Chapter Text
Allura’s preferred catering company had arrived while Lance and Keith were off on their dinner date, and when they slipped back into Juniberries , they spotted the table set up to one side of the showroom door. Lance was tempted to start on the wine early, but he caught Allura’s eyes and decided against that.
“So our artists finally decided to show up,” she announced, crossing her arms. Lance would have been intimidated if she didn’t have a twinkle in her eye and a grin on her lips. “We have forty-five minutes until the show, and if you hadn’t noticed, we already have people waiting outside. I wonder how it would have looked if you showed up any later?”
“They would have talked to you and Shiro and my man Coran, Princess, and everything would have been fine!” Lance waved his hand dismissively, beaming at her. “You know more about my stuff than I do, I swear.”
“We only left when we did because I dragged him out,” Keith added, glancing over at Lance. There was a hint of jest in his tone and a fondness in his glance, and Lance felt himself bubbling with glee.
“So I have Keith to thank for your timely return, and Lance to blame for leaving in the first place. This is good information.”
“Oh, come on, ‘Lura!” Lance whined a little, playfully. “Does it hurt to relax before a show?”
A gentle hand fell on her shoulder and Shiro, beaming at both of them, interceded on their behalf. “Of course it doesn’t hurt, and they made it back with plenty of time to spare. I’m sure they’ll be better about it in the future, so let’s just let it slide this time, alright?”
With a light laugh, Allura shook her head and caved. “Fine! You’re off the hook this time , boys, but don’t let me catch you slacking again tonight or you’ll get to serve as my janitorial staff tonight!”
“Yessir!” Lance pulled himself straight, finally separating his arm from Keith’s to throw up a mock salute. “I will be on my best behavior tonight!”
Allura rolled her eyes, but Coran came up to clap him on the shoulder. “Thattaboy, Lance! Why, when I was a youth, I remember my very first gallery opening! I wasn’t a headlining artist, by any means, but I arrived only ten minutes before it opened, and Allura’s great-grandfather gave a tongue lashing I will never forget! I almost wished that a pack of raging yalmors was chasing me instead of having my best friend’s grandfather scold me. He was an intimidating man, you know.”
“Coran, that’s enough,” Allura called him off, and Lance breathed a sigh of relief. If Coran really got on a roll about the good ol’ days, it could take ages for him to get tired of it, and Lance didn’t have that kind of time or patience. He might be in an especially good mood after taking Keith to dinner–even if his bank account was going to regret that reservation for the next month–but tales of Coran’s youth could still tire him out. “I need Lance and Keith to decide how they want to open the gallery to the public once and for all. I know we’ve talked about it briefly, but it’s time to make a few final decisions.”
“I still think we should string a tape up and cut it with some giant scissors,” Lance’s hands fell to his hip. He’d tried this tactic three times in the last week, and every time it had been shot down, so he had no expectations. He wasn’t even particularly attached to the idea, if he was honest, but he liked to see how far he could push.
“No,” was Allura’s immediate response, in unison with Keith.
“Keithy-poo, I feel so betrayed ,” he clutched the shirt over his heart before remembering that Hunk had just ironed that two days ago before he and Pidge had left for their robotics competition, and then he smoothed it back out and readjusted his tie. “Of all people to shoot me down, it’s my own partner?”
Keith rolled his eyes in a manner similar to Allura’s earlier action. “Lance, you just want to do it because it’s so over the top.”
Guilty . And he could tell that Keith knew it, too.
“It’s flashy and it gets attention,” he provided, shrugging. “What’s not to like?”
“You should just say something, Allura,” Keith sighed, shaking his head at Lance. “It is your gallery, after all, and you’re a better spokesperson than either of us. You can introduce the show, talk it up, and then introduce us as the artists and officially open the show. It doesn’t have to be a big to-do or anything, you know.”
“Let’s do that,” Lance agreed without a fuss, nodding. “It’s simpler that way. Plus, isn’t that what you usually do anyway? Don’t change it up on our account.”
She shook her head, sighing. There was a grin, though, so Lance didn’t worry too much about it. She’d probably been expecting them to do something along those lines, anyway.
“Fine, I’ll introduce your show. Is there anything in particular you guys want me to say?”
“Just say whatever you want,” Keith shrugged.
“Yeah. Maybe talk about how you thought the two styles would look good together and how you hand picked us,” Lance waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly. “Make sure the press knows that we’re your favorites, and all that.”
“Ignore him,” Keith quipped, giving Lance a light shove.
“She probably will,” he shrugged, dropping his arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Let’s look at the gallery for a few minutes and make sure that nothing’s been knocked crooked since we put them up earlier, yeah?”
Allura shook her head again as they walked away, and Shiro laughed.
“Don’t encourage them,” he heard Allura scold.
“I’m doing no such thing,” Shiro shot back, mirth still in his tone.
Their exchange faded into the background as he and Keith stepped into the gallery. Lance still couldn’t get over the fact that the entire room was full of his work and Keith’s work. The last time he’d had artwork up here, it had been the new artists competition that he’d lost to Keith, and it felt incredibly surreal to be working together with Keith...and to maybe, just maybe be a little more than colleagues, now. He wasn’t going to push that particular subject until after this opening was over, though.
He’d just have to deal with the excitement, the anticipation, that filled his stomach with butterflies until then. No big deal.
Instead, Lance watched as Keith looked around the gallery, allowing his arm to fall from Keith’s shoulders. Keith glanced at him for a moment, questioningly, then turned his attention back to the paintings on the walls. He started a slow walk around the room and Lance fell in step beside him, an amiable silence falling between them.
They had walked halfway around the room in silence when Keith paused, looking up at Lance’s painting of Varadero beach. It was the one that Keith had recognized him for, and Lance kind of suspected it was Keith’s favorite of all of his works, but he didn’t mind. It was his personal favorite, too.
After a long moment, Keith broke the silence, glancing up at Lance.
“Thanks.”
Lance blinked, surprised, as he looked back down at Keith. “For what?”
“For...well, for giving me a chance to begin with, even if I wasn’t exactly nice to you. And for helping me relax before the show. The date. Just...everything, I guess.”
That’s not fair , was Lance’s immediate thought as a light flush darkened his cheeks. He’s not allowed to pull something like that!
“You mean, ‘ thanks, Lance, for being an insufferable annoyance and not giving me a chance to run away’ , right? I know, I have that effect on people,” he made light of the situation instead, grinning at his own expense.
“No, Lance, I mean it,” Keith shook his head, frowning at Lance. “Thank you.”
Lance, unused to such sincerity, felt the heat in his cheeks and suddenly became very interested in his shoes. After a few beats of silence, he managed a soft, “I should really be thanking you, though. For letting me in, even though I was just that annoying guy with the dog that liked to knock you down. For not pushing me away, even though you had every right to. For giving me a chance…”
...to do what? Make an ass of himself? Check, check, and check. He’d already done that.
“Fine, then. You’re welcome. But all of that is just because you’re you . Now accept my gratitude already, Lance.”
At the fierce look on Keith’s face, Lance laughed a little. With his pulse thrumming in his ears and more confident than he usually felt, he reached forward and slowly took Keith’s hand in his. Keith didn’t pull his hand away; he shifted his hand and allowed their fingers to slot together, and a lump rose in Lance’s throat. He managed to speak around it anyway.
“Thanks for everything,” he smiled and squeezed Keith’s hand. “And you’re welcome.”
“That’s more like it,” Keith shot back, but his hand squeezed back. Lance tried to suppress the giddiness that was rising and succeeded, to a point.
In that moment, more than before, he wanted to ask where they stood, but decided against it. There would be a better time to discuss whatever it was, but that time was not right before the gallery opening. That kind of discussion was best left for a time and place removed from Juniberries , where they could talk in private.
At least he finally knew what he wanted, though.
Lance wanted this feeling–the contentment of Keith’s hand in his. He wanted the banter, the steady flow of teasing and playful insults that perpetuated any space they shared. The squabbling and bickering that came along if they disagreed on something even as trivial as what takeout they were going to order while working or about whether plain coffee or a latte of some sort was the superior drink. It wasn’t the fairytale romance he had dreamed of in his younger days, for sure, but it was something uniquely theirs , and he wanted to see where it could take them.
It was yet another thing to think about later, when they didn’t have to prepare for tonight’s opening in just twenty minutes. For now, he was satisfied that they would have that discussion, especially since Keith was still in possession of his hand and was gently pulling Lance around the room. He was probably making sure all the paintings were straight or in the right position, but Lance had stopped fretting and simply allowed himself to enjoy the moment.
If anyone had anything to say when Keith and Lance exited the gallery hand in hand a few minutes later, they kept it to themselves. It was possible that they hadn’t even noticed, since people were milling about the lobby now, helping themselves to light finger foods from the snack table while Coran guarded one door and Shiro the other. Allura was mingling, a wide smile on her face as she laughed and flitted through the crowd.
With a shared glance, Keith and Lance came to an unspoken agreement and reluctantly pulled their hands apart. Lance immediately missed the comfort of Keith’s hand in his, but he didn’t say as much. Instead, he hitched a grin onto his features and stepped forward into the people milling about, only just starting to realize they were more numerous than he’d initially thought. His heart skipped a beat in nervous anticipation, but he made his way over to where Allura had been drawn into a conversation with someone she seemed to know. When he turned, Lance thought the man looked familiar. He made a beeline for the duo, since no one really knew who he was just yet, and sidled up.
“Hey, Princess,” he greeted Allura, and she turned her pretty smile on him as it morphed into a frown.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” she demanded.
“At least a hundred thousand more,” he chirped back, beaming. “Whatcha talking about?”
“We were just discussing the show,” her companion answered, smiling and offering a hand. “You must be Lance McClain, the watercolorist, right?”
Blinking, Lance accepted his hand and shook, nodding. “Yep, that’s me.”
“His attitude leaves much to be desired–”
“ Hey !” Lance interjected, but was promptly ignored.
“–but his work is of exceptional quality,” Allura gave a little, satisfied smile that actually warmed Lance to the core. Whoa . Allura had a lot of faith in him, and that gave him pause. It wasn’t really something he’d ever expected. He had to pull himself together to catch her words when she continued. “With a few more years and a more expansive portfolio, I believe we could see some of his work in any one of the Voltron Art Alliance’s galleries. We don’t have many watercolor painters with such a grasp over the medium, after all.”
Ay por dios , that kind of praise could kill a man.
Lance shook himself and forced a light laugh. “Oh, please, Keith will make it into the Alliance before you can even blink! I appreciate the thought though, ‘Lura. I’ll work hard so I don’t let you down, but don’t get discouraged if it takes more than a few years. That’s a lot of ground to cover!”
“Stop selling yourself short,” were the words that accompanied a sharp elbow in his side. Lance hadn’t seen Keith step up, but the fierce glare he’d earned from him made him offer a sheepish grin. “Ignore him, Thace, he’s always like this.”
“Keith,” the man, Thace, nodded. Lance seemed to recall that the owner of Marmora was named Thace, too, so that must be why he was familiar. “I have to agree with you. From what I’ve seen of your work, Mr. McClain, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Lance,” he piped up instantly, then backpedaled a little. “Please, just Lance. Mr. McClain is for my father and my uncle and maybe my older brother, but I’m just Lance.”
“Lance, then,” Thace agreed amiably.
“And thanks,” Lance added sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. A quick glance at the delicate clock on the wall gave him a good excuse for redirecting, though, and he took it. “Anyway, it’s about time to get this show rolling, isn’t it?”
Allura gave him a look that told him she knew this tactic–he tended to avoid when people talked about his art or complimented it if he could, and she was not amused. Even though this was the first time he’d headlined a show, he’d still been friends with her for long enough that she scolded him for it. It was just easier to talk about other people or redirect because he hated being embarrassed, and praise always did the job.
Fortunately for him, since it wasn’t just Allura but also his show partner eyeing him in a way that said I have a lot of things to say to you , he wasn’t wrong.
“We’ll continue our conversation later, then,” Thace inclined his head politely, stepping away to allow Allura and the two artists by. Lance only just realized that they were standing just beyond the small group gathered at the triptych and discussing it in low voices. The spot where they would introduce the show.
“Yes, please!” Allura’s smile was back. “Thank you for coming tonight, Thace. I know Fridays are a busy night over at Marmora , so it means a lot that you’re here.”
And then she motioned to the two of them, and Lance wrapped his fingers around Keith’s for just a moment, squeezing lightly both to help soothe his own nerves and maybe Keith’s, too. He let his hand fall fairly soon after, curling his fingers at his side, but Keith smiled up at him, and Lance grinned back.
“Ready?” he asked as they followed Allura toward the entrance.
“As I’ll ever be,” Keith breathed out in response, and they shared a slightly nervous laugh.
Together, they stepped up beside Allura as she called for attention, one on either side and corresponding to which portion of the triptych they had been responsible for, and the true test of the night began.
Keith watched from across the room, in a brief lull between conversing with the people wandering the gallery, as Lance talked passionately about one of his pieces. It looked like one of Blue sleeping, the colors soft and cheerful, and Keith remembered how excited Lance had been the first time he’d told him about it, too. Their eyes met across the room and Lance’s grin grew wider before he returned his attention to his conversation partner, and Keith smiled despite himself.
The night was drawing to a close, with only a few stragglers remaining in the gallery, and Keith slipped out into the lobby for a drink. Allura was mingling with a few donors near the doors, arm tucked through Shiro’s as she sipped on her wine. It was a sure sign that the night was winding down, but when he thought about Lance in the other room, he didn’t want it to end.
Shaking his head, Keith helped himself to a glass of wine.
As he sipped at the moscato, he decided that this had been a good opening. With Lance to share some of the conversation, it was easier to field questions and just breathe while people were coming in. Lance was a born conversationalist, even if he stuck his foot in his mouth more often than most. He just had a charisma that kept people entertained, as well as keeping Keith from feeling too overwhelmed by everything. He was forced to admit that, had he been doing the show on his own, he wasn’t sure he’d feel so content afterwards.
He was sure that Lance was partly to blame. After taking him out to eat before the show and helping him relax, Lance was probably a major catalyst in how good Keith felt. Crowds and Keith didn’t exactly mix well, but this time had been an exception.
Keith tipped the wine glass back just as the clock chimed eleven, signalling the time that Juniberries was supposed to close its doors. Seeming to recall that information herself, Allura stood up straighter where she was still in conversation across the room, though she kept her arm tucked in Shiro’s.
“Unfortunately, everyone,” she said in a tone that carried, even as Lance and the remaining few from the showroom trickled back into the lobby, “ Juniberries must close for the evening. The show will be here for six weeks, so feel free to stop by again, and do tell your friends!”
Lance stepped up beside Keith and nudged him lightly with a shoulder, mouthing, ‘ We survived !’ with an obnoxious grin even as he turned to thank the stragglers. Keith found his voice and did the same, shaking hands and telling people to come again until it was just the caterers, finishing with their packing, and those involved with the gallery’s operation.
“Now that that’s settled,” Allura stretched, finally pulling her arm from Shiro’s, “it’s time to finish up here. Thanks for your hard work, Keith, Lance. You guys can go ahead and go, now. You must be exhausted!”
“What, no, we should help clean up!” Lance frowned. “I mean, you gave us this chance, so it’s only fair–”
He stopped when Shiro reached out and put a hand on his shoulder with that calm grin he had. “We’ll be fine here. You guys were more nervous than we were, so you’re probably even more tired. Go home and get some rest.”
“You can help me out at the shop tomorrow if you really want!” Coran quipped in, though his tone was teasing. “I think I’ll have you clean the litterboxes and scrub the floor around them really well, just as a precaution!”
“Noted,” Lance’s voice turned a little stiff and he looped his arm through Keith’s. “Let’s go, Keithy-poo, they’ve obviously got everything under control!”
Keith allowed himself to be pulled, merely waving in farewell over his shoulder as the chime above the door jingled. He did shift his arm to make Lance’s grip more comfortable, but allowed Lance to lead them around the square, the Voltron statue designed by Allura’s father, Alfor, standing proudly in the middle.
As if thinking along the same lines, admiring the statue in the streetlights, Lance led the way across the pavement, only slowing once they had rounded the base and reached the front of Voltron .
“Y’know, Allura said that her dad had plans to make five lion statues, too,” he mused. “Since Voltron is supposed to be formed from five alien lion super robots, according to all of Alfor’s plans. It’s a pretty cool story.”
Keith knew that. Shiro had told him before, and he’d been grudgingly fascinated.
“I’d like to see them,” Lance added when Keith remained quiet. “I wish I had talent as a sculptor. I’d petition Allura for the right to help make them. We’d put them in a V-formation around Voltron, and put an inscription describing how Voltron forms and what each lion stands for.”
“Well, maybe we’ll pick up sculpting,” Keith tried to be lighthearted about it, but Lance’s wistful tone made him almost wish for the same thing. “We’ll petition Allura for the right to do it when we’re in our fifties, after spending the next thirty years learning how.”
It got a laugh out of Lance, and that’s all Keith had really been hoping for.
“I claim Blue, then. The blue lion is supposed to be the right leg, if I remember right. She’s mine. She just feels so...accepting. Plus, she and Blue seem like they’d be really similar. It feels right.”
“Then I’ll claim the red one.”
“Red seems pretty fitting for you,” Lance agreed with another laugh. They fell into silence, looking up at Voltron , and Keith wondered if they were both picturing the five lions arrayed around them, too.
After several moments, Keith finally spoke up.
“I don’t want to go home.”
The words surprised even him, and if the way Lance turned to look at him, blue eyes wide in the streetlights, he assumed they’d caught him off guard, too. He looked back up at Alfor’s legacy then, ignoring the way Lance was still looking at him. He was afraid his embarrassment would show on his features, and he didn’t want that.
“Why don’t you come over to my house?”
The words were tentative, and when Keith snapped his attention to Lance, he was rubbing his neck as his cheeks tinged red.
Cute .
He tried, and failed, to quash the thought.
“I-I mean, I’d love to crush you at Smash and MarioKart, and I’m not tired yet, and–”
“Sure,” Keith interrupted. As amusing as it would be to watch Lance stumble through all of his excuses, Keith didn’t particularly need to hear them. “And I think it’s you that’s gonna be crushed, Lance. I may not have played in years, but I don’t get rusty.”
“You’re about to put your money where your mouth is, buddy!”
Lance was tugging him along again, but Keith found he didn’t mind, so long as they were going somewhere together.
“I can’t believe–!” Lance cried indignantly. This was the second cup, and somehow Keith was still beating him in almost every race except for the Daisy Cruiser, and it was inhuman how good be was. But then Keith laughed–a cheerful sound that made Lance’s stomach twist in knots–and he couldn’t find the heart to be actually offended.
How did I fall this hard? he tried asking himself, but instead of overthinking it, he reached out with his left hand to try and knock the controller from Keith’s grasp.
“Hey! Lance, what the hell?!” Keith bit out, leaning away to continue the race. “That’s cheating! Cheating !”
“House rules: there are no rules!” Lance chimed back, barely able to keep his character on the road with one hand as he continued to sabotage his opponent.
The Final Lap! legend popped up on the screen and Lance cursed, abandoning all hope from 7th position to turn and lunge at Keith’s controller. The look on the other man’s face was priceless as Lance grasped the red plastic and tried to tear it from his hands with a smirk. Keith tugged it back towards himself, ignoring the way that Lance was half sprawled across his lap in order to keep racing.
Lance did not give in easily.
He heard Keith gasp when he wrapped his arms firmly around Keith’s middle and lifted, spinning Keith so that his back was to the television. Their legs were tangled awkwardly, but Lance would take it–victory was victory. With a self-satisfied smile at his success, he tried to figure out what clever comeback to use as Keith cursed and struggled to turn around and finish the race.
“Noooope!” Lance laughed, reaching out for the controller again, smothering the buttons and trying to wrench the piece of plastic from the other artist’s firm grip. “This is the computer’s race!”
“Dammit, Lance, my high score!” Keith struggled for a few moments until he heard the sound of the race ending, and craning his neck around as Lance peered out around him, he groaned. “Ugh, are you happy?”
Lance opened his mouth to reply when Keith shifted, trying to untangle his legs from Lance’s, and ended up pitching forward. Lance’s back ended up against the couch they’d been sitting in front of, and Keith’s hand, still grasping the controller, crashed into Lance’s chest. He winced at the impact of the hard plastic and sucked in a breath, trying to recover from the sudden loss of air. Keith caught himself with a hand on the couch cushions and stared, wide-eyed, down at Lance.
“I, uh,” Keith started, but he couldn’t seem to find words. Lance didn’t particularly blame him.
He was too preoccupied with finding the constellations in Keith’s eyes, which seemed to shine even in the dim lighting of the game cave. Maybe it was all of Pidge’s tech on the back wall, the blinking lights reflecting in Keith’s violet irises, but all the same, Lance was unable to look away. From the lashes that delicately framed them to the few freckles that littered his cheeks, Keith was breathtaking, and Lance was in way too deep. The way that Keith was practically straddling him–which, Lance recalled, was all his fault–made for a sizeable lump in his throat that he could scarcely breathe past, and it left their noses a meager two inches apart.
He thought of pulling away, but Keith still hadn’t moved. In fact, Keith seemed to be just as transfixed as Lance was, and his stomach gave a hopeful lurch that even their date hadn’t been able to produce.
Lance found his hands lifting, feeling the material of the shirt that covered Keith’s hips beneath his fingers, and heard Keith’s breath hitch just a split second before he closed his eyes against the vision before him and tilted his chin up to press his lips firmly against Keith’s. After a few short moments, he heard the sound of Keith’s controller clattering softly to the ground and felt a palm replace it against his chest, and then Keith was kissing him back. His hand from the couch curled around the back of Lance’s neck, and Lance tightened his fingers almost subconsciously on Keith’s hips.
Keith pulled away first, and when Lance opened his eyes he found him searching. Searching for what, Lance wasn’t quite sure, but when Keith’s lips quirked in a grin that was more like a smirk, Lance assumed he’d found it.
“I win this round by default, cheater ,” he breathed, rather than remark on whatever it was he’d found.
“I’m fine with that,” Lance responded. “Even though there can’t be cheating if the house rules are no rules .”
Keith snorted and rolled his eyes, but then he leaned back down to close the distance and Lance didn’t have any objection to that.
Lance never gave the spare key to the studio back, and no one asked him to.