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“Keith!” Lance’s voice rang out through their comms. “On your left, Red!!”
Keith gritted his teeth. Communicators built into their helmets were a given; ear pieces were practically a universal staple sci-fi movies. Keith could appreciate that. He also could appreciate the technology that kept his team-- or at least their voices-- close to him in the dark, endless expanse of space. Useful for both strategy and the occasional moral support. Having his friends in his ears urging him on in the heat of battle; it’s grounding, keeps him centered.
What no one ever mentions in movies about the final frontier is that communicators are annoying .
Keith is a ‘get to the point’ kind of conversationalist. Pointless chatter has never been his thing, even less so when the chatter is up close and personal, beamed directly into his ear drums via alien surround sound. But more than that, Keith tends to be hyper aware of loud noises. Throughout childhood, even during his stint at the garrison, Keith had to look out for himself. A change in tone put him on edge, but a raised voice, he learned at a young age, that signaled a fight. His months spent living alone in the desert only heightened his sensitivity to sound.
Now, as a part of team Voltron, being alert to his surroundings could literally be the difference between life and death. So, though he may not be alone anymore, he still remains vigilant in keeping his ears open. He supposes that some people might term him as ‘paranoid’ or ‘skittish’ but Keith prefers ‘appropriately wary.’
At any rate, he’s sensitive to loud noises, always has been. Especially when the loud noises are Lance, repeating what he just said, only, since Keith didn’t respond the first time, he’s increased his volume by about ten thousand decibels.
“KEITH!! ON YOUR LEFT!”
“Yes, thank you, Lance.” Keith pokes at one of the many screens in front of him, attempting to lower the volume on his comm as he continues to dodge enemy fire. “I definitely would have missed the GIANT GALRA WARSHIP that has been steadily flanking my left side for the past five minutes if it hadn’t been for your CONSTANT SCREAMING.”
“I was looking out for you, so sue me.” Lance mutters in his ears.
“Just concentrate on your own quadrant, Lance.” Keith advises. “Shiro, how much more time do Pidge and Hunk need planetside? We can take a few more ticks of heavy fire down here before things start to get iffy.”
He hears Shiro collaborate with Allura and Coran, but doesn’t have the luxury of discovering the outcome as the Galra have abruptly switched tactics. He’s suddenly surrounded.
Keith is about to give Shiro a more accurate report ( scratch that, way too optimistic, we need back-up, now! ) of their current situation when three things happen at once:
First: Keith realizes a split second too late that the ship directly opposite him has a very clear shot that he cannot evade.
Second: Lance is screaming his name again, but this time it’s as he rams the Blue Lion into aforementioned ship.
Third: Everything goes white.
The whiteness is followed by a deafening silence as all communication between the ships and the lions blips out. And everything is still.
And then it roars back into life. And Keith’s head is spinning.
“--EITH! KEITH!”
“Yeah. I heard you the first time,” he mumbles. Lance makes some nondescript noise of relief and Keith notes, even through his haze, that he doesn’t sound right.
Shiro’s voice rings through his helmet, clear and calm: “Keith, Lance, report in. You okay?”
Keith sits up, scanning for the Blue Lion amongst the debris that’s now surrounding him. “I’m fine,” he reports tersely. “But Lance is injured.”
“What’s going on with Lance?” Hunk pops in, concerned. “Oh, by the way, we’re all good down here. After transposing the two connections at the main switch, Pidge was able to supercede the-- well, it doesn’t matter, their natural barrier is coming back online and the remaining Galra are falling back to regroup, at least it looks like it. For now. Anyways, Lance, buddy, are you there, are you okay?”
“Y-yeah.” Lance comes in, a bit shaky at first. “Maybe a little banged up, but nothing a cute alien chick can’t kiss and make better.”
“Sounds like you’ll survive then, glad to hear it.” There’s a hint of a smile in Shiro’s voice, but it’s quickly overshadowed as he gives them instructions on their next tactical move. Basically they’re going to make sure the perimeter is secure until the planet’s defenses are fully operational again. The plan after that is for Allura to meet with some of the planet’s key leaders regarding their relationship with Voltron going forward. Diplomacy stuff. Keith does his best to pay attention, but his concentration is shot.
“Phew, Lance, you had me for a minute there, man.” Hunk breathes out a sigh of relief after Shiro finishes. “Oh, yeah, guys, just an fyi, that weird sonic boom thing that happened, it’s probably gonna happen again. Like, at least twice more. No worries though. It’s a Harmon thing, apparently, when--”
“Good to know,” Keith interrupts. “Meet everybody back at the castle before we land.” He punches off his comm and flies back. He can feel a migraine coming on.
*
‘A little banged up’ applies to both of them. Keith eyes Lance warily as the latter joins him in the med bay. He’s sitting on what is probably the Altean version of a gurney, half heartedly dabbing a cotton ball like object to the cut on his right temple. The ‘sonic boom’ or whatever shook his lion worse than the others, most likely because of his positioning in relation to the planet, and he must’ve hit his head at some point. He grumbles. The stupid thing won’t stop bleeding.
Lance whistles at the sight of him, “Shit, son, you get into a fist fight on the way back?” As usual, Lance thinks himself incredibly witty. Rather than wait for Keith’s reply, he attempts to mime a fist fight….but ends up doubled over in pain instead. “Ow ow ow,” Lance clutches his side. “Okay, okay, time to check the damage” He hums to himself, tapping his user data into the scanner before running it over his midsection. “Annnnnnnd, no broken ribs!” Lance cheers. “Well, Keith, looks like I won this round. Just some bruises, no bleeding whatsoever!”
“Lance,” Keith feels his patience wearing thinner by the moment, “bruises mean you’re bleeding internally. That’s definitely worse than this little cut.”
“Well,” Lance drawls, “I think, out of the two of us, you’re the one who could use the help.” He picks up a fresh cotton ball and applies pressure to Keith’s temple, unexpectedly gentle. Lance shushes him before Keith can protest any further.
Keith’s hands twitch with disuse in his lap as Lance folds up a square of space-gauze and dresses his wound. It’s really not such a big deal , he thinks, watching Lance’s expression flick between concern and concentration. If I was by myself , he continues, closing his eyes, I’d just take a couple of aspirin and move on with my life .
But why deny Lance this satisfaction? Because he is definitely satisfied, looking down at Keith with bright blue eyes, still softly grasping his chin. “There, there,” he croons, “Good as new.” His mocking words don’t quite match the tone of his voice, which is strangely tender.
Until, that is, Lance grins and says, “Whoops, missed a spot,” and licks his thumb before scrubbing it over Keith’s cheek, an exaggerated impression of somebody’s great aunt.
“Lance!” Keith positively shrieks, swatting him away, “What the hell!”
“You shoulda seen your face,” Lance giggles before looking down at where Keith hit his arm. “Gross, man, you smeared blood all over me.”
“Better blood than your nasty spit,” Keith shoots back.
“In what universe is blood less gross than spit?”
This is a valid point, but Keith won’t concede that easily. His mouth is slightly open, a not-so-snappy comeback on the tip of his tongue, when Lance’s expectant face, and everything else surrounding him, is once again swallowed by the brightest white.
Before, when he was in Red, it had seemed like a flash, over in a split second. This time, it lasts longer, long enough for Keith to process a wave of panic. He can’t see or hear anything, but instead, feels Lance stumble against him. Lance blindly clutches at him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other curling against his thigh. The physical contact is a welcome anchor and Keith finds himself clutching back, a death grip on Lance’s forearm.
The first thing Keith registers hearing, after it passes, is breathing. He doesn’t know if it’s his or Lance’s, his sensory perception is still confused, but it’s heavy. It might be his, because his chest suddenly hurts, sharp pain stabbing through his ribs, his gut. His eyes squeeze shut and Keith gasps, unsteady on his feet.
Wait. Wasn’t he sitting?
“Ke-Keith?” Lance asks, because it must be Lance, even though that’s not Lance’s voice.
“Yeah?” he replies, opening his eyes blearily.
His eyes meet….his eyes.
“What the…” he breathes, automatically pitching forward to get a closer look at his own features. What is going on?
“Uh, w-well,” Keith watches as his own face pulls into a nervous smile and his eyes shift sideways, “I was gonna say, could you take your hand off my leg, but I guess it’s technically your leg and my hand, so, uh, go right ahead?”
“What?” Keith pulls back as if burned. He looks down at his hands. Long, slender fingers, perfectly trimmed nails, skin a warm, golden-brown. He looks back at...himself...then back down at his arms, legs, body. Blue armor , he thinks dumbly. I’m wearing blue . He runs a hand through his hair, it’s cropped shorter than it has been in years. He tugs at the hair that just barely covers the nape of his neck.
“We,” he licks his lips, part of his brain registering that they’re not chapped, when they’re never not chapped, “We switched bodies?”
“Seems like it,” Lance replies, popping himself off the table. He stumbles. “Dude, your legs are so short?” He lifts one foot off the ground experimentally. “How am I supposed to walk around on these little stubs?”
“Lance, we are practically the exact same height , my legs are not --”
Lance sidles up to him, “No mine are definitely longer, just look,”
“This is a pointless conversation,” Keith begins, (and yes, Lance’s legs are clearly longer, side-by-side, this is obvious), “and, why are you not freaking out about the fact that you’re IN MY BODY?!”
Lance grins and it looks positively wicked on Keith’s face.
“Stop doing that with my face!” Keith feels like he might be verging on hysterics. He finds Lance difficult to understand on the best of days, but this is downright impossible. How is he supposed to deal with this?
“In~ your~ body~” Lance repeats, waggling his eyebrows. Despite the fact that Keith’s brows are significantly fuller and generally less mobile, it’s still a very Lance-like expression.
“Yeah, in my body.” Keith repeats. Was Lance not fully grasping the situation?
Lance shrugs, seeming to give up on whatever joke he was trying to make. “Keith, I am freaking out. I’m totally freaking out. But maybe you forgot, you left me with the headache to end all headaches, I think you have a concussion by the way,”
Keith winces,
“So, rather than shout about it, I figure we just go down to the planet like we were going to anyways and I’m sure they’ll work some alien mumbo-jumbo on us and we’ll be just fine. We’re telepathically linked to pilot giant mechanical magic robot cats. Switching bodies is probably, like, alien technology 101.”
There’s no way it’s gonna be that easy, Keith is certain, but they get in their lions (Lance whines about being too short to reach the pedals; Keith bristles because 1) they’re the SAME HEIGHT and 2) the lions don’t even HAVE pedals) and fly to the surface nonetheless.
*
The name of this planet is Harmon.
The Harmonians are relatively humanoid. Perhaps it’s because they’ve only seen a select few, but the species seems to have no outward indication of different races, age, or genders. Although varying in height, they all present as young, feminine: gentle features, full hips, slender wrists and ankles, curves clearly visible through the gossamer sheaths of fabric they wear draped across their bodies. Soft, supple lips greet them in breathy tones as multiple eyes flutter between open and closed.
Honestly Keith finds them creepy. His first impression when they land is that he wouldn’t like to be in a room full of these women by himself. He isn’t prejudiced or anything, but four, five, six eyes...that’s too many eyes. Plus, they seem to keep them closed for the most part, so why have multiple eyes in the first place? And they speak like some kind of hive mind. One begins a sentence (he has to lean forward to hear, this is a whole planet of mumblers it seems) and it’s like her consciousness...shifts….her eyes flutter shut and another Harmonian across the room resumes, picking up the same thought, with the same intonation (in the same mumble).
Creepy.
Lance, of course, disagrees.
As soon as their feet touch the ground, he’s in full flirtation mode, all winning smiles and terrible pick-up lines (“You have me beaten in the vision department, babe, but I’m not mad about it…” His victim blinks at him wordlessly, but Lance rambles on, ever the optimist: “‘Cause, I only have eyes for you.”).
As they make their way to where the other paladins and Allura are currently convened, Keith feels like he’s in some kind of horrific dream. He watches as Lance cavorts around in his body grinning like a maniac and spouting nonsense in his voice. “Stop it,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “You’re making me look crazy!”
“Hey, just because you choose to waste your cute face on frowns and negativity and desert shacks, doesn’t mean I’m going to!!”
“What?!” Keith barely has time to process past irritation before Lance casually continues,
“Besides, I know for a fact that this armor makes your butt look great, so I’m definitely going to take advantage of that .”
“My butt?!” Keith sputters as they reach their destination.
“What about your butt, dude?” Hunk affectionately squeezes Keith on his shoulder as they meet up with him, Pidge, and Shiro. Allura is in a separate chamber, not far off, speaking with three of the Harmonians. “Is that where you got injured?”
“No, no,” Lance waves dismissively. “My butt’s perfectly intact. It was my ribs that got crushed.”
“Wait, Keith, you got hurt too?” Hunk looks between them in confusion.
“We switched bodies,” Keith offers weakly. “I’m Keith, and that’s Lance. It happened after that big flash of light. The second one, we were together in the castle…”
Hunk takes a step back and studies them carefully. “Nah, nope, not gonna fall for that, Lance,” he decides after a moment.
“Shiro,” Keith begins,
“Lance, we really don’t have time for this. Princess Allura’s been trying to speak with their council, but it’s not going as well as she had hoped. For whatever reason, diplomatic relations with the Harmonians are--”
“Oh I’d like to help with some diplomatic relations,” Lance smirks, leering as one of the Harmonians walks out of the room.
“Woah, did Keith just totally check her out?” Hunk looks bewildered.
“Not exactly subtle.” Pidge remarks.
“I didn’t!! I did not!” Keith claps his hands over Lance’s eyes. “I’m telling you, this is Lance!”
“Okay, so maybe Lance is in there?” Shiro wonders. Keith has never been known to show interest in girls before...
“That’s what makes you guys believe us???” Lance scoffs from behind Keith’s hands, offended.
Keith can only imagine how this must look: Lance covering Keith’s eyes for checking out a girl, and then shouting that it’s him. Utterly ridiculous. He sighs and tries to explain what happened, Lance adding in unnecessary details to corroborate his story, with his eyes still covered.
“We need to test them,” Pidge decides. She fiddles with the tech in her lap, fingers tapping over the keys in thought.
Keith has a sudden vision of himself and Lance both plugged into some kind of space super computer with Pidge at the helm. He shivers. He’s trying to think of an alternative when Hunk turns to him, asking:
“ ¿A quién besaste en el tercer grado?”
Keith finally removes his hands from covering Lance’s face, opening his arms in a shrug. No idea what that means.
Lance laughs. “Pregunta capciosa; Michelle me besó! No quería tener nada que ver con ella...de hecho,” he stops, turning to Keith, seemingly outraged, “UGH, Keith, have you never rolled “r’s” in your life?! My accent is terrible in your voice, I feel like I’m talking with my tongue freakin paralyzed!”
“Well I’m sorry you don’t like my tongue, Lance!”
Lance sticks his tongue out and making taunting noises like he’s back in the third grade again.
“Stop doing that with my face!!” Keith shouts, attempting to tackle Lance. Big mistake.
“Okay, so this is officially weird,” Hunk concludes.
Everyone nods in agreement, except for Keith, who is more focused on Lance’s stupid body and its stupid internal hemorrhaging. He wraps one arm around his middle and concentrates on getting closer to a wall or at least something to lean against.
How did he even get this messed up in the first place? Keith thinks back to what had happened directly before everything blanked out. He had been surrounded, outnumbered. Lance’s voice in his ears, and then white? But it hadn’t been just Lance’s voice, he had watched him too, Keith thinks. His memories from that moment are all jumbled from hitting his head and everything happening so quickly.
He hit that ship, Keith finally puts it together. There was a Galra ship, the shot was lined up, I was about to get hit….but I didn’t. Lance must have taken heavy damage from using his Lion to throw the Galra ship off course.
Keith looks up, meets Lance’s eyes. Lance’s expression sours. He throws one of Keith’s arms around his shoulders and wraps his arm across Keith’s back to support him. He mumbles an apology close to Keith’s ear, “Sorry, Red, I was hurting pretty bad, wasn’t I,” before shouting to the group of Harmonians that have been watching them, “Hey! Can we get my boy Keith here a chair or something? He’s not feeling too great!” Lance taps his fingers impatiently against Keith’s wrist as the Harmonians procure some huge pillow-like objects for Keith to sit on. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, careful to avoid the bruised areas as he helps Keith get more comfortable.
Was Lance usually this protective , Keith wonders as he listens to Lance grill the Harmonians about the possibility of getting some pain medication. It’s just because I’m in his body….so actually he’s only taking care of himself , he reasons. But that doesn’t make sense. Because, Lance had been attentive to that cut on his forehead too, before they switched. And, if he was focused on taking care of himself, he would have gone right into the healing pod when they returned, not worried over Keith.
Plus, the only reason he was injured in the first place was because he had been covering Keith during the fight.
Allura rejoins the group following the three Harmonians with whom she’s been speaking. They are each wearing a delicate shade of lilac; their attire must signify some importance compared to the more cream colored clothing the rest of the species seems to favor. The material is lightweight and shimmers against their iridescent skin. Comparatively, the princess looks fatigued, skin dull and expression battle-worn. As soon as she spots him, she fixes him with a withering look. “Lance, I hardly think this is the time to be lounging around…”
Lance cuts in. “Excuse me, Princess, no offense or anything, but he’s injured, so. Lay off.”
Pidge and Hunk share a glance. Keith doesn’t have to be good at reading the mood to understand what that meant: Lance being rude to Allura? What?
“And,” Lance continues, his tone considerably meeker, “that’s technically Keith. I’m, um, Lance.”
Keith tenses as the three Harmonians surround him. His hand instinctively reaches for his knife, forgetting it’s a couple feet away, slung around Lance’s waist. The Harmonians, if they can’t read minds, a fact which Keith is not convinced of, at least sense his distrust.
“No harm will come to you at our hands,” one begins, her voice barely audible.
“Red Paladin of Voltron. We felt that you,” the second continues, eyes barely open long enough to stare into Keith’s before the third one takes over,
“Transferred to the Blue Paladin. Unexpected and against your will, you are unsure even of the bonds that lie between you. We, also, were sur--”
“--prised at the conversion. It is uncommon”
“For those not of our species to be able to move between hosts without considerable aid. Unfortunately, as,”
“Such, we have no way of reversing your move.” She closes her eyes. The other two have their eyes closed as well. Keith looks up, eyes flicking between the other Paladins and Allura.
“Wait, so you mean we’re stuck like this?” Lance squawks at the same time that Hunk questions:
“Woah, backup, did anybody else hear the word ‘host’ because that’s a little,”
Shiro moves closer to Allura. Maybe this species wasn’t as innocuous as they had originally thought.
Allura holds up her hands as if steadying the group. “Paladins, please. The Harmonians are actually two species that mutually have agreed to coexist. No doubt the Galra have some misguided notion of using their bond as mind control, but they are, in truth, very peaceful.” She lowers her tone, trying to be delicate, “Although, they are not….the greatest...at talking….”
With a breath, the Harmonian to Keith’s left continues as if unaware that anyone else had been speaking.
“Although we cannot re--”
“--verse your move, we believe that it will,”
“Spontaneously correct, provided you remain in close proximity to each,”
“Other.” The three turn to Lance. “Blue Paladin of Voltron, you will find that your fears are ill-founded if you can be but honest. Use this, if you will, as an opportunity.”
“Ladies,” Lance flips his hair in what he probably considers a seductive fashion (Keith makes a mental note to murder him later), “I don’t know what kind of fears you’re talking about but if you want,”
“We are,” the Harmonians are too quiet and mumble-y to effectively cut anyone off, but they make a solid effort now. “As Princess Allura of Altea mentioned, we are unaccustomed to physical interaction. We are ineffably grateful for your aid in freeing our planet, but we ask,”
“That you take your leave. Both for,”
“Our sake and yours. We can not predict the time, but the next wave will be the strongest. Given the intrinsic bond you all share in Voltron, it would be safer for you to be on your ship, rather than at the epicenter.”
*
They return to the castle. Normally, after they form a new alliance, they stay planetside for a short amount of time. They celebrate the planet’s freedom with its people, learn about their culture, form friendships deeper than mere political alliances against Zarkon. As much as the others, Keith usually savors these little pockets of hospitality in their otherwise grueling offensive. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to say goodbye to the Harmonians. With their multiple eyes, probable mind control and mumbling….not his favorite place.
Arriving back at the castle, he slumps over in the pilot’s seat, overwhelmed with exhaustion now that he’s home. Home. He always feels a twinge of guilt at the thought; he knows that for the others this alien fortress isn’t exactly homey. But for Keith, who had been shuffled from place to place throughout his life, multiple families, none so close knit as that of Voltron, this is home.
From outside his Lion, Lance whistles. “Earth to Keith!” He moves to pat one of Red’s paws but thinks better of it when she responds with a warning growl. Just because he looks like Keith doesn’t give him free reign apparently. “Hell~ooo! Did you make it back okay or what?”
After watching Lance pace back and forth for a moment, Keith finally gathers the motivation to exit Red. “I’m fine Lance, just tired.”
“Good,” Lance laughs nervously, “Well, haha, that’s not good, because you’re tired or whatever, but, I mean, I’m glad you’re okay, because you weren’t looking too hot, er I mean, you were looking--”
“Lance, what exactly are you trying to say?” Keith unhooks the breastplate from his armor, happy to finally be able to change back into normal clothing.
“Pidge said we have to shower!!” Lance blurts.
“Huh?” Keith studies his own features, trying to figure out what has Lance so worked up. He’s flushed and seems to be slightly out of breath, like Keith would normally get after a run. “Have you been running?”
Lance looks at him like he’s out of his mind. “What? No? I’m saying, I’m quiznacking starving, but Pidge told me that we have to shower before we’re allowed in the kitchen.”
“Well, I do probably smell.” It’s only normal after fighting all day, and then getting injured and bloody and everything else.
Lance takes personal offense at this. “You might smell,” he says primly, “but I don’t.” He looks confused. “I mean, you don’t. My body doesn’t!”
Keith lifts up an arm to check. Lance looks mortified. “Keith! You can’t just smell me! That’s so...weird! Stop!!”
“So, I guess we shower?”
After a bit of deliberation, they decide to use the showers in the washroom located off of the training deck, which are sort of locker-room esque and therefore less weird than being in each other’s rooms. Per Lance’s reasoning. Keith goes along with it, mostly because he’s exhausted but also because he doesn’t understand why Lance is so worked up about showering. They’re both guys? They’ve been inside each other’s minds with the Voltron mental link, and now they are literally in each other’s bodies. It seems like being naked just isn’t that big of a deal. He tries to convey this to Lance as they make their way to the training deck, but only gets glowers and under the breath curses of perfect body and washboard abs .
Whatever.
“So. How are we going to do this?” Lance questions him, nervousness apparent in his voice, as they undress in the locker room.
Keith shrugs. “Just normally, I guess.” He peels off the undermost layer of his armor, but freezes when he looks in the mirror.
“Wassa matter, checking out the goods---oh.” Lance pauses too. “Dang. That’s worse than I thought.”
Lance’s whole left side is smeared in ugly black-purple bruising. They continue across his front, his sternum and stomach covered as well.
“Lance,” Keith breathes. “We have to get you to a healing pod.” He shifts to move past Lance so that he can leave but Lance grabs his arm.
“If we put my body in a healing pod,” Lance shakes his head, “I’ll be completely knocked out and we won’t be able to switch back. This looks worse than it is, probably.” He voice lowers and he looks guiltily up at Keith. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but can you just bear with it?”
“I should be the one who’s apologizing.” Keith catches a glimpse in the mirror of the expression he’s making on Lance’s face: furrowed brow, steeled eyes, mouth set in a dark line. It’s startling how un-Lance-like it is. His hands curl into fists. “You got these injuries because of me, right? I should’ve been paying better attention.”
“I would do it again.” Lance responds simply. He drops his hold on Keith’s arm and resumes undressing.
Keith can’t respond to that. Why? He wants to ask. Why, for me?
“Oh. My. God. Keith.” Lance shouts.
“What?! What is it!”
“You!! Have!! a freckle!!” Lance grins at him, pointing to a spot above his right hip bone. “Look, right here! Holy crow, that is adorable.” He twists around looking in the mirror for any more and is positively gleeful when he finds another one on his side, under his right arm, and another on the small of Keith’s back, above where his boxers sit, slightly to the left.
Keith feels his face and neck heat up. “It’s just a mole, Lance, stop.” He’s starting to understand the reasoning behind Lance’s reluctance to shower. This feels...intimate.
“And,” Lance practically giggles, “Look at how cute your toes are!” He stands on one foot and wiggles them.
“My toes. Are. NOT. Cute.” Keith pulls off the last of the clothes he’s wearing (boxers with an obnoxious pizza pattern on them, seriously, Lance?) and throws them at Lance in a huff, before stomping into one of the shower stalls.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Lance turns on the shower next to him, dancing slightly under the water as it warms up. At least they can count on the castle to have good water pressure. “Shouldn’t we set some ground rules?” He eyes the top of Keith’s head over the partition.
“Like what,” Keith turns and raises one eyebrow at him, sudsy soap already in hand.
“Like, are you seriously about to use bar soap on my hair! You heathen!!!!” Lance squeals.
“Isn’t it all the same stuff anyways?”
Apparently, unbeknownst to Keith, it is not. At Lance’s command he uses both shampoo AND conditioner, a scented body wash, and then an entirely different soap for his face. Who knew? Lance seems to be enjoying the process now that he’s stopped being so jittery. He works his hair (Keith’s hair) into a lather and begins to hum.
“Lance,” Keith warns. His voice is not meant for singing. All it takes is that one word for Lance to get the message. He give himself a couple of snaps to get the beat and then he belts out:
“PREEEETTY WOMAN, walkin down the streeeet, PREEETTY WOMAN, kind I’d like to meeeeeet,”
“Lance.”
“I DON BELIEVE YOU, you’re not the truth, no one can look, as good as youuuuu,”
“LANCE!”
“MERCY!” Lance adds in an eyebrow waggle, using the conditioner bottle as a microphone.
“I’m gonna kill you, Lance, I’m actually going to kill you.”
Lance dissolves into a laughing fit and rinses out his hair.
“Are you done,” Keith grumbles, turning off the water and toweling off. Even with all these products, he’s not much for long showers.
“I don’t know if we should attribute it to the great acoustics in here or what, Keith, but your singing voice is preeetty sexy.”
Keith feels heat rush over him from head to toe. Why does Lance constantly say stuff like that? He glowers “Just put clothes back on already.”
It takes forever to finish up. Lance’s post-shower routine is even longer than his in-shower routine. He slathers all kinds of junk onto Keith’s (Lance’s) face, insistent that he will not ‘break out just because of some weird alien Freaky Friday shit.’ He also brushes all of his (Keith’s) hair back off his face and makes several jokes about how cute his forehead is, then tries to put it in pigtails. Keith responds by paging Coran over the castle’s communication system to ask if they can borrow his electric razor.
“I’ll shave both our heads if you don’t stop embarrassing me,” Keith threatens.
“Okay, okay,” Lance glumly combs his hair back the way Keith normally wears it. “It’s just so shaggy,” he bemoans.
Needless to say, it’s well over an hour before they finally make it to the dining area.
Everyone is still gathered around the table, more or less refreshed after their own post-planet-saving routines. Allura looks significantly better rested and is listening attentively to Shiro’s debriefing covering the fight that occurred while she was speaking with the Harmonians. In turn, Hunk and Pidge fill Shiro in on the alien tech that they acquired from the new alliance.
Afterwards, Shiro turns to Lance and Keith. “You heard the tail end of what I covered with the Princess about the fight. Anything to add?”
Keith grunts a negative, mid-bite.
“Keith. Er, I mean, Lance? Anything to add?”
Lance sets his spoon down. “Actually. We do need to discuss something important.”
“Okay.”
“In this situation, am I Lindsay Lohan or Jamie Lee Curtis?”
Allura straightens up in her seat and looks around, as though the answer to this question is going to provide them with some valuable insight on defeating Zarkon. Shiro sighs.
“I mean, because I think I would be Lindsay Lohan, but I wanna know for sure because doesn’t Jamie Lee Curtis end up with Chad Michael Murray? I can’t pass that up.” Lance picks his spoon back up and chews thoughtfully on his goo.
“No, I think he switches back to liking Lindsay when they go back to their original bodies” Pidge adjusts her glasses.
“Yeah, no, that part always freaked me out. Why did he like her mom in the first place?” Hunk shakes his head.
“What are you talking about? Who are these people?” Keith looks to Shiro, completely lost. Allura shrugs, a habit she’s picked up from them.
“It’s from a movie,” Shiro explains weakly. He’s completely resigned to having to settle this discussion before they can move forward, “Lance, you can be Lindsay Lohan if you want, and yes, she does get the guy at the end.”
“Yes!!!” Lance cheers. He moves to high-five Hunk.
“This is so weird,” Pidge remarks. “Keith is joking about movies. Keith is cheering. Keith. Is. Actually. Fun.”
“Pidge this is Lance-Keith, not Keith-Keith,” Hunk reminds her. “So it doesn’t count as actually Keith cheering.”
“Hunk, my man, of course you get me, c’mere, lay one on me,” Lance opens his arms for a hug.
Hunk looks towards Keith. “Wait am I allowed to hug Lance-Keith?”
Keith shrugs.
“Okay because Keith-Keith doesn’t normally like hugs so I don’t wanna make things weird…”
“It’s already weird, what’s one hug gonna do!” Lance proclaims, snuggling into Hunk’s arms.
“Ohmigosh Keith you are built , like, man, I knew you trained a lot but dang,”
“Biceps aside, dude, feel how soft his hair is,” Lance plops one of Hunk’s hands on top of his head.
“Woah.” Hunk pets Lance’s (Keith’s) hair in appreciation. “Pidge, come here, you gotta experience this.”
Keith feels the tops of his ears start to burn. “Okay, now things are getting weird…”
“Woah,” Pidge sounds shocked. “So Lance does have an expression for embarrassment. Considering the fact that he’s shameless, I just assumed I would never see it.”
Lance continues to do his best to embarrass Keith, who concentrates on keeping his face expressionless and his arms crossed. Shiro comes up to him and coughs lightly, “So.” he starts, watching as Lance chatters with Hunk and Pidge across the room. “This is strange.” Keith eyes Shiro’s face for a moment, trying to work out why he looks so uncomfortable. It clicks when he realizes that he’s never seen Shiro and Lance talk one-on-one for more than a couple of minutes.
“Yeah,” Keith responds, “But, it’s not...that bad. I think Lance is having a harder time of it than me, honestly.”
Shiro tilts his head. “How so?”
Keith shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He’s not good at putting things into words, but for Shiro, he’ll try. “He just seems like he’s overcompensating….?” Maybe Keith is reading him wrong, he’s not great at understanding people, least of all Lance. He thinks back to Lance’s stark response when Keith confronted him about how he was injured: I’d do it again. “I just think, there’s more to Lance than he lets on,” he finishes, unsatisfied.
“That’s very perceptive,” Shiro nods. He yawns, stretching, then letting his normally perfect posture relax into a slump. He’s tired, probably more so than any of them. “I should make an effort to spend more time with Lance,” he murmurs. “Maybe this switch between you two will be beneficial for the whole team?”
Keith agrees. That’s not exactly what he was getting at, but it’s true. “You should rest, Shiro.”
Shiro pats his arm lightly, taking Keith’s suggestion to heart, and tells the rest of the team that it’s lights out for him. Hunk follows soon after, then Pidge. Allura and Coran had both already left, preferring not to interrupt in what they view as ‘paladin bonding time.’
The Harmonians mentioned that they should stay in close physical proximity, Lance reminds him when Keith tries to leave, exhausted and wanting nothing more than his own bed.
“Sorry, Red, looks like you’re stuck sleeping with me too.” Lance jokes. He looks uncomfortable, perhaps even more so than before they had showered.
*
They decide to go back to Lance’s room.
Mostly because Lance won’t shut up about messing up his sleeping schedule or how Keith’s bed probably smells like mullets (“That isn’t even a smell!” Keith groans).
“I call wall-side!” Lance shouts directly into his ear as soon as they enter his room. Keith wants to ask him if he always has to be this loud. He never gets the chance though, as Lance immediately starts babbling about his family, how his little brother and he would fight if they had to share a bed during childhood. He continues to reminisce as they brush their teeth and crawl into bed. Keith doesn’t mind hearing about Lance’s family, he really doesn’t. Most of the time he finds it endearing, occasionally it makes him uncharacteristically wistful, but it never irritates him. Tonight though, Keith is tired. His side hurts, he can’t get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his, a body that isn’t his.
Lance pauses, maybe sensing that Keith wasn’t really listening. He sighs against Keith’s neck. “Too bad,” he fake whispers, “that I have to cuddle with myself. I mean, that’s a pretty cruel joke if you think about it, finally sharing a bed but,”
“Can’t you just shut up?” Keith hisses.
Lance immediately falls silent. Keith feels him sit up, then remove himself from under the blanket, careful not to jostle Keith. He listens as Lance opens the closet, the sound of fabric being rustled, Lance as quiet as possible in the dark.
“What are you doing now, Lance,” Keith sits up and turns on the light, exasperated.
Lance swats at the light, turning it back off, but not before Keith catches a telltale redness around his eyes. “I’m making a bed, Keith,” he snaps. “It’s not my fault you’re stuck with me, but the creepy alien girls said we have to stick together until the switch reverses, so you stay there and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I just want to get back to normal,” Keith tries to explain in lieu of an apology. It comes out more caustic than he means.
There’s enough light to see Lance duck his head.”Yeah, I get it. If I were you,” Lance’s mouth quirks at his own joke, “I’d be pretty pissed about this whole thing too. Lance McClain is a pretty big downgrade if you’re used to being Keith Kogane.”
Keith balks. That’s not what he meant at all. Lance continues, tone soft,
“No, I mean, being the one who lightens the mood or whatever, somebody’s gotta do it, it’s fine, but it was nice to pretend to be taken seriously for a minute, like I was actually gonna be contributing something, yanno?” Lance shrugs. “But, even as you, I just ended up being good for a laugh, so.”
Keith turns on the light. Lance is seated with his back to the bed, knees pulled up to his chest, resting his forehead against them, his arms wrapped tightly around his shins. Sitting up in bed, Keith scoots closer to Lance.
Keith opens his mouth, brows furrowed, struggling to respond. Is that what Lance really thought? It’s true Shiro had dismissed him much more quickly than he expected when he initially tried to tell him they were switched. Shiro was stressed at the time, but Keith can’t help but feel if he had said it in his own voice, as himself, he would have automatically been taken more seriously. It wasn’t just Shiro, he realizes, or Allura, or the Harmonians who were dismissive of Lance. He cringes, remembering all the times he mentally berated Lance or became irritated at him.
And then there was the fact that Lance had thought so little of his own injuries. If Keith hadn’t experienced them for himself, he would have had no idea the extent to which Lance was beat up. The physical pain he obviously made light of. Was that a common occurrence for him?
“Lance, I,” he starts. Lance looks at him, expectant. He finds he doesn’t know how to continue.
“It’s fine Keith,” Lance smiles. Keith feels a pang of longing at the expression. Lance’s smiles on his face are nothing compared to actual, real Lance smiles. “You don’t have to say anything. They predicted another sonic boom thingy happening soon, so don’t worry. Any time now, and then, we’ll both be back to normal.”
He pats Keith on the leg, moves to get up.
Keith stands with him. “Let’s not go back to normal.” Lance turns to him, expression level, and all Keith can think for a second is how tired he is of seeing his own face. “I mean, I do want to go back to my body,” he fumbles, “but if you’re not happy, if you don’t think that...if you don’t feel--”
The remainder of his words are lost, as another deafening wave of white hits him like a punch to the gut. His lungs feel like all the air has been pulled out of them and he thinks he must be gasping, but there’s no way to be sure with the world blank of sensation.
And then he definitely is gasping, feeling like he’s come up for air after being held underwater. He finds himself on his knees, legs buckling at the shock. Lance is breathing heavy too, he can hear it. He opens his eyes and sees Lance’s hand, offering to help him up. He takes it, with his own hand, skin pale, nails bitten and cuticles torn, palms calloused from long hours with his bayard….his own hand. His focus moves up Lance’s arm, his pajama shirt slightly askew on his shoulders, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, coming to rest on concerned blue eyes under delicately arching brows. Lance.
“You okay?” Lance asks him, and why is it so good to hear his voice ?
Keith nods. “I’m just really glad to see you.”
Breaking eye contact, Lance drops his hand, and makes a show of stretching his long limbs, “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he comments airily, as if switching bodies is equivalent to an uncomfortably long car ride, or something they’re likely to do again. “Well Keith, you probably wanna go get some rest now, so I’ll see ya around…”
“I wasn’t finished,” Keith reminds him.
Lance waves his hand, “Don’t worry about it, like I said, I’m fine, the mullet was probably just messing with my brain or something, but,”
“You are important.” Keith has no patience for subtle, pretty words. “You are important to this team,” he reiterates, voice firm.
Lance nods. His eyes look wet and shimmery, but he blinks back the tears before they can spill over, resolve settling over his features.
Keith watches the change in his expression, satisfied. He has no follow-up though, and Lance coughs lightly to fill the ensuing awkward silence.
“So, and I’m not saying we have to,” Lance starts, “but I think this is normally the part where we would hug, or something. If we were gonna do that kind of thing.”
“Okay,” Keith agrees, stepping into Lance’s arms.
Lance holds him like he might break, tentatively wrapping his arms around Keith. Keith moves closer, feeling a little stiff. He wants to give Lance this, but he doesn’t have enough experience to know the logistics. He sets one hand squarely on each of Lance’s hips and closes his eyes. This isn’t bad.
He feels quiet laughter rumble through Lance’s chest, pressed flush with his. “Around,” Lance instructs, “You need to put your arms around me for it to be considered a hug.”
“I know that,” Keith snaps, readjusting his position. He mutters, “Just didn’t want to hurt your bruises.”
Lance tightens his hold on Keith in response, one arm snug around his lower back, the other across his shoulder blades; his hand is gentle at the back of Keith’s head, cradled against the nape of his neck, fingers buried in his hair.
Keith feels Lance bow his head against his shoulder. He breaths quiet and slow against Keith, giving this moment pause.
He’s so thin. Keith should know this better than anyone at this point, having just spent the last however many hours as this body, but he’s struck by how fragile it feels against him nonetheless. Lance is loud, not only in the way his voice carries, constantly seeking to disrupt emptiness, but also in his expressions, the way he talks with his hands, emotions so big they can fill a room. He never seems this small, slender waist and boney spine, insecure about what he contributes to their team. Keith squeezes him, a physical manifestation of the way his heart is overwhelmed, brimming with a sudden fierce affection and the need to protect. This is new for him.
“You have to take better care of yourself” he instructs into Lance’s neck. Lance nods against him. “Because we need you.” Lance nods again, and a few tears do fall, wet and hot, onto Keith’s shoulder.
“Keith, I...” Lance murmurs, but he decides to leave the thought incomplete. Instead he sucks in a breath and holds it, another couple of seconds in Keith’s arms, before stepping back and shakily exhaling.
He wipes his eyes with the back of one hand. “Good hug,” he claps Keith on the shoulder. “Rocky start, but you finished strong, Red.”
*
Keith leaves. They’re both tired, emotionally and physically drained. The walk down the corridor to his room is short, but every step takes him further from Lance, and he wonders why he never noticed that before. The door silently swooshes shut behind him. He sits down on his bed, runs a hand through his hair and thinks, for the first time, that his room is too quiet.
***