letting the silence stretch just a little longer. He could tell Lance wasn’t ready to open up, but the longer Keith waited, the more it seemed like there was something pressing behind those quiet eyes—something he needed to say.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Keith spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Lance..."
Lance stiffened slightly, not quite turning to look at him. “Yeah?”
“What’s really going on?” Keith asked, his voice low but steady.
Lance stiffened slightly, his gaze snapping away from Keith’s. “We’ve been over this,” he said, his tone guarded.
“Not really,” Keith replied, leaning forward. “You’ve told me bits and pieces, but you’re still holding back. I get it, Lance. I do. But I’ve been where you are—trying to deal with too much on your own. It doesn’t work.”
Lance laughed, a hollow sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re the expert on emotional baggage? That’s rich.”
Keith stiffened, but managed to snap his jaw shut before saying something hurtful. One deep breath, two, three…
“I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out,” Keith said, his voice tighter than before. “But I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anywhere. Like you’re just... floating.”
That struck a nerve. Lance flinched, the tension in his shoulders sharp enough to cut. He didn’t respond right away, his fingers picking at the edge of the step beneath him.
“I’m not floating,” he said eventually, his voice quieter now. “I just... needed to get away. From everything. From everyone. It was too much.”
Keith nodded, giving him the space to keep going. Lance clenched his jaw, but Keith could see the tension in his neck, the way his hands curled into fists.
“The war,” Lance continued, his voice thick with something unspoken. “The people we lost. The things we did to survive. It’s like... it’s all stuck in my head on a loop. And being around the team, even the Garrison... it’s like it’s always right there, just waiting to drag me under again. It... it all got too loud, you know?”
Keith stayed silent, letting Lance’s words hang in the air.
“I know I ran,” Lance admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I left without telling anyone, and I know that was shitty. But I just... I couldn’t breathe anymore. I needed to find a place where I could actually hear myself think.”
“You didn’t think we’d understand?” Keith asked gently.
Lance’s laugh was bitter this time, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Keith. “Would you have? Or would you have done what you’re doing now—chasing after me, demanding answers, refusing to let it go?”
Keith’s jaw tightened. “You’re right. I probably would’ve done exactly that. But not because I don’t understand. Because I care. That’s enough for me.”
That stopped Lance in his tracks. He blinked, his sharp retort dying on his lips.
After a moment Lance sighed and shook his head. "It’s not enough, Keith. It’s never enough. You don’t understand. I need to be alone. I need to figure things out. I’ll go back. Eventually. But not yet. Not now."
Keith pressed on, his voice softening. “You’re not alone in this, Lance. You never were. And you don’t have to keep punishing yourself for needing space or time. Just... don’t shut everyone out forever, okay? We’re here for you, whether you want to believe it or not.”
Lance stared at him for a long moment, his expression flickering between defiance and something far more vulnerable. Finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.
“You sound like Shiro,” he said quietly.
“Wow. Rude.” Keith half smiled.
“No, it’s a good thing.” Lance said, “You’ve grown up a lot the last year Keith.”
“So have you.” He pointed out, “We aren’t kids anymore, fighting in space. We’re just people, figuring out what to do next Lance.”
“It sucks.”
“It does.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Keith didn’t push further, sensing that this was as far as Lance was willing to go for now. Instead, he shifted back, giving Lance the physical and emotional space he seemed to need.
The two of them sat there in the fading light, the silence stretching between them—not heavy, but something closer to understanding. For now, it was enough.
Notes:
Alrighty, second chapter up and creative procrastination is going strong! For some context, everyone is a little older in this fic than in the show. I imagine Keith, Lance and Hunk to be around 20ish and Pidge is like, 18 ish. Don't ask for details cause I dunno. Also, the shack/house is about a 45-60 minute drive from any kind of civilization, and the Garrison base is maybe 2-3 hours in my brain if that is useful information. I'm winging this so hard.
Yayyyyyy trauma. Lance is going through it guys and it's gonna get nice and sad for a minute BUT THERE WILL BE HEALING. So for now let us just enjoy the gay lovebirds living alone in the middle of nowhere on their makeshift farm shall we?
Have a great morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you, go drink some water, and don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do!
Chapter Text
Time in the desert had slipped by almost unnoticed, and before Keith realized it, he’d been there nearly a week. Days blurred into each other, marked only by the rising and setting of the sun, the rhythm of chores, and the quiet companionship he and Lance had settled into. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of their lives during the war, and strangely enough, it felt like the best week Keith had experienced in over a year.
The simplicity of their routine reminded Keith of the times aboard the Castle of Lions—long nights spent in the lounge, Hunk’s cooking filling the air, Lance and Pidge locked in loud, competitive video games. He could almost hear Shiro’s rare bursts of laughter when they managed to pull him into their antics, or Coran’s confused mutterings as he tried to make sense of Earth slang. Allura would usually watch from the side, regal and amused, until someone dared her to join in. It was... a good life, in its own way, and one Keith hadn’t realized he missed until now.
But the castle felt like another lifetime. They’d been back on Earth just over a year, though time dilation made it closer to five. The odd disconnection from reality lingered for all of them, but out here in the desert, it felt less sharp. He wondered if Lance felt the same, though neither of them had brought up the past. There was an unspoken agreement between them—a boundary they hadn’t yet crossed. Keith wasn’t sure if it was for Lance’s sake or his own, but it felt like a line they weren’t ready to step over.
On the second or third day, Keith learned about Lance’s hard rule against technology the hard way. He’d remembered to message Krolia and the McClains to let them know they were alright, only for Lance to swoop in like a hawk, snatching the communicator straight out of his hand.
“Nope. No, no, no. No tech,” Lance declared, holding the device just out of Keith’s reach.
“Lance,” Keith sighed, crossing his arms, “I promised everyone I’d check in.”
“Nope.” Lance’s grin was infuriatingly smug. “No tech out here, man. Rule number one. This whole retreat thing? It’s about disconnecting. No missions, no messages, no space stuff. Just peace and quiet.”
“At least let me send one message to let them know you’re okay,” Keith countered. His tone softened when he saw Lance deflate slightly, the teasing spark in his eyes dimming. “They’re worried about you. I promised I wouldn’t leave them hanging.”
Lance groaned, relenting with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Fine. But you cannot tell them where I am. If Hunk and Pidge find out, they’ll storm the place. And if my mom finds me? She’s bringing the chancla. I don’t feel like dying young. Again.”
Keith bit back a smile as he took the comm back, quickly typing out a short, vague update. Everyone’s fine. Lance is safe. I’ll stay for a bit. No details. He handed the device back, watching as Lance stashed it somewhere in the shack, out of sight.
To Keith’s surprise, the “no tech” rule didn’t bother him much. In fact, he found it oddly freeing. No messages, no updates, no responsibilities pulling at him from every direction. Just the quiet rhythm of the desert.
One of these simple mornings unfolded slowly, as desert mornings often did. The pale light of dawn had long since given way to a soft, golden glow that poured through the small windows of the shack. Inside, the air was warm and still, filled with the faint scent of coffee and the crackling of eggs frying on the stove.Lance hummed under his breath as he worked, his movements fluid and unhurried. His back was to Keith, shoulders relaxed, the usual sharpness in his posture softened by the easy rhythm of their routine.
Across the room, Keith knelt by the front door, a small toolbox open beside him. The hinges had been creaking loudly every time the door moved, and now he was determined to fix it. He tightened a screw, testing the swing of the door, his fingers smudged with oil.
“You know,” Lance said without turning around, “if this shack gets too functional, it might stop having that rugged ‘fixer-upper’ charm.”
Keith glanced over his shoulder, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “I didn’t realize creaky doors were part of the aesthetic. Should I leave the leak in the roof, too?”
Lance turned just enough to shoot him a mock glare. “Hey, that’s your job. I’m the cook, remember? You’re the one who’s all, ‘survivalist handyman extraordinaire.’”
“Fair enough,” Keith muttered, turning back to his task. The door swung noiselessly now, and he allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.
The shack felt alive in a way Keith couldn’t quite explain. The soft clatter of pans, the scrape of wood against wood as the door moved under his hand—it was all so normal. So far removed from the chaos and urgency that had defined their lives for so long.
Outside, the desert stretched vast and quiet. A few birds chirped somewhere in the distance, their melodies weaving through the rustling of the wind in the brush. The stillness was broken only by the occasional crackle of the stove or the clink of Keith’s tools.
“You about done over there?” Lance asked, turning off the burner and plating their breakfast.
“Yeah, I think so.” Keith rose to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag. He gave the door a final push, satisfied when it opened and closed smoothly. “Your door no longer sounds like it’s auditioning for a horror movie.”
“Oh, my hero,” Lance deadpanned, setting two plates on the small table. But there was a warmth in his voice, a lightness Keith hadn’t heard in a long time.
Keith joined him at the table, the scrape of chairs on the floor breaking the quiet. They ate in companionable silence at first, the sounds of their forks against the plates blending into the natural rhythm of the morning.
“This is nice,” Lance said suddenly, his voice soft.
Keith looked up, catching the faraway expression on Lance’s face. “What is?”
“This,” Lance gestured vaguely around the room. “All of it. Waking up with nowhere to be, fixing things that don’t matter in the grand scheme of the universe… I forgot what it felt like to breathe, you know?”
Keith nodded, his chest aching at the raw honesty in Lance’s voice. “Yeah, I get it.”
Lance’s eyes flicked to him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Of course you do. You’re the king of disappearing into the middle of nowhere for some soul-searching.”
Keith smirked, but it was gentle, his gaze steady. “It’s not so bad out here, is it?”
Lance shook his head, a wistful look settling over his features. “No. It’s not bad at all.”
They sat there a little longer than they needed to, the food growing cold on their plates as the morning light shifted and stretched. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it—that quiet, unspoken understanding.
Out here, with the desert around them and the weight of the past a little farther away, it was easier to breathe. Easier to just be.
The two decided to set aside the entire day to just do repairs and try to finish up the rest of the essential projects needed for the house, that way they had less to worry about during their duration here. They wrote out a list of things to check off and rolled up their sleeves. Thankfully, Lance already bought plenty of supplies the last time he drove back into civilization, picking up all the odds and ends he thought he’d need for these various projects so they were pretty set up.
Keith had barely stepped outside to inspect the shingles before Lance had scrambled up after him, balancing a bucket of nails and a roll of tarp under one arm.
“I already tried fixing this, by the way,” Lance declared, his tone both defensive and sheepish.
“Oh, really?” Keith raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the mismatched patchwork of boards and duct tape he’d found up there. “This your masterpiece?”
“Hey, duct tape is versatile,” Lance shot back, planting a hand on his hip.
“Not for roofs,” Keith replied dryly, crouching to pull the offending tape free.
As they worked side by side, Lance handed Keith tools with a theatrical air, mockingly calling himself “Keith’s loyal squire.” Despite the teasing, they fell into a steady rhythm, with Lance surprising Keith by actually paying attention to his instructions.
By the time they’d finished, Lance wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced up at the sturdy repair with a satisfied grin. “Okay, fine. Maybe you’re useful.”
Keith smirked, tossing the empty bucket down to the ground. “Don’t get used to it.”
Back inside, Keith knelt on the ground with a crowbar, prying up the offending plank. “You lived here with this thing squeaking every time you walked past?”
“I like to think of it as the house having character,” Lance replied breezily, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
Keith snorted, pulling out the board and inspecting it. “Pretty sure ‘character’ isn’t supposed to trip you in the middle of the night.”
Lance crouched beside him, watching as Keith measured and cut a new piece of wood to fit. “Okay, but for real—how do you just know how to do all this stuff? Is this a Blade thing? ‘Cause if it is, they didn’t teach me this in fighter training.”
Keith didn’t look up, focused on his work. “No, this is just... survivalist DIY energy, as you’d call it. Growing up in the desert, you figure out how to fix things or live without them.”
Lance made a face. “Yeah, well, my childhood didn’t exactly prepare me for home improvement.”
Keith glanced at him, smirking. “No, but it prepared you to complain about it, apparently.”
Out front, they worked together to reinforce the rickety stairs leading up to the shack. Keith held up one end of a beam while Lance struggled with the other, his grip slipping slightly as he tried to position it just right.
“Hold it steady,” Keith instructed.
“I am holding it steady!” Lance shot back, glaring.
Keith shifted his end, the beam finally settling into place. “See? Easy.”
“Yeah, if you’re superhuman,” Lance muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
As they secured the beam, their hands brushed for the briefest of moments. Keith froze, a spark of warmth shooting up his arm that left him unsteady. His fingers hovered just over Lance’s before he pulled back abruptly, clearing his throat.
Lance blinked, his gaze flickering to Keith for a split second before turning back to the beam. “So... uh, what’s next on the list?”
Keith swallowed hard, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the physical labor. “Uh, I think we’re good here.”
By the time they finished for the day, the shack looked sturdier, if still a little rough around the edges. Lance surveyed their work with a proud grin, stretching his arms above his head.
“Alright, I’ll admit it—this place is starting to look... almost respectable.”
Keith leaned against the railing they’d just fixed, arms crossed. “Almost?”
“Hey, I said starting to ,” Lance teased, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s as he walked past. “Don’t let it go to your head, Samurai.”
Keith shook his head, watching Lance disappear back inside with a faint smile. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about working side by side like this—hands dirty, shoulders brushing, laughter filling the air—felt like they were building more than just a house.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the desert in hues of gold and crimson, Keith leaned against the front steps of the shack, brushing sawdust off his hands. Lance stood a few feet away, stretching out his back with an exaggerated groan.
"Okay, Mr. Fix-It," Lance quipped, rolling his shoulders. "What's next on your magical to-do list? Or do we get to call it a day and bask in our handyman glory?"
Keith smirked, crossing his arms. “Actually, I was thinking about heading out into the desert for a bit. Thought you might want to come with me.”
Lance arched an eyebrow. “Into the desert? Do I look like I’m trying to recreate Survivor ?”
“Come on,” Keith replied, his tone just shy of teasing. “It’s not like you’re doing anything else, and you could stand to learn a thing or two about surviving out here. Y’know, in case this shack falls apart.”
Lance opened his mouth to retort but hesitated, a flicker of interest flashing across his face. “Alright, fine,” he said, pointing a finger at Keith. “But if you try to make me eat a cactus or something, I’m out.”
Keith chuckled, already heading inside to grab a few supplies. “Just bring your water bottle, McClain.”
The desert was cooler now, the heat of the day dissipating as the shadows stretched long and jagged across the sandy ground. Keith led the way, his steps sure and deliberate, while Lance trailed behind, muttering under his breath about “rugged lone-wolf types” and “dramatic Samurai hobbies.”
The sand and rock stretched wide around them as they walked, the rhythm of their steps falling into sync. Lance muttered complaints at first—about the dust, the dryness, the way Keith moved like he owned the place—but his voice softened as the landscape unfolded. The colors of the evening sky shifted from gold to deep violet, and Lance couldn’t help but glance around, taking it in.
Keith finally stopped, tilting his head up toward the darkening sky. “First lesson: navigation. You can use the stars to find your way. You should be good at this already, given our time actually spent out there, and learning about it in the Garrison.”
Lance let out a low whistle, tilting his head back. “Alright, I’ll bite. What am I looking for?”
Keith pointed out constellations, his voice even and steady. “Polaris. The North Star. If you can find it, you can always figure out which direction you’re headed. Lets see if you’ve still got it, shall we Sharpshooter?”
Lance rolled his eyes as he pointed, “Like that’s a hard one. Right there.”
Keith grinned, “Not bad. Arcturus?”
“That-a-way.”
“Good. Sirius?”
“Come on Keith, give me a hard one.” Lance groaned.
Keith laughed and continued quizzing him as they started walking again, climbing over random rocks and kicking at the dirt. It had fully gotten dark out now and they had to use flashlights to see where they were going, but he was careful to pay attention to where they were. As Keith explained further, Lance’s questions became less sarcastic, his focus sharpening. He repeated the names of stars Keith pointed out, his tone thoughtful as he connected the dots in his mind.
“This is kind of fun isn’t it?” He smiled once Lance had beat all his questions, tilting his head back to look up into the great expanse of sky.
Lance squinted. “Yeah, sure, if you’re into cryptic connect-the-dots. What happens if there are clouds?”
“Then you’re in trouble,” Keith said with a straight face, earning a snort of laughter from Lance.
“Alright Samurai, what’s next on the Average Mulleted Man’s Survival Skills list?” Lance smirked.
Keith looked around for a minute, thinking when something caught his eye. He turned and squatted down in front of a scraggly bush that looked more like a bundle of dead twigs than anything useful.
“Bushes.” he grinned up at Lance who looked somewhat concerned.
“A bush?” He said skeptically.”
“This is another good one to know,” Keith said, plucking a small dry leaf and holding it out. “Not food, but medicine. Crush the leaves into a paste, and you can use it to treat small burns or cuts.”
Lance crouched beside him, holding the leaf up to the fading light. “Huh. So, nature’s first aid kit, huh?”
“Pretty much,” Keith said. “Out here, stuff like this can make a difference.”
Lance nodded, tucking the information away with surprising seriousness. Keith noticed the way his usual bravado softened out here. In the quiet, Lance’s jokes came less often, replaced by a curiosity that Keith couldn’t help but admire.
By the time they settled down near a flat patch of ground, the sky had deepened into rich indigo, stars scattered like pinpricks across the vastness above. Keith knelt, pulling out a small flint and steel.
“Next up: fire,” Keith said, striking sparks until a small flame flickered to life.
Lance watched with crossed arms, skepticism written all over his face. “Okay, but what if I don’t have flint and steel? Am I just out of luck?”
Keith smirked. “There are other ways. But this is the easiest.” He handed Lance the tools. “Go ahead.”
Lance crouched down, fumbling with the flint and muttering under his breath. Keith leaned back, watching as Lance tried—and failed—to catch the sparks on the dry tinder.
“Patience yields focus,” Keith said, his tone almost teasing.
“Patience,” Lance echoed mockingly. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect Survivalist.”
When the spark finally caught and the tinder smoldered to life, Lance let out a triumphant laugh. “Ha! Look at that. I am a fire god.”
Keith chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, McClain. Whatever you say.”
As the fire crackled, Keith pulled a small first-aid kit from his bag. Lance raised an eyebrow.
“What’s this for? We patching each other up now?”
“Never hurts to be prepared,” Keith said, opening the kit. “If you’re ever stuck out here alone, you need to know how to take care of yourself.”
Keith walked him through the basics: cleaning wounds, splinting an arm, making a tourniquet in a pinch. Lance watched intently, his usual quips replaced by quiet concentration.
“Okay,” Lance said after Keith finished demonstrating. “So if I break my leg in the middle of nowhere, I won’t totally die.”
Keith smiled faintly, closing the kit. “Not if you remember all this.”
Lance leaned back, tossing a small stick into the fire. “Y’know, you’re not bad at this whole teaching thing. Who knew?”
“I try.”
“This sure was a lot easier with advanced alien technology.” Lance sighed, “Break a bone, stick yourself in a pod for three hours and ta-da. Healed.”
“Yeah, thats not gonna work out here.” Keith said, “Gotta work with what you have. My dad taught me early on to never leave home without the basics.”
“He sounds like a smart guy.”
“He was.”
“Wish I could have met him.” Lance said softly, “He sounds a lot like you. Or, you sound a lot like him I should say.”
Keith didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on the flames. He watched the way the light played across Lance’s face, softening the usual sharp edges. Out here, in the stillness of the desert, it felt like the weight Lance carried had eased just a little.
And as much as Keith wanted to say something, to ask if Lance was really okay, he stayed quiet. For now, the crackle of the fire and the calm of the night were enough.
The next day, it was time for Lance to teach Keith something in return. Keith didn’t understand why that something had to be gardening but he saw no way of getting out of it.
The morning was still cool when Keith stepped out of the shack, the dry air carrying the faintest hint of desert sage. The sun was just cresting over the horizon, painting the landscape in soft hues of gold and orange. Out back, Lance was already at work, crouched by the garden beds with his sleeves rolled up, hands busy tending to the soil.
Keith lingered for a moment, watching him. There was something grounding about seeing Lance like this—focused, calm, his movements unhurried. It was a stark contrast to the Lance he’d known on the Castle, always buzzing with energy and quick to fill silences with jokes. Here, he seemed... lighter, in a way Keith couldn’t quite explain.
“Up early again?” Keith finally said, wandering over.
“Plants don’t water themselves,” Lance replied without looking up, his voice warm but teasing. “Unless you’ve got Altean tech lying around somewhere. Which, sadly, I don’t.”
Keith crouched beside him, tilting his head to get a better look at what Lance was doing. “What are you even growing out here? Looks like just dirt and weeds.”
Lance gave him a mock glare but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “Shows what you know. It’s a work in progress, alright? The soil out here is trash, so I’ve been trying to improve it with compost.” He gestured toward a wooden box nearby, filled with scraps of food, coffee grounds, and dried plant matter. “Behold—my very own compost bin. Fancy, huh?”
Keith squinted at the box, unimpressed. “Looks like a pile of garbage.”
Lance gasped in mock outrage. “Excuse you, it’s future fertilizer, thank you very much. This ‘garbage’ is what’s gonna keep me fed out here. Or at least keep me from starving entirely.”
Keith smirked. “Alright, show me how it works then, farm boy.”
Lance’s grin widened as he pushed himself to his feet. “Oh, you’re in for it now.”
Lance led Keith through the basics, explaining how he mixed the compost into the soil to add nutrients and showing him how to check for moisture without overwatering. He pointed out the tiny seedlings he’d managed to coax from the barren ground and shared tips on keeping pests away without pesticides.
At first, Keith was clumsy. His hands, more used to gripping swords and piloting ships, fumbled with the delicate seedlings. He spread the compost too thickly in one spot, nearly knocking over a planter in the process. When he leaned in too close to check the soil, a gust of wind sent a fine cloud of dirt straight into his face.
Lance burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. “Oh my God, you’re hopeless!”
Keith wiped at his face, scowling through the dirt but unable to keep a grin from tugging at his lips. “I’m trying, alright? It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”
“Clearly,” Lance teased, still laughing. “I thought you were supposed to be good at survival stuff.”
“Survival doesn’t usually involve dirt in my face,” Keith shot back, brushing his hands off on his pants.
Lance finally straightened, his laughter trailing off into a warm smile. “Hold still,” he said suddenly, stepping closer.
Keith froze as Lance reached out, his thumb brushing gently against Keith’s cheek to wipe away a streak of dirt. The touch was fleeting, but it left a strange warmth in its wake, spreading through Keith’s chest.
“There,” Lance said lightly, though his voice was quieter now. “Now you don’t look like you face-planted in the garden.”
Keith swallowed hard, his gaze locked on Lance’s face. For a moment, the air between them felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. Lance’s hand lingered for just a heartbeat longer before he pulled back, clearing his throat.
“Anyway,” Lance said, his tone brightening as he turned back to the garden bed. “Let’s see if you can handle watering without flooding everything.”
Keith exhaled slowly, letting the moment pass. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll show you.”
The sun climbed higher as they worked, the cool morning giving way to the dry heat of the day. Keith gradually got the hang of things, his movements more deliberate as he followed Lance’s instructions. They joked and teased each other, the banter flowing easily between them, but beneath it all was a quiet sense of camaraderie that neither of them acknowledged aloud.
By midday, they were both covered in dirt, their hands stained from the soil and compost. Lance had a streak of grime across his arm where he’d wiped his brow, and Keith’s shirt was smudged from leaning too close to the planters.
They sat on the porch afterward, a pitcher of cold water between them. The silence was comfortable, broken only by the distant hum of cicadas and the rustling of the dry brush in the wind.
Keith leaned back against the wooden post, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “This isn’t so bad,” he admitted.
Lance glanced at him, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”
For a while, they just sat there, letting the stillness of the desert settle around them. Keith didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but he realized he didn’t mind. Out here, time didn’t seem to matter much. And for now, that was enough.
The sun had begun its slow descent by the time Keith finally stirred, pulling himself upright. The heat of the day was still clinging to the air, but the light was starting to soften, casting long shadows across the ground. He glanced over at Lance, who was absentmindedly twirling a blade of dry grass between his fingers, his gaze distant.
“What’s on your mind?” Keith asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Lance blinked, as if pulled from a dream, and then shrugged. “Nothing important.” He tossed the blade of grass aside and gave Keith a crooked smile. “Just wondering how long it’s gonna take before you kill one of my plants.”
Keith snorted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If anything dies out here, it’s on you for not being a better teacher.”
“Oh, please. ” Lance shot him a mock glare. “You’re unteachable. You didn’t even know which end of the watering can to hold.”
Keith smirked, deciding not to mention that he’d gotten it wrong on purpose just to make Lance laugh. “Pretty sure I managed just fine by the end.”
“Sure,” Lance drawled, leaning back against the porch railing. “We’ll see if that basil survives the week.”
Keith chuckled but didn’t push the conversation further. Instead, he let his gaze wander back to the horizon. The desert stretched endlessly before them, its vastness somehow both isolating and comforting. It reminded him a little of space—lonely, but full of possibility.
He glanced at Lance again, taking in the way the golden light caught in his hair and softened the lines of his face. For all his teasing, Lance looked... content. Maybe even happy.
“You seem different out here,” Keith said quietly.
Lance turned to him, his eyebrows raised. “Different how?”
Keith hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. Calmer, maybe? Like you’re not carrying the weight of the whole world on your shoulders for once.”
Lance looked away, his smile fading into something more introspective. “Yeah, well... it’s easier to breathe out here. No expectations. No one waiting for me to screw up or... prove something.”
Keith frowned. “You know no one thinks that about you, right?”
Lance let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe not. But it’s hard to turn off the part of me that thinks it anyway.”
Keith didn’t reply right away. Instead, he let the quiet settle between them, his mind drifting back to the war, to the weight they’d all carried then. He understood, in his own way, what Lance meant. The need to keep moving, keep proving, as if standing still would make the cracks in their armor show.
“You deserve this, you know,” Keith said eventually, his voice low but firm. “Time to just... exist. To figure things out without anyone breathing down your neck.”
Lance’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I do.”
They sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of the conversation giving way to something lighter. Lance eventually pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his hands.
“Alright, moody cowboy,” he said with a grin, “since you’ve got the gardening basics down, maybe tomorrow I’ll teach you how to build a proper irrigation system.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were trying to keep things simple out here.”
“Simple doesn’t mean stupid,” Lance shot back. “Besides, you’re gonna need a project if you’re sticking around much longer. Can’t have you lounging around all day.”
Keith smirked, following Lance back into the shack. “Fine. But if you make me dig more holes, I’m charging you.”
“For what?” Lance called over his shoulder. “You don’t even have a bank account, desert hermit!”
Keith chuckled, shaking his head. The light banter felt natural, a rhythm they’d fallen into without trying. As he stepped inside, the coolness of the shack enveloping him, Keith realized he wasn’t in any rush to leave. Not yet.
And judging by the way Lance didn’t quite close the door behind him, letting the evening breeze drift in, Keith figured Lance didn’t mind either.
The next few days passed slowly, like the steady rhythm of the desert itself. Mornings blurred into afternoons, the temperature rising and falling with the sun as Keith and Lance settled into a gentle routine. There was something satisfying about the simplicity of it all—the way the hours slipped by without expectation or rush.
The work they did around the shack continued. Keith spent most mornings fixing things that had been neglected or damaged by time, while Lance, ever the resourceful one, found ways to make do with what they had. They both made progress with the garden, patching up the soil, reinforcing the makeshift compost heap, and planting a few new things. The air smelled richer with every passing day, and Keith couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of accomplishment every time he looked at the little patch of green that was slowly taking root.
One afternoon, Keith finally agreed to help Lance build a proper irrigation system. They had collected old pipes and scrap metal from around the area, and after a few hours of trial and error, they managed to rig something that could water the garden without using too much precious water. Keith could see the pride in Lance’s eyes when it finally worked, the way his chest puffed up a little, like a quiet victory.
It wasn’t all work, though. Lance had taken to making breakfast every morning, experimenting with whatever they had on hand. At first Keith had to step in fairly often to make sure he didn’t burn down all their hard work, but over time Lance got better and better. It wasn’t always gourmet, but there was something warm about the way Lance took the time to make it special, his easy humor mixing with the sizzle of bacon and eggs on the stove. Keith couldn’t help but enjoy their mornings together—the way they fell into step without thinking, how the simplest things became rituals.
On the third night, they both sat on the porch after dinner, looking out at the expanse of desert. The air had cooled down, and the sky was filled with stars, more than Keith had seen in ages. Lance had a telescope now, another one of his many purchases during his time in the desert. Keith had been dubious at first, wondering what Lance would do with such a thing out here, but that evening, he’d found himself staring up at the sky through the lenses, letting the silence between them settle comfortably.
“I used to think I’d never get to see a night like this again,” Lance said quietly, his voice almost lost in the stillness.
Keith looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Lance shrugged, turning his gaze back to the stars. “After everything... all the fighting, the destruction, the war. I thought I’d forgotten what it was like to just... be. To look up at the sky and not think about what’s going to happen tomorrow.” He sighed. “I think I needed this more than I realized.”
Keith nodded, not sure what to say. He had his own moments of reflection, of course. He’d never been someone to talk about those feelings. But Lance... Lance always seemed to wear them on his sleeve, even when he tried to hide them.
“I get it,” Keith said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a hundred unspoken things. “The way everything just... presses down on you. You forget what it’s like to just... be alive, without the world’s expectations on your shoulders.”
Lance didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just let out a breath, staring up at the sky. Keith knew it wasn’t just the stars Lance was lost in. It was everything—the war, the way it had changed them both, the way they still carried pieces of it inside.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” Lance finally said, breaking the silence. “About how different everything is now. I thought... I thought I’d come out here and just figure it out, you know? Like, have all the answers by the time I got back. But... I don’t know. Some days, I feel like I’m further away from finding those answers than I was when I left.”
Keith stayed quiet, watching Lance, trying to understand. He didn’t have the answers, either. But he did know that sometimes, just being here, together, was enough. Maybe that was part of the process.
“You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, Lance,” Keith said after a long pause. “It’s okay not to know. You’ve been through a lot. We all have.”
Lance met his eyes, his lips quirking up in a half smile. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
The conversation shifted then, back to lighter topics, as it often did between them. They spent the next couple of days going on short walks around the desert, each of them picking up new skills or observing the life around them in ways they hadn’t before. Keith was still clumsy with some of the plant work, but he was getting the hang of it. Lance taught him more about what plants thrived out here and how to spot certain signs that would help them survive if they ever got into a tough situation. In turn, Keith showed Lance more first aid techniques, covering the basics of how to deal with desert injuries—sunburn, dehydration, and snake bites.
They’d made one trip into town together, which was odd to say the least after days of only each other’s company. The fridge had been fully cleaned out, as well as the pantry so they splurged and got all the essentials they could ever need, as well as some sweet treats and new books for the two of them to work through in their downtime.
Through all of it, Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that they were slowly, quietly healing. There was something about the simplicity of the days that allowed them to slip into a rhythm, a comfortable back and forth where they weren’t weighed down by anything except the present moment. Lance seemed less burdened each day, the weight of the war lifting just a little bit more. And Keith? He found himself opening up, too, in small ways—laughing more, teasing Lance without thinking twice, sharing bits of his own experiences with the ease of someone who had finally found a place where he didn’t have to hide.
By the end of the week, they were in sync. The shack felt more like home, and their bond had grown in a way that neither of them could really put into words. There were moments of closeness—long stares that lingered a little too long, quiet touches that spoke volumes—but neither of them acknowledged it outright. It wasn’t time for that yet. But for now, the slow pace of the desert was enough. The calm, quiet life they had found together was more than either of them had expected, and neither of them was quite ready to let it go.
The evening settled into a calm quiet as soft noises rang out from the kitchen of the small home. In the kitchen of the shack, Keith stood in front of the stove, carefully chopping vegetables for a stew. He'd taken it upon himself to teach Lance how to cook, having noticed the way Lance seemed to squirm whenever the subject came up.
"You sure you know what you're doing? I mean, I know you can cook but it’s still weird to think about." Lance asked, leaning against the counter with a skeptical grin, watching Keith slice an onion with precision.
"Relax, I’ve cooked before plenty of times," Keith said, glancing up with a smirk. "You just never saw me in action back at the castle. And you’re the one who loved the pasta I made the other night."
Lance chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I don't remember you ever lifting a finger in the kitchen. Hunk was always the one saving us from your ‘rations’."
Keith rolled his eyes, dropping the sliced onion into the pot with a satisfying sizzle. "I wasn't that bad. Besides, I’ve learned a lot from Hunk and Coran since then."
Lance laughed, a lighthearted sound that made Keith’s chest tighten in a way he hadn’t been expecting. "Alright, alright. I’ll give you that one. But you're still gonna have to teach me how to make this stew, Keith. I’m pretty sure the last time I cooked before you got here, it involved a microwave and a lot of questionable decisions."
Keith shot him a teasing grin. "No microwaving today, buddy. This is real food." He handed Lance a wooden spoon. "Stir that while I finish chopping up the carrots and potatoes."
Lance obediently took the spoon, but his concentration was more on Keith than the stew. "So, uh, what’s the secret? You can’t just toss stuff in and hope for the best, right?"
Keith smiled at Lance’s genuine curiosity. "Nope, you have to build flavor. Start with the onions, like we did. Let them soften and get sweet. Then we layer in the garlic and the other stuff. And you always taste as you go."
Lance nodded, focusing on the pot, but he couldn't hide the way his eyes lingered on Keith's hands as he worked. It was almost as if there was a quiet curiosity in the way he observed everything Keith did.
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Lance said, a little too quickly. “But you didn’t answer the important question—what makes a stew a stew and not... just a weird soup?”
Keith chuckled. "Patience. A stew has to simmer. You want everything to meld together, not just boil. It’s all about giving it time."
"Time, huh?" Lance hummed, leaning over the counter with a knowing smirk. "I guess I can do that. Just don’t leave me to stare at this pot for too long. My attention span doesn’t exactly match my hunger."
Keith snorted, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he glanced over at Lance. "Fair enough. You can help with the seasoning."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I can handle that. I know a thing or two about spices. Perks of growing up in a Cuban family with a huge spice cabinet."
"Good to know," Keith said with a slight challenge in his voice. "Alright, let’s see what you’ve got."
Lance eagerly grabbed a few jars of spices from the counter. "Alright, we’ve got cumin, paprika, thyme... should I throw in a bit of this mystery spice too?" He held up a jar with a question mark written on it.
Keith raised an eyebrow. “Where did that even come from?”
“Found it in the back of the pantry,” Lance said, grinning mischievously. “Thought it might add some flair.”
Keith shook his head, chuckling. "Just stick to the basics for now, Lance. No need to go overboard on our first lesson."
Lance shrugged, accepting the limits. He shook a pinch of cumin into the pot, the smell of the spice immediately filling the air, rich and warm. Keith’s gaze followed Lance’s hands as he worked, noticing the way Lance moved—relaxed, confident, but not exactly expert. It was... endearing.
"How’s this?" Lance asked, stepping back to look at the stew.
Keith tasted it with a spoon, then smiled approvingly. "Not bad. Could use a little more salt, though. But overall, you’re getting the hang of it."
Lance beamed, clearly pleased with the small victory. “Look at me, a culinary genius in the making.”
Keith chuckled, nudging him with his elbow. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, buddy. You still have a long way to go before you’re on Hunk’s level.”
Lance smirked. “True, but I think I can at least hold my own in the kitchen now.” He took a step closer to the stove, his shoulder brushing Keith’s in the process. Keith froze, feeling the subtle pressure of the contact, but Lance didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he did and didn’t acknowledge it. Either way, it lingered for a moment too long, the heat from the stove mixing with something else, something unspoken, in the air between them.
Lance grabbed a small dish to taste the stew, breaking the quiet. “Hmm. Needs more pepper.” He reached for the pepper grinder, and as he did, his hand brushed Keith’s again. This time, neither of them reacted right away. It was just a touch, but it sent a ripple through Keith’s chest, something sharp and unfamiliar.
Lance looked up at him, catching his gaze. For a moment, they just stood there, close to each other, the sound of the stew simmering filling the silence between them. Then, Lance shrugged, breaking the moment. “You know, for a guy who barely cooks, you’re not half-bad at teaching. You should try this with Hunk sometime. You’d probably impress him.”
Keith couldn’t help but smile, but his thoughts were still scattered. “Maybe I’ll try it. But... maybe I’ll keep you around as my taste tester for now.”
Lance grinned. “I’m happy to be of service, Chef Keith.”
They continued cooking in comfortable silence after that, the heat of the stove and the soft laughter between them filling the space. The stew was coming together, and so, too, was something else—something quietly growing between them, beneath the surface, just as warm and comforting as the meal they were preparing.
An hour and two full stomachs later, the night had settled in around them, the desert air cool but still carrying the faint warmth of the day. The dishes were cleaned, the kitchen tidied, and the lingering scent of the stew still hung in the air. Keith and Lance, both tired from a long day of work and cooking, shuffled into the living room. Without a word, they both collapsed onto the couch, letting out deep sighs of relief as they sank into the cushions.
Keith stretched his legs out, trying to ease the tension in his back. Lance did the same, though his eyes were already starting to drift shut, his body completely relaxed for the first time in days.
"Man," Lance mumbled, his voice low and slow, like he was on the edge of sleep. "Today was... actually kinda nice. I didn’t realize how much I missed working with my hands until I got out here."
Keith chuckled softly. "Yeah, I’m not complaining. Fixing stuff all day beats just sitting around and staring at the wall. It’s good to feel like you’re doing something useful."
Lance let out a contented sigh, his gaze wandering lazily toward the window, where the last remnants of daylight were fading into the night. “It’s been nice. All of it. I didn’t think I'd ever get used to this... quiet.”
Keith glanced at Lance out of the corner of his eye. He seemed almost different here—lighter, less burdened. It was a look Keith had only seen flashes of before, back when they were still fighting and the war had left everyone on edge. Lance had always been the loud, bright one, the one with all the energy and jokes. But now, in the stillness of the desert, it was like a part of him was finally allowed to relax.
"I get that," Keith murmured. "It’s strange, right? We were always so caught up in chaos, and now... there’s nothing. No alarms, no missions, just... time."
Lance nodded, his eyelids growing heavier as the words left his mouth. "Yeah... time. Kinda nice not having to rush around all the time." His voice trailed off a bit, the exhaustion from the day catching up with him.
Keith didn’t say anything else, just leaned back into the cushions, his eyes still on Lance. It wasn’t a burden to be here with him—quite the opposite. There was something comforting about this quiet moment, something that felt... safe. Like they were two pieces of a puzzle that had been searching for a place to settle.
A few minutes passed in silence, save for the soft sounds of the desert outside. Then, just as Keith thought Lance had fallen asleep, he heard him murmur again, his voice drowsy but still with that hint of teasing.
"Hey, Keith... I think you’re starting to grow on me."
Keith’s lips quirked into a smile, his heart picking up pace, but he didn’t let it show. “Well, it took long enough.”
Lance made a soft, sleepy sound of protest. “I was just trying to be dramatic.” He shifted, and the next thing Keith knew, Lance’s head had dropped onto his shoulder, the weight of it surprisingly comfortable.
Keith froze for a second, but then he relaxed, his breath evening out as he let the moment settle around them. Lance's warmth pressed against him, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing was enough to lull Keith into a peaceful stillness. The weight of the day seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced by this quiet, easy presence. It was something Keith hadn’t realized he’d been craving—something deeper than just peace, but something that made him feel anchored.
Lance mumbled something incoherent, his voice soft as he settled further, completely oblivious to how close they were now, how his body was half draped across Keith’s. Keith shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him, but he found it hard to focus on anything else when Lance was so close.
A warm, comforting kind of tenderness wrapped itself around him. He could feel Lance's steady pulse against him, the gentle weight of his head on his shoulder, and despite everything—the chaos of their past, the pain they had both carried—there was something so simple about this.
Keith’s fingers hovered for a moment before he finally let them fall softly onto Lance’s arm, just barely touching him. He wasn’t sure if Lance noticed, but it didn’t matter. They both needed this, the quiet, the stillness. And for the first time in a long time, Keith felt like he wasn’t alone. Not really.
"Goodnight, Lance," Keith whispered softly into the quiet room, but Lance didn’t respond. His soft breathing told Keith everything he needed to know—Lance was already asleep, his body finally relaxed in a way it hadn’t been for a long time.
Keith let his head rest back against the couch, his fingers still lightly grazing Lance’s arm. He closed his eyes, allowing the peace to wash over him too. There was no rush. For the first time in a long time, there was no urgency. Just this quiet night, the two of them together, drifting into sleep side by side.
Notes:
Ahhhh domestic Klance. One of my favorite things to write. There's no twist coming up.... no none at all. Nothing bad or dramatic or heartaching is steadily approaching.... nothing to see here.
As always, have a lovely morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you, eat something yummy for me and don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do.
If you have a fic request shoot me a message on Tumblr!!!
My username is: ThatOneIsANerd
Link Name
Chapter Text
The desert mornings always held a stillness that Keith found strangely comforting. The air was cool, tinged with the faintest scent of sagebrush and dust. The light of the rising sun filtered through the small, grimy windows of the shack, casting long shadows across the room. He liked the quiet—liked the way it wrapped around him, almost as though the whole desert was holding its breath before the heat of the day arrived.
It had been nearly two weeks since he’d arrived, and in that short time, he’d come to look forward to these mornings with Lance more than he expected. There was something peaceful about the way the desert morning unfolded—so different from the chaos of battle, the constant tension of missions, and the buzz of people around him during his time both with Voltron and the Blades. Here, it was just the two of them, waking up with the sun, and Keith had begun to savor it, like a steady rhythm he didn’t want to disrupt.
As usual, Keith woke first, his body instinctively rising with the dawn. The stillness of the shack felt familiar now, even comforting in its simplicity. He stood slowly, stretching his muscles as he glanced toward the closed door, blocking the room where Lance slept. There was no rush today, no alarms or deadlines hanging over them. They’d both come to the desert to escape (whether he realized that or not), and though Keith didn’t know how long he could sustain this kind of quiet life, it was working for now.
He didn’t want to wake Lance just yet. Instead, Keith moved to the tiny kitchen area, the worn counter space barely big enough for the few tools they had—pots, a small stove, a rickety fridge, and a stack of mismatched mugs. Keith always made the coffee first. He wasn’t sure why—maybe it was the ritual, the small sense of control it gave him before the day began. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, waiting for the low rumble of the burner to start up. The sound of the flames flickering under the pot was a welcome one.
Once the kettle was going, Keith grabbed a jar of coffee beans from the counter. Keith had never been much of a coffee drinker before, but here, it was the only thing that could really wake him up fully in the morning. He ground the beans, the familiar aroma filling the air as he did. It was a simple task, one he could do with his eyes closed, but somehow it felt grounding, like a moment of peace he didn’t have to think about.
When the water came to a boil, Keith poured it over the grounds, watching the steam rise from the mug in front of him. He inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth and the deep, rich scent of the coffee. It was a small thing, but in the quiet of the shack, it felt like the beginning of something he could hold onto.
Just as the coffee was ready, Lance stirred in the next room, a soft groan escaping his lips. Keith smiled to himself and set the mug down, letting the steam rise in the cool desert air. Lance had a way of waking up slowly, not with the sharpness that Keith sometimes did, but with a kind of gentle stretching and yawning, like he was still lingering in a dream. It was one of those little things Keith had begun to notice more and more, these small details that had once been easy to overlook in the bustle of their former lives.
As Keith went to the table to sit, Lance shuffled into the room, still half-asleep, his hair sticking up in wild directions. He blinked at Keith for a moment, eyes still clouded with sleep, and then gave him a lazy smile. “Mornin’, Red.”
Keith snorted. “Morning, Blue.”
Lance grunted in response as he made his way to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. “You know, you’re getting better at this,” Lance said, his voice still thick with sleep. “This whole... morning thing.”
Keith chuckled, a small, amused sound. “I don’t think I ever really did mornings before. But I’m getting used to it.”
Lance’s eyes sparkled with something playful as he leaned against the counter. “You used to be a pretty grumpy sleeper.”
Keith shrugged, lifting his mug to his lips. “What can I say? I’m not much of a morning person.”
Lance made an exaggerated face as he sipped his coffee. “Yeah, well, you’re getting better. Not as much scowling and growling anymore.”
Keith shot him a mock glare. “I do not scowl.”
Lance snickered, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Uh-huh. You totally do. Like a bear waking up from hibernation.”
The lighthearted banter was easy, effortless, and Keith found himself relaxing into it. They weren’t talking about anything important. It was just... normal. Just two people enjoying the quiet morning, their routine taking shape without much thought. It was a strange kind of peace, one that felt like something they both needed but hadn’t realized until now.
“Maybe you’re right,” Keith muttered after a beat, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I used to hate mornings. Still kind of do.”
Lance raised an eyebrow as he grabbed the last of the coffee. “But now?”
Keith met his gaze, his voice quieter now. “But now, I don’t mind them so much.”
For a moment, there was a stillness between them, the kind that felt comfortable rather than awkward. It wasn’t the kind of thing they needed to overanalyze. But Keith could feel it—a sense of ease that had grown between them over the past few days, like they had slowly created something simple, yet genuine, here in the desert.
Lance didn’t say anything else, just gave a quiet smile, the faintest trace of warmth in his eyes. He seemed to understand. After all, it wasn’t just the mornings that felt different. It was the moments like this, the quiet ones, that felt more real than anything else.
As they settled into their breakfast, the sun finally broke through the windows, lighting up the room in a soft golden hue. Keith looked out the window and for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel the need to rush anywhere. This moment, this morning, was enough.
And maybe that was the point—maybe it had always been about finding those small, quiet pieces of peace. And for now, with Lance beside him, Keith felt like he was slowly discovering them again.
The desert outside remained still, but inside the shack, Keith felt at home.
After a long pause, Lance broke it with a light tone. "So I was thinking-”
“That’s new for you.” Keith snorted.
“Shut the up you asshole.” Lance grumbled.
“Shutting up now.”
“Finally. Anyway, I was thinking of doing another hike later. The plateau you mentioned a while ago. We could grab a drink and watch the sunset tonight?"
Keith smiled. "Sounds perfect."
Lance’s eyes lit up at the thought, the familiar energy returning to his expression. "Awesome. We can finally pop the bottle of rosé we got the other day."
Keith nodded. "Yeah. That sounds like a good plan."
And as the minutes ticked by, Keith found himself thinking again about how effortlessly everything was falling into place.
For the first time in what felt like a long time, he wasn’t just going through the motions. He was living. And the person beside him—Lance—was a big part of why that felt so good.
Before long, they were cleaning up their plates and the quiet rhythm of their day continued, both of them content, lost in the simplicity of the present.
The sun began its slow descent behind the rugged desert hills, casting the entire landscape in shades of gold and pink. The quiet hum of the evening, punctuated only by the occasional call of a distant bird, hung in the air as Keith and Lance made their way up the plateau. The hike had been easy—just a short climb that had become a small routine of theirs since they arrived. The world around them stretched vast and wide, nothing but the dry desert, the jagged edges of mountains on the horizon, and the soft, lingering warmth of the setting sun.
Lance, always the more animated of the two, was unusually quiet as they settled on a large boulder overlooking the valley. He kicked back, stretching his legs out before him, his face tilted toward the sky as the colors deepened, blending into the quiet twilight.
Keith, ever the more reserved one, mirrored Lance’s posture but kept his gaze on the horizon, watching the sun paint the world in shades of amber and lavender. There was a quiet comfort in the moment—just the two of them, surrounded by nothing but the vast desert. It felt peaceful in a way that Keith couldn’t quite put into words. A little surreal, almost like they were suspended in time.
There was something about the desert sunsets that felt different from anything back home, something pure about the way the land absorbed the sun's final warmth before night fell. It made everything feel simpler, like they were part of something much bigger—something timeless.
“So,” Lance broke the silence, his voice low and casual, “this is nice, huh?”
Keith nodded slowly, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Yeah. I was just thinking that.”
Lance shifted slightly beside him, his fingers brushing against the rough surface of the boulder. “I don’t know what it is about this place,” he continued, his tone softer now, almost vulnerable in its honesty. “But it just... feels like it’s where I’m supposed to be. You know?”
Keith’s heart gave a small, unspoken lurch, but he didn’t say anything, just letting the quiet hum of the desert fill the space between them. He understood what Lance was saying, understood it more than he was ready to admit. Lance had always been a little restless, a little unsure of his place in the world. But out here, in the simplicity of the desert, there was a calmness that seemed to settle over him—a stark contrast to the turmoil Keith had seen in his eyes when they first arrived.
“It’s like,” Lance continued, almost as if talking to himself, “back when we were Paladins, everything was always so loud. You know? Always fighting, always running from one mission to the next, never really stopping to take a breath. And now…” He paused, his voice trailing off as his eyes followed the fading light. “Now, I don’t know. I don’t feel so... out of place, I guess.”
Keith could feel the weight of Lance’s words settle over him, something heavy and raw in them. It wasn’t something Lance said often, that sense of dislocation, that lingering feeling of not knowing where he truly belonged. It was hard for Keith to hear, but in this quiet moment, he realized how much it hurt to think of Lance feeling that way—lost in a world that had shifted beneath his feet. It was familiar. Too familiar.
“I get that,” Keith said softly, his voice steady. “I think I’ve been feeling the same way. Like... like everything we did back then doesn’t fit anymore. Like it was part of a different life. And now... now we’re here.”
The words hung in the air, a quiet understanding passing between them without the need for explanation. The weight of everything that had come before—the war, the battles, the sacrifices—felt distant in this moment. Here, it was just them. Two people who had survived, who had carried on, who were still figuring out where they belonged.
Lance turned his head to glance at Keith, and for the first time since they’d arrived, Keith saw something soft in his eyes. Something he hadn’t seen in years. “You’re not alone, you know?” Lance’s voice was low, but there was a strength behind it. “You’ve always had me. And I—” He stopped himself, as if unsure how much to say, then gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “We’ve always been a team, even when we didn’t know it.”
Keith felt a lump rise in his throat, the weight of Lance’s words landing like a quiet truth. For so long, he had carried everything on his own—his feelings, his doubts, his struggles. But here, sitting beside Lance, it felt like something had shifted. Like it was okay not to have all the answers. Like it was enough to just be here.
“I know,” Keith murmured. His voice felt thick, but he didn’t care. “Thanks.”
The silence that followed was comfortable, like they both knew that words weren’t always necessary. They watched the last sliver of the sun sink beneath the horizon, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. Just the soft whisper of the wind, the quiet murmur of the desert night creeping in.
As the stars began to emerge, Lance let out a small sigh. “It’s crazy how peaceful it is out here,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper now, as though not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night. “I think I might actually like it here.”
Keith looked over at him, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in his voice. There was a longing there, a softness Keith hadn’t expected. Lance had always been the upbeat one, the jokester, the one who held the group together with his energy. But here, out in the desert, Keith saw a different side of him—a quieter, more introspective side.
Keith nodded, but instead of responding, he just let the night fall around them. He didn’t need to say anything more. The stars overhead, the desert surrounding them, the quiet companionship between them—it was enough. For the first time in a long time, Keith felt like he had a place in the world. And maybe, just maybe, it was here, beside Lance, under the quiet, vast expanse of the desert sky.
Neither of them seemed in a rush to leave. Lance stretched out, leaning back on his palms, his face turned upward to catch the first stars. Keith remained seated beside him, knees bent and arms resting loosely on them, his gaze flickering between the sky and Lance.
“You ever think about what’s out there?” Lance asked suddenly, his voice softer than usual.
Keith followed his gaze to the vast stretch of stars above them. "We’ve been out there, remember? I think I’ve seen enough to last a lifetime."
Lance huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "That’s not what I mean. I mean... all the stuff we didn’t get to see. All the people we never met, planets we never set foot on. We barely scratched the surface."
Keith frowned, considering the weight in Lance’s words. It wasn’t regret, not exactly, but there was something wistful in his tone, like he was mourning the opportunities they’d lost in the chaos of war.
"I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that," Keith admitted. "I always felt like we did enough. Saved enough. There’s a limit to how much you can give before you burn out."
Lance nodded slowly, his expression contemplative. "Yeah... you’re right. I know we did everything we could. I guess I just... I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if it was enough. If I was enough."
Keith’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in Lance’s voice, and he turned to look at him fully. "Lance."
The other man didn’t meet his gaze right away, but Keith waited, letting the silence stretch between them until Lance finally looked at him.
"You were more than enough," Keith said, his voice firm but gentle. "You’re still enough."
Lance blinked, his lips parting slightly, but he didn’t say anything. For a moment, Keith thought he’d said too much, that he’d crossed some invisible line they’d been skirting for days. But then Lance’s expression softened, and he smiled faintly, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but felt real nonetheless.
"Thanks," Lance murmured.
Keith nodded, and they fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that spoke volumes, that filled the space between them with something unspoken yet undeniable.
As the sky darkened fully and the first hints of the Milky Way spilled across the heavens, Lance leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. "You think the others ever take the time to just... sit and look at the stars like this?"
Keith chuckled softly. "Shiro, maybe. Pidge and Hunk? Probably not. They’re too busy building things or running experiments. And Allura’s so busy with New Altea and everything…" His voice trailed off, his expression growing wistful.
"Yeah," Lance said quietly. "Well at least we get to enjoy it."
Keith nodded in agreement, tilting his head back to get his fill of the view.
"I think you got one thing wrong though. Pidge would probably call us idiots for sitting out here in the cold without a blanket," Lance joked, breaking the tension.
Keith smirked. "You’re the idiot who didn’t think to bring one."
"Oh, so now it’s my fault?" Lance shot back, his grin returning in full force.
"Completely," Keith said, standing and brushing the dust off his pants. "Come on. We should head back before you start complaining about freezing to death."
"Hey, I’m not that fragile!" Lance protested, though he was already climbing to his feet.
They made their way back to the shack in easy companionship, their banter light and effortless, like a melody they both knew by heart. The day had been long, but neither seemed to mind the weight of it as they walked side by side, shoulders brushing every so often. Lance nudged Keith lightly with his elbow, earning a quiet chuckle, and Keith retaliated with a gentle shove that made Lance stumble a step before laughing in return.
As the shack came into view, their steps slowed, neither in a rush to end the peaceful stretch of time. In the quiet, their hands brushed, a fleeting touch that could have been an accident—except neither of them moved away. Keith’s breath caught, and he froze mid-step, his pulse thrumming loudly in his ears.
For a moment, they just stood there, the desert night wrapping around them like a blanket. The air felt heavier, charged with something Keith couldn’t name but didn’t want to let go of. Without thinking—no, with far too much thinking—he hooked his pinky around Lance’s, the movement tentative and unsteady.
He didn’t look over, couldn’t look over. Instead, he waited, every nerve in his body taut, his heart a staccato beat in his chest. For a second that stretched impossibly long, he was certain he’d made a mistake.
And then Lance’s fingers shifted, sliding between his, warm and steady. Keith exhaled softly, the tension in his chest releasing in one slow breath. Their hands fit together as though they’d always meant to be there, and the simplicity of it left Keith momentarily speechless. He should say something—shouldn’t he? A quip, a joke, anything to cut through the intensity of the moment.
But the words refused to come, tangling in his throat and dying before they reached his lips. So instead, he squeezed Lance’s hand gently, the only reassurance he could offer. The soft sound of a shaky inhale came from beside him, and Keith realized it wasn’t just his heart that was racing.
Neither of them broke the silence as they started walking again, their steps falling into rhythm, their joined hands swinging slightly between them. It was simple. It was unspoken. It was everything.
The rest of the trip back to the shack passed in a shared stillness that wasn’t awkward but full of something new, something fragile and unspoken. They didn’t let go—not even when the shack came into view, its familiar silhouette framed by the soft light of the stars.
When they reached the door, Keith hesitated, his thumb brushing over Lance’s knuckles in a gesture so small it felt almost subconscious. Finally, Lance let out a soft laugh, the sound quiet and full of something Keith didn’t quite know how to name.
“Never thought I’d be holding hands with Keith Kogane in the middle of nowhere,” Lance murmured, his voice teasing but laced with something gentler.
Keith didn’t answer. He just smiled faintly and held on for a moment longer before finally—reluctantly—letting their hands slip apart as he opened the door to their home.
Sometime between the early breakfast and late night talks, the bush walking and flower planting, the hiking and stargazing, a familiar sense of warmth snuck up in Keith’s chest everytime he looked at Lance. It was subtle, but consuming. A minute detail that took over his thoughts. A breath and a shout. His worst anxiety, and a dream come true. The smallest part of his day, but the most important one too.
Lance was everywhere and in everything Keith saw. And it felt so normal .
Sometime between the early breakfasts and late-night talks, the bush walking and flower planting, the hiking and stargazing, a familiar sense of warmth snuck up in Keith’s chest every time he looked at Lance. It was subtle, but consuming. A minute detail that took over his thoughts. A breath and a shout. His worst anxiety, and a dream come true. The smallest part of his day, but the most important one too.
Lance was everywhere and in everything Keith saw. And it felt so normal.
The hand-holding continued, weaving itself seamlessly into the rhythm of their days. When they finished working on the carrot beds and sat on the front porch, splitting a bottle of cheap spirits, Keith felt Lance’s hand brush against his, and without thinking, their fingers intertwined. When they wandered around the rocky landscape, picking out spots for new garden beds or following trails Lance had mapped out in his head, Keith’s hand would find Lance’s again, steady and sure. And when they lounged on the couch in the evenings, books balanced on their laps, their hands would gravitate toward each other, resting together as though they belonged there.
Keith couldn’t decide if it was comforting or terrifying how easily it all came. How it felt like they’d always been this way, despite the years of fighting and distance that had defined so much of their relationship before. But with each day, the knot of tension in his chest unraveled, replaced by a quiet sort of hope he didn’t dare name yet.
One afternoon, as they sat under the shade of the shack’s porch after a particularly warm day, Keith caught himself staring at Lance. The other man was leaning back against the railing, a bead of sweat tracing its way down his temple as he laughed at some story he was telling about his siblings. Keith wasn’t really listening—he was too caught up in the way the sunlight danced across Lance’s skin, the way his smile made the whole world seem brighter.
“Keith? Earth to Keith?”
Keith blinked, jolted from his thoughts as Lance waved a hand in front of his face, grinning.
“Zoned out on me there. What, too hot to handle?” Lance teased, waggling his eyebrows.
Keith rolled his eyes, grateful for the excuse to look away and hide the blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, something like that,” he muttered, taking a sip of water to cover his flustered state.
Lance leaned closer, his grin softening into something quieter, more genuine. “You okay? You’ve been a little spacey lately.”
Keith hesitated, searching for the right words. How could he explain the way Lance had become the center of his world without sounding ridiculous? Instead, he shrugged, offering a faint smile. “Just… thinking about stuff. It’s nothing.”
Lance didn’t push, but his gaze lingered for a moment before he leaned back again, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, whatever it is, let me know if I can help. I’m good at distracting people from their broody thoughts, you know.”
Keith huffed a laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in easy silence, broken only by the occasional chirp of birds or the rustle of the wind through the desert brush. Keith found himself wishing it could stay like this forever—just him and Lance, no missions, no war, no expectations. Just peace.
That night, as they sat on the couch with their usual books, Keith found his gaze drifting to Lance again. The way the soft lamplight framed his face, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he read—it was all so painfully familiar now, so achingly normal.
And for the first time, Keith let himself wonder if maybe, just maybe, Lance felt the same warmth everything he looked at him.
They spent an hour on the porch, Keith hammering nails while Lance sorted through a box of rusted tools, tossing out the ones too far gone to save. Afterward, they inspected the garden beds, Lance pointing out a few spots where the irrigation tubing needed repairs.
The sun climbed higher, its heat turning from pleasant to oppressive as the afternoon settled in. By the time they’d finished clearing the junk pile behind the shack, Keith was coated in a thin layer of sweat and dust.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, glancing over at Lance, who was frowning at an old, broken chair.
“You know,” Lance said, tossing the chair onto the pile, “I’ve decided you need a day off.”
Keith blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You’ve been working nonstop since you got here,” Lance said, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “So, congratulations! You’re officially banned from helping out for the rest of the day.”
Keith crossed his arms, his brows furrowing. “I’m not just going to sit around while you do everything.”
“Who said I’d be doing anything?” Lance shot him a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m taking a break, too. But you—you need to get out of here for a bit.”
Keith stared at him, suspicion creeping into his expression. “You’re kicking me out?”
“Not kicking,” Lance said, his tone mock-serious. “Encouraging. Strongly.”
Keith snorted. “Why do I feel like you’ve got something planned?”
Lance shrugged, all faux innocence. “Who, me? Nah. I just think you should go explore, wander, get some fresh air that isn’t immediately around me. You know, get in touch with nature or whatever.”
Keith hesitated, his gaze narrowing. “You’re up to something.”
“Keith,” Lance said, his voice dripping with mock exasperation. “You wound me. Can’t a guy just want his friend to have a relaxing afternoon?”
Keith rolled his eyes but found himself smiling despite his skepticism. “Fine. But if I come back and find the shack burned down, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair enough,” Lance said, giving him a mock salute. “Now go on, cowboy. Don’t make me drag you out myself.”
Keith spent the afternoon wandering the familiar desert trails, the heat of the day slowly giving way to the cooler breezes of evening. He climbed a ridge they’d hiked together earlier in the week, pausing to take in the sweeping view of the arid landscape.
The hours passed in quiet reflection, his thoughts inevitably drifting back to Lance. Despite his initial annoyance at being “banished,” he couldn’t deny the solitude gave him space to process.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the rocky terrain, Keith made his way back to the shack. He rounded the corner, expecting to find Lance lounging on the porch, but what he saw instead stopped him in his tracks.
The rickety porch had been transformed into something almost magical. A checkered blanket, worn but clean, was spread over the uneven boards, its corners weighted down by small lanterns that cast a gentle, flickering glow. Plates of food were neatly arranged—a loaf of crusty bread, grilled vegetables still glistening from the oil and spices, a pitcher of lemonade beading with condensation, and a small, golden-brown pie that sat proudly in the center of it all. The faint scent of rosemary and baked apples lingered in the cooling air.
And there was Lance, leaning casually against the porch railing. His arms were crossed, his weight shifted onto one leg, and a soft smile played on his lips as he watched Keith approach. He looked like he belonged there—like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“Welcome home,” Lance said, his grin widening into something bright and teasing.
Keith stopped short at the edge of the porch, his gaze flickering from the setup to Lance and back again. His mouth opened, then closed, the words catching in his throat. Finally, he managed a quiet, “What… is all this?”
“A picnic dinner,” Lance replied, his tone light, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been working your ass off helping me fix this place up, so I figured you deserved a treat. Plus,” he added with a playful glint in his eye, “I know you don’t hate me enough to turn down free food.”
Keith huffed out a laugh, climbing the creaky steps to the porch. “You did all this… for me?”
Lance shrugged, but there was a faint pink creeping up his neck, betraying the nonchalance in his posture. “For us,” he corrected, his voice softer this time. “Figured we could use a nice evening to unwind. No hammers, no shovels, no broken irrigation lines. Just food and—well—this.”
Keith’s gaze softened as he took in the care behind the gesture. He didn’t know what to say. So instead, he sat down on the blanket, his movements slow and deliberate, and Lance followed suit, handing him a plate without a word.
The first few bites passed in comfortable silence, the kind of quiet that felt natural and easy. The faint hum of cicadas and the occasional rustling of the breeze through the brush filled the gaps. The stars had already begun to peek through the fading light, dotting the vast sky with specks of white.
“This is really good,” Keith finally said, his voice breaking through the stillness. He glanced at Lance, his expression almost sheepish. “My cooking lessons have been working, I see.”
Lance, ever the showman, leaned back on one hand and puffed out his chest dramatically. “Lance McClain is a man of many talents,” he declared, waggling his eyebrows.
Keith rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered, faint but genuine. “Seriously, though. Thanks for this. You didn’t have to…” He trailed off, unsure how to put into words the gratitude tangled with something heavier, something unnamed, sitting warm and persistent in his chest.
Lance’s grin softened, and he stretched his legs out in front of him, the light catching on his profile. “You’ve done so much for me, Keith,” he said, his tone quiet but earnest. “I just wanted to… I don’t know, give something back. Even if it’s just dinner on the porch.”
Keith’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only look at him. The golden glow of the lanterns flickered over Lance’s face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keith thought, fleetingly, that he’d never seen Lance so at ease, so… peaceful.
The words that had been swirling in his head for days bubbled to the surface, unspoken but insistent. He could say them now, he realized. They were on the tip of his tongue.
But instead of speaking, Keith reached out—subtle, tentative—and brushed his pinky against Lance’s.
The contact was fleeting, barely there, but Lance’s fingers curled around his without hesitation.
Keith exhaled, a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and let his hand rest there, warm and steady in Lance’s.
They sat like that as the last light of the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the desert in shades of indigo and silver. The stars blinked to life, one by one, filling the sky in a way that felt infinite and overwhelming.
For the first time in a long time, Keith felt a quiet sense of completeness.
As the night deepened, the warmth between their joined hands seemed to spread, wrapping around Keith like a comforting embrace. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to shatter the fragile peace that had settled over them.
Lance tilted his head back, gazing at the endless sprawl of stars overhead. His grip on Keith’s hand remained firm, his thumb brushing lightly against Keith’s knuckles in an absent, soothing rhythm. “You know,” Lance began, his voice soft and reflective, “I used to hate the quiet.”
Keith turned his head slightly, his gaze shifting from the stars to Lance. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Lance gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Back on the castleship, it drove me crazy. I’d fill every second of silence with something—talking, games, music. Anything to avoid it.”
“I do seem to recall something along those lines. But, now?” Keith asked, his voice barely louder than the cicadas.
Lance smiled faintly, tilting his head toward Keith. The lantern light caught in his eyes, making them shine with something unreadable but undeniably sincere. “Now… I don’t mind it as much. It’s not so scary anymore. Sometimes it’s even kind of nice, you know? Like tonight.”
Keith nodded, understanding more than he let on. The silence between them wasn’t empty. It was filled with the sound of their breathing, the rustling of the wind, the unspoken trust they’d built.
They fell into that quiet again, their hands still entwined as they leaned against the railing. The desert stretched out before them, vast and unchanging, a reminder of how small they were in the grand scheme of things—and yet, in this moment, nothing felt more significant than the person beside him.
Lance shifted slightly, breaking the stillness with a soft sigh. “This place… it’s not perfect, you know? The roof leaks when it rains. The garden’s a constant battle with the elements. And it’s not exactly convenient, being so far from everything.”
Keith frowned, unsure where Lance was going with this. “Then why stay this long?”
Lance looked at him, his expression open and vulnerable in a way Keith wasn’t used to. “Because it’s mine. It’s quiet. It’s… I don’t know. It feels like a reset button. A chance to just be, without all the noise and expectations.”
Keith’s chest tightened. He thought of how hard Lance always pushed himself, how much he gave to everyone around him, often to his own detriment. And now here he was, carving out a little piece of peace for himself in the middle of nowhere.
Lance’s gaze softened, and he looked down at their joined hands, his thumb tracing small, absent circles over Keith’s skin. “You know,” he murmured. “I’m really glad you followed me out here.”
“Me too.” Keith said softly.
They stayed like that for a while longer, the cool desert breeze brushing over them as the stars continued to multiply above. Eventually, Lance leaned his head against Keith’s shoulder, his movements unhurried and natural, as if he belonged there.
Keith’s heart stuttered, his mind racing even as his body instinctively shifted to accommodate the weight. He didn’t say anything—didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, he let himself relax, his cheek resting lightly against Lance’s hair.
The night stretched on, the world around them fading into the background. For the first time in years, Keith felt something close to contentment. Whatever tomorrow held, whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t facing them alone.
And that made all the difference.
It wasn’t until the next morning that it fully hit him.
Keith woke slowly, blinking against the golden rays of sunlight streaming through the windows. The desert’s quiet hum filled the shack—the soft buzz of insects outside, the faint rustling of the wind against the walls. It was peaceful in a way he’d never known before.
Stretching out over the worn couch cushions, he sighed softly, the familiar creak of the old springs beneath him grounding him in the moment. This couch had been his bed for over two weeks now, and yet it somehow felt more comfortable than anywhere he’d slept in years.
His eyes drifted to Lance’s door. Even from here, he could hear the gentle rise and fall of his snores, muffled by the thin wooden barrier. A soft smile tugged at Keith’s lips.
He thought about the night before—the dinner Lance had surprised him with, the way they’d leaned into each other as they ate, talking and laughing under the stars. Lance had made it look so effortless, like it was no big deal. But for Keith, it had been everything.
He’d spent years keeping people at arm’s length, believing that he didn’t need anyone, that relying on someone else would only end in disappointment. But here, in this little shack in the middle of nowhere, with Lance by his side, everything felt… right.
Warmth bloomed in his chest as he remembered how their hands had lingered together, the quiet intimacy of it. The way Lance had rested his head on Keith’s shoulder, trusting him enough to let down his guard.
God, I love that boy.
The thought came so naturally, so quietly, that it barely registered at first. But then it echoed.
Loved.
Loved.
Loved.
Keith froze, the word bouncing around in his mind like an explosion that wouldn’t settle. His breath hitched as the weight of it finally sank in. He bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat.
He was in love. With Lance McClain.
His mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing into him all at once. How had this happened? When had this happened? Had it been gradual, sneaking up on him in the quiet moments they’d shared, or had it always been there, waiting for him to finally notice?
Keith ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the slight sting would help ground him. But it didn’t stop the truth from settling deep in his chest.
He was in love with Lance. And somehow, it terrified him and made him want to smile all at once.
He glanced toward Lance’s door again, his heart giving an unsteady lurch. Lance, who was still snoring softly, blissfully unaware of the storm Keith was trying to weather in the living room. Lance, who had pulled Keith into his orbit without even trying.
Keith leaned back against the couch, covering his face with his hands. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered again, softer this time, the words half a laugh and half a plea.
How the hell was he going to deal with this?
Notes:
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLIFFHANGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. I mean, not really, but I know some of you want to punch me so hard right now. Hehehe.
I hope you enjoyed this one, and as always have a great morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you, go drink some water, and don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do! BYeeeeeeee
Chapter 5
Notes:
Surprise, I'm not dead. It's a shorter chapter today but HEY. Progress is progress and this fic has taken the original plot line, shoved it down the garbage disposal and run away hand in hand to elope with the wild ideas and best parts of my creative freedom. Enjoy my friends.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
I love Lance.
I love Lance.
I love Lance.
Love.
Love.
Love.
Fucking love.
Keith loved Lance.
It changed everything. It changed nothing. It made his life exponentially better and equally more complicated.
He loved Lance. And he didn’t know how he felt about this revelation quite yet, but he seriously needed to figure it out seeing as how he is living with the man and all. He was still sitting on the couch, unmoved from his ridgeted position he’d leapt to once he came to this sudden realization until the bedroom door in front of him opened and out stepped the object of his thoughts.
“Morning sunshine.” Lance yawned. He stopped and looked confused when he saw Keith on the couch, “You alright?”
“Fine.” Keith cleared his throat, “Just getting a late start I guess.”
“I guess I’ll make the coffee this morning.” Lance shrugged and ruffled Keith’s hair before heading into the kitchen. Keith scowled and half-heartedly batted his hand away. The other half of his heart was too much of a mess.
Keith stayed quiet and steeled himself before moving to the kitchen, sliding onto one of the worn barstools as Lance filled the coffee pot, sliding a mug over to him. He took a sip and had to force himself not to smile.
Just a little bit of sugar, no creamer, like he made for himself every morning. Lance poured himself a cup and added a grotesque amount of sweetener, which Keith would never understand, but nonetheless knew the proportions by heart.
As Lance busied himself preparing breakfast, Keith found himself glancing at him more than usual, the morning sunlight catching on his messy bedhead and the easy smile he wore. Keith tried not to think about how much he wanted to keep that smile there forever.
Shit, he was so gone for this boy.
“I wanted to show you something today.” Lance interrupted his thoughts, sitting down next to him and passing him a plate of eggs and toast. “Maybe do a little more exploring.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “Where exactly are we going to explore? It’s just rocks and sand for miles.”
“Ah, ye of little faith,” Lance said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing his own plate and sitting across from him. “There’s a canyon about an hour’s walk from here. It’s got a little spring and everything. Perfect for cooling off and relaxing. You’re not scared of a little hike, are you?”
Keith snorted. “You’re the one who usually complains about physical exertion.”
“Hey, I’m a changed man,” Lance said, puffing out his chest. “You’re rubbing off on me, Kogane.”
Keith ignored the heat rising to his cheeks and mumbled something about finishing breakfast.
“I realize you lived out here a lot longer than me, so you definitely know your way around.” Lance said, his voice hinting at some nerves, “But I found this canyon a while back, right when I first got here, and it’s really pretty and I know you like to explore and hike, and it’s only an hour walk from here but I think-”
“Lance, breathe.” Keith smiled, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Not like I have any other plans for the day. I can’t wait to see it.”
He saw the other paladin visibly relax and finally couldn’t resist and turned to look at him, heart skipping a beat when he saw the gigantic smile on his face.
Quiznak.
The hike to the canyon was slow and meandering, the desert landscape unfolding around them in shades of gold and rust. Lance filled the silence with his usual chatter, recounting every mundane detail of how he’d stumbled across the canyon weeks ago.
“—and then I saw this cool lizard, like, bright green with these little orange spots, and I thought, ‘Wow, nature’s so beautiful,’ but then it hissed at me, so I decided maybe I wasn’t ready to become one with the wild just yet.”
Keith snorted. “You ran away from a lizard?”
“Hey, it was a very aggressive lizard,” Lance said, poking Keith’s arm. “Besides, I lived to tell the tale, didn’t I?”
“Barely.”
As they walked, Lance occasionally stopped to point out odd rocks or cacti he claimed had "personality." Keith didn’t understand how a rock could have personality, but he humored Lance, nodding along as the other man animatedly described how one particular boulder looked like it was "definitely judging" them.
When they finally reached the edge of the slot canyon, Keith paused, taking in the sight before him. The towering rock walls glowed under the midday sun, their layered hues of red, orange, and gold casting a mesmerizing contrast against the clear blue sky. At the canyon's base, a small spring shimmered like a hidden gem, its water so clear Keith could see straight to the bottom.
“Impressed?” Lance asked, crossing his arms and smirking.
Keith nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s… beautiful.”
Almost as beautiful as you he thought quietly to himself. He then promptly mentally smacked himself 'round the face. Shut up brain.
Lance’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Told you it was worth the hike.”
As they navigated the narrow, crumbling trail that Lance had optimistically called “Totally safe and absolutely not a hazard to our lives,” Keith’s boot slipped against the loose gravel. His arms flailed instinctively as his footing gave way, and his heart lurched into his throat.
“Keith!” Lance shouted, lunging forward and grabbing his arm just in time. With a strength that belied his wiry frame, Lance hauled Keith back against the rock wall, both of them breathing hard as they pressed themselves flat against the stone.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, their wide eyes locked on each other. The distant sound of wind whistling through the canyon filled the silence.
Finally, Lance broke it with a shaky laugh, a small, incredulous smile tugging at his lips. “That would’ve been such a lame way to go.”
Keith scowled, his adrenaline-fueled panic giving way to irritation. “Why the hell are you smiling about that? I almost fell off a cliff, you idiot.”
“Yeah, and it would’ve been pathetic,” Lance retorted, his grin widening. “I mean, think about it. After everything we’ve survived—Galra prisons, alien battles, exploding wormholes—you just… tumble off a random ledge in the middle of nowhere? Talk about anticlimactic.”
Keith huffed, crossing his arms despite the lingering tremble in his hands. “Not as pathetic as screaming because of a caterpillar.”
Lance gasped, his mock outrage immediate. “We agreed never to bring that up again!”
“You agreed,” Keith said smugly, his earlier panic fading into something much lighter.
Lance, however, didn’t let go of Keith’s arm. His hand slid down slightly, clasping Keith’s hand instead, fingers curling securely around his. Keith froze, the realization sparking a new kind of heat rising to his ears.
Lance didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he gave Keith’s hand a light squeeze. “Look, let’s save the bickering for later, okay? Maybe when we’re not one bad step away from becoming a headline in a very sad obituary.”
Keith swallowed hard and nodded. “Good plan.”
Lance shrugged, ever the picture of casual confidence, though his grip on Keith’s hand remained firm. “See? I’m full of good plans. Now, come on, slowpoke. We’re almost there.”
They continued carefully down the trail, Lance leading the way this time, his hand still holding onto Keith’s. Keith didn’t say anything about it, and neither did Lance.
If their hands stayed clasped even after the trail widened into safer ground, well, that wasn’t anyone’s business, was it?
They kicked around the base of the canyon for a while once they reached the bottom, looking at the sandstone sediments and patterns on the walls surrounding them. The spring was hidden in a small bowl shaped section of the canyon, and looking up and down both ways Keith could see a few other branches and turns. From above this place must look like a maze, and he had no doubts they could get lost in here for a while if they wandered off.
The blue green of the water sparkled in contrast to the surroundings, the red rock walls and pale blue sky above painting something picturesque and so wholly Earth it reminded Keith of how much he missed this strange planet while he was on missions. Something he hadn’t missed at all during his time as a Paladin, but then again, he had his team then. People really did make all the difference, good or bad.
Eventually Lance got bored and raced to the water, tugging his shirt off, “Last one in is a rotten egg!”
Keith stood at the edge of the water, arms crossed as Lance surfaced, shaking droplets from his hair like an overgrown dog.
“Water’s perfect,” Lance said, grinning up at him. “C’mon, Kogane. Don’t be lame.”
“I’m not lame,” Keith muttered, tugging off his gloves and boots. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled his shirt over his head, ignoring Lance’s wolf-whistle.
“Looking good, Samurai!” Lance called, shielding his eyes dramatically as Keith waded into the spring.
The water was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the dry heat they’d endured all morning. Keith let out a contented sigh as he submerged himself, the tension in his muscles easing.
“See? Told you this was a good idea,” Lance said, floating lazily on his back.
Keith didn’t answer, splashing water at him instead.
“Hey!” Lance sputtered, flailing as he righted himself. “That’s how you wanna play, huh?”
Before Keith could react, Lance lunged toward him, sending a wave of water crashing into his chest. Keith retaliated, and soon they were locked in a full-blown splash war, their laughter echoing through the canyon.
“Okay, okay, truce!” Lance gasped, holding up his hands. “I yield, mighty Keith. You win.”
Keith smirked, his breath coming in short bursts. “That’s what I thought.”
They drifted toward the edge of the spring, leaning against the smooth rocks as their laughter faded into soft chuckles.
For a while, they floated in the cool, clear water, the sounds of the canyon wrapping around them like a soft blanket—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant call of a bird, the gentle lap of water against the rocks. Keith let himself drift, his gaze flicking to Lance, who had his face tilted up toward the sun. The sunlight cast a golden glow on his skin, making him look peaceful and at home in a way Keith couldn’t quite put into words.
“This reminds me of swimming in the castle,” Lance said, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia as he closed his eyes.
Keith smirked, unable to resist. “I think you mean it reminds you of me beating your ass in lap races.”
Lance cracked an eye open and turned to glare at him, his expression immediately shifting to mock outrage. “You cheated ! You used to grab my feet and yank me back!”
“I did no such thing,” Keith said, feigning innocence.
“Oh, don’t even start,” Lance huffed, his voice pitching higher with indignation. “You totally did!”
Keith shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Nope. Never happened. You’re imagining things.”
“Right. Fine.” Lance treaded water, squaring his shoulders. “Right here, right now. One-on-one, no cheating.”
Keith laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I already won. No need to do it again and embarrass you further.”
“Hijo de puta,” Lance muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he floated backward. “You let a guy win one time…”
Keith raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wait. You spoke Spanish.”
“Uh, yeah?” Lance shot him a look. “Wow, Keith. A year apart and you’ve already forgotten my heritage? Real classy, Akira .”
Keith rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “No, I just realized... since I’ve been here, you haven’t spoken Spanish. Like, at all. I didn’t notice until now.”
Lance’s smile faltered, and he tilted his head back to stare up at the sky. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I haven’t.”
Keith frowned, floating closer to him. “Why not?”
Lance hesitated, his gaze fixed on the clouds as he drifted. “I don’t know,” he said after a moment, though his tone betrayed him.
“Yeah, you do,” Keith said softly, his voice full of quiet encouragement. “Talk to me, Lance. Please?”
Lance sighed, letting his arms spread out as he floated on his back. “Jeez, you can read me too well sometimes. It’s annoying, y’know?”
Keith didn’t answer, just waited, and Lance finally relented, his voice quieter now. “I guess… I dunno. It just feels weird to speak Spanish when my family isn’t around.”
“But you spoke Spanish all the time back in the castle,” Keith pointed out, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Lance’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, because you guys were my family, too. And Pidge and Hunk? They loved learning it. I think… maybe it helped me feel closer to my family on Earth, even when we were light-years away. Like, if I kept speaking Spanish, I wouldn’t lose that part of me.” He paused, his expression clouding. “A small part of me was terrified I’d forget it. Forget my culture. Forget my family.”
Keith’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in Lance’s voice, and he gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Lance,” he said, his voice laced with warmth, “I don’t think you’re in danger of forgetting anything. Your ego would never allow it.”
That earned him a genuine laugh from Lance, and the sound lightened the air between them. “Fair point,” Lance said, shaking his head. “God, my mom would haunt me if I forgot. She’s already disappointed that I don't call enough.”
Keith smiled at the familiar fire creeping back into Lance’s voice. After a beat, Lance tilted his head toward him, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “What about you? Do you remember any Japanese? You mentioned once that you tried speaking it with Shiro.”
“Not much,” he admitted. “I didn’t practice after my dad passed, and then… Shiro disappeared, and everything else happened. I lost most of it.”
Lance’s playful demeanor softened ever so slightly, and he stood up in the water, his hand reaching for Keith’s without hesitation. “Hey,” he said, his voice steady and light. He was such a goddamn light . “That doesn’t mean it’s gone. You could pick it up again. I mean, we’ve got time out here.”
Keith glanced down at their joined hands, then back up at Lance, whose smile was smaller now but no less genuine. “Maybe,” he said, his voice quiet.
Lance squeezed his hand. “Definitely. I’ll help too.”
Keith raised an eyebrow, “Never thought I’d see the day where Leandro Anton McClain would volunteer for homework.”
“I can’t believe you just full named me.” Lance said, aghast.
“You called me Akira.” Keith shrugged, “Ethnic names rule anyway.”
“Hell yeah. Though I do like Lance more than I did when my brother first proposed it.” Lance smiled, “It grows on you doesn’t it?”
“Sure does.” Keith agrees, though his mind was no longer on the conversation at hand as he watched Lance slide back into the water, seeming brighter than he had in weeks. God I love you.
The two didn’t climb out of the water until every appendage had turned wrinkly and soggy. Keith would have expected for it to bother Lance, seeing how particular he was about his appearance, but he didn’t care at all. Something about growing up on a beach he supposed. Though, now that he was thinking about it he’d barely seen Lance touch any of his beauty products since arriving at the house.
He nearly said something but Lance beat him by just a minute, “Want to just wander around for a while? Do some adventuring like the good old days.”
“I seem to recall the ‘good old days’ involving us almost dying a lot.”
Lance snorted, “Mostly because you wouldn’t stop flinging yourself off of rapidly moving objects if memory serves me.”
“It was the fastest way to get to the fight!” Keith scowled.
“It was idiot is what it was.” Lance grinned, “Now, are we exploring or not Samurai? I bet we could find something super cool. Like a lost civilization, or like, dinosaur bones, or an alien ship!”
“Lance, you lived on an alien ship for years.”
“Details smeetails. You in?”
Keith felt a small wave of apprehension, “I don’t know. These canyons seem like they go on forever. Could be really easy to get lost.”
Lance sighed, “Booo. How dare you be sensible. Where did all that reckless kick your ass energy go? You sound more like Shiro with every passing day.”
“I take offense to that.”
“Good. You should. Anyway, might as well head back then.”
“Might as well.” Keith agreed. They rounded up their things and began the long hike back, chatting absently as they walked.
By the time they made it back to the house, the sun hung low in the dusky sky. Keith held the door open as Lance stepped inside, the faint scent of the spring water still clinging to them.
The kitchen was quiet except for the occasional clink of utensils as they worked together to throw together a quick dinner—grilled sandwiches and leftover soup. Keith noticed how Lance’s usual chatter had faded into silence, his movements more deliberate, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’d grown quiet sometime during their walk back, blaming it on a poor night's rest, but Keith knew that expression.
As they ate on the couch, Keith tried to fill the silence with a few casual comments about the day, but Lance only offered small nods and noncommittal hums in response. Keith didn’t press, letting the quiet settle between them as they ate.
When they finished, Lance leaned back into the couch with a sigh, resting his head on the worn cushions. His plate sat forgotten on the coffee table, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“You’ve been quiet,” Keith said softly, breaking the silence.
Lance let out a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… got a lot on my mind, I guess.”
Keith tilted his head, watching him. “Anything you want to talk about?”
For a moment, Lance didn’t answer, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “When you brought up me speaking Spanish earlier… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Keith blinked. “What about it?”
“It just… made me realize how much I miss it. Speaking Spanish, I mean. I miss hearing it. I miss saying dumb things to my siblings and annoying my mom with slang she pretends she doesn’t understand. It was such a normal, everyday part of my life, and now it feels like this distant thing again. Like it did back on the castle. I couldn’t go back home then, and I can’t go back now either.”
Keith frowned. “You can go back Lance. Your family would love—”
“I know,” Lance interrupted, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “I know. They would welcome me back anytime, probably with a lot of questions, but mostly relief. But I can’t go back yet. I just can’t. And yet my life just isn't the same without them. And ever since you mentioned it, I’ve just been… homesick.”
Keith stayed quiet, giving him space to continue.
Lance let out a soft sigh, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I thought being out here would help, you know? Disconnecting from everything, focusing on myself. And it has, in some ways. But it’s also made me realize how much I miss them. My family. Their voices, their hugs, their chaos… all of it.”
Keith hesitated before asking, “If you don’t want to go back, why don’t you call them? Just to check in?”
Lance shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t. Not yet. I wouldn’t even know what to say. ‘Hey, I’m hiding in the middle of nowhere because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life’? Yeah, I’m sure that’d go over great.”
Keith opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. He didn’t know what it was like to have such a big, tight-knit family, but he could hear the pain in Lance’s voice.
“They’d understand,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady.
“Maybe,” Lance murmured, leaning back again. His gaze turned distant, his expression softening into something wistful. “I just… I don’t even know who I am anymore, Keith. I used to have all these goals, these dreams. Be a pilot, a hero, someone my family could be proud of. And now…”
He trailed off, his hands resting limply in his lap.
Keith watched him, his chest tightening at the vulnerability Lance rarely let show. “You’re still all of those things, Lance. A pilot. A hero. Someone to be proud of.”
“And it’s not just them,” Lance continued, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “It’s everything. Being a Paladin was everything to me, Keith. It gave me purpose, direction. And now that it’s over, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What I’m supposed to be.”
Keith shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” he said softly. “It’s okay to not know.”
Lance let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but it feels like I’m wasting time, you know? Like I should be doing something meaningful. Something that matters.”
“You’ve done more than most people could even dream of,” Keith pointed out. “You helped save the universe, Lance. That matters.”
Lance shook his head, a small, bitter smile on his lips. “Yeah, but what now? What’s next?” He glanced at Keith, his eyes searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or just understanding.
Keith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But you don’t have to figure it all out right now. It’s okay to take your time.”
Lance glanced at him, his eyes searching. “Do you ever feel like you’re just… floating? Like you’re stuck, not moving forward or backward, just… there?”
Keith nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ve felt that way before. I didn’t know what to do with myself. It’s… hard.”
“Yeah,” Lance whispered, his voice cracking slightly. He looked away, blinking rapidly. “It’s really hard.”
Keith didn’t know what to say, so instead, he reached out, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance leaned into the touch, his eyes closing as he took a shaky breath. Keith took a leap and let his hand slide up to gently scratch his head.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Keith squeezed his shoulder gently, his voice soft. “I’m here, Lance. Whatever you need.”
The desert night wrapped around them as they sat in the quiet, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air. It wasn’t a solution, but for now, it was enough. Keith could feel the words poking at the edges of his mouth, trying to slip past the guard of his tongue: I love you. He swallowed them down, back to where they belonged.
Keith lay awake on the couch hours later, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling as the sounds of the desert night drifted through the open window. The soft rustle of wind and distant chirps of insects should have been soothing, but his thoughts were louder.
He turned his head toward Lance’s room. The door was ajar, and faint moonlight spilled through the crack, illuminating a sliver of the floor.
Keith could still hear Lance’s voice from earlier in the evening after their conversation, playful on the surface but tinged with something quieter, heavier.
“It’s fine, really. I’m used to it,” Lance had said when Keith had asked if he was ok for the last time. “Besides, it’s not like my family’s sitting around waiting for me to call. They’ve got their own lives.”
Keith hadn’t believed that for a second. He saw his mom’s concern when he’d gone missing. The pain and anxiety in Veronica’s eyes. The way the entire family gathered, just to figure out if their son and brother was ok. He was there, witnessed it all, saw their pain. And yet for some reason he was out there in the desert with Lance, not one of them.
Keith sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. He hated seeing Lance bottle things up like that, pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. And he hated that he couldn’t fix it for him.
A sudden thought struck him, and he sat up. His communicator.
Lance had taken it when he’d arrived, stashing it somewhere in the house as part of his “no tech” rule. Keith hadn’t cared at the time—he didn’t need it. But now, an idea was forming in his mind.
What if he could send a small message to Lance’s family? Just to let them know Lance was okay, that he was safe. He didn’t even need to tell Lance about it. It wasn’t much, but it might mean something to them—and to Lance, if he ever found out.
Keith stood quietly, his feet soundless on the floor as he moved toward the old bookshelf where Lance had hidden the communicator. He opened the drawer slowly, wincing at the soft creak of the wood, and started rummaging through its contents.
The communicator was tucked beneath a pile of old manuals, its surface cool and familiar in his hand. Relief coursed through him as he pulled it free, but as he shifted the papers, something else caught his eye—a faded photo tucked between the pages of a notebook.
Keith’s breath hitched when he recognized it.
It was a picture of him and his dad, worn and creased like it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times. Keith didn’t even realize Lance had this—it must have been from the box of personal effects he’d left behind when they’d moved out of the Castle of Lions.
His fingers brushed over the photo, his father’s face staring back at him with the same quiet strength Keith had always admired. A sharp pang shot through his chest, mingling with confusion and frustration.
He thought he lost this photo years ago. Gone to the abyss when the Garrison had taken over the place in his absence.
Why did Lance have this? And how? And why didn’t he say anything?
Keith’s jaw tightened as he shoved the photo back into the drawer, his thoughts racing. Part of him wanted to confront Lance right now, to demand an explanation. But another part of him—the part that knew Lance better than anyone—hesitated.
Lance didn’t keep things without a reason. Keith just didn’t know what that reason was.
Pushing the thought aside for now, Keith turned his focus back to the communicator.
“It’s just one message,” he whispered to himself. “It’s not like I’m breaking the no-tech rule for no reason.”
He powered on the device, the faint glow of the screen lighting up his face. His fingers hovered over the keys, unsure of what to say.
Keith: Sorry about the long wait guys. Lance and I are both fine. He’s really going through it right now and just needs time and space, but he misses you a lot. I’m keeping an eye on him and will try to update you again soon.
He sent the message to the McClains’ family line, hoping it still worked. When the screen confirmed the transmission, Keith powered the device off and slipped it back onto the shelf.
But as he climbed back onto the couch, the image of the photo lingered in his mind. The relief he felt at contacting Lance’s family was shadowed by a new unease.
Keith stared at the ceiling, the question gnawing at him as the sounds of the desert filled the silence once more.
Notes:
Ahhh young love. This isn't going to get messy at aaaallllllllllllllllllll. Right? I have no idea, I'm just writing whatever comes to my brain first. The plot has fully vanished at this point.
On that note, have a lovely morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you. Go drink some water, eat something, and maybe touch some grass. I need to at least. Don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do my friends, love y'all!
Chapter Text
It had been three days of loving Lance. Three days of waking up to the sound of his groggy grumbling as he shuffled around the house, hair sticking up in every direction. Three days of catching glimpses of the way his curls framed his face, soft and unruly, like they were meant to be that way. Three days of watching him dive into the garden without hesitation, dirt caking his hands and smudging his face, his eyes lighting up at every tiny sprout or unexpected bloom.
Keith loved it all. Loved the way Lance saw the world, how he lit up at the sight of a pretty flower on their daily walks or the way he paused to admire the glow of the setting sun, as if seeing it for the first time. He loved how Lance poured his whole heart into everything he did—gardening, cooking, their aimless hikes—and how, despite his own sadness, he still carried that deep love for his family, his friends, and the Earth itself.
Keith felt that love in every careful touch Lance gave to the world around him, even if the conversations about the things Lance missed most—his family, his home—were always brief, too raw to stretch too far.
And with every passing moment, Keith felt himself unraveling.
Because this wasn’t new. This wasn’t some sudden realization brought on by their time in the desert. No, Keith knew now that he’d loved Lance for years. Long before Voltron, long before the fights and the separations and the ache of not knowing where they’d end up. Maybe even before he knew what love was supposed to feel like.
And yet, none of that mattered.
Because Keith couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t risk it—not their friendship, not this fragile peace they’d built together out here in the middle of nowhere. Lance wasn’t just a friend; he was Keith’s best friend. And as much as it hurt to keep his feelings bottled up, it would hurt so much more to lose Lance altogether.
So he stayed silent. He loved Lance in quiet, stolen moments: the brush of their hands as they passed tools in the garden, the shared laughter that echoed through the canyon, the easy smiles Lance gave him when he wasn’t looking. And with every smile, every touch, Keith felt another part of himself crack and wither, like dry leaves crumbling in the wind.
Love hurt.
Whoever said it didn’t was a fucking liar.
In those three days of being hopelessly in love, Keith noticed something shift.
It was subtle at first—the way Lance carried himself, the way he spoke. After their conversation about his family, something inside Lance seemed a little lighter. The sadness hadn’t disappeared; it was still there, etched into the lines of his face and the softness of his eyes. But there was a hint of something else, too—a spark of hope, maybe, or a small piece of himself he’d reclaimed.
Keith saw it in the way Lance hummed under his breath as he worked, in the way he teased Keith during their walks, in the way his smile lingered just a little longer. And even though Keith’s own heart ached with the weight of everything he couldn’t say, he clung to the hope that Lance was healing.
Because that was enough for now.
Lance was still here, still laughing, still loving the world around him in the quiet, determined way he always had. And for Keith, just being near him—just loving him, silently and completely—was enough to keep him going, even as it tore him apart.
While they were cleaning up their dishes from a late breakfast (more like an early lunch really), Keith just couldn’t help glancing at him every now and again, his insides churning in an excited and anxious sort of way.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Keith asked, breaking the silence.
Lance tilted his head, considering. “I was thinking we’d check on the peppers and carrots, maybe clear out some of the weeds that popped up. Then, I don’t know, take it easy? Unless you’re itching for another death-defying hike.”
Keith smirked. “Not if you’re leading the way.”
“Har har,” Lance muttered, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
They settled into an easy rhythm after breakfast, tending to the garden together. Lance knelt in the dirt, pulling weeds with practiced precision, while Keith worked on reinforcing the wooden stakes supporting the tomato plants. Their conversation was light, filled with teasing and laughter, and for a while, everything felt simple.
Keith was crouched by the tomato beds, his focus narrowed on tying off the newly reinforced stakes. His movements were methodical, almost robotic, as if the task alone could drown out the thoughts swirling in his head.
“Keith!”
He glanced up to find Lance standing a few feet away, his hands hidden behind his back, a suspiciously mischievous grin plastered across his face.
“What?” Keith asked, his tone wary.
Lance didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a dramatic step forward, his expression shifting to something mock-serious. He brought one hand around, revealing a single small, red flower he must’ve plucked from the edge of the garden.
“For you,” Lance said solemnly, dropping to one knee with an exaggerated flourish. “A token of my appreciation for your unparalleled skill in... hammering sticks into dirt.”
Keith blinked, utterly baffled. “What are you doing?”
“Presenting you with this sacred offering, of course,” Lance continued, his voice laden with theatrical gravitas. “To honor your tireless contributions to this humble home. Truly, you’re a hero among men, a legend in the making. And this flower”—he held it out dramatically—“is but a small gesture of my eternal gratitude.”
Keith stared at him, deadpan, before finally snorting. “You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot who made you laugh,” Lance shot back, springing to his feet and twirling the flower between his fingers. He handed it to Keith with a playful bow.
Keith took it, shaking his head but unable to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching upward. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you still put up with me,” Lance said, beaming. He watched Keith twirl the flower absently between his fingers, his smile softening. “You’ve been off the past few days. Figured you could use a laugh.”
Keith paused, his hand stilling. “I’m fine,” he said automatically, but the words lacked conviction.
Lance tilted his head, watching him carefully. “Keith.”
The way Lance said his name—gentle, knowing—made Keith look up. He sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit under Lance’s gaze.
“I’ve just... had a lot on my mind,” Keith admitted, not meeting Lance’s eyes.
“Want to talk about it?”
Keith shook his head. “Not yet.”
Lance didn’t push. Instead, he clapped a hand on Keith’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Well, when you’re ready, you know where to find me. In the meantime…” He stepped back, hands on his hips. “Let’s call it a day with the chores, huh? We can take a walk or do something that doesn’t involve dirt for once.”
Keith huffed a quiet laugh, slipping the flower into his pocket. “Alright. But if you try to make me climb another ‘totally safe’ trail, I’m shoving you off it.”
Lance grinned, throwing an arm around Keith’s shoulders as they headed back toward the house. “Deal. But don’t act like you wouldn’t miss me.”
Keith didn’t respond, but the faint smile on his face said everything Lance needed to know.
It was late before they headed back into the house; As they made their way back to the house, Lance kept the mood light, launching into a dramatic retelling of the time he supposedly saved everyone from a "rampaging space squid."
“You didn’t save us,” Keith interrupted with a dry look. “Hunk figured out how to disable its stupid tentacles or whatever they were.”
“Details!” Lance waved him off. “The important part is that I heroically distracted it while the rest of you scrambled to catch up to my brilliance.”
“You screamed so loud it startled the thing.”
“Exactly!” Lance snapped his fingers, grinning. “A perfectly executed diversion tactic.”
Keith rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped him.
Back at the house, they fell into their usual routine of preparing dinner. Lance took over the stove, humming under his breath as he flipped tortillas in a cast iron pan. Keith chopped vegetables at the counter, his knife slicing through peppers and onions with precise movements.
“You’re getting better at that,” Lance remarked, nodding toward the neat piles of diced produce.
“Practice,” Keith replied simply, though he felt a small swell of pride at the compliment.
Lance grinned. “Pretty soon you’ll be a regular sous chef. Then you can cook, and I’ll just supervise while drinking lemonade. It’ll be glorious.”
Keith shook his head, smirking. “In your dreams, McClain.”
The two of them sat down to eat a simple but satisfying meal of quesadillas stuffed with sautéed veggies. Lance made a point of over-praising his own cooking, earning a few sarcastic remarks from Keith, but the atmosphere was warm and easy.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first stars began to peek out, they carried their plates to the sink and cleaned up. Keith dried while Lance washed, their movements synchronized in a way that spoke of familiarity.
When everything was put away, they ended up on the couch, as they often did, Lance stretched out with his legs draped over Keith’s lap. He fiddled with the loose threads on one of the cushions, a far-off look in his eyes.
“Where’d you go?” Keith teased, shaking his legs.
“Daydreaming of the day you’ll finally be gone and let me be a hermit in peace.” Lance smirked, but there was no malice in his tone.
“So eager to get rid of me huh?”
“Not at all.”
Keith blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. Lance’s smirk softened into something gentler, his eyes glinting with unspoken words as he looked at Keith.
“Honestly,” Lance continued, his voice quieter now, “it’s nice having you here. You make things… less lonely.”
Keith felt his throat tighten. He looked down at Lance’s legs still draped over his lap, the casual touch suddenly feeling heavier, more significant. He forced a small grin, trying to keep things light. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, McClain.”
Lance chuckled, a sound so soft it barely reached Keith’s ears. “Yeah, yeah, wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.” He leaned his head back against the couch, his expression turning wistful again. “But seriously, Keith… thanks for sticking around.”
Keith shrugged, trying to play it off. “You’re not so bad. I’ve survived worse.”
Lance snorted. “High praise, as always.”
The room lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kind that had become second nature to them over the past few weeks. Lance idly tapped his fingers against his thigh, his gaze distant as if lost in thought again. Keith studied him quietly, the flickering lantern light casting soft shadows across his face.
“I was thinking though,” Lance bit his lip, “The Blade probably will need you back soon right? You’ve been hiding out here with me for god knows how long now.”
Keith looked away, “They’ll survive a little longer.”
“And Shiro?” Lance said, “It’s unfair of me to keep you out here for so long. I know the others must be missing you, and the Blades really do depend on you for missions and things.”
“You aren’t keeping me out here against my will Lance.” Keith said firmly, “I’m here cause I want to be. With you.”
Lance sat up straight, swinging his legs down to the floor. “But you’re needed elsewhere too. Whatever work the Garrison and Blades are doing right now has to be a hell of a lot more important than this.”
“Nothing more important, I promise. Work can wait.” Keith reached out to squeeze his knee.
Lance seemed surprised by his words, expression flashing through a million emotions.
“I don’t know how much longer I need.” He said hesitantly.
Keith shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere unless you force me out.”
He didn’t mention the fact that just thinking about returning to that world, the world of fighting and missions and constant travel and little sleep made him feel sick to his stomach.
Lance stared at him for a long moment, his expression caught somewhere between gratitude and guilt. “Keith… you shouldn’t have to put your life on hold for me.”
“It’s not on hold,” Keith said quietly, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “This is my life right now. And I’m okay with that. Actually, I think it’s the best it’s been in a while.”
Lance huffed out a weak laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Maybe,” Keith admitted with a small smirk, “but I mean it. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”
Lance looked away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is,” Keith said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re my friend, Lance. You’ve been there for me, more times than I can count. Let me be here for you.”
Lance’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but no words came out. He closed it again, exhaling through his nose. After a moment, he glanced at Keith, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “You really don’t take no for an answer, huh?”
Keith shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Not when it comes to you.”
Lance rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Fine, fine. Guess I’m stuck with you then.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Keith teased.
“Jury’s still out,” Lance quipped, his smile widening.
“Rude.”
“The mullet gives this place a bad vibe ok?”
“You’re saying my hair has bad ‘ju-ju’?” Keith barked out a laugh. Lance raised his hands defensively with a shit eating grin.
“I’m just making sure you noticed.”
“You complain about my hair way more than any person should.” Keith said, amused.
“Hey, the 80’s called, they want their style back. I mean, come on. A mullet AND fingerless gloves?”
“Ha ha, like I haven’t heard that one before.” Keith deadpanned.
Lance smiled and glanced out the window behind them, “Yeah yeah. Hey, the sky is super clear tonight. Bet I can name more constellations than you.”
“Bring it Sharpshooter.” Keith smirked.
Lance shot to his feet with a dramatic flourish, pointing toward the front door like a knight issuing a challenge. “To the battlefield, Kogane!”
Keith rolled his eyes but followed, smirking as Lance practically skipped out the door. The cool desert air greeted them, the kind that kissed your skin and carried the scent of sage and dry earth. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, littered with countless stars, vibrant and glittering against the velvety black.
They wandered around laughing and shoving each other for a long time, rapid fire quizzing each other on star and formation names. Eventually Lance collapsed onto a slightly softer patch of dirt, pulling Keith down next to him. They lay comfortably next to each other for a long time, talking about nothing and everything.
“Ok, what’s that constellation over there?” Keith smiled, pointing over the horizon.
“Pfft, please. That’s Cygnus, the swan.” Lance grinned smugly.
“Uh-huh. And that one?” Keith pointed again, further off.
Lance hesitated. “That’s, uh... the blob of stars that doesn’t have a name.”
Keith snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“It totally is! Just because you can’t prove it doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” Lance argued, grinning.
They lapsed into laughter, the kind that comes easily when the night is quiet and the company is perfect. Keith tilted his head, letting his gaze linger on Lance’s profile as he continued to ramble about the stars.
Lance’s face was bathed in silver light, his features softened and serene. His eyes sparkled as they darted from one constellation to the next, his lips curling into a natural smile that made Keith’s heart ache.
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you…
“You ok?” Lance’s voice interrupted his stream of thoughts, “You’re kind of, spaced out.”
Keith groaned as Lance giggled at his own pun. “Somebody kill me.”
“Nope. You will never escape my puns.”
“Or get a moment of peace and silence apparently.”
“Does such a thing exist?” Lance smirked.
“With you? Never.” Keith glanced over at him, smiling slightly.
“You spent years living with me, Pidge, Hunk AND Coran. I figured you’d be used to it by now.” Lance smiled.
Keith shrugged, “The Blades are a less rambunctious kind of group. The last year has felt a little too quiet to be honest.”
Lance bumped his shoulder against Keith’s. “Then I have plenty of noise to make up for.”
“God, maybe I really should go back to base.” Keith joked, “I miss being able to hear my own thoughts.”
“Har har.”
A silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of quiet that settled comfortably, like an old friend. Keith’s hand twitched at his side, and before he could second-guess himself, he reached out, his fingers brushing Lance’s. It was a light touch, hesitant, but Lance didn’t pull away.
Instead, Lance turned his hand over, their palms aligning as their fingers slid together. It wasn’t much—just a small, simple gesture—but it felt like the universe had shifted.
“I don’t know if I want to go back to the Blades.” Keith whispered suddenly, and something in the back of his mind finally fell into place.
“Wait, what?” Lance turned fully onto his side, propping himself up with one elbow, looking down at Keith in shock.
Keith stared resolutely at the sky, surprised by his own words, “I… huh. I don’t want to go back.”
Lance’s voice was edged with panic as he began to ramble, “Keith, wait, you have an entire life back at the base, and people who are waiting for you, a great job and leaders-”
“So do you.” Keith sat up, looking over the expanse of the rocky desert. “I just, I don’t know. I have loved being able to help people and continue exploring the universe. But, I’m tired Lance. I miss my family when I’m gone, and my friends. I miss having my own space, in a house. Not on a spaceship. It was great for a while but it just got so… lonely. I don’t think I’ve been happy there for a long time.”
He glanced over at Lance and saw the panic and guilt in his eyes. Lance swallowed harshly and sat back, “Look, you aren’t thinking straight right now ok? Just, sleep on it and don’t make any decisions right away. You’ll regret it if you don’t go back at some point-”
“I won’t.” He said, and he meant it. He knew he didn’t want that life anymore. He’d grown and changed, and his world needed to change with him.
“This is just because you’re tired, ok? A few weeks out here and you start thinking crazy. Maybe it’s for the best if you go home sooner rather than later. I’m sure everything will be better once you get back.” Lance continued anxiously.
Keith felt like he’d been slapped. Lance wanted him to leave?
Keith blinked at Lance, the words hitting him harder than they should have. He could feel his chest tighten as he tried to process what Lance had just said.
“So… you want me to go?” Keith asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lance’s head snapped up, his expression caught between panic and regret. “No! That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I don’t want you to make a decision you’ll regret, Keith. And I… I don’t want to be the reason you make it.”
Keith frowned, his mind racing. “Why would you think that? Lance, this isn’t about you.”
“Isn’t it?” Lance countered, sitting up straighter, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket beneath them. “You’ve been out here for weeks, Keith. Away from your responsibilities, away from your team, and I know it’s because of me. You’ve been trying to keep me company, trying to make me feel better, and I—I’m afraid I’m just dragging you down.”
“You’re not dragging me down,” Keith said firmly, leaning forward to catch Lance’s gaze. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m here because this—being with you—it feels more real than anything I’ve done in years.”
“Keith, this isn’t right! You’re the explorer, the leader!” Lance’s voice cracked as he gestured wildly, backing away from Keith like the words themselves might somehow make him stay. “You love being in space, discovering new things, and all that… that stuff! That’s where you belong. I can’t be the reason you give that up!”
Keith’s chest tightened as he watched Lance turn abruptly and start to walk away, his movements erratic, his voice rising in desperation.
“You aren’t, Lance!” Keith called after him, his voice firm, though his heart felt like it was breaking in two. “Please, just turn around and listen to me!”
“NO!” Lance’s voice cracked as he shouted, his pace quickening. “I can’t… I can’t be why you give up. You should never have come out here! ”
Something snapped inside Keith. A mix of heartbreak and anger surged through him as he quickened his pace, grabbing Lance’s wrist and forcing him to stop. “Just stop, okay?!” he nearly shouted, his breathing uneven.
Lance finally turned to look at him, and Keith’s anger dissolved instantly as he saw the tears streaming down Lance’s face. The sight struck him like a physical blow, leaving him breathless. His grip loosened on Lance’s wrist, his shoulders sagging under the weight of emotions he could no longer contain.
“Lance…” Keith began, his voice soft, almost pleading.
But Lance didn’t move, his chest rising and falling quickly, his gaze flicking between Keith’s eyes like he was trying to find a way out. And then Keith’s resolve broke entirely.
Without thinking, without planning, without any conscious thought at all, Keith grabbed Lance’s shoulder, stepped forward, and kissed him.
It was quick—clumsy and fleeting, like the touch of a match to kindling—but it was enough to send shockwaves through Keith’s entire being.
I’m kissing Lance McClain.
What the hell am I doing?
Keith pulled back abruptly, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. His face was flaming, his hand trembling as it flew to his mouth. “Oh my god,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “Holy shit, that’s not—I didn’t mean—I—oh fuck. ”
Lance stared at him, wide-eyed and motionless, his lips slightly parted in shock. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
And then, without a word, Lance stepped forward. His hand reached out, grabbing Keith’s, and before Keith could say or do anything, Lance leaned in and kissed him back.
This time, it wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t clumsy. Lance kissed him firmly, his hand slipping up to Keith’s jaw to steady him as their lips met again, slower and more deliberate.
Keith froze for a moment, his brain short-circuiting. But as the realization of what was happening sank in, his body moved on its own. His hands found their way to Lance’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and he kissed him back with everything he had.
It wasn’t perfect. Their noses bumped, and Keith felt Lance’s laughter against his lips, light and breathy. But it was real, and warm, and so unmistakably them that Keith thought his chest might burst.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they tried to catch up with the moment.
“Oh.” Lance said softly, his voice barely audible.
Keith huffed a laugh, still struggling to form words. “Oh.”
Lance pulled back slightly, his cheeks flushed and his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “I’m sorry.”
Keith let out a soft sigh, his hand sliding to the back of Lance’s neck. “Don’t be. I promise. I’m here because I want to be, and I’ll stay as long as you want me to. So, do you want me to stay?”
Lance’s smile was small but sincere, and his eyes were soft in a way Keith had never seen before. “Yeah. I do.”
“Then I’m staying,” Keith said simply.
Lance couldn’t help but lean over and press a small kiss to his cheek. Keith felt a thrill shoot through him, smiling widely.
“Alright. But the moment you no longer want to be here, just tell me. I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay. And you have to promise you’ll wait and think before you really leave the Blade. Don’t rush into this headfirst like always. Sit on it for a while.” Lance said quietly, hugging Keith tightly.
“Ok, I promise.” He whispered, knowing his decision wouldn’t change. “Come on, it’s cold out here. Let’s head back inside.”
They walked back to the house hand in hand, each lost in their own thoughts. Keith just couldn’t believe what had happened. He kissed Lance, and Lance kissed him back. What did this mean? Did… Did Lance like him? Whatever he felt, Keith decided it didn’t matter right now. He could see the emotions still swirling under the surface, tangling with Lance’s thoughts. He maneuvered him through the front door and into the bedroom, sitting him on the bed as Lance just allowed himself to be led around with a hesitant smile.
“Sleep ok? You look ready to drop.”
“You don’t look much better. It’s been… an emotional night.”
Keith tried not to wonder how much of that was his fault. “It certainly was. Though there was one really good part.”
Lance smiled, “Yeah? Which one?”
Keith rolled his eyes, “Asshole.”
“My memories of the night are kind of fuzzy,” Lance mused, “What am I missing? Hopefully nothing too important.”
Keith swooped in and quickly kissed him, leaving Lance reeling as he smirked.
“Not that important.” Keith teased.
“Now who’s the asshole?” Lance muttered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back into another kiss.
They broke apart a couple minutes later, faces flushed and clothes slightly more wrinkled than usual. Keith sighed and pressed his forehead to Lance’s shoulder, “Ok, I really am tired. We should sleep.”
“If you insist.” Lance yawned.
“Only because you insist on getting up at the crack of dawn every day.” Keith muttered, standing up.
“Hey, wait.” Lance wrapped his fingers around Keith’s. “Do you just… want to stay in here tonight?”
“Like…?” Keith raised an eyebrow and Lance went bright red.
“NO! NO NO NOTHING LIKE THaT!” His voice cracked and Keith laughed. “I just… the couch really isn’t that comfortable and you’ve been sleeping there for weeks and I just figured maybe sleeping in an actual bed would be a nice change.”
“Ok.” Keith smiled, feeling the tips of his ears heat up slightly, “Let me get changed and I’ll be right back.”
Lance squeezed his hand and let go. Keith was pretty sure he’d never gotten dressed so quickly in his life. Just as he was turning back to the bedroom he remembered his promise to send more updates to the others.
He glanced nervously at the closed bedroom door before striding towards the bookshelf, pulling out his communicator and sending a quick message to the McClains, and Team Voltron. He was surprised to get an immediate reply and quickly glanced back at the door before reading it.
Pidge: FINALLY! Do you have ANY idea how worried we’ve all been? We only found out you updated the McClain Clan today.
Keith: Sorry, Lance has a strict no technology rule out here. I was trying to follow his lead for a while.
Pidge: what a horrible rule. Where are you guys anyway?
Keith: I can’t say.
He was sadly unsurprised when Shiro then joined the conversation.
Shiro: Are you guys in trouble? Do you need an extraction?
Keith: No, no nothing like that. Look, Lance was in a rough place when I got here. He just needs space and time ok? And for some reason I’m the only one he trusts to stick with him right now. I promise I’ll update more when I can but you have to give it time.
Hunk: Look, Keith, I get it. I know my best friend. But he’s been missing for over a month now, and you for a couple of weeks. Your mom and Kolivan are worried, and I swear I can see Lance’s parents age in real time. You gotta convince him to come back soon.
Keith swallowed the knot of anxiety lodged in his throat. He couldn’t force Lance to go back sooner than he wanted. It would just make things worse.
Keith: We’re working on it. I need you guys to trust me.
Shiro: Ok. We trust you. Keep us in the loop ok?
Keith jumped as Lance called out from the other room, “Mullet, hurry up! It’s coooold.”
“You have blankets for a reason!” Keith shouted back, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he heard the grumbling even from where he stood.
Keith: Ok. I will. I have to go before Lance see’s.
Hunk: Tell him we love him. Please.
Keith powered off the communicator and stuffed it away as he schooled his expression. He took a deep breath and headed back to the bedroom where Lance waited.
Notes:
TADAAAAAAAAAA. Get smooched motherfuckers.
So glad my boys are finally happy and nothing else bad could possibly happen now. Right? Right. This is the end. Last chapter. Everyone is happy and content and definitely not stressing about their futures. Mhm. Yup. That sounds right. It's all kisses and cuddling from here on out boys.
Now, an important note: LANCE AND KEITH ARE ADULTS IN THIS AU. Lance is 20, Keith is 21. Don't ask me about timelines or logistics or anything, just know they are older than they were in the show. They are wiser (only slightly though) and more comfortable with relationships and stuff like that than teenagers would. Just something to remember because their reactions in this chapter would be VASTLY different if they were younger, at least in my eyes. Let me know if you have questions or smth and I will try to answer them as eloquently as I can.
As always, have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time of day it is for you, eat something, drink water (coffee and tea does not count), and don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do!
Chapter Text
It started in the Castle of Lions, the familiar hum of the ship’s systems echoing faintly in the background. Keith was standing in the main control room, the air thick with tension. Everyone was there—Shiro, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura—but their faces were blurred, their voices distorted. They were arguing, though he couldn’t make out the words.
Suddenly, the scene shifted violently. He was piloting the Black Lion, but something was wrong. The controls were sluggish, the familiar bond with the lion barely there. The cockpit was filled with red warning lights and deafening alarms. Outside, explosions rocked the vast blackness of space as Galra ships closed in. Keith’s hands shook as he gripped the controls, his voice hoarse as he screamed into the comms.
“Form Voltron! We have to—”
Static. The comms were dead.
He looked to his left and saw the Red Lion spiraling out of control, flames licking its hull. “Lance!” he shouted, his throat burning.
No response.
Another jarring shift.
Now, he was running through a dimly lit corridor, the cold metal of a Galra ship surrounding him. The air was heavy, oppressive, and every step echoed like a gunshot. He could hear Shiro’s voice somewhere ahead, faint but distinct.
“Keith!”
“Shiro!” Keith yelled back, his legs burning as he sprinted forward.
But the corridor seemed endless, twisting and turning, the walls closing in. The voice grew fainter, and panic clawed at Keith’s chest. He turned a corner and saw Shiro ahead, his figure illuminated by the flickering lights.
“Shiro, wait!”
Shiro turned, his expression blank, almost lifeless. Before Keith could reach him, the floor beneath him gave way, and he was falling, falling into darkness.
The darkness swallowed him whole, and when he opened his eyes, he was on a battlefield. Voltron was in ruins, the lions scattered and broken. His team lay motionless around him, their armor cracked, blood staining the ground.
Keith dropped to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “No, no, no…”
Shiro was there, but he was walking away, his back to Keith.
“Shiro! Don’t leave!” Keith’s voice cracked as he reached out, but his legs wouldn’t move.
Shiro didn’t stop. He disappeared into the shadows, leaving Keith alone.
“Don’t leave me,” Keith whispered, his voice barely audible.
Keith startled awake, jerking upright with his chest heaving. The wall in front of him was mostly bare, a small wooden dresser adorned with bracelets, a couple earrings and a photo with some nauseatingly familiar faces smiling back at him. He stared at Shiro’s face for a moment, trying to shove away the image of blood dripping down his face.
Beside him Lance sighed softly, rolling onto his side and pulling the blankets with him. Keith closed his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest. He hadn’t had a nightmare like that in… a long time.
The shuffling beside him increased and he was unsurprised when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, “Keith? You ok?”
“Yeah, just, having a hard time sleeping.” Keith said softly, “Go back to bed.”
Lance hummed softly and leaned his cheek against Keith’s shoulder, sitting just behind him. Keith stiffened in surprise, but quickly forced himself to relax. His head was enough of a mess right now. Neither of them said anything for a moment, just breathing in tandem.
It was strange, sitting here like this. Keith once would have laughed if someone had proposed the idea of him sharing a bed with Lance. And while it definitely wasn’t something he was familiar with, he could already see himself getting used to it. Fighting over the blankets, listening to him breathing in the late hours of the night.
After a couple minutes he felt much better, just concentrating on the small yawns that continued to escape Lance’s mouth against his will.
“I’m ok.” He whispered, leaning his cheek against the top of Lance's head.
“What did you dream about?” Lance whispered sleepily.
“I don’t remember.” Keith lied, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.
“Liar.” Lance hummed, “You don’t have to tell me. Just want to make sure you aren’t wallowing.”
“I do not wallow.”
“You do too.”
“Stuff it McClain.”
Lance chuckled and practically draped his upper body against Keith’s back.
“Get off me.” Keith grumbled.
“You’re warm. And it’s cold at night out here.” Lance complained.
Keith just shook his head and sat still as Lance made himself comfortable. He had forgotten how touchy Lance was in the time after their lives on the castleship. He tried his best to ignore the flush that creeped up his face and neck as Lance yawned again.
“I’m not wallowing. It’s just, messing with my head a bit. I haven’t had a really bad dream like that in a while.” Keith admitted. “I don’t know. A mix of memories and nightmares I guess.”
“I get that.” Lance said quietly, reaching to lace his fingers with Keith’s.
Keith looked down at their joined hands, “My dad used to have the worst nightmares. He was always a really vivid dreamer too. Not a great combination when you add in the whole PTSD thing from work.”
Lance stayed quiet, letting him talk. An image of a not-so-long-lost photo flashed through Keith’s mind, but he pushed it away. He could figure that out later. There seemed to be a lot of things getting added to that box in the back of his mind.
“I think about him a lot.” Keith said, his voice sounding weird even to him. “He would have really liked you I think. Had a great sense of humor.”
“One thing you did not inherit from him.” Lance teased.
Keith laughed softly, “I guess not. But I do hope I got a bit of his resilience at least. I certainly have the dreams.”
“I know you did. You are, resilient Keith. And strong. And stubborn as hell.” Lance said, his tone sincere.
“Thanks.” Keith whispered, looking over his shoulder with a smile. Lance took the opportunity to quickly lean in and kiss his temple.
“Come on, I need my beauty rest you know.” he smiled softly and Keith easily followed him back into the pillows.
Lance kept his arms around Keith as they laid down, resting his chin on top of Keith’s head. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall asleep again.
Keith woke slowly, awareness creeping back like sunlight over the horizon. He blinked blearily, his body warm and heavy, cocooned in an unfamiliar comfort. It took a moment for his sleep-addled brain to catch up: Lance.
Lance was pressed against his side, his arm slung over Keith’s waist, their legs tangled like the aftermath of a fight neither of them had won. The room was still dim, the desert sun barely creeping through the cracks in the blinds. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the remnants of Lance’s candle from last night.
Keith’s heart stuttered. We’re touching. We’re cuddling.
Oh god.
He tried to shift subtly, but Lance grumbled something incomprehensible and nuzzled closer, his nose brushing against Keith’s shoulder. Keith froze. His pulse raced, but he didn’t dare move again.
Play it cool. Play it cool. This doesn’t have to mean anything. People accidentally sleep-cuddle all the time, right?
Keith’s internal pep talk didn’t help. His chest felt tight, his stomach flipping in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. He didn’t know how to process this—how to process them.
Lance stirred, stretching lazily, his hand brushing Keith’s stomach. “Morning,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Keith swallowed hard. “Uh. Morning.”
Lance cracked one eye open and grinned sleepily. “Huh. Guess I didn’t kick you out in my sleep. That’s progress.”
“Progress.” Keith repeated. What did that mean?
“That was actually really nice.” Lance stretched, yawning. “Other than you snoring I guess.”
Keith stared at him, trying to reconcile the nonchalance with the chaos in his own head. Nice? Lance thought this was nice? Meanwhile, Keith felt like his entire world had shifted on its axis.
Lance glanced over, his brow furrowing. “You okay? You look… weird.”
“Fine,” Keith said quickly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His voice sounded too sharp, even to his own ears. “I just—uh—I should get started on—something.”
“Something?” Lance echoed, amused. “You’re not exactly a morning person, mullet. Relax. It’s still early.”
Keith stood, pacing toward the window. “Yeah, well… I don’t know.”
Lance rolled his eyes, standing and crossing to him. “Hey, chill. You’re acting like I’m about to eat you or something.”
Keith snorted despite himself, turning to meet Lance’s gaze. “I don’t think you could take me.”
“Oh please,” Lance teased, poking Keith in the chest. “I could take you any day of the week. I’m scrappy.”
They stood there for a beat, the air between them warm and electric. Lance’s grin softened as his eyes searched Keith’s face. “You sure you’re okay?”
Keith hesitated. He wasn’t okay. He didn’t know how to be okay when his brain was screaming about how much he felt, how much he wanted. But he couldn’t say that. Not yet.
“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “Just… didn’t sleep great.”
“Right.” Lance bit his lip, “Did you fall back to sleep at all?”
Keith looked back out the window, “Yeah. Sorry again for waking you up.”
“I don’t mind.” Lance stood and moved next to him.
Keith gave him a fragile smile that he hoped looked stronger than he felt. Lance seemed to understand (dammit he always did) and just leaned against him, arms folded. Eventually though he pulled away.
“I’ll make coffee this morning. You can shower first.” He gave Keith a small smile and headed out of the room, leaving Keith with his confused and aching heart.
The tension refused to leave him as the day progressed, and Lance seemed to notice every detail. Keith was annoyed he could read him so easily, but also appreciated it.
At some point Lance mentioned offhandedly wanted to run to town again to get some new plants and things for the garden. What he didn’t mention was hoping that a trip out of their little twenty mile radius would help Keith lose whatever funk he was in.
Keith agreed and the two of them climbed into Lance’s old beat up truck. The engine croaked to life and Lance had to really crank the windows down, muttering, “Haha, that sound is normal right?”
Keith made sure to strap in his seatbelt.
“Totally normal,” he replied, side eyeing the upholstery and a suspicious crack in the windshield.
“She’ll get me anywhere. Just need a little encouragement.” Lance said cheerfully, slapping the dash forcefully. The engine gave a little cough then really spluttered to life.
The ride was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Keith stared out the window, watching the scrubby landscape roll by, his thoughts drifting in a dozen directions at once.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Lance said, breaking the silence.
“Just thinking,” Keith replied vaguely.
“Dangerous business.”
“So is driving this old thing.”
“She’s a classic!”
“Classic is one word for it.” Keith mumbled and Lance laughed.
“Just you wait. The last time we went to town you didn’t get the full experience. A grocery store run doesn’t do the place justice. It’s not until you get your aura read you’re really a local.”
“What now?” Keith blinked.
Lance gave him a mischievous smile, “You’ll see.”
The tiny town couldn’t be home to more than three thousand people, and yet it was teeming with life. Keith watched through the window as they rolled down main street, old beat up red brick buildings lining the sidewalks with vendors out and about, chatting with passersby. Sun faded signs sat in front of their folding tables, selling everything from fresh produce to handmade jewelry.
Lance parked the truck in a crooked spot and hopped out, slamming the door shut with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome to paradise.”
Keith followed, already feeling out of place in the small, lively crowd. Lance, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, greeting a few people with casual waves as they walked toward the plant vendor’s stall.
“Hey, Mr. Castillo!” Lance called out to an older man arranging pots of vibrant flowers.
“Lance!” the man replied, his weathered face lighting up. “Back for more plants?”
“You know it,” Lance said, leaning against the stall. “I’m trying to teach my friend here the fine art of desert greenery.”
Keith gave a small, awkward nod, unsure what to say.
Mr. Castillo chuckled, pulling out a tray of succulents. “Well, you’ve got a good teacher. Lance has only been coming here for a few weeks and yet he’s my best customer—half the plants I sold in the last two months probably started in his garden.”
Lance puffed up like a proud peacock. “See? I’m a local legend.”
Keith rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Legendary doofus.”
Lance gave him a scandalized look and Mr. Castillo gave a hearty laugh. Him and Lance spent a few minutes haggling prices while Keith let his attention wander, just looking up and down the street. The sky was clear overhead and a stunning blue, with small wispy clouds streaking through it. The ground beneath his shoes radiated heat and the dirty windows behind them just added to it all. He took a deep breath and let himself relax.
“Alright Keith, cactus or snake plant?”
“Hmm?” Keith turned back to Lance who was holding out two small plants.
“Which one do you want?” Lance tapped his foot.
“Uh, neither?” Keith said, confused, “I thought you were getting a plant. I don’t need one.”
Lance rolled his eyes, “I’m getting it for you, dummy. Pick one.”
Keith pointed at the one on the left and Lance turned back to Mr. Castillo to pay. Couple minutes later they were waving goodbye and Keith was the proud owner of a small cacti local to the area.
“You didn’t have to get me this.” He said, confused but touched.
Lance shrugged, “I wanted to. It’s small and prickly, just like you.”
Keith elbowed him in the side, rolling his eyes even as he smiled to himself. Lance coughed but gently shoved him in return as they wandered through the stalls.
They spent the next half hour wandering the street, Lance chatting animatedly with the vendors while Keith followed, carrying an ever-growing collection of small pots and flowers.
“You’re like a kid in a candy store,” Keith muttered as Lance debated between two nearly identical hanging plants.
“It’s called having taste, Keith,” Lance said, shooting him a mock glare. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand that my arms are going to fall off if you don’t hurry up.”
Lance laughed, finally choosing one and tossing Keith a grin. “Okay, okay, we’re done. For now.”
They stopped inside the only restaurant/bar/pub in the town for lunch and some water. The heat was scorching and the two of them quickly downed the water filled pitcher brought to them.
“I’d call this a successful trip if I do say so.” Lance declared, looking at the various bags and plants surrounding them.
“You have a problem. A plant problem.” Keith said.
“I can quit anytime!” Lance protested.
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Lance glared at him playfully as the young waitress approached to get their orders. Keith found himself staring as Lance turned his head, the long column of his throat leading up to his sharp jaw, hair curling softly over it.
“What do you want to eat?” Lance turned towards him and Keith had to force himself to look down at the menu as he ordered his food.
Lance continued chatting idly as they waited and Keith just nodded, barely following along with the conversation. He knew Lance was attractive. He knew he was attracted to Lance. For fucks sake they had literally kissed yesterday. But, they hadn’t since then. And Lance wasn’t acting like anything had changed. Hadn’t even brought it up. Was it weird that he was thinking about him like that? Would Lance be upset about that? Maybe the kissing thing was just the one time. Maybe it was better if they just never brought it up again. What if he had ruined everything and Lance was just waiting for the right time to tell him he didn’t want it? Him. It?
“-So of course I ate the entire cement brick…”
“What?” Keith snapped back to attention and found Lance watching him with an amused expression.
“Five minutes of me rambling nonsense and that's what it takes to get your attention?” He laughs.
“Sorry.” Keith flushed, “My mind was somewhere else.”
“I noticed.” Lance breezed, “It’s fine. I forgot what I was saying anyway.”
Keith tried to remain engaged the rest of lunch, nodding at the appropriate time and adding little comments here and there but he knew Lance could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He just hoped Lance couldn’t tell where his heart had really run off to.
The same waitress brings them their check. Lance whips out his card with a flourish before Keith even has a chance.
“No way Kogane. Put that thing away, I’m paying.”
“It’s not a big deal I can pay.” Keith protested.
The waitress giggled and took Lance’s card much to Keith’s dismay, walking away as she said, “Aw you two are such a cute couple.”
Keith promptly dropped his card and swooped down to pick it up, banging his head against the underside of the table. He cursed and righted himself, rubbing his head as his face turned red.
“You ok?” Lance said, looking concerned.
“Fine. I’m fine. Totally fine. 100% fine.” Keith mumbled.
“If you say so.” Lance sighed. Keith avoided the waitress’ eyes as she returned with the card and together him and Lance hauled their spoils back to the truck.
The drive back to the house was quieter, the earlier lightheartedness replaced with a strange, lingering tension. Keith couldn’t stop replaying the woman’s comment in his head, or the way Lance had smiled so easily, like the idea of them being a couple wasn’t the least bit strange.
“Hey,” Lance said suddenly, breaking the silence. “You okay?”
Keith startled slightly. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’re all broody again,” Lance said, glancing at him. “Even more than usual. Did I do something? I know you aren’t the most social person, I should have figured this wouldn’t be something you’d enjoy.”
Keith hesitated, his grip tightening on his knee. “No. No, I had a great time. Just… thinking.”
Lance hummed, unconvinced but unwilling to push. “Well, don’t think too hard. You might hurt yourself.”
Keith snorted despite himself, and Lance grinned, the tension easing slightly.
“The waitress back there,” Keith said, staring out the window, “I just thought it was strange she called us a couple.”
He saw Lance shrug in the reflection of the glass, “Makes sense to me. I literally bought you a cactus, then took you out to lunch.”
“But that could also just be friends right?” Keith said, anxious swirling in his gut.
“I guess.” Lance said, growing quiet.
What are we? Where’s the new line? Because ever since I kissed you I want to do it over and over again Keith thought pleadingly. But he kept those thoughts to himself.
The truck groaned as it rolled into the driveway, the smell of fresh flowers filling the air as Lance yanked open the door. Keith climbed out a little slower, carrying his little cactus.
“You’ll have to help me repot these later,” Lance called over his shoulder as he headed for the front door.
Keith raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was just the pack mule.”
Lance smirked, holding the door open. “You’re a multi-purpose tool, Kogane. Now get inside before the heat kills my babies.”
They unloaded the plants in the living room, which now looked like a jungle. Lance flitted from pot to pot, arranging them with care, while Keith hovered awkwardly, unsure of where to step.
Lance stepped back, hands on his hips, surveying the room with satisfaction. “Perfect. Now all we need is some music and maybe—”
A faint buzz interrupted him. Keith stiffened, his flicking to the bookshelf where the old comm vibrated.
“Did you hear that?” Lance asked, looking around.
Keith shook his head quickly. “No. Probably just a bug or something.”
Lance eyed him suspiciously but shrugged, turning back to his plants. Keith’s chest tightened, guilt creeping in as he subtly approached the bookshelf, turned off the the comm, and made sure it was out of sight.
Later that night, while Lance was brushing his teeth, Keith slipped out onto the porch with the communicator. The stars were brilliant overhead, but Keith barely noticed as he turned the small device over in his hands.
He’d been avoiding checking for messages since sending the last update, but something gnawed at him now—a deep, uneasy feeling that wouldn’t go away. With a deep breath, he switched it on.
Almost immediately, a message came through. Keith could practically hear it; Shiro’s voice calm but firm, tinged with concern.
Keith, we need to talk. I know you’re worried about Lance, but this has been going on too long. If you don’t check in soon, we’re coming to find you. Please don’t make us do that.
Keith’s heart sank. He stared at the communicator, torn between guilt and frustration. He’d known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it feel more real.
He hid the comm once more, making sure to shut it off and slumped down onto the couch, wishing briefly the cushions would swallow him whole. Lance came out of the bathroom shortly after and stopped when he saw Keith there. He slowly walked over and sat down next to him.
“Red or blue?” he asked.
“What?”
“Red or blue?” Lance smiled.
“Blue I guess.” Keith cocked his head. Lance dug around his pocket for a second before pulling out a laffy taffy, handing Keith the blue one as he popped a red one in his mouth.
“Why am I not surprised you have candy in your pockets?” Keith sighed, turning it over in his hand.
Lance shrugged, “Couldn’t tell ya. But I can tell that right now you aren’t feeling so hot. What’s going on in that brain of yours huh? Is it the nightmare from last night?”
“No, no it’s not that.” Keith said, though it certainly hadn’t helped. “Just confused.”
“Is it me?” Lance asked after a beat.
“Yes? But also no. I don’t know.” Keith dropped his head, forearms pressed against his thighs as he sort of curled into himself.
“Is it because we kissed?” Lance asked hesitantly.
“Partially. Just processing a lot right now.” Keith mumbled.
Lance reached out and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, “Do you regret it?”
“No. No, of course not.” Keith looks up quickly, “No I don't regret it. At all. I just… was that a one time thing for you? Because it wasn’t for me Lance. At least, I don’t want it to be.”
Lance was quiet for a second before saying, “Me either.”
Keith sat up straighter, face level with his own. Lance met his gaze head on. “It wasn’t a one time thing for me either Keith.”
Keith watched with bated breath as Lance slowly leaned forward and asked, “Is this ok?”
“Yes.” Keith whispered. Lance quickly closed the gap.
It was just as amazing as Keith remembered. It may have only been a day, but it felt like far too long. Lance’s lips were chapped, but warm. There was almost a buzz, a feeling of electricity in Keith’s mouth as his hand automatically moved to cup Lance’s jaw. The smell of his cologne permeated Keith’s nose, and he could feel his stuttering breaths against his face. A warm feeling grew in his chest, spreading through his entire body slowly but surely.
In all the time he had spent with Lance in this very house, he’d slowly peeled back layer by layer of this incredible, complex, determined, lost, and warm person. And as his tongue slid past his open mouth, he felt another layer disappear as Lance laid himself bare to Keith in new ways.
It ended far too soon for both of their liking, but they had to breathe at some point.
They ended up leaning against each other on the couch, just trying to catch their breath and reign in their thoughts.
“I wouldn’t object if that happened more often.” Lance mumbled, smiling and face flushed.
Keith felt a small tingle in his chest and pressed a soft and quick to his lips in response. “Me either.”
Lance smiled and Keith felt his heart skip a beat. I love you. I love you so much and I have no idea how to tell you that I feel like I found my way back to myself when I met you.
“So. We’re ok with this? The whole kissing thing? It doesn’t have to change anything else.” Lance said, glancing away.
“Yeah. Yeah I’m good with that. Nothing else has to change.” Keith said, shoving away his longing for more.
That night he laid in Lance’s bed again, his soft curls tickling the underside of his chin as he stared up at the ceiling, wondering and hoping and feeling the ball of anxiety in his gut tighten as it grew.
He closed his eyes, his loyalty to Lance at war with his loyalty to his friends and team. He needed to bring Lance home. He needed to let Lance get there on his own timeline. He needed to decide if he was going to stay with the Blades or leave. He needed to figure out whatever the hell Lance was doing to his heart. There was so much conflict in his head he knew it wasn’t sustainable, even for him. Something had to break. He just didn’t know what it was going to be. And for the first time, he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold it all together after it shattered.
Notes:
Ok so maybe everything isn't so happy go lucky. BUT HEY! TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY? Hell yeah for a rush of creative energy. And maybe I'm really excited about the next chapter. Really excited. So be prepared. It could be happy, could be angsty. You never know.
Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you! Don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do and remember to eat something and stay hydrated.
And if anyone is in the LA area right now, I am keeping you in my thoughts. Stay safe friends <3
Chapter 8
Notes:
Warning: there is smut in this chapter. It's pretty obvious when it's going to happen, but if you would like to avoid it stop reading at the line -“I want this.” He breathed, fingers curling through Lance’s hair, “I swear. Please.”- and start reading again at the line -“That was the hottest thing ever.” Lance pants. “So fucking hot.”-
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Something had to break. He just didn’t know what it was going to be. And for the first time, he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold it all together after it shattered.
Keith woke up to the sensation of soft fleeting kisses brushing along his cheek, temple, the bridge of his nose, and the corner of his lips. Each tender gift drew him out of sleep, and by the time he opened his eyes he found himself unsurprised to see Lance propped up over him, smiling like he’d won the lottery as he continued to pepper him with affection.
“Good morning sunshine.” Lance grinned, his voice particularly soft and affectionate this early. He punctuated the greeting by leaving a particularly long and sloppy kiss to Keith’s cheek, smirking proudly.
Keith pulled a face and wiped away the slobber, “Lance, that’s disgusting.”
“You wiped away my kiss!” Lance screeched, clutching his chest. “Didn’t realize you had a heart of stone.”
Keith rolled his eyes sitting up as Lance pouted and continued to whine theatrically, “Not the kiss. Just the drool.”
“I do not drool.” Lance huffed, crossing his arms as he pulled away from Keith.
“I wouldn’t look at your pillow then.” Keith smirked.
Lance glanced down to where Keith’s eyes were drawn and groaned when he saw the small damp spot.
“This is slander! Fraud! Meaningless accusations! That’s just… hydration. I used my heavy moisturizer last night.”
“Right. Hydration.” Keith chuckled, slipping off the bed and moving to open the window.
“You’re lucky to even get to sleep in this bed, mister. I’d play nice.” Lance drawled.
“Yeah yeah.” Keith shook his head, smiling.
The last few days had been nothing short of bliss. They hadn’t labeled anything, hadn’t tried to define what was happening between them, but it didn’t matter. Their routine hadn’t changed much—getting up absurdly early to make coffee and breakfast, tending to the garden until the sun got too hot, wandering through the desert and exploring the canyons.
But now, there were moments. Subtle, stolen ones that Keith caught himself replaying over and over in his mind: fingers brushing as they passed each other tools, lingering glances that stretched a beat too long, and, of course, the kisses.
Keith really liked the kissing part.
Lance, apparently, liked it just as much.
“Hey,” Lance said suddenly, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. He’d pulled on a loose tank top and was running a hand through his already-messy hair. “What’s the plan today? More gardening? Exploring? Or do you want to spend the whole day staring at me like you are right now?”
Keith flushed. “I’m not staring.”
“Oh, you so are,” Lance teased, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between them. “It’s okay though, I get it. I’m gorgeous. But if you want a closer look, all you have to do is ask.”
Keith raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“And yet,” Lance said, leaning in so their noses almost touched, “you like me anyway.”
Keith couldn’t argue with that, especially not when Lance pressed a quick kiss to his lips, grinning as he pulled away. I love you. So goddamn much.
Their day fell into an easy rhythm. After breakfast, they worked together in the garden, teasing and bickering over how to arrange the new plants. Lance insisted his artistic vision was flawless, while Keith claimed his practicality trumped Lance’s dramatics.
“Okay, but hear me out—flowers in the shape of a giant ‘L’ for Lance,” Lance said, gesturing wildly as he planted a small cluster of bright red blooms.
Keith stared at him, deadpan. “No.”
“What? Why not? You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”
“I’m jealous of a lot of things, Lance,” Keith said, smirking as he leaned on his shovel. “Your ego isn’t one of them.”
Lance gasped in mock offense but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
Throughout the entire day Keith had to keep a close watch on his mouth. The urge to let loose the thoughts and feeling’s he had trapped was increasing with every moment, and he nearly declared his undying for Lance multiple times.
At one point, Lance wiped the back of his hand across his brow, leaving a streak of dirt on his face. Keith smirked.
“You’ve got a little something,” he said, gesturing vaguely.
“Where?” Lance frowned, swiping at his cheek.
Keith leaned closer, brushing his thumb against Lance’s skin to wipe the dirt away. The touch lingered, his fingers curling slightly before he pulled back.
“There.”
Lance stared at him for a moment, his eyes flicking between Keith’s face and the hand he’d just used. Then, he grinned, the tension breaking. “Careful, Kogane. You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you have a thing for me.”
Keith scoffed, though his cheeks burned. “You wish.”
“Maybe I do.” Lance’s voice was light, but there was something underneath it—something vulnerable, something that made Keith’s heart stutter.
“Well, maybe I do have a thing. Possibly,” Keith said, his throat tightening around the words. He focused hard on the patch of soil in front of him, his hands gripping the trowel like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
“Possibly?” Lance’s voice dipped lower, quieter, as though afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing was forming between them.
“Maybe,” Keith said again, a little softer this time.
When he dared to glance sideways, he caught the flicker of something unreadable in Lance’s eyes. His cheeks were tinged pink, his usual easy grin replaced by something gentler, more tentative. Keith barely had time to process it before Lance leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
The contact was fleeting but warm, leaving behind a faint tingle that Keith swore he could still feel even after Lance pulled away.
“Maybe sounds good to me.” Lance’s smile was small but genuine, the corners of his lips quirking upward in a way that made Keith’s chest ache. “And maybe I have a thing too. Possibly.”
Keith fought to keep his expression neutral, but the way Lance parroted his words back at him, playful yet sincere, almost undid him. He pressed his lips together, trying to smother the smile threatening to break free. Without thinking too much about it, he reached between them, letting his fingers wrap around Lance’s.
The touch was simple, their dirt-streaked hands curling together like it was the most natural thing in the world. They kept working side by side, but something was different now. Lighter. Easier.
Or maybe not different at all. Maybe this had always been there, waiting for one of them to acknowledge it.
Keith wasn’t sure anymore what was going on between them, and the thought terrified him. He was too scared to look closer, afraid that if he named it, it might dissolve into nothing.
Sometimes he really did miss the silent abyss of space. Emotions were too difficult. Too messy.
“Hey,” Lance said softly, tugging his hand just enough to draw Keith’s attention back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”
Keith blinked, startled. “What?”
Lance raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You get this look on your face, like you’re trying to solve a quantum equation in your head. Relax, mullet. I’m not going anywhere.”
The sincerity in his voice caught Keith off guard. He swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing Lance’s hand once before letting go.
Keith leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed and his brow furrowed in mock impatience as he watched Lance finish his second cup of coffee. "You’ve been stalling for days, Lance. I’m starting to think you’re scared of a little speed.”
“I’m not scared,” Lance shot back, putting his mug down with an exaggerated flourish. “I just don’t feel like risking my life on your death machine.”
Keith smirked. “It’s not a death machine. It’s a finely tuned piece of engineering.”
“Fine, finely tuned death machine.”
“Come on,” Keith pushed, his voice dipping into something softer. “You said you’d try it. The sun’s setting soon, and it’ll be cooler. Perfect time for a ride.”
Lance hesitated, glancing at the motorcycle parked nearby, its sleek black frame gleaming in the afternoon light. Keith had been relentless all week, trying to convince him to go for a ride. And while the idea of holding onto Keith while they sped through the open desert sent a tiny thrill through him, it also made his stomach twist with nerves.
“Alright, fine,” Lance finally said, standing up and stretching dramatically. “But if I die, you’re explaining it to my family. And burying me with full honors.”
Keith grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Deal. Come on.”
A few minutes later, Lance found himself strapping on a helmet and staring at the bike like it might bite him. Keith, already seated, patted the seat behind him. “Hop on, Lance. I promise I won’t go too fast.”
Lance narrowed his eyes. “Your definition of ‘too fast’ and mine are probably worlds apart.”
“Trust me,” Keith said, and there was something in his voice—steady, reassuring—that made Lance relent.
With a sigh, Lance swung his leg over the bike and settled behind Keith. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air before Keith glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow.
“You’re gonna have to hold on,” Keith said, amusement lacing his tone.
Lance rolled his eyes but wrapped his arms loosely around Keith’s waist. The warmth of Keith’s back against his chest sent a strange flutter through him, but he shoved it down. “Happy now?”
Keith started the engine, the low rumble vibrating beneath them. “Ecstatic. Hold tight.”
As the bike took off, Lance instinctively tightened his grip, clinging to Keith as they sped down the dusty trail leading away from the house.
The wind whipped past them as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in streaks of orange, pink, and gold. Keith expertly navigated the uneven terrain, the bike gliding over dips and curves with practiced ease.
Lance’s initial tension melted away as they cruised further into the desert. The open air, the endless horizon, and the feeling of freedom began to work their magic.
“Okay,” Lance yelled over the wind. “I’ll admit it—this isn’t terrible.”
Keith laughed, the sound carried back to Lance, who couldn’t help but smile in response. “Told you!”
They rode in comfortable silence after that, the scenery shifting around them. Lance leaned into Keith, the closeness feeling less awkward and more natural with each passing minute.
Eventually, Keith slowed the bike and pulled off the trail onto a small rise overlooking a canyon. He cut the engine, and the sudden stillness felt almost deafening after the hum of the ride.
“Why’d we stop?” Lance asked, reluctantly letting go of Keith as they dismounted.
Keith gestured toward the view. “Thought you might like this.”
Lance turned and froze. The canyon stretched out before them, bathed in the soft glow of twilight. The sky was a masterpiece of colors, the first stars beginning to peek through the fading daylight.
“Wow,” Lance murmured, the awe in his voice making Keith’s chest ache. I love you.
Keith leaned against the bike, watching Lance take it all in. “Figured it was worth the detour.”
Lance glanced back at him, his expression softer than Keith had ever seen it. “You were right.”
They sat side by side on the ground, the warm desert air wrapping around them as the last light faded into night. Lance tilted his head back, his gaze fixed on the stars.
“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I used to dream about riding off into the horizon like this. Felt like freedom, you know? But then real life happened.”
Keith watched him, the sharp edges of his usual bravado smoothed out by the moment. “What stopped you?”
Lance shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t have anyone to ride with.”
Keith’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. He hesitated for a beat before reaching out, his fingers brushing against Lance’s. When Lance didn’t pull away, Keith laced their hands together.
“You do now,” Keith said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lance turned to him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he smiled, something genuine and warm that sent a rush of heat through Keith. They stayed like that, hand in hand, as the stars stretched endlessly above them.
The stars above them were a canvas, so clear and bright in the desert sky that it almost felt like they could reach out and touch them. The air was still, the cool desert breeze soft against their skin, and for the first time in a long while, Lance knew what he needed in this moment.
He turned to Keith, who was sitting next to him, his legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the horizon. The weight of the silence between them was comfortable, but Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bubbling underneath it—something important.
“I want to tell you now. Everything, why I came out here, why I stayed. All of it” Lance said suddenly, his voice steady but with a faint tremor that wasn’t there before.
Keith’s gaze flicked to him, surprised. “You don’t owe me that information Lance. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”
“I do. I want to.” Lance swallowed. “Please.”
“Ok.” Keith breathed, “I’m listening.”
“You know part of it already.” Lance said softly, looking back over the dark canyon. “Everything was moving too fast and I felt stuck. Like someone glued my feet to the starting line while everyone else had a head start. They started moving and I didn’t. And they were already lightyears ahead of me. Pidge and Matt are creating new incredible things everyday and have helped revolutionize technology here on Earth. Hunk is opening his own restaurant as well as helping part time at the Garrison, and on top of that is working one on one with the Balmeran people to restore their communities. Shiro finally settled down, is getting married, and is a decorated Garrison veteran, as well as a high ranking official who runs the Atlas with his fiance. You practically run the Blades at this point, still saving thousands of people and freeing them from Galran terrorist across the Galaxy. And what did I do? I got an office job at the Garrison. Pushing papers and wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do next. Everyone has their thing, you know?”
Keith’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in Lance’s voice. He squeezed Lance’s hand gently, urging him to keep going.
“And it just feels like it’s always been like that. Hunk was the heart of the team, Pidge was the brains, you were the fighter, Shiro was our leader, Allura ran the castle, and Coran helped everyone where he could and practically kept us alive off the battlefield for years. For a long time it felt like my own skill was being able to shoot straight.” Lance said bitterly, “I know now that’s not entirely true, but it really stuck with me for a long time. I know I have a lot to offer people, but it’s nothing like anyone else can.”
“Lance.” Keith faltered, his emotions weighed down by his friend's words.
“I never realized how much I left behind,” Lance said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I had been so focused on the mission, on the future, on fighting for something, that I didn’t see what was slipping away from me. My family, my friends, my… my home.” He let out a shaky breath. “Myself. It’s been years since I had a definition for myself. Who I was at my core. It disappeared the day I died. Allura restarted my heart, but I don’t think I’ve been the same since.”
Keith’s heart ached for him, and he didn’t even know what to say at first. There was nothing he could say to make it better. Instead, he slid closer, leaning into Lance just a little bit, until their shoulders brushed together.
“You’re not the only one,” Keith murmured after a long pause. “I’ve been running from things for so long. Not just the war, but everything that came with it. I pushed away people, pushed away my emotions. Even after we won, even after we came back here, I still didn’t stop. I didn’t know how. I thought if I just kept going, kept doing my job, I could forget about everything I left behind too. And it allowed me to stay with Krolia, which is nice, but after a while, everything just grew stale. I told you before, I don’t want to go back to the Blades. I still feel that way. And being with my mom is amazing. It’s all I ever wanted. But it makes me think a lot of my dad. How much he missed her when I was a kid. How much he would have loved to see her again. And it just reminds me how much I really have of him. Just a couple pictures, and his old fire station hoodie that doesn’t even fit me.”
He could see the surprise in Lance’s expression as he talked of his dad, and once again his thoughts slunk back to the photograph that was hidden away on the bookshelf beside his comm. A photo Lance had kept hidden.
“I wondered if the Garrison had found anything of his when they took control of the shack and surrounding land.” He hedged, watching Lance out of the corner of his eye. “But they told me they hadn’t.”
Lance laid his hand against Keith’s arm, and he sounded sincere when he said, “I’m sorry Keith.” not a word about the photo.
Keith felt a wave of disappointment but continued to look forward as he spoke, “Yeah well. It’s fine. I still have my memories. It’s just nice to have something physical of his to show Krolia. Makes both of us feel better. But that’s not the point. The point is, I get it Lance. I love the people I work with, and being able to continue to make a difference, but it’s not what's right for me anymore.”
He saw the guilt rise in Lance’s eyes and quickly spoke again before he could spiral, “It’s not because of you Lance. This is an issue for me that’s been brewing for a while. You just gave me the clarity I needed.” He took a shallow breath before saying, “What's ironic though, I was originally going to ask you to join me.”
“Really?” Lance said, turning his head slightly to study Keith’s profile.
“Really. A while ago too. When we first got back to Earth, Kolivan offered the job to me. I was more than happy to be able to keep helping people, but I didn’t want to do it without you.” He said softly. “When I first left Voltron, I missed the whole team. But I especially missed you. So I decided to offer the job to you as well. But, you were so happy to be back with your family, and you had the whole thing with the Garrison and I just… well I couldn’t take you away from that again. So I didn’t say anything.”
“I wish I had known.” Lance whispered.
“I wish I’d said something. But here we are.” Keith shrugged.
Lance squeezed his hand, expression softening. There was a moment of quiet understanding between them, one that neither of them could ignore.
“I guess,” Keith continued, looking up at the stars now, “I’ve been hiding out here because it’s easier than facing what’s inside. Easier than facing the unease, and the uncertainty.”
Lance nodded, his thumb still gently brushing Keith’s skin. “I think I get that. But sometimes I wonder if maybe we’re both just scared of what comes next. You know? I don’t want to go back, and realize that I haven’t moved at all. I don’t want to look in the mirror and see my shoes still glued to the ground.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truth. Keith didn’t have an answer, but at that moment, it felt less important. The space between them had closed in ways that words never could, and in that quiet, vulnerable silence, Keith knew that Lance was right.
They didn’t have to have all the answers. They just had to be here, with each other, in the moment.
Keith finally turned his head, meeting Lance’s gaze fully. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he let himself really look at Lance. Not just the sharp-tongued, playful guy he’d always known, but the person sitting beside him now—the one who’d been through so much, the one who’d helped carry the weight of their victories and their losses.
And in that moment, Keith knew something he hadn’t been able to admit to himself until now: he wasn’t just here for the space, the quiet, or even to support his friend. It started that way, but it’s not like that anymore. He was here because Lance had become something he didn’t want to live without. He didn’t know what that something was yet, but the more he sat with it, the more certain he became.
Lance caught his gaze, and this time, it wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing. It was something deeper, something unspoken but felt in the way they held each other’s stare.
“Keith…” Lance began, his voice low, almost uncertain.
Keith’s breath hitched at the way Lance said his name—like it carried all the weight of his thoughts, his feelings, everything he hadn’t said yet.
“I think…” Lance trailed off, but his eyes were searching Keith’s, looking for some kind of confirmation.
Keith didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, cupping Lance’s cheek gently, his thumb brushing over the skin there. It was a simple gesture, but the way Lance’s breath caught in his chest said everything.
Keith leaned in slowly, almost hesitant, waiting for any sign that Lance might pull away. But Lance didn’t move, didn’t stop him. Instead, Lance’s hand moved to rest on his chest, the touch soft, almost tentative. And when their lips finally met, it wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, intentional, as if they were both testing the waters.
The kiss deepened, and Keith breathed him in, attuned to every part of the man in front of him. The one person who meant more than anything to him, outside of his family. They broke apart breathing heavily and Keith leaned his forehead against Lances.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” He murmured, gut clenching in fear. He had to tell him at some point. The words were eating him up at this point. “I was going to ask you to join me because I lo-”
Lance didn’t give him the chance to finish, pulling him into another bruising kiss, like he just couldn’t help himself. Keith felt his brain short circuit, brushed aside the small spike of guilt swirling with disappointment and kissed him back fiercely. His breath stuttered as Lance’s hands worked under his shirt, tracing his sides and he lifted a shaking hand to his neck, tugging him closer as he longed for more contact.
Lance pulled back just slightly, his breath shallow as he tried to focus on the sensation of Lance’s lips against his, not the weight of the moment. His hand was still resting on Keith’s waist, fingers twitching. Keith considered moving away, but Lance’s body was pressed against his, the heat of him radiating through the thin fabric between them.
Lance’s breath hitched when Keith pulled back just enough to look at him, their faces mere inches apart. He could see the same hesitation in Lance’s eyes, but there was something else there too. Desire. It was palpable, thick in the air between them.
“You okay?” Keith whispered, his voice rough, trying to get his bearings, to make sense of what was happening, what was about to happen.
Lance swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Just…” He sighed, and for a moment, Keith thought he might pull away. Instead, Lance leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, a little more tentative this time, but the fire was still there, crackling beneath the surface.
Keith’s heart pounded in his chest as he kissed him back, a slow, lingering moment that seemed to stretch out forever. And yet, everything inside him was telling him to go further, to close the gap, to feel more of Lance. But even in this instant, he couldn’t help but feel that nagging uncertainty, that worry that something was off, that they were stepping too close to something they weren’t ready for yet.
Lance’s fingers brushed through his hair again, tugging him closer, and it was like an electric current shot through his body. Everything in him responded to the pull of Lance’s touch. He opened his mouth slightly against Lance’s, but that small movement broke the spell.
Keith pulled back abruptly, his breath coming in uneven bursts. His eyes locked with Lance’s, both of them panting, as if they had just run a marathon. The tension was thick, buzzing between them, but something inside Keith told him they needed to slow down. This wasn’t just about the moment—they had to think through this.
“I—uh, not here. Ok? I… this is— look let's head back to the house? I promise not to leave you hanging.” Keith said, his voice hoarse as he gave a shaky smile. He stood, moving quickly to grab his helmet, his hands a little unsteady as he fumbled with the straps.
Lance seemed to hesitate, then nodded, his lips still slightly swollen from the kiss. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” he said quietly. He didn’t say anything else as he slipped off the edge of the bike and moved to stand beside it, running a hand through his hair.
Neither of them spoke as they climbed onto the bike, the weight of their unsaid words hanging heavy in the space between them. Keith started the engine, the low growl of it filling the air, and slowly revved it. Lance was silent behind him, his arms wrapped securely around Keith’s waist. But Keith could feel the way Lance was holding on, and the way his chest was pressed to his back. Everything about it felt like a promise.
The ride was different this time. It wasn’t just the thrill of the open desert that made Keith’s heart race; it was the way Lance’s breath seemed to match his own. The way the air felt heavier, the dust settling in the cracks of their shared silence. They didn’t speak again until they were almost home, just the sound of the wind and the roar of the motorcycle under them.
As they pulled back into the house, Keith killed the engine, his hands gripping the handlebars tightly for a moment. When Lance dismounted, Keith took a second to steady himself, the weight of what had happened settling in. He startled as Lance gently squeezed his knee, looking nervous but excited.
“You coming mullet?” He asked with a small smile.
“Of course.” Keith said, his voice sounding distant. He slid off the bike and let Lance grab his hand, pulling him past the porch and inside.
Lance closed the door behind them, the moment they crossed the threshold feeling like it belonged to them and only them. There was no turning back from this. Keith’s pulse raced as he turned to face Lance, who was still standing near the door, leaning against the frame.
Keith’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Lance stepped forward, slowly, cautiously, but with that same fire still in his eyes. “Keith…” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.
Keith closed the gap between them, his hands finding Lance’s waist as he pulled him in. The kiss was slow at first, tentative. But soon, it became more desperate, as if they both knew they couldn’t hold back anymore. Their bodies were pressed together, the heat between them growing, the tension becoming unbearable.
Lance’s hands roamed to Keith’s shoulders, pulling him even closer, and Keith moaned softly as his fingers tangled in Lance’s hair. It was too much and not enough all at once, their lips crashing together, their bodies moving instinctively.
Keith was dizzy with it, with the need for more. He pulled away just long enough to glance at Lance, his chest heaving. “Lance…” His voice was raw, desperate, filled with a need he couldn’t fully articulate.
Lance’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes dark with want, but there was something else there too. A quiet understanding, as if they both knew this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.
Without a word, Lance kissed him again, and Keith didn’t resist, didn’t pull away. This time, when they came up for air, Lance’s eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes, as if silently asking for permission. Keith nodded, and that was all the answer Lance needed.
The tension broke in that instant, and Keith could feel it. There was no turning back. And, maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to. Lips hardly straying from each other as their hands roamed furiously, the two stumbled through the house, knocking things off the counter and bumping into the door as they found the bedroom.
Lance’s tongue slid across Keith’s lower lip, his hands moving from the sides of his face down to his neck and shoulders. Keith leaned into it, opening his mouth to let him in, breathing heavily into the kiss.
It was terrifying, yet exhilarating. His grip on Lance’s shoulders was definitely too harsh, but Lance didn’t seem to notice, too busy exploring every inch of Keith’s mouth with his tongue.
Keith sucked in a breath as Lance pulled away, pressing hot open mouthed kisses along his jaw and cheek. His hands had moved from Keith’s shoulders to his sides, trailing downward as his fingertips brushed under the waistband of Keith’s pants. He felt his breath hitch and he grabbed Lance’s wrists.
“Lance.” Keith muttered, forcing himself to pull back, “H-hold on.”
Lance stopped immediately, face flushed, hair a mess from Keith’s hands. His eyes creased with concern, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothings wrong.” Keith couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to fix a piece of his curls, “I just… I don’t…”
Lance leaned his forehead against Keith’s temple, “Alright. Keith I never… look this is amazing, and I would thoroughly enjoy continuing what we’re doing here, but I don’t want to do anything you aren’t 100% sure about.”
Keith felt the words lodge in his throat. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad. But the small anxious voice in the back of his mind kept whispering.
It’s temporary. This has to end at some point or another. We’re both just confused and emotional and-
He told the voice to shut up.
“I want this.” He breathed, fingers curling through Lance’s hair, “I swear. Please.”
Lance kissed both his cheeks, hands now firmly on Keith’s hips, “Ok. Me too.”
Keith smiled shakily as the kisses trailed across his face, the two of them tangled up in each other. He let his hands wander, sliding under the back of Lance’s shirt, heart racing. He was really warm to the touch.
“Do you want to help me take that off?” Lance smiled against his mouth.
“You really have to ask?”
“Always cariño.” Lance grinned, sliding his shirt off easily before burying his nose in Keith’s neck, kissing up, down, left and right. Keith closed his eyes and just let himself enjoy it as his hands roamed Lance’s smooth expanse of skin.
His shirt came off easily within the next few minutes and they fell onto the bed with Keith against the headboard, Lance straddling him carefully as he dutifully left a hickey on his collarbone. Which Keith may have liked more than he wanted to admit. Just a little.
He hooked his fingers through Lance’s belt loops with one hand, the other hand lifting his head to kiss him firmly, confidence building as time went on. Lance made a surprised noise in the back of his throat but practically melted into Keith, hands sliding into his hair.
“You really can’t keep your hands out of it can you?” Keith murmured with a smile.
“Like you want me to stop.” Lance huffed, tugging on a long strand lightly, causing Keith to laugh before leaning in to kiss him again. After a moment Lance seemed to decide something and readjusted on top of Keith, pressing his hips into Keith’s in a little teasing motion.
Keith nearly bit down on Lance’s tongue in surprise, but as a tendril of heat snaked through him he dared to fire back, rolling his hips up in a similar movement. He’s glad he opened his eyes because the look on Lance’s face was breathtaking.
Lance daringly wedged his knee between Keith’s legs, his lips crashing repeatedly against his, his touch sinful as he tugged on Keith’s hair.
“You are wearing far too many clothes right now.” Lance mumbled, fumbling with the button on Keith’s jeans.
“And whose fault is that?” Keith teased, tugging his pants down as Lance hovered over him, sliding the jean’s past his ankles. “You shoved me on the bed before we could strip.”
“Don’t play the blame game with me right now mullet, I’m a man on a mission.” Lance smirked.
Keith laughed loudly at that, “A mission to get into my pants apparently.”
“I’m one for the long game.”
Keith grinned as his face flushed and pulled off his boxers before helping Lance out of his own, kissing up and down his neck and chest as hands roamed teasingly. Both his and Lance’s hands couldn’t seem to stay still, determined to touch every inch of skin they could reach. He felt his nerves dissipate, the anxiety looming in the back of his mind retreat as the only thing in his thoughts was just Lance .
He had to remind himself to breathe as Lance used the aforementioned hands to tug on Keith’s hair again, silently prompting him to sit back. His back hit the headboard once more and he watched with a mix of apprehension and excitement as Lance leaned forward and softly kissed his collarbone. Every moment was precise and fluid as he sat on Keith’s legs, measured kisses covering his throat and shoulders. Keith couldn’t help the ragged breath that seemed to escape him as Lance’s hair brushed against the bottom of his jaw.
“You smell like vanilla.” Lance giggled, breaking the quiet of the room, his voice breathy as he laughed, “God I had forgotten you smelled like vanilla. Your room used to stink of it back on the castle.”
Keith smiled faintly, “Blame Allura. She got me the oil from the Gyrodian market. Something about ‘smelling bad after training’ just seemed right to keep using it after we left.”
“She was right.” Lance smirked, lifting his head to kiss Keith firmly on the mouth, “On both accounts. Vanilla suits you. And so does that hickey”
Keith didn’t respond, dragging Lance’s mouth back to his as his hands wrapped around the broad shoulders bearing over him. Lance hummed into his mouth, his lanky fingers working down Keith’s sides and over his hips.
He slowly dragged his hand to tease the inside of Keith’s thigh, thumb sweeping back and forth lightly as he pulled his mouth away. Keith groaned, feeling another spike of heat in his gut. Lance can’t stop himself and gives into the flare of hunger he feels, wrapping his hand around Keith’s length, the feeling increasing as Keith gives a choked gasp.
Keith felt himself tremble, his fingers digging into Lance’s back as he tried to reorient himself. His thoughts were fleeting and emotions high. And yet he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so good. He jolted as Lance began to stroke him, somewhat clumsily as Keith realized his hands were shaking too.
“L-like this.” he stuttered, putting his hand over Lance’s and guiding his movements in a way that made him bite back an embarrassingly loud moan.
“Got it.” Lance murmured. Keith nearly had a heart attack when Lance brushed his thumb over his tip, entire body jerking forward in surprise and pleasure.
“Shit Lance.” he rasped.
Lance exhaled shakily, face flushed as he looked up to meet Keith’s eyes. “You are so beautiful, you know?” he whispered.
“I lo-” Keith would forever be grateful his words were cut off as Lance twisted his fingers in a way that felt particularly good, causing him to gasp and groan in pleasure. He had almost said I love you during sex. Dear lord, he needed something to shut him up. So without thinking he pushed himself up and slammed his lips back into Lance’s messy and slightly off target but it worked. Lance leaned into it heavily, a low noise pulled from the back of his throat as Keith moved his hands south to grab and grope at Lance’s ass.
“ Fuck Keith,” Lance gasps, the sound trailing off into a quiet moan.
“Oh god, the sound you just made,” Keith muttered, “Shit that was hot.”
Keith feels his patience run thin and he rolls Lance onto his back, now on top and begins grinding down jerkily, his tongue and teeth running all over Lance’s throat and collarbone.
“Keith holy fuck…” Lance splutters, one of his legs hooking around Keiths.
They find a sloppy but pleasant rhythm, the friction between their sweaty slicked bodies a little too rough, but neither of them cared much in the moment. Lance is breathing harder now, his entire body flushed and Keith feels his own tipping point getting closer and closer as he watches with fascination and hunger.
Desperate noises escape both of them as Keith’s hips begin to jerk unevenly. Lance’s face is pinched, his eyes closed and mouth agape. His lips are swollen and pink from their rough kissing, the hickey on his neck begging for another one to accompany it. Keith falls forward, chest heaving because if that isn’t the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen he isn’t sure what is.
“Lance, I’m not going to last…” He says gruffly, his entire body overheating.
“I-I know, m-me either.” Lance stuttered, one hand digging into the sheets and the other in Lance’s hair.
The heat builds and builds and builds and coils until Keith can feel himself hit his limit. The noises Lance is making grow and with an explosion of pleasure in his abdomen Keith finishes first, every muscle locking into place. Hearing the strangled shout Keith makes as he finishes pushes Lance over the edge, burying his nose into Keith’s neck as he follows him over the edge moments later. Keith all but collapses into Lance, the two of them clinging to each other tiredly, covered in sweat and smiling dopily.
“That was the hottest thing ever.” Lance pants. “So fucking hot.”
Keith nodded in agreement, not sure if he even had a voice to use anymore.
Lance lazily pressed a couple more kisses to Keith’s jaw and cheek, wrapping his arms around his back “You are something else Red.”
Keith just turned into him, exhausted and content as his energy began to slip away.
“I would say we should go take a shower, but I don’t know if it will fit the two of us.” Lance said with a smile, “And I don’t know that I can really feel my legs right now.”
“Shower tomorrow.” Keith murmured tiredly. “Just stay here for a minute.”
“You got it.” Keith felt another kiss against his temple before pure exhaustion overcame him and he succumbed to sleep.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bz. Bz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
Keith groggily forced his eyes open, a faint buzzing noise drawing him from his peaceful dreams. He glanced over and saw Lance still dead asleep, partially under him. He smiled privately and instinctively tightened his grip on him.
Bzzz. bzzz. Bz. Bz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
The comm. He felt a small spike of anxiety and carefully slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Lance before throwing on a shirt and some shorts and exiting the room as quietly as possible.
He hurried over to the bookshelf and pulled out the comm, hardly noticing as the photo of him and his dad fluttered to the floor. It was a hologram call from Shiro. He debated picking up at first but it was decided for him when suddenly Shiro, Pidge, Hunk and Allura and Coran projected from the small device.
“Guys!” He whisper-yelled, “What the hell?”
Pidge looked relieved as she explained (louder than Keith would have preferred as he glanced towards the bedroom door), “Thank god. We’ve been trying to reach you for thirty minutes!”
“I was asleep.” Keith explained, rubbing his eyes, “What’s going on? I thought I told you I would update you when I can.”
Shiro and Allura exchanged a look that made his gut clench, “We need you back on base. A wave of Galra insurgents has cropped up near New Altea in protest. Kolivan means to send a mission and needs you to lead it.”
“I can’t leave yet.” Keith protest, “Lance needs me-”
“That’s why you have to bring him with you.” Hunk said desperately, “Please Keith this has gone on long enough. I know Lance, what he needs is to be with his family and friends again. He isolates when he’s upset, but always feels better once he comes back.”
“This isn’t like previous experiences.” Keith argues, his frustration bubbling, “Only Lance knows what he needs right now, and he needs more time.”
“How much more?” Allura interjects, “Please Keith. Everyone is worried about him and we simply think that we could be of help if he could come back-”
“I’m not dragging him back against his will.” Keith said firmly.
Shiro dragged a hand down his face, “And what about you Keith? You’ve been gone almost as long as Lance now. What do you want?”
Keith faltered. He wanted to stay here. With Lance. But, he knew he had responsibilities elsewhere. If there really was another revolt beginning, so close to their friends home, he had to help right? And yet the very thought made him dizzy.
Shiro misinterpreted his expression, “Exactly. Both of you need to come home. If you won’t tell us where you are, Pidge will triangulate your location.”
“No, no please let me-” Keith’s voice cracked. “I’ll talk to him. Try to see what I can do. One more day, please.”
His friends all glanced at each other and finally Coran chimed in, looking sad. “We trust you Keith. And we trust Number 3. We simply want him to be ok.”
The others nodded in agreement. “One more day Keith.” Allura sighed, “We need you two.”
Keith swallowed down the burning sensation in his throat, “Ok.”
One by one the team disappeared from the projection until just Coran was left. “Keith, I don’t think any of us can say what is best for Lance, but I do think you are the one who he really needs right now.”
Keith felt his eyes water and blinked harshly, “I don’t know anymore Coran. I thought I could help but this is just so complicated and messy and I can’t tell anymore if I’m being selfish by staying, or hurting him more.”
Coran smiles sadly, “You have always had a strange connection with him. Seen him in a different light than the others. I think if anyone can help, it's you Number 4. Protect him. I will try to calm the others and give you more time. It will only be detrimental to force Lance to return before he’s ready.”
“Thanks.” Keith whispered, unable to express his true gratitude.
“Send me your coordinates so I can keep an eye on things.” Coran said. He saw Keith’s expression and quickly interjected, “I won’t tell the others.”
“Ok.” Keith sniffed, “Thanks Coran.”
“Anytime.” The older man smiled and then the projection blinked away, leaving him in the dark once more.
He wiped away the lingering tears and with shaky hands typed, deleted and retyped their coordinates. He hesitated another moment before sending them off, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.
“Keith?” A quiet voice sliced through the thick silence, and Keith’s blood ran cold. His heart sank into his stomach as he opened his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the doorway, Lance looked small, vulnerable—his expression a mixture of hurt and disbelief, making Keith’s chest tighten painfully. “What are you doing?”
The words felt like a slap, and Keith’s hand trembled as he quickly dropped the comm. “Lance, I... it’s not what you think.”
Lance’s gaze flickered down, taking in the comm still glowing brightly in the darkness, and his face crumpled. Keith couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t find the right words to explain.
Lance wore his favorite sweatshirt, still rumpled from sleep, and boxers hanging loosely around his hips. His eyes were wide, desperate for answers. He moved toward the comm with slow, deliberate steps, and Keith’s stomach twisted at the sight of Lance’s hands trembling as he picked it up.
“You told the others where we are?” Lance’s voice broke, soft but sharp, carrying a weight of pain that made Keith flinch. “You... you promised you wouldn’t tell them.”
“I know, I’m so sorry,” Keith said, his voice tight with regret. His chest felt heavy as he rushed to explain. “It’s just Coran, he’s the only one who knows, I swear.”
Lance’s eyes flickered toward Keith, his expression a cocktail of hurt and disbelief. “I heard you talking,” he said, blinking rapidly, like he was trying to clear away the tears that were beginning to spill down his cheeks. “You were going to take me back.”
Keith’s heart lurched painfully in his chest. “No. No, you misunderstood, Lance—I would never—”
“You LIED to me,” Lance choked out, dropping the comm as though it were burning him. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “After everything, I thought I could trust you, and you lied.”
Keith’s throat constricted. He moved toward Lance, desperate to bridge the growing gap, but Lance recoiled, eyes wild with hurt. “Please, Lance, I didn’t mean to—”
“I don’t care!” Lance shouted, his voice cracking like glass. “I trusted you! How long has this been going on?”
Keith froze. His mind went blank for a moment, and then the words fell from his lips before he could stop them. “Since we kissed. The first time. Maybe even before then.”
Lance’s eyes widened, his whole body visibly shaking. “Maybe?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Or was it before then?”
“Before,” Keith whispered, his self-loathing flooding in. “The first message... it was to your family.”
Lance stumbled backward, hands shaking as he covered his face. Keith reached out instinctively, but Lance shoved him away violently. The hurt in his eyes sliced through Keith’s chest. “Get out,” Lance said, his voice hoarse, trembling.
“What?” Keith felt as if the floor had disappeared beneath him. His heart beat like a drum, thudding painfully in his chest.
“I said GET OUT!” Lance yelled, “You agreed, the moment I asked you to leave you would. Well, I’m not asking. Leave.”
“Lance please!”
“Get OUT!” Lance yelled, his voice breaking. The tears in his eyes were unbearable. “I don’t want you here anymore! You lied to me! You kept things from me!”
Keith felt a sudden wave of anger flare up, as if it were the only thing keeping him from crumbling under the weight of it all. His voice was sharp, tinged with frustration. “Yeah? Well, what about you?” His words came out harsher than he intended, but it was like a reflex—a defense against the vulnerability he couldn’t bear. “You haven’t been totally honest with me either!”
Lance stopped, frowning. “What?” His voice was laced with confusion, then anger.
“The photo,” Keith said, his voice trembling with a mixture of pain and rage. He pointed down to the photo on the floor, his fingers twitching as he snatched it up. He waved it in front of Lance, his emotions rising uncontrollably. “I asked you, damn it! I asked if there was anything of mine left here, and you lied! But look at this!” He shoved the photo toward Lance. “You knew I didn’t have much left from my dad. You know how important that was to me. And you still kept it from me!”
Lance’s face drained of color, as if Keith’s words had physically struck him. He took a shaky step back, hands trembling. “Keith, hold on, that’s not the same—”
“No,” Keith interrupted, his voice shaking with suppressed fury. “It’s exactly the same, Lance! You said you trusted me, but here you are, hiding things from me, lying just like I did!” He couldn’t stop the words. He didn’t even want to. “You’re a hypocrite.”
Lance’s expression faltered, the hurt in his eyes deepening, and Keith immediately regretted it. This was all going so wrong. The guilt gnawed at him. “Lance, I didn’t—”
“No,” Lance’s voice was barely above a whisper now, shaking and raw. “I don’t want to hear it. I just… I just need you to go.”
Keith’s chest constricted painfully. “Lance, please,” he pleaded, taking a step toward him. “Let’s talk about this. I’ll explain everything, just please—”
“No!” Lance shouted again, tears now streaming freely down his face. He stood there, chest heaving with emotion, eyes burning with fury and sorrow. “Just get out. You lied to me, Keith. After everything, you lied.”
“Fine.” Keith felt resentment bubble in his chest as he spat out the word. “Fine. Consider me gone.”
He grabbed the comm, his photo and stumbled into the bedroom, grabbing his jacket and various items he didn’t really need before rushing out of the house. Huge choking sobs climbed up his throat as he shoved his helmet over his head, climbing onto his bike. He didn’t dare look back at the house as he started up the motorcycle, vision blurred with heartache and regret. He pulled away from the little oasis he never wanted to leave in the first place, the small cactus Lance had bought for him placed carefully in the pocket of his backpack.
Something had to break. He just didn’t know what it was going to be. And for the first time, he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold it all together after it shattered.
Notes:
I'm so sorry guys.
Chapter Text
The roar of the motorcycle echoed through the empty desert roads, loud enough to drown out the thoughts that had been suffocating Keith since he left. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. In reality, the thoughts were louder than ever, clawing at the edges of his mind and seeping into every breath he took.
Lance’s voice still rang in his ears, trembling with hurt and fury.
"I trusted you… and you lied!"
"I don’t want you here anymore!"
The words replayed like a broken record, each repetition sharper than the last. Keith’s grip tightened on the handlebars, his knuckles white. His chest felt hollow, like something vital had been ripped out of him and left to bleed dry.
He had promised Lance he wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d sworn it. And yet, in his misguided attempts to help, he’d broken that trust. He had lied, even if it was with the best of intentions. And now, the only place that had ever started to feel like home—the person who had begun to feel like home—was gone.
A lump rose in his throat, hot and suffocating. He blinked furiously, the cold desert air stinging his eyes.
I should’ve explained better. I should’ve fought harder to stay. Why didn’t I just listen to him?
The horizon blurred as he sped down the winding roads, the bike’s engine roaring like the storm inside his chest. By the time the flickering neon sign of the Desert Rose Motel came into view, the ache in his chest had grown unbearable.
The building looked as worn out as he felt. The paint was peeling, and the parking lot was riddled with cracks and weeds. The faint hum of a buzzing streetlamp provided the only light aside from the sign. Keith sighed, pulling into the lot and killing the engine. He sat there for a moment, helmet in hand, staring at the shabby building in front of him.
This is perfect, he thought bitterly.
He dragged himself off the bike and headed toward the front desk, boots scuffing against the cracked pavement. The door creaked loudly as he pushed it open, revealing a cramped lobby dimly lit by a flickering fluorescent bulb. The air smelled faintly of mildew and something faintly floral, probably from the ancient air freshener stuck to the wall.
The old man behind the counter glanced up, his thick glasses catching the dim light. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” the man said, his tone light but not unkind.
Keith hesitated, then muttered, “Yeah, something like that.” He dug into his pocket for cash, his movements stiff.
“You need a single or a double?” the man asked, leaning on the counter.
“Single.” Keith handed over the money without looking up.
The man slid a key across the counter. “Room 5. Down on the left. Don’t mind the peeling wallpaper—it’s got charm.”
Keith grunted in acknowledgment and took the key, heading out into the still, pre-dawn air. The room was as bad as he expected. The carpet was stained, the bedspread threadbare, and the faint smell of mildew lingered in the corners. He didn’t care.
Dropping his helmet onto the floor with a hollow thud, Keith sat heavily on the bed. His head hung low, hands gripping his thighs as if grounding himself would keep him from spiraling further.
Lance kicked me out.
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just that they had fought—it was the finality of Lance’s words, the way he had looked at Keith like he was a stranger. Or worse, a friend. If he could even still be called that.
Keith’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe through the crushing weight of it all. He’d been yelled at before. He’d been rejected, abandoned, even hated. But this? This was different. This was Lance, the person who had given him warmth and laughter and something he hadn’t even realized he was searching for.
I ruined it.
The tears came without warning, hot and unwelcome. He swiped at them angrily, but they kept coming, blurring his vision until all he could see were the cracks in the ceiling above him.
He lay back, staring at the faintly glowing numbers on the cheap alarm clock. It was past 4 a.m., but the thought of sleep felt impossible. The bed felt foreign, empty. Keith had gotten used to Lance being nearby, to the sound of his breathing or the warmth of his presence. Now, the silence pressed down on him like a weight he couldn’t escape.
"I don’t want you here anymore."
The words echoed in the stillness, tearing at what little resolve he had left. He wanted to scream, to punch the wall, to drive back and beg Lance to take him in again. But he couldn’t. He’d made this mess, and Lance deserved better than his half-hearted explanations and misplaced anger.
Eventually, Keith kicked off his boots and turned onto his side, staring at the wall. His hands fisted the scratchy sheets, his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t untangle.
He hated himself for how things had ended. But even more than that, he hated how much he missed Lance already.
Keith woke up to the weak rays of afternoon sunlight filtering through the broken blinds. His body felt heavy, weighed down by the sleepless night and the emotional storm he’d barely weathered. He blinked groggily at the peeling wallpaper, the events of the previous night rushing back to him like a dam breaking.
Lance’s face, his anger, his heartbreak—it all came crashing down again. Keith groaned, burying his face in the pillow. He’d stayed up most of the night, replaying every second of their fight, dissecting every word, every choice. None of it made him feel any better.
When his stomach let out a loud growl, Keith forced himself to sit up. His eyes darted to the clock. It was almost 2 p.m. He’d slept the day away, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to be. The thought twisted his stomach into knots, and his first instinct was to grab his jacket and head back to Lance’s house.
He froze. The idea made his chest tighten and his hands tremble. How could he go back now? What would he even say?
Sorry I lied and broke your trust, but please let me stay because I’m hopelessly in love with you and don’t want to live without you anymore?
Keith’s stomach churned at the thought. He couldn’t face Lance, not after how badly he’d screwed up. And the others? If they knew what had happened—knew he’d made everything worse—they’d be disappointed, too. Shiro especially.
He groaned again, this time louder, and rubbed his face with his hands. “Get a grip, Kogane.”
But the pep talk didn’t help.
Feeling restless and starved, he decided food might be the only thing to distract him. He tugged on his jacket and boots, grabbed his wallet, and headed for the front desk.
The motel owner was there, seated behind the counter and sipping coffee from a chipped mug with a cat on it. He looked up as Keith approached, grinning wide. “Afternoon, sleepyhead. Thought you might’ve skipped town.”
Keith frowned. “No. Just… needed a place to crash.”
The owner nodded knowingly, setting his mug down. “Figured as much. Folks who end up here usually do. What can I do for you?”
“I’m starving,” Keith admitted. “Know any good places to eat around here?”
The old man chuckled. “Good? No. But decent? There’s a diner about ten minutes from here. Real greasy, real cheap. Perfect for wallowing.”
Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Sounds about right. Thanks.”
He turned to leave, but the owner’s voice stopped him.
“You wanna talk about it?”
Keith stiffened, his shoulders tensing. “About what?”
The man tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Whatever’s got you looking like a kicked puppy. Don’t worry—I’m not nosy. Just good at reading people.”
Keith hesitated, his hand lingering on the door. Part of him wanted to brush the man off, to say it was none of his business and move on. But another part of him—the part that felt like he was sinking in quicksand—craved an outlet.
Finally, he turned back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I had a fight. With someone important.”
The man leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “And now you’re here, licking your wounds?”
“Something like that.” Keith sighed, stepping closer to the counter. “I screwed up. Bad. And I don’t think I can fix it.”
The man nodded, his expression thoughtful. “What’d you do?”
Keith hesitated again, then sighed. “I lied. Broke their trust. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… it doesn’t matter. I hurt them.” His voice grew quieter. “And they told me to leave.”
The man’s eyes softened. “Oof. That’s rough, kid.” He sipped his coffee, then added, “Do you wanna fix it?”
Keith’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Of course I do!”
“Then stop beating yourself up and figure out how.”
Keith frowned. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is,” the man said, shrugging. “You go back. You say you’re sorry—not the half-assed kind, but the real deal. You admit you messed up, tell ’em why you did it, and then you shut up and let ’em yell at you if they need to. And if they don’t wanna hear it? You wait. And if you’re real lucky, you’ll get a chance to tell ’em something else.”
Keith tilted his head, confused. “Something else?”
“That you love ’em,” the man said simply.
Keith froze. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He was easier to read than he thought.
“I screwed up so bad.” He clenched his fist, feeling the guilt threaten to overwhelm him. “I love him so much and I just had to go and mess things up.”
“Take it from me, kid,” the man continued. “Life’s too short to let love slip away because you’re scared or too proud. You care about this person, right?”
Keith nodded slowly.
“Then go back and fight for them. Fix it.”
Keith stared at the man for a long moment, his chest tight. Finally, he nodded again, this time with more conviction. “Thanks.”
The old man grinned. “Don’t mention it. Now go grab a bite and get your head straight. You’ll need it.”
Keith left the motel with the man’s words ringing in his ears. He wasn’t sure if he could fix everything, but he couldn’t give up now. He had to try. Even if he was sure he didn’t deserve to ever have Lance look his way again.
He made it down the road to the diner, bought a cheap and greasy lunch, devouring it in one go. He was starving after missing breakfast, and the emotional turmoil in his gut messing with his appetite.
He needed to apologize to Lance. His friend deserved that much at least. He was so much more than a friend at this point though. He needed to do this right.
He sat there, brainstorming an apology for a long time, scribbling and crossing out multiple ideas on the napkin beside him.
“You writing your next one hit wonder, or trying to destroy that napkin in the messiest way possible?” someone asked, amused. He glanced behind him and saw an older woman watching him with a small smile.
“Just trying to figure out something for a friend.” Keith said, his voice catching on the last word.
The woman tilted her head, her smile softening. She slid into the booth across from him, uninvited but not unwelcome. She had a motherly air about her, the kind that made Keith’s defenses falter just a bit.
“Must be some friend if you’re pouring your soul out on diner napkins,” she said, nodding toward the mess of scribbles and crossed-out lines.
Keith glanced down at the ruined napkin and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. He’s… important.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, leaning her chin on her hand. “Important how?”
Keith hesitated, his cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s… complicated.”
She chuckled, a knowing sound. “Ah, complicated. The universal code for ‘I have no idea what we are, but I know I care too much.’”
Keith’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Yeah. That’s about right.”
The woman leaned back, crossing her arms. “Well, what’d you do? Must’ve been something big if you’re stuck here trying to craft the perfect apology.”
Keith winced, his shoulders slumping. “I lied to him. About something important. I thought I was protecting him, but… I broke his trust. And now he hates me.”
“Hmm,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table. “Hates you, huh? Did he say that?”
Keith frowned, the memory of Lance’s angry words flashing through his mind. “No, but he told me to leave. He doesn’t want me around anymore.”
The woman shook her head. “There’s a difference between being angry and hating someone, you know. Sounds like he’s hurt, not that he’s written you off for good.”
Keith swallowed hard, her words hitting a little too close to home. “Maybe. But what if I can’t fix it? What if I’ve already messed things up too much?”
She gave him a stern look, the kind that reminded him of Shiro when he was trying to knock some sense into him. “You don’t get to decide that for him. All you can do is try. And from the way you’re tearing up those napkins, I’d say you care enough to give it your all.”
Keith stared at her, the weight of her words settling over him. She was right. He couldn’t just give up. Lance deserved more than that.
“Any advice?” he asked, his voice quiet.
She smiled warmly. “Apologies aren’t about perfect words, kid. They’re about honesty. Tell him what you feel—why you did what you did, why it matters to you to make things right. And if you care about him—and I think you do—don’t be afraid to let that show. Vulnerability goes a long way.”
Keith nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning. “Thanks.”
She patted his hand as she stood up. “Good luck, sweetheart. And don’t wait too long. Sometimes the best thing you can do is show up. Keep it personal- something that will only work for you and them. Of course, just saying sorry helps too in my experience.”
Keith watched her leave, her words ringing in his ears. He glanced down at the napkin, the mess of crossed-out phrases and half-finished sentences. Taking a deep breath, he folded it up and stuffed it into his pocket.
It wasn’t perfect. But it didn’t have to be.
He paid for his meal and stepped outside, an idea flickering in the back of his mind.
He sat on the edge of his ratty motel bed, fingers tight with a white knuckle grip on his comm. He’d already talked himself out of this call twice, but the knot in his stomach just wouldn’t go away. He needed help, and he knew who he needed to call. It just meant owning up to his mistakes, which was harder than he thought it would be.
With a shaky exhale he hit the call button and Shiro’s face popped up a second later.
“Hey Keith,” Shiro smiled, Adam popping up over his shoulder, “Everything go ok when you talked to Lance? Are you coming home?”
Keith felt his face crumple as the emotions hit him all over again. Shiro’s smile faltered immediately, concern flashing across his face. “Keith? What’s wrong?”
Keith’s throat felt tight, his grip on the comm trembling as he forced himself to speak. “It didn’t go okay,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Not even close.”
“Walk me through it.” Shiro prompted gently. Keith took a deep breath, trying to wrangle in his guilt once more.
“He… he didn’t know I’d been in contact with you all. I promised him, Shiro. I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone where he was, and I broke that promise. Last night, after you logged off, he overheard me talking to Coran. I didn’t even realize he was standing there until it was too late. He saw the message with our coordinates—saw everything—and the look on his face…” Keith’s voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.
“He asked me how long I’d been lying to him. I couldn’t even answer right away. I tried to explain, but he didn’t want to hear it. He was so hurt, Shiro. He said I betrayed his trust, and he’s right. I did. And then… he kicked me out. Told me to leave. And I—” Keith broke off, squeezing his eyes shut as if that could block out the memory. “I can’t even blame him. I promised I wouldn’t do exactly what I did.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his grip on the comm tightening. “He’s been through so much already, Shiro. I knew how much he needed to feel safe, like he had control over something. And I just… tore that away from him. All because I thought I was helping. I wasn’t thinking about what it would mean to him. I wasn’t thinking about him at all. I should have never come out here in the first place.”
Shiro’s face softened immediately, guilt flickering behind his eyes as he listened to Keith. He ran a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Adam set his hand on his shoulder, expression quiet and thoughtful.
“Keith…” he began, his voice low and regretful. “I didn’t realize how much pressure I was putting on you—or on Lance. When we talked about convincing you both to come back, I thought… I don’t know, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you needed us to step in, that we could help somehow. But I should’ve trusted you to handle it. I didn’t think about how complicated this must have been for you, for him. It must have been really hard, and I’m sorry that I contributed to this mess. But we’ll help make things right. You just have to take it one step at a time.”
Keith glanced away, his jaw tightening, “He probably hates me now. Trust means everything to him, and I may as well have taken it and thrown it out.”
“Keith… you didn’t do this out of malice. You were trying to balance everything—help us stay connected while still keeping his trust. That’s not an easy line to walk. And yeah, you made a mistake. But mistakes don’t mean it’s over.” Adam said reassuringly.
Keith’s throat tightened, but he managed to nod. “It feels like it is. He looked at me like I’d destroyed everything. I don’t know how to fix that. What if I can’t?”
Shiro shook his head firmly. “You can. Keith, if there’s anyone who can fight through something this messy, it’s you. But you need to give Lance some time and space first. He’s hurt, and he’s processing everything. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you—it means he needs a moment to figure out how to handle what he’s feeling.”
Keith exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how to give him that. I’m not exactly patient when it comes to—” He broke off, his voice catching.
“When it comes to the people you love,” Shiro finished for him, his tone gentle. “You care about him, Keith. More than you probably even realize. And that’s exactly why you’re going to figure this out. Because Lance is more than worth it, isn’t he?”
Keith swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. He is.”
Shiro’s expression softened even further, his own guilt clear in his eyes. “Then start with this: forgive yourself. It’s not going to fix everything overnight, but if you keep beating yourself up, you’ll never be able to take the steps you need to take. And Keith… if there’s any part of Lance that feels the same way about you? He’ll forgive you too. You just have to give him a reason to.”
“Thanks Shiro.” Keith said softly.
“Anytime buddy. Afterall, it’s not everyday you watch your little brother fall in love.” Shiro gave a sideways smile.
Keith spluttered, his face turning a curious shade of pink, “What? I’m not… I don’t know… shut up Shiro.”
Shiro and Adam laughed, and Keith found himself smiling, “You are awful. Both of you. Perfect for each other.”
“Why thank you.” Adam grinned.
“Now,” Shiro said with a dramatic clap of his hands, his grin annoyingly wide, “Welcome to How to Apologize to the Love of Your Life 101! ”
Keith groaned, slumping back against the bed. “Please, for the love of everything, call it literally anything else.”
“Nope. Sorry. This is non-negotiable,” Shiro replied, completely unbothered. “Don’t worry, Keith. I’m practically an expert at this.”
“Are you?” Adam interjected, raising an eyebrow as he leaned casually against the back of Shiro’s chair, arms crossed.
Shiro faltered, his bravado dimming just a little. “I mean… yeah? Right? I’m good at this. I think I’m good at this.”
Adam’s smile turned sly as he leaned in slightly. “Luckily, yes. But only because you’ve had a lot of practice apologizing, Mr. Shirogane.”
Shiro turned to give him a mock glare. “Okay, that’s uncalled for.”
Adam smirked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “No, what’s uncalled for is all the times you forgot to text me you were alive during the war, or when you didn’t tell me you signed up for Atlas without discussing it. Or—”
“Point made!” Shiro cut in, holding up his hands in surrender, though the corners of his mouth twitched with a smile.
Keith watched the banter unfold, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Their ease with each other was such a stark contrast to the knot of tension he and Lance had left things on. He suddenly felt out of place, like an intruder on something too stable and perfect for him to grasp.
Shiro caught the look on his face and sobered quickly. “Hey, Keith,” he said gently, his voice softer now. “I know it feels like you’ve dug a hole too deep to climb out of, but you haven’t. Lance cares about you. You just need to show him you’re willing to put in the work to make things right.”
Keith nodded, but the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s not just an apology—it’s everything. I broke his trust. That’s not something you can fix with a few words.”
“You’re right,” Adam said, stepping into the conversation. “Trust takes time to rebuild, but it’s not impossible. You need to be honest—really honest—and patient. Show him that you respect his boundaries and that you’re willing to make up for your mistakes.”
“And,” Shiro added, “maybe do something that shows you were thinking about him. Lance loves… well, Lance loves when people go the extra mile. It doesn’t have to be big or dramatic—just something that’s thoughtful.”
Keith blinked, thinking back to the small cactus now sitting on his nightstand, or the flowers the two of them had planted in the backyard over the weeks, and the way Lance had meticulously rearranged things until the space felt warm and alive.
“He likes little things,” Keith said slowly, his mind starting to turn.
“Exactly,” Shiro said with an encouraging nod. “Lean into that. Show him you know him—that you care enough to pay attention.”
Keith looked up at his brother, his expression serious but a little lighter than before. “Okay. I think I’ve got an idea.”
Shiro grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s my little brother.”
Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a faint flicker of hope beneath the exasperation. He didn’t know if his idea would work, but for the first time since Lance had kicked him out, he didn’t feel entirely hopeless. “I’m going to need some help. Though, and maybe a favor from our favorite alien princess…”
It took hours to get everything ready, but by the end, the knot in Keith’s stomach had loosened just a little, though his heart was still racing. The anxious feeling clawing at him refused to be silenced, but there was a determination in his chest now. This time, he wouldn’t back down. Not when it came to Lance.
Keith had hesitated before reaching out to the team, unsure of what they'd think or how they'd react. But once he explained everything, the weight of keeping it all inside started to lift. Their responses were immediate, overwhelming, and supportive. They didn’t judge or offer advice—at least, not the kind he didn’t want to hear. They simply offered their help, and Keith couldn’t have asked for anything more.
Within hours, the team was there—Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, Allura, and Coran—all ready to pitch in and make this work. Keith had chosen the spot earlier that day, a quiet stretch of desert with a perfect view of the stars. It was a place Lance had always loved, where they had shared small moments of peace. Keith needed it to be familiar—something that would remind Lance that this wasn’t just some grand gesture, but a reflection of what they meant to each other.
And the team didn’t hesitate for a second. They jumped into action with a shared purpose. Pidge, as expected, took control of the lighting, weaving the fairy lights from her room into the surrounding brush. Hunk, always with a knack for making things feel like home, worked on the food—tacos, grilled veggies, Lance’s favorite chocolate mousse for dessert. Allura and Coran worked together on the Altea flowers Keith had requested, placing them carefully around the site, filling the air with a sweet but subtle smell. Shiro kept everything running smoothly, directing and making sure everyone had what they needed, offering quiet support to Keith as his nerves started to get the better of him.
Keith couldn’t help but watch them all work, his hands still shaking from the weight of what was to come. It wasn’t just a picnic. This wasn’t a casual get-together—it was his chance to show Lance how much he truly cared. He was nervous, sure, but there was something in the air that felt... right. Like this was exactly what he needed to do.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Pidge teased, glancing over her shoulder as she arranged the lights. “It’s all ready. Lance will love it.”
Keith forced a smile, though the tightness in his chest still hadn’t eased. “It’s not about the setup. It’s about getting this right.”
“He’s gonna love it, Keith,” Hunk chimed in from his corner, packing up the food with quick hands. “Just breathe. You’ve got this.”
Keith nodded, but the anxiousness still lingered. He wanted this to be perfect. He needed this to be perfect. This was more than an apology. It was a promise—a declaration of how deeply he felt, how much he was willing to fight for Lance. To show him that everything they had was real. That Keith wasn’t running anymore.
As the final touches were made—blankets spread out, food carefully arranged, flowers placed just right—Keith stepped back and took it all in. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his. And it was for Lance. He slumped onto a nearby rock, dragging a hand over his face.
Hunk approached, rubbing his neck awkwardly as he sat next to Keith. “Hey, man... I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for pushing you so hard to bring Lance back. I didn’t fully understand what you two were going through.” He looked at Keith with a soft expression. “I should’ve known better.”
Pidge walked over and crossed her arms, giving him a sheepish look. “Yeah, we all should’ve. We didn’t realize how much this was hurting you. You didn’t deserve all that pressure. You should’ve been able to figure things out on your own, on your own time.”
Keith sighed but gave them both a small smile. “It’s okay. I get why you were worried. You just wanted to help.” He glanced over at the setup again. “I just... wish I hadn’t been so stupid. So scared.”
“You’re not stupid, Keith.” Pidge said, her voice unusually gentle. “You were just doing your best, like we all were.”
“And we were way off base,” Hunk added, bumping Keith’s shoulder. “But you don’t have to carry this alone, man. We’re here for you.”
Keith nodded again, grateful for their support. “I appreciate you guys having my back now. I really do.”
Pidge smirked. “Anytime. But next time we act like a bunch of idiots, I expect you to call us out on it.” She tilted her head and grinned. “Maybe even punch Hunk.”
Hunk shot her a playful glare. “Oh, so I’m the punching bag now?”
Pidge shrugged with a grin. “You know what they say—someone’s gotta take the hits.”
“I am not punching anyone,” Keith groaned, shaking his head.
Hunk pouted. “Well, fine, but if you were gonna punch someone, I hope it’s Shiro. He’s the one who made us think we could play matchmaker.”
Shiro, who had been standing at the edge of the group, overheard and walked over with a mischievous smile. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. Besides, Keith’s got this. Don’t you, buddy?”
Keith’s lips twitched upward at the teasing. “We’ll see.”
Allura came over then, her expression still a little concerned but softened by the effort they’d all put in. “How are you feeling, Keith? Is everything ready?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Keith said, glancing around. The light from the fairy lights flickered like stars casting a calming, almost magical light over the scene. He could feel his nerves starting to settle, just a little. “Thanks again, Allura. You’ve made everything look amazing. I just... I want this to mean something.”
Allura smiled warmly. “It already does, Keith. I know Lance will see how much you care. Just remember to be honest with him.”
Keith swallowed hard, his throat tightening with the weight of her words. “I will. I just hope... I hope it’s enough.”
Shiro clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this, bro. Just breathe.”
Keith smiled softly at his friends, his team, who had all pitched in to help make this possible. They weren’t just supporting him—they were showing him what it meant to be part of something bigger. To care for each other, to trust each other. It gave him a small surge of strength as he stood up, ready to face the hardest part.
“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Keith said, heading toward the house to get Lance.
“You’ve got this, Keith,” Shiro called after him, a rare sincerity in his voice. “You really do.”
Keith nodded, footsteps even as he walked. Here goes nothing.
Keith’s palms were clammy as he approached the house, the weight of everything pressing down on his chest. His thoughts were racing, heart pounding so loudly in his ears that it was hard to focus. He felt like he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life—maybe even ruin everything with Lance for good. He’d never been good at this sort of thing, and the tightness in his chest wasn’t helping.
He stopped just shy of the porch, his feet planted firmly as if some invisible force was trying to keep him from walking any further. It wasn’t until he heard the distant hum of the wind and felt the soft, cool breeze against his face that he realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled shakily, eyes downcast as his mind fought him.
Maybe Lance didn’t even want to see him right now. Maybe he should just turn around and go back to the team, to his mess of a motel room where at least he could hide away from all of this.
But the thought of walking away, of not trying to make things right, was worse than any of the fear clawing at him now. He couldn’t leave it like this. Not after everything. Not after what he’d put Lance through.
With a shaky breath, Keith finally moved, dragging his feet to the porch steps. Each one seemed to echo in the quiet night, his nerves a jumble of guilt, longing, and uncertainty. When he reached the door, he hesitated again, his hand hovering over the knocker for a long, agonizing second.
But then, with a sharp breath, he knocked.
His face was worn—too much for someone his age—eyes shadowed, jaw tight. His posture seemed to sag under the weight of exhaustion, and for a moment, Keith almost didn’t recognize him. The usual spark in Lance’s eyes was gone, replaced by a kind of weary resignation that felt like a slap to Keith’s chest. And then, that look shifted to something far worse. Anger.
“Hi,” Lance said flatly, his voice hollow with frustration, the kind Keith had heard too many times in his own mind, much less in person.
Keith’s throat went dry at the sound of it. His mind raced, and his hands trembled. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. His apology, the one he’d prepared, felt inadequate now.
Lance didn’t wait for him to figure it out. He glanced at Keith once, his gaze flicking over him like he was searching for something before stepping back into the doorway, leaning against the frame with an expression that was equal parts exhausted and defeated.
“The others here too? Waiting to try and convince me to go back?” Lance’s words hit harder than any punch.
Keith’s heart stuttered. He wanted to say something, to assure Lance that no one was there but him. But the words came out wrong, as always. “No, no Lance, I wouldn’t—” He cut himself off, trying to steady his breathing. “It’s just me. I swear.”
Lance let out a sharp exhale, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. “I’ve heard a few promises lately,” he muttered, his voice low with a mix of disbelief and pain. “Didn’t do much.”
The weight of Lance’s words hit Keith like a physical blow. He closed his eyes, squeezing the frustration and regret deep into his chest. It wasn’t enough. None of it was enough to make things right. But this, this right here, was where he had to start.
“I’m sorry,” Keith said, his voice shaking more than he intended. “I messed up. And I know it. But I want to make things right, Lance. I really do.”
Lance shifted, glancing away, the raw emotion barely masked behind his sharp exhale. “I can’t go back yet. Especially not now, Keith. You know that.”
Keith felt his heart sink even further. The distance between them seemed wider than ever, and every word he tried to say only felt like another wall between them. “I know,” he said quickly, shaking his head, “But that’s not what this is about. I’m not asking you to go back. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I talked to the others, and they get it now. They understand. No one’s pushing you. I just—” He swallowed hard, struggling to find the words that would make sense. “I just want to make it right. You deserve that at least.”
Lance’s gaze was hard, but it flickered with something softer, something just out of reach. He raised an eyebrow, not amused, but intrigued in a way that made Keith’s pulse quicken. “How?”
Keith hesitated, unsure of how to say what he was feeling. But in the end, the only way forward was to be as open as he could. So, he held out his hand. “Just... come with me. Please?”
Lance didn’t move at first, his eyes fixed on Keith’s hand like it was something foreign, something untrustworthy. For what felt like an eternity, Keith stood there, waiting, the air thick with the weight of his own desperation. The seconds dragged on, each one making him feel more like an idiot. Maybe this was another mistake. Maybe Lance was never going to forgive him.
But then, Lance sighed, a soft, reluctant sound that made Keith’s heart beat even faster. Lance stepped out onto the porch, brushing past him without taking the offered hand, his movements sharp, as if trying to shake off the emotions that still clung to him.
Keith’s chest tightened. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go, but it was the only way Lance would come with him. “Where are we going?” Lance asked, his voice still bitter, though there was a strange softness in it, too.
Keith opened his mouth, unsure of how to answer. He couldn’t tell him everything. He couldn’t make the whole plan work until they got there. “Not far,” he said finally, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “Just... follow me. Please.”
Lance gave a half-hearted shrug but didn’t argue. Keith didn’t know what he expected, but this was something. It was a small step, but it was a step forward. And it was all he could ask for right now.
As they walked in silence, the night stretched out before them, the stars overhead the only thing that seemed constant.
They soon reached the spot Keith had picked earlier, the area lit up softly, glowing under the moon and stars. He stopped, turning to look at Lance, who had stopped a few steps behind him, his expression stunned.
“This… this is what I wanted to show you,” Keith said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Keith watched Lance closely, his heart in his throat, as the other man silently took in the scene before him. Lance’s eyes scanned the picnic spread, his gaze lingering on the blankets, the food, the fairy lights—everything. It was clear he wasn’t expecting something like this. His expression flickered between disbelief and awe, as if trying to make sense of the moment unfolding before him.
Lance stepped closer, his attention drawn to the Altea flowers first. They glowed with a silver gleam, dousing the entire scene in a soft shimmering imitation of moonlight. Allura had suggested the flowers while they were planning, and Keith readily agreed.
“They’re called Moonshimmers,” He said softly, “They only bloom in moonlight, and are native to Altea. Allura said they only recently were able to recreate them.”
“It’s like a glowing Juniberry.” Lance said with a kind of quiet awe.
“They represent new beginnings, and apologies.” Keith cleared his throat, “And I knew you would think they’re pretty.”
Keith’s chest tightened as he watched him kneel down to examine them more closely, the soft glow lighting up Lance’s face in a way that felt almost ethereal. It wasn’t just the flowers, though. It was everything—the delicate care that had gone into the setup, the thoughtfulness of every detail. The way the scene seemed to almost hum with something that felt too raw, too personal.
Lance’s hand hovered over one of the flowers, as if unsure if he should touch it, before his fingers brushed against the petals. He let out a shaky breath, the glow of the flowers reflecting in his eyes. He didn’t speak for a long time, and Keith stood quietly beside him, giving him the space to process.
“They’re lovely Keith.” He finally said, looking up, “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Keith said softly, his smile almost too small to notice. “I just... wanted to do something nice. I have a lot to make up for.”
Lance let out a heavy sigh, standing up slowly, his posture tense. “So do I.”
Keith’s heart skipped a beat. “No. No, you don’t,” he said quickly, stepping forward, his voice steady but full of emotion. “Lance, you gave me your trust. You welcomed me into your home. You taught me how to garden, how to cook. You started every day with a smile that, honestly, I took for granted.”
His voice wavered as he continued, the weight of his words hitting harder than he expected. “You made me feel alive for the first time in months. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back. I shouldn’t have let anyone, or anything, pressure me into making decisions for you. I never should’ve doubted your strength or your choices.” He took a deep breath, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving Lance’s face. “I am so sorry, Lance. For everything.”
Lance’s expression softened, but the shadows of exhaustion and hurt still lingered in his eyes. He didn’t speak for a moment, just standing there with his arms crossed, processing Keith’s words in silence. Keith’s pulse raced in his chest, the vulnerability of the moment swallowing him whole. It felt like time was suspended, as if every breath he took was a step toward either healing or breaking them both.
Lance’s gaze flickered down to the glowing flowers at their feet, and then, quietly, he spoke. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out,” he said, his voice quieter now, the anger from earlier melting into something more fragile. “I was so mad... I just... couldn’t think straight.” He paused, his voice faltering. “I wasn’t mad at you, Keith. I was mad at myself. I shouldn’t have hid the photo from you. I was just so worried you would be upset. I didn’t know how to bring it up, and it got harder as time went by. I thought you would be angry about me intruding on your private life.”
Keith’s chest tightened at the rawness in Lance’s words. “I understand,” he whispered. “I do, I get it. I probably would have been upset at first, but I would have listened. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me. And I’m sorry I hurt you, Lance. And that I didn’t give you the space you needed to heal. I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Lance finally met Keith’s gaze, his expression still guarded but with something else in it too—something that made Keith’s heart ache in the best way. “I didn’t want to push you away, Keith,” Lance murmured. “I just... I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to hold you back, like I had been. I wanted to let you go... but I didn’t want to lose you either. And then I ended up kicking you out. Like an asshole.”
The vulnerability in Lance’s voice was like a knife to Keith’s chest, but it was the kind of hurt that felt more like a healing wound than an open one. He took a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively, brushing against Lance’s arm, unsure if he would pull away. But Lance didn’t. Instead, he stood still, allowing the touch, the proximity—allowing Keith to be there.
“Just an asshole who made me sleep on his porch the first night.” he smiled tentatively, his heart bursting as he was rewarded with a quiet laugh.
Lance leaned into him, loosening up a bit, “We agreed I made up for that already.”
Keith let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. “Just making sure you remember.”
Lance gave a half-smile in return, the kind that was equal parts hesitant and hopeful. He looked back at the picnic, the flowers, the lights—everything Keith had put together—and for the first time in what felt like ages, there was a softness in his eyes.
“I guess you really did go all out for this, huh?” Lance said, his voice still laced with disbelief, but a small chuckle escaping him.
Keith smiled back, his chest loosening. “Only the best for you.”
Lance’s smile grew a little, but it was still cautious. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
Keith’s smile widened. “You know it.”
For a moment, the air between them was lighter, and the tension seemed to ease just a little. But Keith knew that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t just about fixing what had happened—it was about showing Lance that he wasn’t just sorry. He was committed to doing better, to being the person Lance needed, not just in the moment, but from here on out.
“You hungry? Hunk cooked so you know it’s edible.” He suggested.
“Oh good,” Lance grinned, “I was worried you made it and it would all be burnt to a crisp or over salted.”
“Rude.”
Lance just chuckled and the two of them sat down, spreading out the food and slowly they began to relax. There were still things unsaid, and things to be discussed, but right now, with the food and the stars, Keith felt things begin to click into place. The feeling only grew when Lance silently laced his fingers between Keith’s.
He didn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.
Notes:
Despair not my friends, we are here for the long run! Things can only go up from here. This was definitely a longer chapter so thanks for sticking through :)
Have a great morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you, eat something yummy and drink whatever, and remember: don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do!
Chapter 10
Notes:
What do you mean it's been five months? That can't be right... you're crazy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lance and Keith’s fingers stayed entwined all through dinner and on the walk back to the house, talking and laughing in hushed tones.
“Thanks Keith.” Lance said softly as they approached the porch, squeezing his hand, “This meant a lot to me. A lot.”
“You mean a lot to me.” Keith replied, face faintly flushed.
Lance smiles, the moonshimmer Keith plucked for him still stuck in his hair. Keith couldn’t help the brief thoughts of just how gorgeous he is that flashed through his mind.
I love you.
They step inside, and Keith pauses when he sees the mess inside. He hadn’t paid much attention earlier when picking up Lance, but now that he is he’s surprised. The kitchen counters are covered in pieces of paper, various photos, and leftovers that look like they’ve barely been touched.
The couch is covered in blankets and pillows he recognizes as coming from Lance’s room, and the shirt he’d left behind was sitting on top of the armrest. Before he can stay anything Lance is rushing forward, muttering in spanish as he anxiously starts cleaning up.
“Dios mío, este lugar es una pocilga. Sorry Keith.”
“It’s fine.” Keith steps forward to help but Lance stops him.
“I don’t need you to clean up my messes.” He says firmly, cheeks tinged pink.
Keith moves past him with a small smile, “Well I’m pretty sure this mess is a result of my actions, therefore it’s my mess too. I’ll take the kitchen.”
Lance huffs but doesn’t push it further, just muttering to himself about stubbornness as he starts searching for a broom.
Within half an hour the place is sparkling, other than the couch, still decorated with the rumpled bedding. Keith glances over at his partner (partner? Friend? Teammate? Fuck, who knew anymore) brow furrowing with concern.
“Were you sleeping on the couch?”
Lance seems very interested in the floor as he responds, “Does it matter?”
Keith frowns, “It doesn’t have to, but it seems like it does.”
He watches as Lance crosses the room and sits on the ratty cushions, dragging one of the pillows into his lap, “I didn’t want to go back to sleeping in the bed by myself. It felt wrong.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
Keith swallowed his anxiety and took a seat next to him, his fingers instinctively wrapping around the other paladins.
Lance squeezes his hand and gives him a faint smile, “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Me too.” Keith says softly, “I stand by our old agreement. If you want me gone, I’m gone ok? No conditions, no secret comms. We’ll do this at your pace.”
“You get a say too. I mean, quiznak, I lost track of how long you’ve been here with me. A month? Maybe more. I don’t know about you, but this place has felt more like home than my room back at the Garrison in just a few weeks than my barrack ever did. And I know it’s not your home, but I want you to want to be here. Not out of obligation.”
Keith shakes his head, “It was never obligation Lance, or pity. I missed you, and I was worried about you. And, yeah, I initially came out here with the intention of ‘rescuing’ you, but you never needed that. And honestly, I needed this little bubble of paradise just as much. It’s my home too, in a way.”
Lance’s smile grows, “Guess I’m stuck with you then.”
“All the way.” Keith smirks.
“Good.”
“We should probably talk more, and establish some new ground rules, but for now, bedtime sounds nice.”
“Amen.” Lance yawns, “I didn’t sleep for shit the last couple nights.”
“You’re not the only one.” Keith stands, grabbing pillows.
“You don’t have to do that for me.” Lance protests, grabbing more bedding in an attempt to stop him.
“I don’t want to freeze to death.” Keith says as he marches the pillows and blankets into the bedroom. Lance follows close behind, his expression a combination of hope and confusion.
“You want to sleep in here?”
Keith glances up from making the bed, “Unless you don’t want me too. The couch was nice for the first little while, but after sleeping in here a couple nights, the standards have been raised.”
Lance smiles, “I knew I was a bad influence.”
Keith sighs dramatically, “I can never go back to my stone slab on the Blade’s base. I prefer to drown in feather down pillows, thanks to you.”
“Just doing my part.” Lance smiles, but he still hesitates to sit down.
Keith rolls his eyes, gesturing for him to lay down, “Really? After everything now you’re being weird about this?”
“It’s been a weird couple of nights.” Lance says defensively.
Keith walks back to the door, taking both his hands, “I know, and that’s my fault. But I promise I am going to keep making it up to you ok? If you really don’t want me in here I will happily sleep on the couch again.”
“I know.” Lance squeezes his hands, appreciating a more tactile reassurance, “Thank you. Just keep your hands to yourself for tonight.”
Keith’s face goes red and he lets go of his hands, “I was planning on it.”
Lance laughs and heads into the bathroom, resisting the urge to goad him into a new shade of flustered.
The two get ready for bed, settling back into a rhythm familiar to the one they had just days prior. This time, Keith’s comm sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed, within easy reach. But tonight as he fell asleep, his thoughts could not be farther from it. Hard to concentrate on anything but the warm hands and soft hair tucked under his chin after all.
When Keith awoke, it was not by choice. However the loud crash from the kitchen followed by some very creative cursing had him out of bed in moments. He slid across the floor, scrambling to get up as he raced into the other room, “Lance?!”
“I’m fine!” Lance called back as Keith rounded the corner. Various pots and pans laid strewn across the floor, along with a couple pieces of toast and what looked like half cooked scrambled eggs.
“Jesus, did you lose a fight with our utensils?” Keith muttered, quickly helping to pick things up.
Lance huffed as he wiped the sticky mess off the floor, “I was reaching for the salt, put my hand down on the pan and it knocked everything else off on the way down.”
“You put your hand on a hot pan? Let me see.” Keith said, standing straight.
“It was just for a second.” Lance sighed, holding out his hand to reveal the red angry skin.
Keith grumbled and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the sink where he shoved his fingers under a cold stream, “Keep them there for at least a minute.”
Lance dutifully sat still while Keith cleaned up the rest of the mess, looking disgruntled, “That’s what I get for trying to do a kind thing I guess.”
“It’s the thought that counts.” Keith says dryly, scooping the mess of eggs into the trash.
They rummage through the fridge for a while before deciding on cereal, not wanting to bother with anything else.
Keith just pushes it around the bowl, glancing over at Lance every so often. It was only just beginning to sink in that he was back. In the span of just a couple days, he’d been happier and more confused than he could remember being, kicked out and landing in a motel, then back home. But, the important thing was he was back, and had a chance to make it right again.
“I understand that things have probably changed for you, given everything that happened.” he starts, staring at his soggy cereal, “If you want more space, or need time to yourself that’s totally fine. Honestly, whatever you need.”
Lance takes a bite, looking thoughtful, “I guess I’m just not sure what I need. I definitely don’t want you to leave again.”
“I won’t.” Keith says quickly, “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”
“I still care about you. A lot.” he says, glancing away.
Keith feels his heart skip a beat and takes a moment before responding, “I care about you too Lance. More than I can say. That’s part of why I’m going to do my damndest to really be there for you this time. You deserve that much at least.”
Lance gives him a small smile, “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”
“I know. But I will. In fact, I’m going to plan something for this weekend! Just to start making up for things.” He says, confidence growing.
“What? No, that is definitely not necessary.” Lance folds his arms.
“Too bad. It’s happening. You get no say in the matter. I am going to make this the best weekend you’ve ever had.” He shoots him a smiling, mind whirring with ideas.
“I can’t stop you can I?”
“Not at all.”
“Ok, fine. Plan whatever makes you happy I guess.” Lance’s expression turns more hesitant again, “But back to the conversation, I know I don’t want space, but I think it would be better for both of us if we slowed down, you know?”
“Right. That makes sense.” Keith says, smile fading to a more serious expression.
Lance hesitates, “But I don’t mind some things. Holding hands is nice. The uh… kissing is nice too. But I think sex is pretty off the table right now for me.”
Keith nearly chokes on the bite he’d just taken, face blossoming in multiple shades of bright red, “Right, ok. That’s totally fine.”
Lance pounds his back, trying to keep a straight face, “It was great, don’t get me wrong, but I dunno if I can do that right now.”
“Fair enough.” Keith says, the coughing fit subsiding, “But the other things are ok? And me planning stuff for this weekend?”
“Yeah,” Lance says, glancing back down at his bowl, “The other stuff is great.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
“...”
“Well then,” Lance clears his throat, standing up, “I’ve been neglecting my babies the last couple days. Mind helping me with watering?”
“Sure.” Keith said, trying to shove down the conflicting emotions in his chest as he rises to help with dishes. Before he headed outside, he glanced at the counter and smiled. And if there was an extra bounce added to his step, it would be thanks to the moonshimmer blossom potted near the window.
While they’re tending to the garden a couple hours later, Keith hesitantly branches the topic of talking to the rest of the Paladins. Lance initially seems reluctant, but eventually agrees it's probably for the best.
“I don’t want to do what I did before and just leave everyone in the dark.” He admits.
“I know they’ll appreciate it.” Keith says gently, “And I think it will help you too. One less thing to be anxious about.”
“Right.” Lance says quietly, absently plucking weeds.
“We can tell them you still need time and space,” Keith continues, moving around the vegetable planter towards him. “Set new boundaries and rules for what’s ok, and what’s not. Like we did this morning.”
“God that’s gonna be a tiring conversation.” Lance mutters.
“I know.” he sighs, “But I really think it’s the right thing to do, for everyone.”
Lance sits back on his heels, looking vaguely annoyed, “Stop being so wise. It’s annoying.”
“One of us has to be the brains of the relationship.” Keith parrots his past words back to him with a smirk.
Lance grumbles a bit more about the whole thing, but during lunch they type up and send a message to the team, inviting them over the following morning to talk and explain things.
“I promise you’ll be glad you did this.” Keith promises that evening, settling onto the couch next to him. They’d dug around the freezer and found some old ice cream (Lance just scraped off the freezer burn and didn’t tell Keith), and decided they needed a sweet treat.
“I know.” Lance mumbles, his head falling onto Keith’s shoulder, “It’s just been a rollercoaster of a week.
“Trust me, I know.” Keith says, forcing himself not to tense up.
They eat their ice cream in relative quiet, small comments and jokes made here and there. Eventually Keith could feel his heart begin to settle back into place; a small indent in this peaceful moment, right beside another pulse.
The team settles around the room, Shiro leaning against the counter with Pidge on a stool next to him, Hunk and Allura on the couch, and Coran standing beside the princess. Keith squeezes Lance’s hand as he starts to speak.
“I want to start with an apology.” Lance clears his throat. Immediately multiple voices start protesting but he cuts them off, “I’m serious. I disappeared out of the blue, and went out of my way to avoid contacting anyone. I may have had my reasons, but it’s not an excuse for worrying everyone. I’m sorry.”
Pidge speaks up, “We’re sorry too. We were worried for you, yes, but we should not have put so much pressure on you coming back, and shouldn’t have pressured Keith to convince you to.”
Keith gives her a grateful smile, but he’d already forgiven them all the moment they showed up to help him.
“Thank you.” Lance says quietly, “That means a lot. I’m going to speak with my family after this too, and have this same conversation with them. But really, all I have to say right now is that I’m still not ready to go back, and I don’t know when I will be. I have a lot in my head right now, and a lot that I still need to resolve with myself. And I know it may seem crazy to vanish into the middle of nowhere, but it’s helped a lot so far.”
“We can tell buddy.” Hunk says, leaning forward, “You seem lighter than the last time I saw you. I had a feeling something was wrong, but I was so busy I brushed it off. I’m so sorry I didn’t take the time to ask how you were doing.”
“It’s ok Hunk.” Lance says, a wave of gratitude for his friend, “I wouldn’t have been honest at the time anyway. It took weeks for Mullet over here to get me to admit to anything substantial.”
Keith just rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
Lance rocks back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets, “I’m planning on staying here a while, and I don’t want to vanish again. I’m open to having you guys over and everything, and staying in contact, but I’d like to be the one to initiate all of that when I’m ready.”
“Of course buddy.” Hunk nods, and the others all agree.
“And don’t worry about my family, I’ve established a time every week for us to talk when I’m up for it. Just so they don’t lose their minds again.” He smiles tensely.
Keith puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly before looking at Shiro, “I’m gonna stay out here too, for the time being.”
“I figured.” Shiro smiles, “I already told Adam, and he said to relay a message. I believe it was something along the lines of: Keith Ryan Kogane I am so happy you are figuring yourself out but I will kick your ass and drag it back to civilization myself if you miss me and Takashi’s wedding .”
Keith laughs, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Wait, your middle name is Ryan?” Pidge cuts in.
“No, but every time Adam is ticked off at me he invents a new one for dramatic effect.”
“Hmm, I’m gonna start using that when you do something particularly stupid.” Lance muses, rubbing his chin.
“Alfor help me.” Keith mutters under his breath, already looking annoyed at the thought, “Mullet is bad enough.”
“I thought it had grown on you!”
Keith just shakes his head, “Anyway, I’m keeping my phone and my comm on me at all times so you can get a hold of me. Feel free to reach out to me whenever, and if you have a message for Lance I can pass it on if his device is stored away.”
“Which it probably will be most of the time.” Lance adds, messing with his bracelets.
“That’s totally fine Lance.” Allura says gently, “Whatever you need from us, or what you don’t need, we can do.”
“Thanks Princess.” He smiles, feeling the anxiety lessen, at least a bit.
Pidge stands up, crossing the room towards him. She punches him arm, causing him to yelp before pulling him into a bone crushing hug, “Get better, loser.”
He hugs her back, “I’m trying, weirdo.”
“Awww you guys.” Hunk jumps up, throwing his arms around both of them, “Family hug!”
Everyone crowds together, bumping into furniture and walls as they hug, a feeling of relief and peace filling the room.
“Thank you guys.” Lance sniffs.
“No problem kiddo.” Shiro pats his back, “That’s what we’re here for.”
They stay and talk for a while longer, just messing around like they did back on the castle. Keith can’t help the wave of nostalgia that washes over him, watching as everyone chats and enjoys each other’s company. He can feel the smile on his face as he just quietly takes it in, and the smile grows as Lance sits next to him, lacing their fingers together.
There’s one more group hug before everyone heads out, piling into their various vehicles. Just before she and Coran heads out though, Allura grabs his arm, her expression anxious.
“Keith, could we talk for a minute?”
“Of course,” he says, surprised. They walk around to the side of the house and she paces back and forth.
“I really hate to ask this of you, especially with everything going on right now, but we could really use your help.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“It’s New Altea. There’s a group of Galran resistance members who are uprising near the planet. We’ve received intel that they plan to launch a small scale attack, and undo the delicate balance we’ve worked so hard to achieve.” She says, frustrated and anxious. Her fingers twist through her hair, a sign she’s more stressed than she’s letting on.
“I know Kolivan was putting together a team but I didn’t realize it was this serious.” Keith says, his stomach dropping.
“It didn’t seem so at first,” she admits, “But they’ve gained a following recently, people who benefited from Zarkon’s rule. The moon they are currently occupying is just a system over from New Altea, and they’ve proven to be violent thus far. I could really use your help.”
Her eyes are pleading, and he can see the mix of guilt and hope as she waits for his answer.
“Of course,” he says, throat dry, “Of course I’ll help. I just have to tell Lance.”
“Thank you Keith.” she says, her shoulders dropping, “I’m so sorry to pull you away, but you’re one of the best.”
“It’s ok Allura.” he says.
She gives him a quick hug and steps back, “I know that Krolia and Kolivan have been concerned anyway. They’re hoping you’ll return to the base once it’s all over.”
He feels his stomach flip and he grabs her wrist, “I’m not going back.”
Allura looks shocked, “What?”
For a moment it feels like his mind bluescreens, “Damn that’s not how I thought I would tell you.”
“What do you mean you’re not going back?” She presses.
“I’m not returning to the Blades.” He says, quietly and urgently, “I love my team, and love helping people, but it’s not the right thing for me anymore.”
She glances back at the house, where Lance is sitting in the kitchen through the window, “But this is.”
He gives her a small smile, “Yeah. It is.”
She beams at him, “Oh Keith I’m so happy for you.”
“Really?” He feels a weight lift off his chest. “I thought you’d be disappointed.
She bounces on the balls of her feet excitedly, “Of course not! I’m so glad you finally figured it out. You two are wonderful afterall.”
He feels his face flush, “We’re not together.”
She simply rolls her eyes, “You’ll get there. Now I won’t say anything to the Blades, I’ll leave that to you, but I would tell them sooner rather than later Keith.”
“I know.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I will soon. After this last mission, ok?”
She nods, and gives him a grateful smile, “Thanks again. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Of course Princess. Just have someone send me the info, I’ll keep my communicator on.”
She gives him one last hug and heads out, along with Coran. Keith smiles and waves goodbye, even as an unsettled feeling sinks into his gut.
One last mission.
He heads back inside and finds Lance in the bedroom, looking at a picture of him and his mom. Keith knows that picture, and that expression. He quietly sits next to him, hand automatically rising to rub his back.
“You want to call them now? Or later?” He asks quietly.
“Later.” Lance says, setting the photo aside. He’s around 8 or 9 in the picture, soaked to the bone and beaming as his mother tries to throw a towel around him. He’d told Keith once it was the first time he’d ever surfed by himself, and he’d wiped out, but he’d never been so happy to be in the water.
Keith squeezes his shoulder, “I was going to take my bike out today. Want to come with me?”
He looks up, giving him a small smile, “Sure. Just try not to kill us.”
“Such little faith.”
They cruise around the desert for a while, just enjoying the sun and wind. Keith takes them up one of his favorite canyons, trying not to think about Lance’s arms around his waist.
By the time they stop to stretch their legs, Lance is looking far more relaxed.
“Better?” Keith smiles, raising an eyebrow.
“Better.” Lance agrees, leaning against the bike.
“Good.” he says, studying him quietly, “You look better.”
He hums in acknowledgement before asking, “What did Allura have to talk to you about earlier?”
Keith looks back out towards the desert, messing with the straps on his helmet, “A mission.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently there's a resistance group threatening New Altea.” He explains, frowning, “They need help rounding up the troublemakers before things get out of hand.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Yeah, it’s gotten pretty dangerous from what she’s told me. Shiro mentioned it to me a while ago. Kolivan wants me to lead a team there.”
“If it’s that dangerous should you even be going?” Lance asks, concerned.
Keith gives him a reassuring look, “I’ll be fine. It should only be a couple days, and besides, we’ve both done far more dangerous shit.”
“Still.” Lance crosses his arms, gnawing at his lip, “Do they really need you to go?”
“Sounds like it.”
Lance is quiet for a minute, “When are you leaving?”
Keith sighs, “I’m not sure yet. She’s sending me the details sometime today.” He sees the anxious look on his face and reaches out, turning Lance towards him, “It’s no big deal, I swear. I’ll be in and out.”
“I know.” Lance huffs, but doesn’t pull away, “I’m just going to be bored out of my mind is all.”
“Right.” Keith smiles, “Won’t miss me at all.”
“Not a bit.” Lance agrees, looking down, “Let me know if I can help.”
“Right now, all you can do to help is stay here and make sure to take care of yourself ok?”
“Ok.” Lance nods reluctantly. After a hesitant pause he steps forward and wraps his arms around him, hugging him tightly. Keith hugs him back immediately, the tense feeling in his gut increasing.
“It’s a simple mission. Get there, blow shit up, get home.” he says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Lance.
“Sounds like a normal day for you.” Lance mutters.
“Just about.”
After another minute they pull apart and Keith hands him a helmet, “I’ll cook tonight.”
Keith, true to his word, makes dinner himself that night. Lots of pasta, garlic knots, and a bottle of wine he’d found stashed in the makeshift pantry.
“Tada.” He smiles as Lance walks in, “Didn’t burn the house down.”
“I’m so proud.” Lance laughs, loading up his plate, “It looks great.”
“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it looks.” Keith grins, clearly proud of himself.
Lance takes a bite and his smile grows, “I have taught you well, my young padawan. This is great Keith.”
“Come on, I want to eat on the porch.” Keith swings open the door and steps outside. It’s a perfect night for it, the sun just hitting the horizon. He sits on the edge of the porch, swinging his legs under the railing.
Lance plops down next to him, humming, “Nothing like good food and a view.”
“Amen to that.”
They eagerly dig in together, talking about everything and nothing as the sun dips below the red rock, night slowly crawling across the landscape.
Soon the empty plates lay forgotten behind them, and both of them are laughing so hard their cheeks hurt.
“He really said that?” Lance wheezes.
“Oh yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kolivan so ticked.” Keith says, trying to catch his breath, “He had the rookie doing desk work for two weeks.”
Lance clicks his tongue, “Deserved. I wish I could have seen the exchange.”
"That image is burned into my brain forever," Keith chuckles, leaning forward until his arms rest against the wooden railing. The air around them is still, the kind of calm that only comes just before night falls.
Overhead, stars begin to blink into view, soft and distant.
"I don't think I've ever felt this peaceful," he murmurs, resting his cheek on his arm, eyes half-lidded as he watches the sky.When both have had their fill of spaghetti and cheeks hurt from laughing, they decide it’s time to turn in.
“Yeah?” Lance hums, turning towards him.
“Growing up in the foster system isn’t exactly the best environment, and then I slowly started to chill after meeting Shiro, and of course he disappeared,” He murmurs, “And then the war happened, and there wasn’t really a moment to just be, you know? But coming out here I think was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
He turns his head slightly and see’s Lance looking at him with such a sappy, happy expression that it nearly stops his heart.
“What?”
“You are so dumb, and so cute.” Lance grins. He quickly leans in and presses his lips to Keith’s and that’s when Keith was fully sure he was going to pass out.
It was nothing like kisses they’d had before, and yet just like he remembered; soft and short and oh so perfect. Just the mere fact that Lance was here, kissing him after everything, Keith was elated.
Lance pulled back, still smiling, “Wanna head inside?”
Keith could only nod, happily letting Lance pull him up as they gathered their dishes and headed back in.
They clean up dinner together before getting ready for bed, and Keith is in a near daze the whole time. Washing their plates, changing into pj’s, trying and failing to tie back his hair, his mind was elsewhere. Well, his mind was nearby, just solely focused on the man beside him.
He can’t help but watch Lance in the bathroom mirror. He’s just brushing his teeth, hair tousled this way and that, and there’s toothpaste on his chin, but Keith still think’s he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
This sense of domesticity, the simple pleasures of just getting ready for bed with him each night has spoiled him rotten. Forget everything else. Nothing will compare to this unsaid joy.
I love you so much it scares me.
I love you so much, you have ruined the rest of the world for me.
I love you I love you I love you…
As they climb into bed, and Lance settles against his side, one of his arms flung over Keith’s stomach, the words bubble up before he can stop them. They grow and boil and push and climb and finally burst past the cork of his teeth and into the air.
“I love you.”
For a moment he thinks Lance didn’t hear him, but when he looks down he sees his eyes are open.
“Lance?”
He suddenly rolls over, turns away from Keith and scoots to the edge of the bed. “Goodnight Keith.” he mutters, pulling the blankets up and turning off the lamp.
Keith stares numbly, his sense of joy popped like a bubble.
“G-goodnight.” He leans back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
What did he do?
BEEP BEEP BEEP… BEEEEEEEEP… BEEP BEEP BEEP
Keith groggily forces his eyes open, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from. He turns towards the nightstand and sees his comm flashing rapidly. He fumbles and hits a button, and a hologram of Allura appears, panicked.
“Keith!” she yells, “Keith are you there?”
He sits up, fully waking as her panic sinks in. He feels Lance sit up next to him, trying to figure out what’s going on.
“I’m here! What is it Princess?”
“It’s New Altea, the resistance has launched their attack!”
His blood ran cold, “Shit.”
“We need you here immediately. All available Blades and allies are being called in. The Atlas too.”
Lance cursed behind him, his head appearing over Keith’s shoulder.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Keith swears.
“Be careful. The airspace is a battle zone right now.”
“Got it. See you soon.” Keith shuts off the comm and stumbles out of bed, running around gathering his things. Lance jumps up too, racing into the kitchen. Keith pulls on his suit and grabs his knives hopping into the living room as he tugs on his shoe. Lance appears with a bag filled with food and an emergency kit, expression tight.
Keith looks up, his surprised eyes meeting Lance’s anxious ones.
“Be safe.” he whispers.
“I will.” Keith says, taking the bag. He turns back to the door, before hesitating. He sets down the bag and tugs off his necklace, usually hidden under his shirt. Lance immediately recognizes it as the chain strung through his dad’s old wedding band, and pales when Keith holds it out to him.
“Hold onto this for me.” Keith says quietly, “And I promise I’ll come back to get it.”
Lance takes it with shaking hands, heart beating out of his chest, “You better.”
Keith nods and quickly grabs his stuff before racing out the door, glancing back to see Lance sitting exactly where he left him, as if waiting for him to come back already.
“Going down–” Pop …
“Don’t! That area is swarm–”
“-Kolivan!”
Crackle … “SOS, calling immediate backup. We’re pi–”...
“Shit, they’re on me–”
“KEITH!”
“...”
Crackle … “Keith, come in.”...
“...”
“Keith. Come in now.”
“................."
Notes:
Uhhhhh... I'm back? SURPRISE!
If the editing is shit I apologize, I wrote this whole thing in the span of two hours on a caffeine aided, creative inspiration spike induced haze.
Have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening or whatever time it is for you, go eat something yummy, drink some water, and remember not to do anything Shiro wouldn't do.
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
EMERGENCY ANNOUNCEMENT:
OFFICER KEITH KOGANE MIA
ALL SEARCH AND RESCUE UNITS REPORT TO
KOLIVAN BEFORE EOD
INFORMATION FOR HIS WHEREABOUTS WILL BE
GREATLY REWARDED
Notes:
I'm not sorry.
Chapter 12
Notes:
At last. We have reached the end my friends. This is the longest chapter I have ever written for any project, nearly 10k words. It was truly a journey getting to his point, and it means the world to me that you have made it this far. I hope you've enjoyed this journey as much as I have, and are excited for the final update sometime in the next couple weeks with a short epilogue <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lance was stress gardening when he heard it.
Beep… Beep… Beep
In a panic he leapt up from the raised beds, dirt flying everywhere as he stumbled into the house. There, on the counter, his long range comm was flashing urgently. He could barely get his hands to stop shaking long enough to pick it up and read the message displayed, but when he did, it did not help the trembling.
Incoming message from KROLIA:
Lance, there’s been an accident. It’s Keith. Details incoming.
If raw anguish could ripple outward like a shockwave, the entire desert would have felt it—fifty miles of silence shattered by something invisible and unbearable. Hands would grip at their hearts beneath a shirt, breath stolen by the sheer force of his emotion as the holoscreen slipped from his fingers. His sorrow screamed through the layers of the atmosphere—it rang, sharp and endless, like a siren no one could silence, echoing through bone and flesh alike.
The next 48 hours were nothing if not a dazed panic and dread. Lance was a zombie of his usual self, barely forcing himself out of bed, only to wind up either on the couch or back beneath the covers hours later. The first time someone knocked he didn’t bother to get up to answer. But as it became more forceful he finally stood, walking towards the door when he heard a familiar voice.
“Lance, if you don’t open this door I swear to all of the space magic voodoo shit I will kick your ass!”
“Rachel! Language!”
When he opened the door and saw his mother and sister standing there, he couldn’t help the tears that built up. Without missing a beat Mrs. Mclain swept him into a hug, cooing and whispering softly in Spanish. Rachel stood next to him, gently rubbing his back as he cried into her shoulder, at a loss as to what to do.
“It’s ok mijo” Mrs. McClain murmured, “We’re here, we’ve got you.”
Rachel’s voice is shaken by her brother’s unkempt appearance, “Veronica called us. She was on the Atlas when it happened, along with Axca.”
“I shouldn’t have let him go.” Lance mumbled, his voice cracking, “I had a bad feeling about the whole thing but I didn’t say–”
“It is NOT your fault Lance.” His mother pulls back, gripping his arms firmly, “Now stop that foolish train of thought right now and let’s get you some food ok?”
Rachel and Ms. McClain made quick work of putting together some lunch with the meager options he had in the fridge. The only reason Lance was able to choke down anything at all was because his mom was watching, and you simply don’t refuse a plate from her.
“How did you guys know where I was?” He manages to croak out after a while, his voice dry and scratchy from the tears.
“Shiro messaged us soon after Veronica” Rachel says, leaning against the counter, “He knew you probably wouldn’t be thinking straight and ask for help.”
“He’s a smart man.” Lance mumbled, dragging a hand down his face.
“How are you?” Rachel asks, sliding onto the stool next to him.
He glances at her, the bags under his eyes an alarming shade of purple. His eyes looked bruised, and the whites were red from crying, “I’ve been better.”
“Not just the last few days. Before that.” she pushes and Mrs. McClain quickly looks up from where she was cleaning the stove, her expression a warning.
“It’s fine mama.” Lance says quietly, “She has a right to ask.”
“We are not discussing this right now.” Mrs. McClain insists, snapping the towel in Rachel's direction, but she ignores it.
“Just tell me if it helped.” she says, “Did leaving help?”
“Yes.” Lance admits, stomach swirling with guilt.
Rachel looks vaguely hurt, “Why couldn’t we help?”
Lance reaches out and grabs his younger sister’s hand, squeezing it tightly, “If you could have, I would have stayed, and told you. My head was really fucked up, I just needed to get away.”
Mrs. McClain looks like she wants to say something about his language, but refrains as he continues.
“I was in a really bad place mentally, and I felt trapped. I needed space to think and process and figure out what was going on in my brain, without people asking too many questions or interrupting. It doesn’t excuse the fact that I left without saying goodbye though, and worrying everyone.” He says, voice slowly growing steadier, “I am sorry that I left you, and I didn’t tell you what was going on.”
Rachel’s eyes grow glassy as he speaks, and when he finishes she just sniffs and nods, “Ok. I’m just glad you’re alright I guess.”
He smiles faintly, “Me too. I missed you though.”
“I missed you too, dumbdumb” she mumbles, wiping her eyes.
Ms. McClain watches with a watery smile of her own as her children embrace, feeling a little more of her worry melt away. She can tell Lance has changed. He’s not as restless anymore, not as lost. Even with the reason they are here, he seems more reassured of himself.
He glances up at her and sees her smile, “And I definitely owe you an apology too mama.”
She waves it off but he stands and moves around the counter to hug her, “I’m so sorry for leaving without warning. And for not reaching out. I was half expecting you to show up with a slipper this morning.”
She hugs him back tightly, just happy to have her son back, “It’s coming, don’t worry, but it can wait until after Keith is home.”
He gives a wet chuckle, wiping his eyes as they step back, “I’ll even try to avoid ducking.”
His mama smiles and glances down, noticing a chain and small bump at the front of his shirt. “New necklace?”
Lance glances down, his expression growing more sober. He pulls it out and his mother gasps, “A ring? Leandro Anton McClain if you got engaged and didn’t tell your mother–”
“No no no no no I am not engaged!” He quickly cuts her off, face burning, “It’s Keith’s. It was his dads wedding band and he asked me to hold onto it for him, for safekeeping. That’s all.”
“And you decided to wear it?” Rachel smirks, “That’s sooooo romantic!”
He scowls at her, “I didn’t want to risk losing it!”
Mrs. McClain sets a hand on his arm, shooting his younger sister a sharp look before turning back to him, “It’s very sweet mijo. I’m glad he felt safe entrusting it with you.”
Lance flushes faintly, looking down at the ring. Before he can say anything else, his holoscreen buzzes again and his heart drops. He turns to the desk where it sits and quickly crosses the room, picking it up with shaking hands.
KROLIA: We found him. He’s alive, but he’s in bad shape, but on his way to a treatment center on New Altea. He’s requesting for you to come.
Lance’s heart skips a beat.
He’s alive.
He’s alive.
He’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive…
Legs trembling under the weight of his relief Lance collapses onto the couch, staring at the screen.
“Mijo? What's wrong?” His mother asks, stepping towards him worriedly.
He wants me there.
Before he knows what he’s doing he’s flung the holoscreen aside much to his mother and sister’s confusion, sprinting into his room to throw together a travel bag.
As he races into the bedroom, Rachel snatches the comm, quickly reading the message before showing it to her mom. The two look at each other before turning to help him. Rachel heads into his bathroom and begins gathering the essentials while Mrs. McClain digs through her own bags to find something she’d packed, tucked away at the bottom.
Lance has just managed to get himself dressed and toss some clothes into a bag when he decides to grab some of Keith’s things too, only to find Rachel had already done it. She holds out a duffle bag packed neatly with all the hygiene, clothing and entertainment needs he could ask for.
“Thank you.” He says, throat tight.
“He’ll be fine.” she says, confidence fueling her every word, “He’s Keith.”
Lance gives her an anxious smile, “Right.”
They hurry into the living room where mama McClain has filled various tupperware with leftovers and snacks. He fights away the flashes of himself doing the same thing for Keith, just days prior. She tucks it into his bag, before pulling him into a confident hug, “Take care of yourself, and him.”
“Thanks mama” He whispers, taking a steadying breath. She very reluctantly pulls away, swallowing her own fears.
She grabs something off the counter he hadn’t noticed before; his old hoodie. He smiles and takes it, feeling the familiar fabric rub between his fingers.
“You forgot this the first time.” She smiles sadly, watching his grateful expression with her own tender one.
“Thank you. Both of you.” He says, pulling the two of them into one more hug before shrugging on his hoodie. It looked like both him and his favorite comfort piece would be returning to space far sooner than he thought.
The two of them stood on the porch and waved as he tore away in his old beat up truck, racing towards the Garrison in record time.
When he arrives outside the base he hurries through security and whispers a soft thanks into the wind for his sister, who saw fit to pack his identification and Garrison ID badge. In the whirlwind of his emotions, he didn’t even realize where he was meant to go once he got here, and made a split second decision to find Shiro. Shiro would know what to do, and where to go.
He hurried through endless hallways, ignoring various “hello’s” and surprised “welcome backs” as his sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floors. Everything blurred around him until he was outside Shiro’s office, knocking on the door roughly.
When no one answered he tried to peer through the small window beside the door, the spaces between the blinds. His desk was still covered in paper and random bits and bobs, but no one sat behind it.
“He’s with the Atlas on New Altea.” someone said behind him, and Lance turned to find Matt Holt standing just off to his left.
He smiled and reached out to grasp his shoulder, “Welcome back McClain. You worried the shit out of Katie.”
“Matt.” Lance said, relieved to see a familiar face, “He’s not here?”
The ex-space rebel now turned Garrison and Coalition innovator shook his head, “Garrison was emptied of all our best when things turned nasty. The Atlas took off, along with the MFE pilots.”
Lance felt his insides twist, “It was that bad?”
Matt gave him a grim smile, “Definitely their best effort so far, but also their last. Fight ended sometime this morning last I heard.”
“I should have been there.” Lance pinched the bridge of his nose, “Goddammit why did I–”
“Hey man, don’t do that.” Matt says firmly, “You couldn’t have done much. I don’t know everything that happened, but you’ve had a long couple months ok? Everyone’s alive, just a few injuries.”
“Is Keith alright?” Lance asked, hoping he’d have at least some information.
“I don’t know.” Matt sighed, “I know he went MIA for a while, and they found him, but other than that they’ve been quiet about it. They don’t want to spread panic, I think.”
He sees the dejected look on his friend's face and quickly adds, “But my parents will know more. My dad should be in his office, and he can help you figure out where to go.”
“Thank you,” Lance says, the words some of the most genuine he’d ever said. He follows him quickly around the base to Dr. Holt’s office, buzzing with nervous energy. He’d already spent too much time here, he needed to go, get to New Altea and make sure Keith–
“Lance!” Sam Holt was suddenly in front of him with a wide smile, “It’s good to see you back here kiddo!”
Before he could protest Dr. Holt was pulling both his son and the former Paladin into his office. His wife sat in a plush chair in the corner but stood when she saw him. She gave him a quick hug before he could sit down, “Hello Lance, I heard you were someone around here.”
“Hi Colleen.” He gave her a small smile, “I like the new haircut.”
“Oh, you charmer.” she gave him a grin, “I knew I liked you the most out of Katie’s friends.”
Lance gave a small laugh as Sam sat across from him, “I’m assuming you’re here about New Altea?”
“Exactly. I need to get off of Earth immediately and go help.”
Sam holds up a hand placatingly, “And I will not stop you, but at least let me fill you in so far. What reports have you received?”
“Nothing. Just a couple of direct pings from Krolia. No one else has contacted me.” he said, trying not to sound bitter. “I don’t know anything other than it got out of hand, and things went poorly. And that they need me there ASAP.”
Sam’s fingers formed a small steeple in front of his slowly graying whiskers, “Well, I’m happy to inform you no lives were lost on our side, and only two from the resistance. Unfortunately both were unavoidable. That is to say however, we did not go without our fair share of injuries. Reports are still coming in, but everyone has a positive prognosis.”
Lance felt a small wave of relief, “Team Voltron is all accounted for?”
Sam smiles, “All in one piece. Shiro took a hit to the head, but he’ll be fine. Hunk and Pidge both didn’t arrive on scene until the end, and of course Keith had the worst of it, but he’s on the mend now.”
“What happened?” Lance said, hands clenching and unclenching, “I got a message from Krolia that he was gone, and once they found him she said I was needed on New Altea.”
Sam grimaces, “His ship went down just as the Atlas arrived. One of the opposition's pods had been hit, and crashed into his as he crossed the debris line by mistake. His own ship lost power and he fell onto New Altea’s moon, Hesta. That’s all I’ve been informed of at this point in time.”
Lance nodded, jaw clenched, “When can I leave?”
Colleen puts a hand on his back, “I already arranged a ship for you. They are prepping it now. Someone will be ready to pilot–”
He’s already shaking his head, “I’ll fly myself. I should have already left.”
Matt frowns, “I don’t think that’s a good idea dude.”
“I agree.” Sam says, adopting a similar expression to his son. Lance is once again struck by how much Pidge looks like her family, but shakes it off.
“Please, I just need to get off the planet, and I am fully capable of piloting myself.” He says, leaning forward.
Sam considers him quietly for a minute before sighing, “OK. But we’ll be in contact.”
“Thank you.” Lance says, relief palpable. He quickly stands, and Colleen hugs him again before he can move.
“Be safe ok? We don’t need any more space adventures from you kids.” she whispers, and he can’t help but smile.
“Don’t worry, my mama has it covered. If I end up entangled in another intergalactic war, she’s coming up herself to drag me by the ear.” he says, pulling away with a small grin.
“I like her style.” she pats his arm. Dr. Holt gives him the space craft assignment and Matt shakes his hand before he head’s out.
“Tell everyone hi for me. And I’ll be there soon, I just need to finish things up here before joining the recovery effort.”
“You got it.” Lance says, gripping his hand. “Thanks for the help.”
Matt just gives him a goofy smile, “How can you say no to a Defender of the Universe?”
Lance stepped into his pod, watching as the Garrison crew stepped back inside for take off. It took more energy than he thought to turn towards the pilot seat and force himself to sit, the feeling so familiar and yet so foreign.
He was so sure this part of his life was over, that he would never sit behind the controls again. He quietly longed for his comfortable seat behind Blue’s control panel, or the toasty interior of Red’s cabin.
But the lions were gone. And now he was in a Garrison pod, and his friends were waiting.
He reached out for the controls and felt the thrum of the engine, and against his will, felt the corners of his mouth quirk up into a smile.
It was a couple hours flight to New Altea with such a small pod. On the Atlas or Voltron, it would have been thirty doboshes, tops, but without the acceleration capabilities of a larger ship Lance was stuck at his tortoise pace.
Which unfortunately gave him all the time in the world to imagine what horrible things he might walk into once he touched down.
There could have been complications. Maybe he died in the hospital. Maybe he’s been permanently disabled. Maybe he lost all of his memories. Maybe he blamed Lance for letting him go. Maybe he’s angry with him. What if what if what if…
He tried to distract himself, but it was a hard feat when there was nothing around but his own craft and the void of space.
Lance tried contacting the others, Veronica, Kolivan, his mom. Anyone really, but no response other than a good luck message from mamà. He sent back a heart and tossed away the holoscreen, tired and anxious and too brain fogged for anymore.
The cockpit was quiet. It had been so long since he’d flown. He’d tried to fly one of the Garrison pods not long after they returned to Earth, but it just felt too cold and too distant compared to the comfort of his lions.
Even now, the controls felt eerily lifeless and solemn, so distant from the pilot life he once knew. Just another reminder of how much he had changed. No chatter from other Paladins through a helmet. No thoughts or images floating across his thoughts from Blue checking in, or Red nudging him to fly faster. He was alone, completely.
He’d been alone in the desert too, but not like this. And not for weeks now. He’d grown so used to having another heartbeat beside his own. Out here, there was nothing but the static hum of the ship, and the pulse of the blood in his veins, matching the repetitive thump of his own guilt.
He was surrounded by stars. Millions of galaxies and worlds that he’s never visited, and will never live long enough to see. An infinite amount of life and creation all around him, thousands and millions or billions of lightyears away. He’d never felt smaller in his entire life.
A small voice whispers, “Stay sharp, Sharpshooter. Focus on where you’re going.”
He could practically hear Keith talking to him through the comm link, flying next to him in Red as he piloted Blue.
“Come on ‘the tailor’, I bet I can beat you to that asteroid belt.”
“You’re on. Prepare to lose Mullet.”
“I never lose.”
“Tell that to my dust you’re about to eat!”
He screwed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory tugging at him, egged on by his shame and guilt trying to flood over his head. He forced himself to take a deep breath.
Keith would be fine. He is fine. And when Lance gets there, it's time to have a long, long talk.
He allowed himself to picture familiar calloused fingers sliding between his while they watched the sun dip below the horizon, a desert breeze gracing them as the day slowly ended.
Soon they’d be back on Earth and he would make it right. He just had to figure out what to say.
It wasn’t hard to figure out, but it was terrifying.
How had Keith said it so easily? So casually? Like it hardly even mattered when truthfully, it meant the world to him.
“I love you”.
Lance would never forgive himself for turning away at that moment. For locking his response away, in a cage made of his teeth and refusing to look him in the eye like the coward he is.
A hundred excuses rose to the tip of his tongue.
“I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to feel. I wanted more time.”
But they didn’t get more time, did they?
Just like he didn’t get enough time a year ago when the war ended and suddenly he was back at the Garrison. The entire universe had been saved by pure luck and a fierce determination not to lose. And yet it still felt like he lost some days.
He lost Voltron when the Lions sacrificed themselves in Allura’s place, he lost his position as a Paladin in the aftermath, he lost his confidence in himself as the world fought for a new sense of normal. He lost his friends, as they moved on from what happened and joined this new reality, stealing them into different directions.
So in a desperate bid for the time he could not regain, he ran. From everything. But he was still running, even as his feet began to ache. He just hoped he was running towards someone this time.
Finally, New Altea began as a speck in the distance, slowly growing larger as he approached, gripping the controls tightly.
It was a huge planet, about four times the size of Earth with rings like Saturns. Only difference was this planet’s rings were a mix of space stations and ships as well as hunks of ice and rock.
The planet itself was green and blue, swirling together like a more mystical version of Earth. When they had chosen this particular planet to be the new home to the Coalition, as well as the remaining Alteans and other refugees Lance had especially loved it because of the oceans. Anything to remind him of home. In the beginning he thought he’d be spending a lot more time here, helping to rebuild and create a new society after the war, but things don’t always go the way you plan. Or never, it seemed in his case.
And Keiths.
The surface is absolutely stunning. A bustling metropolis, a hotpot of different planets all coagulated here in a peaceful society. It was exactly as they had imagined, all those months ago.
He was in awe of how much it had grown in such a short period of time. Allura and Coran had sent frequent updates while building and rebuilding, but it was different seeing it in person. This was what they had fought so hard for. The mere idea of such a place now existing, and he was flying straight into it.
He only wished Keith were seeing it like this too.
He touched down in a spaceship port just a little ways from the hospital, jostled by the landing in his anxious rush. It was so… clean. Spotless and formal. A far cry from the desert air and dirt he’d grown so accustomed to. In a daze he grabbed his bags and headed to the back of the ship, hesitating only a moment as his fingers hovered over the hatch button.
In, and out. Deep breathes. He hit open and stepped outside, squinting at the light as the port crew rushed forward to run through protocols.
A tall woman approached while the others began attending to the ship, arms crossed and expression bugged. She was around seven feet tall, had four eyes of varying colors, and her entire body was blue with almost leopard-like spots.
On any other occasion, Lance might have asked where she was from, forever fascinated by the diversity of space and various peoples, but today refrained as she stopped beside him, grasping her clipboard tightly.
“Sir, do you have a landing permit?” she tapped her foot impatiently.
“What? No, I just needed a place to land. My friend–”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Sir you need proper permissions to dock here and your craft isn’t–”
“It’s just for a short time, and it’s an emergency.” He said, thrown off as he craned his neck to look around her. He could see the Juniper Hospital from here and he was so close, dammit…
“Sir, please this is a delicate time for our planet” she droned like it was rehearsed, “And that means we have to stick to our guidelines so unless you can show me ID and a permit of some kind I have to ask you to land somewhere else.”
Lance muttered under his breath and rummaged through his bag, searching for his Garrison ID. He pulled it out (quietly thanked Rachel again in his mind) and handed it over.
The alien took one look and her skin took on a flushed green color, “Floxan, you’re Lance McClain? The Blue and Red Paladin?”
He nodded, cringing at his own self importance, “Yes, and one of my teammates is in that hospital over there, and I need to see him immediately.”
She quickly handed it back, stumbling over her apologies, “Yes, of course, I’m so sorry sir, I hadn’t known.”
“It’s fine.” he sighed, “But can you tell me the quickest way to get there?”
She rattled off some directions and he nodded, grabbing his bags and practically sprinting out of there, mind once again tunnel visioning on getting inside that building.
Nothing could have stopped him in that moment, not the crowds, not the debris from the fighting that had made its way to the planet, not the gawking from the (very few) aliens who recognized him. Not the entire Galran Empire at its peak could have prevented him from getting to Keith.
Buildings toward overhead and life sprung from every corner, music and chatter filling the air. He was immersed in the newness of it all, the active growth of a young planet, but it felt like walking through a dream. A memory even. Muted, and dull even with its humming vibrancy.
When he finally stumbled inside the hospital he fumbled for his holoscreen, calling Shiro immediately.
“Lance?” Shiro’s voice was raw as he picked up.
“I’m here, I’m in the hospital, where’s Keith?” Lance clutched the screen.
“You’re here?” Shiro said, shocked, “Third floor, second waiting room.”
Lance wasted no time. His feet seemed to move of his own accord as he hurried up and up the stairs, dodging nurses and doctors. When he flew through the doors and into the sitting area Shiro was already on his feet, moving towards him with Adam on his shoulder. Lance drops his bag without hesitation and throws his arm around him, feeling Shiro’s hands shake just as bad as his own.
“We weren’t expecting you so soon.” Shiro said, voice muffled.
“I left as soon as I got Krolia’s message, but I don’t know much.” Lance said, pulling back, “Is he ok? Are you ok? Where are the others?”
Shiro rubbed his eyes, the purple bags beneath them startling. “He’s in really rough shape. His pod crashed, and by the time we got to him he’d been chased into the forest on Hesta by the rebels. He held his own, but the list of injuries is longer than anyone would like.”
Adam took his hand before turning to Lance, “We are all ok though. Just tired and worried.”
“Is the rest of team Voltron here?”
“Hunk and Pidge were here not long ago, but they are trying to help with the public right now. Pidge is with Coran working on messages to our allies about next steps, and Hunk is with Allura visiting the disaster centers. Axca and Veronica are both here though, as is Krolia.” Shiro says, picking up Lance’s bag and guiding him back to their chairs.
“Veronica’s here?” Lance said, glancing around as if expecting her to pop up.
Adam nods, “She knew you’d try to get here as soon as possible so they decided to wait. They just ran to grab food and snacks.”
Lance nods and absently starts pacing in front of where the two older pilots sit, watching. He stops every now and then, looking like he wants to ask something else, but inevitably shakes his head and resumes his restless motions. Adam glances at Shiro and they share a knowing look.
“We aren’t allowed to visit him until he’s put into his own room, but the doctor says it shouldn’t be long now. Krolia refused to leave his side though.” Shiro says, a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.
“Right, right.” Lance mumbles, still pacing back and forth.
“You’ll catch the tiles on fire if you keep going.” Adam ribbed.
He immediately stopped, but his hands now started moving instead, twisting and picking at the skin around his fingers.
“Manito, stop ripping your nails, you’ll be angry with yourself later.” someone scolds from behind.
Lance turns and sees Veronica and Axca walking over, arms loaded down with food.
“Nica.” his shoulder’s loosened from their high stance by his ears as she set down the food and hugged him.
“How are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’ve been better.” he said, giving a small squeeze before they broke apart. “Food will help.”
“Good thing we came prepared.” Axca smiled, patting his back as they started divvying up the various plates and platters.
Lance didn’t recognize any of the dishes, but shoveled it down happily, unable to even recall what he last ate.
While they picked at their plates, the group explained in more detail what happened before he arrived.
A group of old Galran Empire leaders had all gotten together and formed a plan to uprising and try to return to the old ways and reclaim power. Over the last year there had been a few outbursts and conflicts Lance remembered vaguely from his time working in the Garrison.
This time, they managed to pull together a huge force, around 4 dozen ships from various sympathizers across nearby galaxies. The Blade of Marmora caught wind of it and immediately sent word to the Coalition as warning. Time went on and they received intel that the group would attack soon, but they arrived much quicker than expected.
“We had just gotten the Atlas crew here when Keith was hit.” Veronica grimaced, glancing at Shiro who looked down at his plate.
“Couldn’t do anything but watch.” he said bitterly, “Out of nowhere, the ship above him exploded and he went down. By the time we had reached the surface of Hesta he was gone.”
“But he’s alright now, or he’s going to be.” Adam said firmly, grasping Shiro’s wrist, “He got away and he’s healing and he’ll be fine.”
Axca nods, “Keith is far too stubborn to go out like this. He’ll recover and tell all of us off for even thinking otherwise.”
Lance forced a tense smile, “Sounds about right.”
They end up talking for a couple more hours until Veronica and Axca decide to go help with recovery efforts nearby, promising to be back soon.
The quiet hum of machines and doctors footsteps had begun to grate on Lance’s nerves by that point. The same white sterile walls, the same creaking chairs and benches. His legs had been bouncing nonstop for the last ten minutes when Adam finally nudged him with a small kick.
“Lance, why don’t you step out for a bit? Just a few minutes, get some water or something.” Shiro snored softly on Adams shoulder, having finally succumbed to his own exhaustion not long ago.
“I don’t want to miss anything.” Lance protested immediately.
“I will personally come and find you the second anything changes, I swear.” Adam pushes.
Lance hesitates, then reluctantly stands up. His legs ached. When had they started aching? “Ok, just don’t hesitate to call me alright?”
“I will just go take a breather. Your anxious pining is making me nauseous.” Adam wrinkles his nose.
“I am not pining!” Lance splutters, face red.
“And I’m Emperor Zarkon.” he smirks, “Just go take a break. I’ll call you if we need you.”
The air outside was crisp and thin in a way that made him feel as if he wasn’t getting enough of it. Lance leaned against the cold metal wall of the building and let his eyes fall closed.
He just had to breathe. Take a deep breath.
But the stillness didn’t calm him, if anything it made the storm of his own emotions that much louder and prominent.
This time, it wasn’t the guilt clawing at his mind. It was something uglier and subtler.
What if it never gets better?
Not Keith’s recover, Lance truly believed he’d be alright. He had to. But what about them? What had almost become? What if he had broke it before it ever had the chance to be something real?
He thought of their last kiss before Keith left, the softness in his eyes that he’d refused to acknowledge for so long. The way they’d left certain things unsaid, and the way that Keith was brave enough to say it.
And he’d said nothing in return.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady the thumping in his chest. The problem wasn’t that Keith wouldn’t recover. It was that if and when he did, Lance could have ruined any chance of anything. Or worse, if there was still a chance, that it was inevitable that he would ruin it before long.
He stared out at the New Altea skyline. Warm tones of an alien sunset warmed and smeared across the horizon. It looked like a dream that belonged to someone else. At least one where the dreamer knew what they were doing, and what they wanted.
Oh hell. He knew what he wanted. He just didn’t know if he could have it anymore.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He whispers to himself. “I don’t know how to be something worth staying for. How to be permanent.”
He’d always been the flirt, the joker, the friend. Not someone that was loved outloud. His eyes fell shut, his nails digging into his palms.
Keith had told him he loved him. Lance had panicked. And now look where he was; sitting outside a hospital on a planet lightyears away from Earth, still unable to say it outloud even to himself. But god he wanted to.
Somewhere behind him he heard voices approaching and quickly stood straight, running a hand through his hair just in time. Two familiar faces rounded the corner and out of nowhere Ezor and Zethrid appeared.
They looked just as stunned to see him.
“Stringbean?” Zethrid said, a small smile appearing, “Hey! It’s our favorite beanpole of a paladin.”
“Lance, should have known you’d be here.” Ezor smiled with a glint in their eye.
Lance felt a small wave of confusion. Sure they all knew of each other and had talked a couple times, but for the most part he didn’t know anything about the two Blades who had joined up with Keith after the war. So why the hell where they acting like they were old friends who just hadn’t seen each other in a while?
“Hey guys.” He stuck out a hand to Zethrid, and waved to Ezor. “How you doing? You must have been here for the battle.”
“That’s right.” Ezor says, leaning on Zethrid easily, “We were here with Keith actually. Just wanted to drop by to see if he was recovering yet.”
“Yeah, he’s stable so far as I know.” Lance says, confusion growing as they glance at each other, “I just got here this morning and the doctors haven’t told us much.”
“Guess we don’t need to worry much so long as you and the white haired one are around.” Zethrid grins, her teeth flashing.
“Right.” Lance said slowly. “I dunno about me, but Keith will definitely need Shiro once he wakes up.
Ezor laughs breezily, “Sorry, its just so weird to actually have a conversation with you after listening to Kogane pine for months and months.”
“What?”
Zethrid makes a face, “It was cute, but annoying after a while. Couldn’t go more than a few days without hearing, ‘me and Lance’ this and that.”
“Really?” Lance said softly, ears burning.
“Oh yeah. It was adorable.” Ezor teased, “He talked about you just as much as Shiro. Way more than any of the others.”
“I see.” Lance cleared his throat, glancing back at the hospital doors, “Well if you guys wanted to visit the doctors aren’t allowing anyone to see him currently, but you’re welcome to wait with us.”
“That’s alright.” Ezor shrugs, “We’ll come back once he’s fully on the mend and up again. Just figured we should pop by and say hi to the boss.”
“I’ll let him know you came.” Lance assures, itching to get back inside.
“Thanks beanpole.” Zethrid claps his shoulder, causing him to stagger slightly, “You’re a good one. Just try not to give the boss too much ammunition to annoy us with once he gets back. Keep the cutesy to a minimum.”
Ezor pinches her arm and starts pulling away, “She doesn’t mean that. See you Lance!”
“See you.” he says faintly, something finally settling into place as they leave.
Keith had clearly loved him for far longer than he thought. And it was only right he knew that Lance had loved him just as long.
He may have lost his chance, and he would have to live with it, but at least he could make sure he did it while being honest with his friend.
He could immediately tell something had changed when he got back to the waiting room. Shiro was awake and pacing the same path Lance had for hours earlier, Adam watching with a pinched expression. Krolia stood nearby, looking absolutely exhausted and turned towards him as he approached.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Lance says, moving towards them fearfully.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Krolia quickly reassures, giving him a small smile. “He’s being moved out of emergency services and into a private room for recovery. We are just waiting for the doctor to let us back in.”
“Oh thank god.” Lance says, then the rest of her sentence catches up with him, “We can see him now?”
She nods, “Soon as the doctor comes back.”
Adam stands as well, joints popping loudly, “yeah, Shiro’s just panicking in typical Takaski fashion.”
“Let me panic in peace.” Shiro glares.
“Nah.” Adam wraps an arm behind him, gently rubbing his back. “I would hate for you to get in the room and start hyperventilating over his bedside.”
Shiro just sighs and stops pacing, letting himself lean on his fiance. Lance watches with a vaguely sad expression, snapping out of it as Krolia bumps her hip against his.
“Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else right now.” he says, turning towards her seriously.
She gives him a grateful smile, “He’ll be really glad you’re here.”
“I hope so.” he says, voice barely loud enough for her to catch.
“He will. Why else would he ask for you personally?”
Lance just looks back at where Shiro and Adam are hugging, “Beats me.”
Krolia goes in with Shiro first, the doctor saying only a few people are allowed in at a time. Lance watches through the crystal window as Shiro almost falls into the chair next to his bed, and he understands.
Even from here, he can see the black eye, the bandages, the machinery. It’s different than on Earth, so foreign yet so familiar. But nothing helps when you see someone you care about in such a state.
Shiro spends the better part of an hour just sitting there, saying something every once in a while while Krolia sits with him, her eyes heavy as she gazes at her son. Lance forces himself to look away.
He can feel Adam keeping an eye on him but he just stares at the opposite wall, trying to piece together an apology as time moves in fractured segments.
Veronica and Axca call at some point, checking in. They say that Allura and the rest of team Voltron should arrive soon, now that Keith has been moved.
It lifts his spirits to hear that his friends are on the way, but nothing quite smothers the anxiety in his chest.
While he sits and waits he manages to find a spare notepad and pen from one of the nurses, scribbling down the thoughts racing through his head.
“I love you too.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back.”
“I was scared.”
“I love you. I never stopped.”
“I have loved you for so long I don’t remember what it’s like to not love you.”
“I wish I had said something sooner.”
“I’m sorry you had to say it first.”
“I’m sorry I stayed silent while you waited.”
None of it felt like enough.
Krolia steps out after a while, and Adam goes to join Shiro. She nods at him and moves down the hall to call Kolivan and some other blades to give an update, her movements weary. Not long after that Adam returns with Shiro, whose eyes are rimmed with red.
“You alright buddy?” Lance asks softly.
“As good as I can be. You want to go in?” Shiro reaches out, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder.
Lance can only nod as Shiro moves out of the way, Adam on his elbow while Lance pushes past the door and into the room.
He stands there in the doorway for a moment before letting it swing shut and moving to the same chair that Shiro had occupied, swallowing the lump in his throat roughly as he automatically reached out for Keith’s hand.
He swept his thumb against the back of his hand repetitively, trying to gather his thoughts as he stared down at his partner, at a loss for words.
The others had told him Keith had a few broken ribs, a fractured collarbone, a concussion, and some internal injuries. On their own, none of it seemed that bad — not compared to what they’d all been through during the war. But seeing him like this now, bruised and battered months after everything was supposed to be over, hit Lance harder than he expected.
He just squeezes the fingers in his a little harder and starts talking.
“You scared the shit out of me.” he whispers, his voice raw. “And I’m angry. I’m mad that you left before I could say anything. Before I figured out what I felt. And I don’t have any right to say any of that. You poured yourself in front of me, letting me watch as you said what I was too afraid to. And I turned away, unable to look because it felt like a failure of my own. And it was terrifying. You were brave enough to say what I’d been longing to for years, and it was just so soft and so easy for you.”
Lance felt the lump in his throat grow against his wishes as he tried to push it back down again, voice choked as he continued, “You have done so much for me the last couple months, and I will try to repay you a million times over. Starting with telling you how sorry I am, and that I will make it my mission to make it up to you for the rest of my life if you’ll allow me. But I also don’t dare to hope.” He closed his eyes as they began to burn, “Because I have loved you for so long that I am afraid of what it would feel like to no longer have you in my life. I really, really love you Keith. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it before.”
There’s a pause as he wipes his eyes with his free hand, trying to reign himself in.
“Took you long enough.”
Lance’s head snaps up at the faint voice, watching as Keith smiles tiredly at him.
He can’t help the sob that escapes him before he’s jumping out of the chair and hugging him tight as he can, “You asshole! You can’t do that! You can’t just say you love me and then disappear and get hurt then sit here and let me ramble on and on about how much I love you back! Pedazo de mierda, you let me drone on for how long?”
“Lance.” Keith wheezes, tugging at his shirt, “Ribs.”
“Right! Oh god I’m so sorry!” Lance immediately jumps back, face red, “Sorry.”
“It’s ok.” Keith rubs his side, the smile not leaving his face for a minute, “Your little monologue more than makes up for it all.”
Lance scrubs his cheeks furiously, unable to stop the tears from falling, “Keith I am so sorry, for everything. I should have–”
Keith grabs his hand clumsily, “Lance. It’s ok. I’m ok. We’re ok.”
He clutches the hand tightly, vision blurred, “Really?”
“Really.”
“I planned on a lot more grovelling you know.” Lance sniffs, his snot and tears running down his face.
Keith gives him a small sideways grin, “I mean, I won’t stop you from grovelling, but for right now would you just sit down?”
“I can do that.” Lance sits on the edge of the bed, fingers woven with Keith’s tightly.
“I love you.” Keith’s expression is nothing short of adoring.
“I love you too.” Lance sobs, “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again.”
“You got it.” Keith whispers, gently kissing his hand. He glances down and sees a familiar ring on a chain around his necklace. “You’re wearing it.”
Lance looks down and grabs the ring, “Oh right. I didn’t want to risk losing it or anything so I figured I would just keep it on me until I saw you.”
He tugs off the necklace and hands it to Keith who watches him with the softest expression imaginable. Lance feels his face heat up under his gaze, “What?”
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later.” Keith smiles, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Thank you for coming.”
“You couldn’t pay me to leave.” Lance says, settling in beside him as the remainder of his anxiety and guilt finally melts away. Keith is alive. Keith still loves him. And he was finally able to say it back.
The next few days are nothing short of a blur. Keith slept often, continually stiff and sore under the bright hospital lights and surrounded by friends and family. Lance never left the room for longer than however long it took to get food, or as long as Veronica could drag him out of the hospital at Keith’s insistence.
Hunk and Pidge are there just as often as Lance and the others, having finally wrapped up emergency efforts with civilians. Hunk nearly gave Lance a matching cracked rib to Keith’s when he hugged him after first arriving. Against the doctors advice they crammed everyone into the tight little hospital room with Lance at his head, Pidge sitting near his feet, Shiro and Adam in the chairs against the window, Hunk on his other side, and Krolia at the foot of the bed. Veronica and Axca made themselves known, bringing enough food to feed an entire army.
“You look so much like mama right now.” Lance marveled as his sister passed around plates.
“Shut up and eat your veggies Lance.” she rolled her eyes, gently hitting the side of his head.
“Definitely a mini mom” he muttered when she turned away, rubbing his head. Allura and Coran joined soon after as well, cramming in as best as they could.
“My, it’s so good to see you number 4.” Coran beamed at Keith, mustache more wild than normal. “We were worried for a dobosh there.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” he smiles, glancing back at Lance who just beams at him. Allura gives him a knowing look and he just smiles wider, bursting with joy as they all dig in. His family was all here, smiling and laughing, and he could feel Lance’s hand on his back.
The rest of the week, theres a constant stream of people coming in and out of his hospital room, usually bearing food or entertainment of some kind. Lance stays the whole time.
Recovery is slow, but that’s alright. Coran and Pidge haven’t quite perfected the design for the new healing pods (the old design was lost centuries ago), but they promise to have one up and running within a couple weeks for him to finish the healing process. He’s not worried though, so long as he has Lance.
Their conversations are slower now, more relaxed and open. Everything that needs to be said has been, or will be. They have all the time in the world after all.
When he’s finally cleared to travel back to Earth, he and Lance fly with Krolia, the rest of the team having arranged their own travels back. Keith’s pretty out of it for most of the flight, lethargic and exhausted after the long week. Lance let’s him nap on him as long as he can, reluctantly waking him with a small kiss on the temple when they land.
Adam is waiting for them when they arrive, grabbing bags and things much to both Keith and Lance’s protest.
“Too damn bad, I’m carrying the bags and I’m driving you two home.” he insist, giving them no choice but to follow as he hauls their stuff out to his car.
“You really don’t have to Adam.” Keith protests one last time.
“I want to.” Adam throws the bags in his trunk and opens the doors, “Now get in before I push you in.”
“I think he’s serious.” Krolia smiles, “I would listen.”
“It’s just a lift home.” Lance adds, “No biggie.”
Krolia climbs into the passenger seat, leaving Lance and Keith in the back row. She wasn’t originally planning on joining them, but last second insisted that she help them settle in and Keith knew better than to fight with his mom after everything.
The drive home is peaceful enough, and the conversation light when they finally reach their little desert oasis late that afternoon.
Once again, Adam leaves no room for arguing as he grabs the bags, getting Lance to lead Keith towards the front door.
“Ok, seriously, what is going on?” Keith grumbles as he reaches for the doorknob, “I am perfectly capable of carrying my own–”
“SURPRISE!”
Keith stares in shock as a dozen faces beam at him from around the house, balloons and streamers covering each surface.
Above the hallway to the bedroom is a small banner that says, “WELCOME HOME!”
“What the…” he moves forward as Lance laughs from behind him, pushing him inside.
“Welcome home Keith.” he hears Lance whisper next to his ear before the others grab him and pull him further into the party.
Everyone is there: Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, Allura, Coran, Kolivan, Matt, Pidge’s parents, Ezor, Zethrid, Veronica, Axca, Lance’s entire family it looks like, and of course Krolia and Adam as they walk in behind him, smug with having pulled this off.
“Did you know about this?” Keith turns towards Lance, stunned.
Lance’s smile is equally proud as everyone else's, “Yup. It was my idea actually.”
“This is amazing.” he finally spits out, turning towards his family. “Thanks you guys.”
“Anything for you two.” Hunk beams, throwing an arm over him and Lance, “Now, let’s get this party started!”
Everyone starts talking and music is playing from somewhere and before he knows what’s happened Keith has food in his hand and is laughing harder than he has in weeks.
The celebration lasts for hours. Keith isn’t sure when the tension that has sat in his muscles for years finally fades away, only that it does. He’s passed from conversation to conversation, hugged by people he hasn’t seen in ages, told stories he barely remembers, and eats enough food to make him sick. Someone brings out a cake, another pops open a bottle of champagne. Someone else brings out photos from the early Voltron days and every paladin in the room collectively groans. There’s teasing and laughter and the occasionally teary moment, all culminating in a peace and wholeness Keith hadn’t realized was missing.
Eventually the night begins winding down and yet everyone stays, strewn across all of the furniture and various floor space, chatting as one big group. Keith manages to slip out for a moment, cheeks aching from smiling so much. Lance of course follows him.
They wind up in the garden where Keith is surprised to see a brand new bed of moonshimmers springing up under the soft silvery glow of the night sky.
“I planted them the day after you left for the fight.” Lance explains, seeing his expression.
“I’m glad you like them.” Keith smiles, turning to him.
“I’m glad you brought me them.” Lance smiles back, his fingers lacing between Keith’s.
“Me too.” Keith whispers. “In fact, I’m pretty glad for this whole thing. Coming out here. Finding you.”
Lance just stares at him for a minute and Keith feels a small prick of nerves before Lance’s hands are on his face and they are kissing.
He grabs his shoulders, kissing him back with a thrill. Every kiss they’ve had feels like the first. It’s always just as exciting and just as perfect. And this one is even more so.
“I love you.” Lance whispers, drawing back, hands falling to his sides. “I can never thank you enough for what you did for me.”
Keith tries to interject but he cuts him off. “I mean it. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me Keith. I was in a rough place, and I owe you big time.”
“That’s what friends and partners are for.” Keith says softly, his forehead gently bumping Lance’s. “There’s still a way to go before we’re both one hundred percent again, but if I’m taking that journey with you, I could care less how long it takes. It would be my greatest joy to continue learning and healing with you Lance.”
“You are so perfect it scares me sometimes.” Lance mutters, and Keith laughs.
“Trust me, I am far from perfect.”
“And yet somehow you are perfect for me.” Lance smiles softly, kissing him softly again like he just can’t help himself. “You’re right that I still have a lot to work through and think about, but it no longer feels as daunting. And I am here for you too, for whatever you need as long as you need it.”
“I know. Thank you.” Keith whispers, arms wrapping behind his neck.
Lance’s smile widens, “Who’d have thought that when I ran into this desert into the first place, this is where we’d end up.”
“Not me, but it’s a good thing the desert is where my heart chose to hide.” Keith smiles back, his forehead leaned carefully against his.
“Sap.”
“Love you too.”
“I love you more.”
“I love you forever.”
“Ok, fine you win.”
“With you by my side? Always.” Keith grins. Lance kisses him again, and he can feel the other man smiling against his mouth. Music plays quietly in the background while their family sits inside, and the desert moon watches from above and all is well.
Notes:
And that's a wrap ladies and gentlemen. I truly have no words other than my deepest thanks for reading this whole thing and watching both the characters and myself grow. It has been a rollercoaster of a 6-7ish months, and I never would have gotten this far without the support of everyone reading along as I write. There will be one final update in the form of a short epilogue, but for now, have a good morning/afternoon/evening, drink some water, take care of yourself, and remember: don't do anything Shiro wouldn't do. Love you!
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