Chapter Text
Lance woke to the sound of rain hitting the window.
He sat upright in bed, pulse racing, and it took him a long while to figure out why his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest at any moment. Rain. How long had it been since he'd felt the rain? How long had it been since he'd been on a planet that even understood the concept?
Lance tossed his blankets off, cursing softly as his foot tangled in the sheet, then stood and carefully tiptoed over and around the other figures cluttering the living room floor. The last few days had been... hectic, to say the least. Between the refugees from Project Balmera—people who, like Val, had been stuffed full of crystals in the Galra Empire's attempt to engineer "renewable energy"—trying to get in contact with their families, the rest of the castle's crew looking for their first taste of Earth, and the fact that no one but the Mendozas had a house in Carlsbad, now that the Holt house was full of bullets and blood...
Yeah. It was a little bit crowded.
Lance didn't mind, though. He'd surrendered his bedroom to Hunk's moms, Eli had taken over Mateo's room, and Karen Holt took the last actual bed in Luz's room. Shiro and his brother were staying at Lance's aunt and uncle's house, along with Val and the Alteans. Everyone else—barring the handful of aliens who had opted to stay on the castle-ship, where they could be ready for a surprise attack from deep space—was gathered in the living room with Lance. Luz and Mateo slept one on either side of Lance's sleeping bag, Matt and Pidge huddled together by the stairs, and Hunk got the sofa by simple right of being the first one to fall asleep last night. No one had wanted to risk trampling him when they inevitably stayed up much later playing ridiculous games.
Lance crossed to the couch now, tapping Hunk's foot a few times until he startled awake and ran a hand down his face. "Lance? What time is it?"
"I'm not sure." Lance looked toward the kitchen, but he couldn't see the stove clock from this angle. By the weak gray light coming through the window, he guessed it was still early. "Doesn't matter. Listen."
Hunk cocked his head to the side, and Lance grinned as the rhythmic patter of raindrops filled the silence. His whole body felt lighter for the sound, his pulse quickening to keep pace.
All at once, Hunk shot upright, his mouth dropping open. "Lance--"
"I know!"
"Are you gonna--?"
"Obviously. You want to come? You don't have to."
But Hunk was already on his feet. They tiptoed together to the front door, Lance clutching at Hunk's sleeve to supplement the lip-biting he was already doing to keep from squealing out loud.
Rain.
"Holy quiznak," Lance whispered once he had a pair of sandals on and finally opened the front door. Hunk glanced backward, probably looking to see whether they'd roused anyone else in their excitement, but Lance couldn't bring himself to care right now. They'd been on Earth for just over a week now, and Lance had spent most of that time with his family, telling them an abbreviated version of his story—and leaving out the worst bits. They'd been worried enough once they realized he was fighting a literal war; they didn't need to know about the zombies and the pissing Haggar off and the part where he sent Wyn off to safety in Blue, fully expecting it to get Lance himself killed.
Well. It had been a long week. Longer for some people, considering all the business with the UN. Lance's attention last night had been split between a board game Mateo wanted to teach him, an argument with Pidge over what counted as a humanoid alien, really, and trying to keep track of Karen's conversation with the other adults. He gathered that she and Allura and Shiro had finally reached some sort of conclusion with the UN and most of its member nations, though. Which was good. They'd had pizza and marathoned Star Wars to celebrate—though it had only made Lance want to watch it with the aliens.
Meri had seen it, hadn’t she? Lance couldn’t remember, but she'd lived on Earth for twelve years. She'd probably watched all the sci fi just to make fun of it. Lance knew that was what he would do if he ever got stranded on a planet a couple dozen iPhone generations behind.
So there were a lot of reasons the last week had passed in an almost dream-like state. Lance was home, and he knew he was home, and he'd burst into tears on more than one occasion when it hit him that he had his family back. But so much of it had felt surreal that on some level, he supposed, he kept expecting to wake up and find he'd imagined it all.
Stepping out into the rain, though... That he knew was real. He'd dreamed about rain more than once since leaving home, he'd been to planets that had something like mist or snow filling the air, but none of it had felt right. None of it was like this.
Lance tilted his head back, letting the rain wash over him. The twilight smelled of wet grass and clean air, and Lance couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of him. He blinked furiously, trying to stare up into the drizzle.
“Hunk,” he said, hearing the splash of footsteps joining him on the driveway. “We made it.”
Hunk leaned over, pressing their shoulders together. He’d stopped long enough to grab a raincoat from the front closet and slip on a pair of shoes—both of which were probably smart choices. It wasn’t exactly frigid out here, but it was November, and it was about four in the morning, and the rain was cold.
Lance didn’t care.
He kicked off his sandals and wriggled his toes in a puddle, relishing the cool silk feel of it against his skin. God, he’d missed this.
He hesitated a moment longer, then grabbed Hunk and towed him away from the house. “Come on,” he said. “There’s a park at the end of the block that has awesome puddles.”