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They had always had a plan.
From the day they met as little kids, instantly bonding over their mutual love for the stars and all things space, Lance McClain and Dean Gutierrez had created said plan: when they were old enough, they would apply to the Galaxy Garrison, become pilots, and go to space together. It was a plan Lance fully believed in with all his heart. He held Dean so close to him in his heart; he honestly couldn't imagine his life without Dean in it. He couldn't even remember when Dean wasn't in it; Dean was his constant, his best friend. And Dean felt the same way.
Or so Lance had thought.
-
"Lance," Dean said as Lance opened the door to his best friend before Dean could knock. Lance was a flurry of motion before Dean could say anything more, running back into the house and up the stairs, not waiting for Dean to follow. He didn't notice the tight expression on Dean's face, nor the stiffness of his posture as he slowly followed Lance to his room, coming to a stop in Lance's doorway.
"Lance, I-"
"I know, I know," Lance said as he bustled around his nearly bare bedroom, tossing shirts out of drawers and pictures off of walls into his open suitcase on his bed. "I totally procrastinated till the last minute, just like you said! I don't need to hear the 'I told you so,' a little help packing would be nice!"
"Lance-"
"I bet you're already packed," he went on, oblivious to his best friend anxiously shifting in his doorway in frustration and anxiety. "Man, I can't wait until we get there-"
"Lance! I have something to tell you!"
Lance blinked, stilling his movements. He'd never seen his best friend so... guilty and anxious before. His brows pulled together in concern. "What's up, buddy?"
"I'm not going to the Garrison with you."
Lance's heart stopped beating for a few seconds. He could feel the blood leave his face as Dean's words echoed in his head, fear filling him from head to toe. The shirt in his hand slipped from his slackened grasp, falling to the floor. His breath left his lungs in a quiet gasp, like a punch to the gut. No. No, this couldn't be right.
"Dean, buddy, that's not funny," Lance said, blue eyes boring into the brown ones of his best friend. Dean had to be messing with him. There was no way this could be true! They had a plan, a plan since they were both six! They'd done everything right to make that plan a reality up to this point- they were so close. Why throw this into the way now?
Dean's face tightened, a hand coming up to run through his blonde short hair. "It's... it's not a joke, Lance. I'm not going to the Garrison anymore. I withdrew from the program two days ago."
The air left Lance's lungs in a much bigger punch to the gut this time, and he stumbled to land on his bed as his knees gave out. His mind was reeling with shock, and his chest stung with betrayal. Two days ago? And Dean was barely telling him this now, on the day they were meant to leave for the Garrison? But no, it stemmed back further than two days ago- if Dean withdrew, he must've wanted to abandon the plan much longer before then. Why hadn't he said anything?
"But Dean- what about the plan?" Lance said when he found his voice again. It was a struggle to keep the tears stinging his eyes at bay. "We got into the Garrison- we were gonna go to space together." His voice was soft, and he hated how weak he sounded to himself. This can't be happening. "What happened?"
"I know we had a plan, Lance, but..." Dean hesitated, seeming to think about his word choice. "I just... changed. My mind. Myself. My dreams. I don't wanna go to space anymore. I'm staying here."
Lance knotted his hands together, desperately trying to hide their trembling. He felt like he was on a narrow ledge, unstable and dangerously close to falling off into a dark nothingness far, far below. Dean- he was supposed to go with Lance; they were supposed to embark on this journey together. Dean was Lance's rock, his piece of home away from home. Lance was leaving everything- his other friends and his whole family. He could hardly bear the thought; he hated that he had to leave them behind to follow his dream, but it would be okay. He would have Dean.
Except now he wouldn't.
And that scared Lance to his very core.
"Get out," he rasped, the tears finally streaming down his face. He turned to look at Dean's stricken face, anger and hurt blazing in his blue eyes. "Get out!"
Dean took a step back, shaking his head sadly at Lance. "Lance..." he said softly. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you-"
"Out! You liar! Just leave!" There was no stopping the utter anguish and betrayal Lance felt inside. This was like his worst nightmare coming to life. I don't want to be alone. Oh, God.
Dean finally turned and jogged his way down and out of the house, Lance following hot on his heels and slamming the front door behind him. He stared at Dean's back as he walked to his car and got in, driving away and never once looking back. As soon as he was out of sight, Lance collapsed on the floor, sobs ripping through his body and shaking his shoulders violently. He was a storm of anger, betrayal, sadness, and loneliness. He couldn't bear the thought of being alone so far from home. It would kill him. He'd know absolutely no one at the Garrison. He'd leave all of his brothers and sisters, his grandparents, his mother and father-
Suddenly, there was a sharp pain on his skull, eliciting a cry out of him and a surprised yelp from his mother, who stood above him with her head sticking in the house from outside. "Ay, mijo! Que ases en el piso?"
Rubbing the throbbing pain on his head, Lance scooted away from the door to let her in. She entered, throwing her keys into the bowl by the door and eyeing him with disapproval, a lecture surely brewing in her head. But her expression softened when she noticed his puffy red eyes and sniffles, and she leaned down to cup his cheeks in her hands, eyes shining with motherly concern.
"Amor, que paso? Porque llores?"
And just like that, the waterworks were back, and he tearfully explained everything to her between broken sobs and sniffles. He told her how betrayed he felt, how heartbroken he was that his best friend would turn his back on the plan they'd had since they were just kids, how he couldn't understand what had made him change his mind. Was it something he'd done? Had he pushed the dream too hard? Had it never been Dean's dream the whole time to go to space just as much as it was Lance's? She listened patiently, rubbing his back comfortingly and pressing reassuring kisses to his forehead. Oh, how he'd miss his mother. She was his true rock, keeping him grounded when he needed it. He admitted his fear of going out alone, his hesitation towards going to the Garrison at all now. But his mother stopped him before he could continue with that train of thought any further.
"Lance," she said sharply, protectiveness and concern shining fiercely in her eyes. "Don't you dare say that. This is your dream, mijo. Ever since you were a little kid, you wanted to go to space and see the stars. And here you are, accepted and ready to go to the place where you can go do that, and you will not throw that away because of this fear, Lance. I won't allow it. You are strong, my boy. This loneliness will not last. You will make friends at the Garrison, and you can call us whenever you like, and visit during breaks. But you will go, and you will fight for your dream, because that is who you are. With or without Dean. He may have changed his mind, but you did not. You will go, and you will thrive."
Lance sniffled, his lips curling into a small but hopeful smile. His mother always knew just what to say. "Thanks, mama."
She gave him a smile of her own, smacking his thigh when he stood up to continue packing. She smirked at his yelp, eyes shining with that fierce fire that he'd inherited from her. "Go get'em, tiger."
-
Leaving was hard. Arriving was also hard, but oh so very exciting. He'd gone through the orientation and the tour of the Garrison, his lungs short of breath and his heart in his throat, but his lips stretched into a natural smirk. He'd already met a few people and received his class schedule. He'd flirted with a few girls, but other than a few giggles and disinterested looks, there wasn't any luck there. But that was no issue; he wanted to focus on his studies anyway. He didn't come here to get a girlfriend. Though, his helpless romantic self wouldn't mind it...
"All cadets report to your assigned rooms immediately! Curfew begins in approximately one hour. Meet with your assigned roommates and unpack. Classes begin bright and early tomorrow. Go!" Commander Iverson's voice shouted loud and clear in the middle of the cafeteria, where everyone had just finished dinner. Everyone in the room stood and rushed to the residential halls, finding their rooms and their roommates. Lance felt a nervous tremble in his stomach. What if his roommate didn't like him? What if his roommate was a total prick? What if they made fun of him for his skincare routine, or his pictures, or-
Calm down, Lance, he thought to himself. Everything's gonna be okay. One step at a time. Just lay on the ol' Lance Charm on them, and bam! Instant friends.
It turned out the ol' Lance Charm wasn't necessary because as soon as he stepped into his room, his luggage already there from this morning, he was swept into a pair of thick arms and surrounded by the smell of honey and sweet bread. It was instantly comforting, and as soon as he was set on his feet, he met an equally comforting pair of brown eyes.
"Hi! I'm Hunk Garret, your roommate. You're Lance, right?"
His voice was sturdy, yet soft at the same time. In a few words, Lance would describe him as a gentle giant; the boy was huge, but not very intimidating. He was a giant teddy bear, though Lance got the feeling that he had the ability to be the complete opposite if it was necessary. He had longish black hair with an orange headband tied around his head, tanned skin, and soft brown eyes, immediately trusting. Lance was instantly charmed.
"Yeah! That's me! It's great to meet you! Oh, man, this is gonna be great! We're gonna have so much fun as roomies together, I just know it!" There was a giddiness inside of Lance that he hadn't felt in a long time-not since learning he'd been accepted into the Garrison in the first place. He couldn't keep his sunshine grin off his face, and Hunk couldn't seem to help mirroring it.
"I'm sure we are, buddy! Do you need any help unpacking?"
And from then on, their friendship bloomed, as easy as breathing.
-
The first time Lance laid eyes on Keith Kogane, he was a goner and he knew it.
They were in their first class of the day, hand-to-hand combat, and Keith had apparently already amassed himself a reputation among the instructors and student body. Whispers went around the room in a frenzy, and Lance knew there was no way Keith didn't hear them. But other than what Lance was coming to realize was a signature scowl on the boy's sharp, attractive face, Keith didn't show it. He seemingly ignored everyone, including Lance, much to his slight disappointment. He tried to get the raven-haired boy's attention, shyly introducing himself and greeting him at the end of class, but the boy gave him nothing more than a curt, "Hello," and then briskly walked out the room. Lance would be lying if he said it didn't sting a little, but it only made him extremely determined to catch Keith's attention; he'd have those violet eyes recognize him yet. And he'd do it by beating Keith Kogane at anything and everything he absolutely could.
A few years later, news about the Kerberos Mission took everyone by storm. People revered and mourned for the crew, talking nonstop of the "failed pilot error" that Lance didn't believe for a second- Takashi Shirogane, Lance's idol, making a mistake on a mission like that? Not possible. But what other explanation could there be? It hit him hard to know that his hero had died, but it hit Keith Kogane, known friend to Shiro, even harder. For weeks, Lance-a volunteer for the nurse during his free periods-would see Keith sitting in the Admin office after getting into a fight with someone or other about Kerberos, bruised and bloodied and not a single bit remorseful. The first time it happened, he was so shocked to see Keith like that that he spoke without thinking.
"Whoa, what the hell happened to you?" Lance blurted out, freezing with the bag of ice in his hand. The nurse had sent him with it, but she hadn't told him it was for Keith Kogane of all people.
Keith, who'd been staring at the ground, looked up at him, startled, before his split lips curled into a small smirk. "You should see the other guy," he joked wryly, eyes flitting to the door beside him. He crossed his arms and eased himself back in the chair, gingerly to avoid hurting himself. Lance just raised a brow, the bewildered look fading as the shock subsided.
Taking his words literally, Lance walked over to the door and opened it to see quite an unpleasant sight. If he thought Keith looked bad, this kid looked doubly worse. Two black eyes, split lips, tears in is cadet uniform, and probably more damage than could be seen, judging from the arms wrapped loosely around the guy’s midsection. Lance’s eyes widened, and he looked back at Keith, who gazed at him steadily, eyes flitting away at Lance’s reaction.
“Hold on,” Lance muttered to him. He stepped fully into the room and handed the icepacks in his hands to the kid, instructing him gently on where to place them. He came back into the room with Keith, closing the door behind him quietly. He looked at Keith, who was pointedly looking straight ahead to avoid his gaze. Lance could guess why; he could imagine the disapproval and disdain that had been poured Keith’s way after fights like this. It was in Lance’s nature to empathize; he couldn’t help putting himself in the raven-haired boy’s shoes. He knew he couldn’t even imagine how Keith felt to the full extent, but he could see where the shorter boy came from.
He placed a tentative hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go get another icepack for you, so I’ll be right back.”
Releasing the shoulder, Lance walked back to the nurse’s office and pulled another icepack out of the mini-fridge, walking briskly back to Keith’s room. He couldn’t help staring at the boy, lingering thoughts of the grief that had driven him to commit the actions that brought him in here in the first place pushing to the front of his mind. Keith stared back at him, looking slightly confused. Lance opened his mouth, an apology for the misfortune of the whole thing on the tip of his tongue, but then closed it immediately, thinking better of it. Something told him that wouldn’t have been the best thing to do. He opened his mouth again, this time to speak, but Keith’s confusion turned to anger, and he cut Lance off before he could get more than a word in.
“I—”
“Save it,” Keith said harshly, pushing himself to his feet angrily. “I don’t need to hear your stupid apologies that don’t mean anything to me! Sorry isn’t going to fix anything!”
“—need you to get up on the cot so I can patch you up,” Lance finished, a careful look on his face. His hands were lifted slightly, palms forward; a pacifying gesture to calm Keith down.
Keith froze, eyes wide, a red flush blooming up his neck and to his cheeks. His mouth hung open slightly, and his body went slack after a few seconds of his horrified staring at Lance. He swallowed, breaking eye contact to look at the floor before breathing out a small, “Oh.”
Placing the icepacks on the edge of the cot, Lance walked over to Keith and gently placed his hands on the shorter boy’s shoulders to guide him over to the cot, helping him up to sit on it. They were almost at eye-level, Keith now resting a few inches taller than Lance with the added height of the cot, though he was avoiding Lance’s gaze determinedly. Lance, with a wildly beating heart, gently took Keith’s chin in his hands turning it slowly side to side to survey the damage. Of course, he couldn’t help admiring the boy’s beauty at the same time, even with the bruises peppering it.
He took in the delicate features; the gentle slope of his nose, the smooth skin (despite the bruises and small cuts there), the long lashes and chapped lips. Holy shit, Lance thought. He’s beautiful. A beautiful face, framed by dark, longish hair that vaguely resembled a mullet. Keith’s eyes were shut, but he opened them slowly, meeting Lance’s with embarrassment and shame.
“I-I’m sorry,” Keith muttered, eyes flickering down, but back up again. They were a deep blue, almost violet. “I didn’t mean to be such an asshole…”
Lance gave him a patient, understanding smile, and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he told the other boy. “Now, hold this to your eye, Mullet.” He handed Keith one of the icepacks.
Keith accepted it, though his brows were furrowed in a frown now. “Mullet?” he echoed, seeming offended.
“Yep; Mullet. Business in the front, party in the back—or however that goes. Please, Keith, tell me that isn’t a conscious choice of hairstyle.”
Keith sputtered, pressing the icepack to his black eye. “My hair,” he said through teeth gritted in annoyance, “is not a mullet. And it just grows that way, I don’t style it!”
“Well,” Lance said, a smirk on his face, “I guess you can’t help your genetics.” His retort was half-hearted, but definitely not because he was secretly glad and appreciative of Keith’s genetics. No, of course not. (Okay, so maybe it was, Keith was gorgeous, okay, sue him.) It was partly due to the fact that he was gingerly pressing his fingers to Keith’s torso; over his chest, and now on his abdomen. He tried not to blush wildly at the taut muscle under his fingers, and from the heat he felt on his face, he knew it must not have been working. But from the glances up at Keith’s face for signs of pain, he saw the red flush on his face too.
When Keith’s breathing hitched under Lance’s prodding fingers near his left hip, Lance handed him the second icepack to hold there. Lance quickly disinfected the various cuts on Keith’s face—including his lips—and covered them in small band-aids, stepping back from his work. Keith held his gaze steadily, violet eyes calm in contrast to the fiery anger that had been there before.
“Well,” Lance said softly, “I’m done here. You’re all patched up. And now someone else can take care of the other guy.”
Keith slid off the cot, returning to near-eye level with Lance—they stood almost flush against each other, and they froze for a good three seconds before Lance took a step back. He flashed Keith a grin, walking backwards slowly towards the door.
“Thanks, uh…”
“The name’s Lance,” Lance supplied, throwing a playful wink and finger-guns. Keith seemed to bite back a smile at that, hands pressing the icepacks in place.
“Thanks, Lance,” he said, giving Lance a small smile.
“No problem; see you around, Mullet,” Lance said, flashing a grin as he walked out the door.
“It’s not a mullet!” Came the indignant reply; he laughed as he closed the door behind him.
-
Lance patched Keith up at least twice a week for the next three weeks.
On the fourth week, he received the news that Keith Kogane had been expelled for behavioral issues.
He’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t ache a bit for the raven-haired boy of anger and guarded violet eyes.
-
Now, walking around the halls of the Castle Ship late at the space-version of night, he couldn’t help but remember Dean and the plan they once had. His heart was heavy with sadness and bitterness. He’d always wanted to go to space and fly among the stars, and now here he was, doing exactly that. He should’ve been happy. He should’ve been loving every minute of it. But he missed his family, the sound of his mother’s voice and the noisiness of children running around the house. He missed the warmth of sun on his skin, and the smell of rain fresh on the pavement of his shoddy neighborhood. He missed his dog Paco, and the tire swing tied to the big tree in his front lawn. He missed home, and earth—hell, he even missed Dean a little bit. He yearned for anything that reminded him of home.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Being among the stars was his dream—and here he was, dreaming of going back home.
“Lance?”
Lance startled at the sound of that familiar voice; it jerked him back into the present, and he suddenly realized where he was. His legs had carried him to the training room for some reason; the voice, of course, belonged to none other than Keith Kogane, who was looking at him in confusion and slight concern. Ending up in space with your self-proclaimed rival wasn’t at all where Lance saw his life headed when he was a mere freshman at the Garrison, and yet here he was.
“Oh,” Lance finally said, blinking at the raven-haired boy. “Hey, Mullet.”
Keith’s brow raised slightly in annoyance at the nickname, but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge it. “What are you doing here so late?”
Lance gave him a wry, yet tired, smile. “I could ask you the same thing, dude,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. At Keith’s silence, he shrugged. “Just thinking, can’t sleep.”
Keith plopped himself down on the floor, bayard retracting to its normal form. “Thinking about what?” He patted the space next to him on the floor, and after a moment of hesitation, Lance went and sat beside him.
“Home, I guess,” Lance sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “I had a best friend before Hunk—his name is Dean. I’ve known him since we were in diapers, practically. We always had this plan. We were gonna both chase our dream to go into space together and fly among the stars. We both applied to the Garrison and got in, and it was the best thing ever, you know? It was finally happening; we were that much closer to making that dream a reality. And then the day before we were set to leave, he came to me and told me that he wasn’t going with me anymore. He’d withdrawn from the program two days before and waited until then to tell me. I almost didn’t come to the Garrison because I was so terrified of being alone. But I did it anyway, and then I met Hunk, and Pidge, and you…”
He fell silent, staring at the air in front of him. Keith watched him silently, eyes traveling the taller boy’s profile. “I remember you,” he said softly, meeting Lance’s eyes briefly when the boy turned to look at him. “You patched me up a lot after all the times I got into trouble.”
The corners of Lance’s eyes tipped up at the memory. “Oh, yeah,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “Quite the troublemaker, you were. And still are, if we’re being honest here.”
Keith nudged his shoulder in retaliation, earning a chuckle from Lance. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, in which Lance snuck glances at Keith from the corners of his eye, only to find Keith already looking at him. “What?” he asked, a slight blush creeping on his cheeks.
Keith shook his head, gaze unwavering. “Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking…”
Lance let out another breathy chuckle, shaking his head softly. He bit his lip before speaking again. “You know,” he thought out loud, “I was pretty upset that things hadn’t gone according to plan. I had my full heart set on it, you know? But now… I can’t help feeling glad that things didn’t go as planned. I can’t imagine being here with Dean. I think of the future, and all I can see is you.”
Keith blinked. “Me?”
Lance’s eyes widened, and he opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of how to save face. But there was no recovering from that, unfortunately for him. Keith gave a small laugh, and inched his hand toward Lance’s, taking it in his. Lance froze, a wild blush consuming his face and neck. His heart was racing, and he hoped to god his palm wasn’t as sweaty as he thought it was.
They drifted closer to each other, and Keith rested his head on Lance’s shoulder, Lance resting his cheek on the raven-haired boy’s head. The other boy’s hair tickled his chin and nose, but he didn’t mind it at all. He felt completely at peace beside Keith, the earlier bitterness and sadness leaking out of his body as warmth and contentment settled in.
Sure, things hadn’t gone according to Lance’s plan; but it seemed as though the universe had a better one in the works for him anyway.