Archive of Our Own

Lance is acting strange. He knows he is.

He’s been fidgety, inattentive, and a dozen other things that are the opposite of composed and focused.

Above all, he is so, so, so frustrated. His mind is focused on a million things at once, but never the one thing he needs it to be focused on, and he hates it.

Even as he stares intently as he can at Allura, who’s explaining a very complex and important mission, repeating the words in his head and willing himself to zero in on her until he isn’t. He doesn’t even realize it when his attention falters from her in favor of the glimmering gems dangling from her ears, catching the light and he remembers his mom having a pair just like them, and then he’s thinking about how some things seem to be universal no matter what planet or galaxy- like earrings and bracelets and other forms of jewelry- and then he’s wondering why such a large portion of life forms seem to be relatively humanoid-ish and his attention continues to slip further and further down a chain of distractions and irrelevant things.

He can hear his name being called, but he doesn’t process it immediately, not until the third time or so when he jolts his head toward the voice- Allura, looking both worried and impatient.

“Lance! For goodness’ sake, I’ve been calling you. Is everything alright?” she asks, brows drawn together. That’s when Lance notices everyone looking at him, all in mild concern, so he nods.

“Yeah! Just, didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. That new alien stuff Coran’s been giving us has been making me have the craziest dreams,” he lies, forcing his lips into a smile.

“Really? That Ypno is supposed to do the complete opposite of that! You should be sound as a baby after drinking it- though it may be a just few thousand years expired. I’ll have to look into that,” Coran chimes in thoughtfully, stroking his mustache rather classically. Everyone’s expression lifts, regardless. Allura sighs.

“If that’s it, then please, do try to pay attention. This mission of the utmost importance, so I need you all to be well informed of Xescian Culture,” Allura pleads. Lance nods.

“Won’t happen again, princess. You don’t need some complicated excuse to get my attention,” he flirts playfully, even if his feelings for Allura have long since subsided. He still thinks she’s absolutely stunning and gorgeous, just not in the same way as before. She feels too much like family now.

Allura’s gaze, along with everyone else’s, falls flat and he can practically hear everyone rolling their eyes. Everyone except Hunk, who’s eyeing him skeptically from his position next to Pidge.

It’s fine, he reasons, it’ll go away, he tells himself.

#

“Lance, I think you should tell them,” Hunk says, obviously worried about his friend.

“Nope. I’m not going to do that, and you aren’t either. I’ll be fine. Most people outgrow it eventually anyway,” Lance brushes Hunk’s concerns off, waving a dismissive hand as he lounges back against Hunk’s bed. “I just need to adjust,” he reasons. Hunk frowns, brows pinched together.

“If you say so,” he says, quietly, but Lance isn’t even looking at him. Hunk isn’t even sure if it’s deliberate or not.

#

Things are fine for a while. Lance can keep up when they’re flying- when they form Voltron because it’s something he enjoys. It’s so much easier for him to concentrate when he’s engaged in what he’s doing and it’s so relieving; to finally be able to do something and be confident in it. His hands move on impulse as his mind can narrow in on his role because it’s captivating and familiar and so much easier to grasp onto and cling to because he knows it.

Once training is over and all the Lions are back in their hangars, Lance is feeling confident as ever and is well on his way to a shower and maybe a victory nap when he feels a hand on his shoulder, halting him. He turns to see Shiro, Keith standing a few feet behind him, and his heart drops to his gut at the fear that he hadn’t done as well as he thought. After he’d been so confident, too.

Lance braces himself for it- to be told that he messed up and that he needs to focus, focus, focus.

But that isn’t at all what he hears.

“You did good out there, Lance. I was starting to get a little worried, but your performance today was impressive. I’m glad to see you’re alright,” Shiro praises reassuringly. Lance’s first instinct is to be concerned that the others have noticed something is off about him, but it’s quickly squashed by the praise Shiro washes over him. Lance practically beams.

“Yeah, well, Keith isn’t the only one who can shake things up out there. It’s about time someone else took the glory,” he jaunts, mostly teasing, hand on his hips as he pretends to nonchalantly analyze his nails. He hears Keith snort from behind Shiro, but what he doesn’t see is the way Shiro looks to Keith, brows raised as he nods toward Lance.

“Keep it up, Lance. I’m sure Keith doesn’t mind the competition,” Shiro says, squeezing Lance’s shoulder before he continues past him. Lance can’t stop smiling.

He’s so caught up in the reassurance flooding through him that he almost doesn’t notice Keith still in front of him, standing patiently, albeit a bit awkwardly in front of him.

“Uh, hey,” Lance says, intelligently. Keith puffs air into one cheek, looking down at the floor in seemingly deep thought.

“Hey,” he replies after a moment and then there’s more silence. Lance gives him a moment to perhaps say something before he’s talking again.

“Shiro left, you know,” Lance reminds, thinking that maybe Keith hadn’t noticed for whatever reason because that seems way more plausible than whatever exactly was happening right now.

“Yeah, I know,” Keith snaps, seeming impatient, but not exactly at Lance? “I wanted to… say what Shiro said- about your training today,” he clarifies, looking anywhere that isn’t Lance as he fidgets on his feet.

“Oh… okay. Well, thanks, I guess,” Lance says, a bit confused and Keith is still standing there. “Is that all?” he adds, carefully because Keith seems frustrated, or impatient, or something along those lines. Keith looks up at him, big, dark eyes meeting Lance’s, faltering to the floor occasionally.

“No, I- wanted to ask you if you were alright,” he admits, and his whole body relaxes as if those words were what had him strung up. Lance raises his brows in mild surprise, then drops them down in speculation.

“Wait, hold on. Did Shiro put you up to this?” he asks, skeptically. Keith seems affronted by this, face screwing together.

“What? No!” Keith scoffs. “You’ve just been acting odd lately and I noticed- most of us have, actually,” he explains, huffing as he crosses his arms, already becoming impatient with Lance. “I just wanted to know if everything’s okay,” he insists, and Lance can tell he’s trying not to sound frustrated.

Lance wants to be skeptical, but the honesty in Keith’s voice doesn’t allow him much room. If they were to send anyone to try and coax him into telling them what’s wrong, it would probably be anyone other than Keith.

“Well, I’m fine, if my extremely awesome and talented piloting skills didn’t scream that during training today,” he gloats, smirking.

Keith seems just the slightest bit relieved at the familiar cockiness, if not a little peeved underneath the concern that Lance can tell is still there and he has no idea how to feel about this.

Keith? Of all people to confront him? It isn’t unpleasant- some part of him knows he’s flattered, and there’s another part of him buried at the back of his mind that’s happy? Because Keith noticed and cared?

“Right,” Keith scoffs. “I guess if you’re okay enough to make classic Lance-jokes, you can’t be that upset,” he reasons.

“Joke? Who said anything about joking? I had this training sessions in the bag!” Lance is replying confidently, one hand on his hip as the other makes gestures. He expects Keith to roll his eyes, to make a quip back, and he’s ready for it, inviting it with a cocky grin, but...Keith smiles.

Keith. Smiles.

Keith smiles, face angled down as he looks somewhere off to the side and Lance’s whole facade crumbles.

“Yeah. You did,” he agrees and that has Lance all but flat lining as he stares- why is he staring so openly!?

It’s only a few delayed seconds later that Keith seems to notice what exactly he said and his eyes go wide, cheeks reddening.

“I’m- going to go ahead and leave now,” he states, and before Lance can finish processing what’s happening, Keith is bolting past him.

As the moment catches up to him, he smiles a big, and probably goofy, grin. He smiles because he feels like he’s done something right for the first time in a while. He thinks that maybe, everything will be fine.

#

Everything is not fine.

“What in the name of Altea were you thinking!” Allura continues on. Lance can tell she’s trying not to raise her voice. “We went over this! I specifically said what must be avoided in the presence of the Xescian royals! You could have compromised this entire mission!”

The worst part? Lance is pretty sure he remembers everything Allura was saying during the briefing, but it didn’t catch up to him- didn’t wrap around his brain until he had already messed up and only then the words ring through his ears.

‘It seems silly, but it is crucial to the mission that you do not sneeze or cough- or anything of the sort in the Xescian palace, as it is seen as a celestial ground and doing so is believed to taint it. It holds utmost value to all its people.’

Well, Lance sneezed. And coughed. Probably more than once.

He can feel his eyes stinging with unshed tears and he knows that everyone; Pidge, Hunk, Keith, they’re all looking at him and he wants to disappear, sink down into the tiles beneath him and stop existing.

“Lance,” A new voice says; Shiro. Lance looks to him and is met with a concerned- but exhausted expression. “Is this… maybe you trying to get attention? Is that what’s wrong?” The stinging in his eyes intensifies.

“Hey, guys, guys- let’s just calm down. Everyone makes mistakes, right? I mean, the mission was a success! So, it’s fine, right? I mean, it was narrow, but we did it- guys?” Hunk chimes in, but goes unheard.

“You need to take your role more seriously as the Blue Paladin!” Allura snaps.

There it is. The phrase Lance was terrified of hearing. Maybe it isn’t in the exact words he imagined, but it’s there: How can he be a good, responsible Paladin if he’s like this? How can he be anything if he’s like this?

He remembers every moment in his life when people doubted him, got impatient with him, irritated, mad. He remembers nobody trusting him with anything- all up until he got put on medication- and even then, a lot of it persisted.

“Lance, you need to tell them!” Hunk raises his voice, not at Lance, but to be heard over Shiro and Allura, who Lance hadn’t even noticed were still trying to talk to him.

They both go quiet, looking to Hunk, shocked- probably because Hunk raising his voice like that is alarming and serious because Hunk never yells like that.

There’s a long, thick, almost deafening pause where everyone is silent. Lance’s whole body goes tense.

“Tell us what?” Shiro asks, looking to Lance, voice stern, but still gentle.

“Nothing,” Lance all but grits through his teeth, looking up at Hunk pleadingly. Hunk can only look at him for a few seconds before he’s tearing his eyes away, guiltily and Lance’s stomach drops.

“Lance’s has ADHD.”

Before anything else can be said though, Lance is already gone.

#

‘Lance, you need to pay attention! How can I trust you with these things if you can’t be bothered to focus for more than a minute?’ Lance frowned. ‘Maybe it is time we took you to see someone about this,” His mother suggested, exhausted.

He’d left the oven on all that night. Nothing happened, but something could have. He was eleven at the time.

‘I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. Your uncle dealt with it too when he was your age, and I know it’s difficult for you too. At least we know what it is now, though, right?” he remembers his mom saying reassuringly after he’d been diagnosed.

‘Hey, kiddo, you’ll get stress wrinkles if you keep looking at your textbook like that.’ Lance said to Claudia, his younger sister.

‘Hush up! It’s confusing and I don’t get it.’ she had said. ‘Stupid required math courses.’ she muttered.

‘Hey, I’m good at math! Let me help.’ Lance offered, walking toward his sister at the kitchen table, but her face twisted into guilt.

‘I was actually about to go ask Miggy if he could help...’ She had said.

‘Oh...’ he had said, trying not look hurt.

‘It’s just that- well this is for a final grade and I don’t-’

‘It’s fine. I know. I’ll go get Miggy.’ he said with a forced smile.

That had been when he was thirteen.

‘Oh my god, I’m an uncle. Can I hold her?’ Lance had asked, excitedly. Miguel smiled, but looked hesitant.

‘Only if you sit down. You’re too jumpy when you’re excited.’ and Lance knew that it was mostly a joke, a playful jab, but… it still hurt, watching as his new baby niece’s father passed her to their younger sister before Lance himself. Claudia was only ten and their brother trusted her more.

He was fourteen. They had begun the process of taking him off the medication; slowly lessening the dosages over the next two years. When they told him that he no longer needed it, Lance was so relieved because this meant that everyone would stop treating him how they did- even if it was meant to be harmless, playful. It also meant that he could pursue his dream: piloting- something that was pointless if he was dependent on medication to function, since official pilots weren’t allowed to be so.

But it’s back now. It's caught back up to him and it's hitting him hard, wrapping around his mind like shackles and suffocating it, dragging him down away from the light. Right after he finally felt like he had a place, when he finally felt like he was good at something. Even if he feels confident forming Voltron… he just knows the others won’t be. He hates to believe that they’ll think he’s too unfocused to fly Blue, as if he didn’t already feel inadequate. Hates to think it’ll change everything.

Lance isn’t even sure what room he took off to. He just kept walking, or running, as quickly as he could, until he felt far enough away from everyone.

The room he’s in is similar to the observatory deck- the walls transparent so that he can see the stars beyond them as he sits on a thick ledge running along the bottom of them, back to the stars with his legs drawn up to his chest, face hidden against his knees.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been in here, but it’s everything he needs: quiet and vacant. Or, maybe that’s exactly what he doesn’t need since the silence and emptiness only starves him of anything else to focus on, left with his racing, negative thoughts and nothing to distract him

“Hey,” Lance hears suddenly and looks up, startled at first, but settles once he sees it’s Keith.

“What do you want?” he asks, sounding annoyed as he wraps his arms tighter around himself, tucking his knees closer. He isn’t necessarily annoyed at Keith, he knows this, it’s himself. Seeing Mister Perfect only aids in reminding him of everything he isn’t. Everything he aspires to be.

“You… aren’t okay,” Keith observes, softly. Lance scoffs.

“What gave it away? Hunk literally telling everyone I have ADHD or me storming out of the room?”

Silence follows. Lance’s eyes are averted, but he can hear Keith moving to sit beside him on the ledge.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he says in a hushed tone. “Like you’ve been afraid, or on guard or something. Obviously I know why now.”

“So, why are you here? Shiro sent you? Allura?” Lance asks bitterly, avoiding looking in Keith’s general direction.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’d do this on my own?” Keith asks, sounding irritated himself now. Lance laughs like it’s obvious and rolls his eyes.

“Because we aren’t friends! You don’t like me, we don’t get along! Why would you go out of your way to do this? It only makes sense that you were sent,” Lance snaps, finally meeting Keith’s gaze only to snap his eyes away at the sheer sympathetic look on Keith's face.

It’s silent for a long moment. Lance expects Keith to retort- to fight back and argue, wants him to if only so he can let loose the pent-up frustration he’s been letting fester inside of him. But, that isn’t what happens.

“Maybe you don’t like me, Lance, but I like you,” Keith admits, albeit a bit awkwardly as he fidgets with his hands and the hem of his jacket sleeves.  Lance frowns and goes from wallowing in his own self-pity to feeling like a grade-A ass.

“I… I don’t hate you,” Lance responds after a few beats of silence. “I just, sometimes, get really jealous of you,” he admits begrudgingly, stubbornly looking away from Keith who is now facing him.

“Are you serious?” he all but shouts, appearing genuinely shocked.

“Are you serious? Dude, you’re good at everything! You’re always so focused and determined and you literally ace everything you touch!” Lance proclaims, now facing Keith who’s opening and closing his mouth, at a loss for words.

“But- but you’re so likable and nice and cheerful! Those are all qualities people like,” Keith reasons.

“You think people like me?” Lance snorts. “Mr. Perfect,” he adds.

“I like you!” Keith reminds awkwardly, tripping over his words and even though Lance tells himself that he doesn’t mean it romantically, his cheeks heat up some. He notes how Keith's own cheeks take to a red tint as well.

“Well… well I like you, too,” Lance admits stubbornly, crossing his arms.

It grows quiet, both digesting the new information they have splayed before them. Keith bites his bottom lip nervously and Lance rubs the back of his neck.

“So… sorry for thinking you had ulterior motives in finding me,” Lance apologizes, awkwardly. Keith looks up at him briefly before he shrugs.

“It’s fine. I’m not exactly good at this stuff- telling people what I want to tell them,” he admits.

“Keith Kogane? Bad at something? Baffling,” Lance jests dryly. Keith shoots him a halfhearted glare.

There’s another pause between them, both hesitant and careful with their words as it’s easily the most they’ve ever exchanged. They’re still getting used to each other, as ridiculous as it is given the fact that they've been forced in close proximity for about a year now.

“You know, I was terrified that I’d never grow out of it,” Lance begins, feeling hesitant. Even so, he wants to do this; confide in Keith. Maybe because Keith is the one there. Maybe it's because he's probably always wanted Keith to like him but felt like there wasn't a chance, so instead opted to challenge him. “It meant that I couldn’t be pilot since, when I wasn’t on my meds, it was pretty bad. If I couldn’t focus without the medication, it was seen as too risky to have me flying a jet well over 5,000 kilograms, 35,000 feet off the ground. They weren’t even sure if slowly downing the dosage would work, but I was so happy when it did because I felt like I wasn’t being held back anymore… but,” Lance sighs shakily, “It’s back now. So,” he swallows, blinking back tears.

“It’s not a big deal, Lance. It’ll be fine, you’ll get through it,” Keith says in what Lance guesses is supposed to be consoling, sounding so sure that Lance has to turn to him to make sure he isn’t joking.

“How would you know?” Lance insists, feeling frustrated with the situation all over again, because really, will it be fine? How would Keith even know? Perfect, talented Keith, of course it doesn’t seem like a big deal to him!

“You don’t know how it is, Keith. You don’t know what’s it’s like to have people see you differently because of this one thing or for them to not trust you because of it. My brother literally wouldn’t let me hold my niece because he thought I’d get distracted and drop her! My little sister would have rather suffered through piles of textbooks than ask for my help on homework and projects because she thought I was unreliable and my mom.,” Lance sighs, shaking his head. “She tried to understand and be patient, but I know it frustrated her too. Even though she tried not to show it,” he recalls, somber. “You might be perfect and well-rounded in every aspect, but this isn’t one. Pep talks aren’t your thing,” Lance hears himself saying. He tries to ignore the way his eyes sting and fights the urge to shed tears, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

A heavy silence follows. If Keith can feel the tension, he doesn’t do anything about it, still sitting in the same place, in the same position.

“I can, believe it or not, relate to a lot of that, to an extent. Not really the family stuff since this is the closest thing I’ve had to one in a while,” Keith says. Lance can see the movement of Keith fidgeting with his hands from the corner of his eye.  Lance sinks in on himself, remembering how Allura and the team treated Keith after they found out he was Galra.

“I... forgot about the Galra thing,” he admits, sheepishly, but Keith shakes his head.

“Not that. I mean, yes that, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now,” Keith counters, simply. Lance looks to him, brows drawn together. Keith appears deep in thought, eyes flicking around the floor but not actually looking at anything.

“Then what?” Lance asks, brows pinched together. Keith bites his lip, seeming conflicted with himself. Lance half expects him to just leave before he speaks, finally.

“I’m autistic, Lance,” he says. Lance sits still, processing the words before turning swiftly to look at Keith, face twisted in disbelief. He only manages to blink uselessly in his loss for words.

Lance, he isn’t really sure how to react or what to say because Keith doesn’t say it like it's something he mourns. More rather, he says it like he’s announcing his favorite color, or how someone might just casually mention that they wear socks.

“Wait, really?” Lance asks intelligently, almost cringing at his own bluntness.

“Yeah, It’s Aspergers- I think,” he recalls, face scrunched together in recollection.

“You think?” Lance questions blandly, brow quirked. Keith shrugs and nods.

“I’m not sure, honestly. I was really little when I started getting therapy for it, but after my dad disappeared and I was put in foster care the therapy stopped. I’m not even sure I got an official diagnosis, it was so long ago,” Keith explains, seeming as if he himself is trying to dig up this information and figure it out as much as Lance is.

“Oh…” Lance says, unsure how else to respond. ‘I’m sorry’ is stupid to say, Lance knows, and he doubts Keith wants to hear that because, unlike Lance, Keith doesn't seem bothered. So, instead, he asks “So, how do you know for sure then? I mean, sometimes diagnoses can be off and if it was that long ago-”

“I just know, Lance,” Keith interjects in a reminiscent tone. There’s a pause in which Lance waits for Keith to continue and elaborate- hopes he will, even. When he does, it’s after a few hesitant glances to Lance, cautious and careful as if walking on thin glass. “There’s just some things that I know aren’t exactly typical behavior,” he vaguely explains. Lance raises a brow in curiosity, eyes persistently fixed onto Keith, who can only return the gaze for a few seconds at a time.

“Is that part of it?” he asks, and Keith’s eyes flick over to him, a little wide with surprise and confusion. Before Keith can ask what Lance is talking about, he clarifies, “You don’t like making eye contact for long periods and sometimes, you're kind of particular about when you do things. And then, after meetings with alien diplomats you-”

“Tend to disappear. Yeah. Eye contact is uncomfortable to me. I don’t really know why. That other thing too, but it’s probably not for the reason you’re thinking,” Keith verifies.

Lance allows a moment or two before he asks, “So, what is the reason, then?” Keith smirks a reminiscent grin, looking down.

“We’re learning a lot about each other today, aren’t we?” he says with a little sarcasm. Lance doesn’t reply, but figures Keith probably doesn’t want him to anyway. With a sigh, Keith continues.

“I don’t really know how to explain it, but sometimes it feels like too much. Too many voices, too many questions, topics, people and it feels like my brains is going haywire trying to bounce back and forth from all of them. Like a sensory overload or something. So, the only thing I can do is get away and try to compose myself before it turns into a meltdown,” he explains. Lance’s brows draw close.

“Meltdown?” he asks, softly enough for Keith to decline an answer and pretend he didn’t even hear it.

“Yeah,” Keith shrugs seemingly nonchalant. “Like getting snappy with people, irritated and when it gets worse I just-- I tend to get aggressive and irrational and emotional and just, a lot of stuff I'd rather not be,” Keith admits, thumbing his jacket sleeves. "It’s not always because of people, but it usually is. When it is, it’s the most frustrating,” Keith expresses, beginning to show the slightest bit of unease and frustration before he takes a breath and regains himself, training his face back into stoicism.

Lance believes him. When he thinks about it, it makes sense and blanks that Lance didn’t even consider might be there are filled: The fights he’d get into at the Garrison, the general social-awkwardness, the way he’s so nitpicky about the very particular way he does things and when he does them.

Even so, as if in denial and on a mission to debunk what Keith’s saying, or maybe just out jealous curiosity, Lance's mind is reeling back to the fact that Keith went to The Garrison.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on! How were you in the Garrison then? Pilots can’t be dependent on any sort of medication or therapy. It took me two years to overcome my treatment so that I could even consider applying!” Lance demands, now leaning over with his arms supporting his upper body weight as he stares at Keith. Keith only seems a little put off by his sudden proximity, but only shrugs.

“Honestly… I’m not sure. There’s a good chance my medical records were lost after the fourth foster home or Garrison just didn’t care. But, honestly, I don’t necessarily need therapy. I don’t think so anyway,” Keith explains, still fidgeting with his sleeves. Lance considers this before settling back against the window, eyes still trained on Keith.

Lance isn't sure how to react. He's surprised, certainly because he just thought Keith was socially inept or something but… everything makes a little more sense now, Keith seeking him out, sympathizing.

“I’m- sorry for being snappy with you earlier. I really just thought you were here to condescendingly be the bigger person and convince me to go back to everyone and quit sulking,” Keith shrugs.

“It’s fine. Like I said, I’m not really good at this stuff- socializing. I try, but sometimes it’s hard; saying the right things, sympathizing, saying what I want, picking up on social ques. A lot of it flies over my head and I know it comes off as me being standoffish, or insensitive or whatever. But it’s a part of me and I learned to live with it,” Keith admits, and even though Lance’s attention span has been fighting him lately, he finds himself engrossed in everything Keith is saying. Maybe it’s because it’s interesting or thrilling even because Keith is talking to him and that Keith went out of his way to talk to Lance about this to try to make him feel better and Lance is happy? Yeah, he’s happy about this.

Lance doesn’t realize how long he’s been silent, staring at Keith until Keith is talking again, softer.

“You’ve been hiding this for a while,” he says, “and even though we’ve all noticed something was off, we didn’t really know what it was. I thought, at first, that maybe you missed your family,” he admits, and Lance feels a churning, fluttering sensation in his core as he imagines Keith worrying about him. “But, even though you’ve been worried about this, you’ve been flying fine and it’s because you like flying, right? It satisfies the itch,” Keith inquires and looks to Lance for affirmation, who nods because yeah that’s pretty much how it is. “And now that we know, we can actually help with it,” he finalizes, sounding relieved, but Lance gives him an incredulous look.

“Well, what about you?” he asks, shoving an accusatory finger into Keith’s face. Keith makes an ungraceful face as he leans away from the finger invading his space, going cross-eyed to look at it and Lance has to shove away thoughts of it being cute.

“What about me?” Keith asks, pushing the hand away from his face.

“Uh, hello? You didn’t tell us about your problem!” Lance retorts childishly, not truly upset by any means, but still curious and insistent.

“Because it’s not a problem,” Keith says, beginning to sound defensive, so Lance backs off with a cringe, waving a hand dismissively.

“Well- no, you’re right- I just- Well, it would have been nice to know way earlier before I thought you just thought you were too good for everyone and everything!” Lance struggles to explain. Keith is tense as he stares at Lance, arms crossed until he sighs in defeat, his guarded expression lifting.

“Yeah, well, it’s just frustrating to tell people, sometimes. A lot of people end up treating me differently, and most of it I can tolerate, but sometimes they look at me like they pity me and I hate that because they shouldn’t!” he proclaims, “So many people choose to interpret autism as this horrible thing that hinders performance, or makes someone incompetent and they pity me. Like, okay, yeah, it sucks sometimes, and for a long time I was really insecure because I didn't understand how to act in a way that was perceived as normal and it messed me up, but that was literally only because people made me feel like there was something wrong with me but I'm fine! I’m not any less capable of anything and being treated like it drives me crazy,” Keith vents, glaring at the space in front of him as if it were every person who ever made him feel that way. “It’s a part of me and I’m fine with it. I just want other people to understand that. So sorry if I was just apprehensive about mentioning it,” he concludes.

When Keith is finally finished talking, he’s panting just the slightest bit, cheeks tinted red in what Lance assumes is frustration. Lance stares wide-eyed at him before he nods, slowly.

“Okay. Those are all good, valid reasons and I completely understand now that you’ve said it all out loud and I can also see why you decided to find me and talk about this because, turns out, we have a lot more in common than we thought,” Lance says, miraculously in one breath. Keith looks over at him sheepishly now, cheeks darkening a shade.

“I- I’m sorry, that was a lot. I’ve- never actually given that spiel to anyone other than Shiro,” Keith admits, glancing between Lance and a dozen other places in the room.

“No, no, it’s fine. It was all necessary and stuff I probably needed to hear- uh- you’re fine,” Lance insists awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re fine,” he adds after a beat. Keith turns to look at Lance and Lance finds himself staring right back.

Then, Keith is smiling again, a shy tug of his lips into a smirk as he looks down at the ledge they’re sitting on and Lance can’t tear his eyes away.

“Yeah. We’re fine.”

#

There’s a shift in their relationship. Both of them notice it. The teasing, though still there, is more playful between them.

They’ve been spending more time together outside of training, wreaking havoc in the kitchen with Hunk, or trying their best to understand anything Pidge is doing ever until Hunk eventually saunters in and him and Pidge engage in nerd-talk that is far out of Lance and Keith’s comprehension, and they’ll both eventually migrate away after exchanging a few confused glances.

They’ve been looking out for each other, too. They always have, but before it was more with the sole reasoning of being a team and that’s what teams do.  Now, it’s because they want to.

Sometimes, when Keith is having a hard time understanding some social aspect, be it emotions, decencies, ques, Lance will help him in a way that isn’t degrading or condescending by explaining or giving advice. Sometimes, during meetings with their new ally, Keith will be uncertain how to react to social exchanges, especially when someone seeks him out specifically. But Lance’s presence is reassuring. Like, if he were to mess up and piss off some alien whose capabilities he’s unaware of, Lance will be right there on his heels poor some sugar on the situation with his natural social charm.

Then, sometimes, Keith will help Lance. Sometimes, when he loses himself to his thoughts during a meeting or debriefing, he’ll feel a nudge against his side, or a gentle kick at his ankle and look up to see Keith there, subtly gesturing to where he should be focused. Whenever Lance is having a hard time following a debriefing, feeling restless and fidgety, Keith will take him to the training deck where they’ll go over it together as they both blow off steam.

Sometimes, on rare occasions, they’ll train with Shiro, or on even rarer occasions, just talk with Shiro. But, lately the conversations gradually shift until Lance and Keith are the only ones in it, bantering and arguing without any real malice. For a while, it made Keith feel bad until one day he looked up at Shiro, who smiled fondly and knowingly at Keith.

All Keith could think to do was look away and pretend to be ignorant to what he knew Shiro knew.

One day, as they lay on the training deck floor, sweaty and exhausted from sparring, Lance says through labored breaths, “I probably didn’t do you much good,” and even though it’s a very vague assumption, Keith knows that he’s referring to the scuffles they used to get into, before Lance knew.

But Keith only smiles.

“For some reason, it’s not that bad with you. Even though you can be incredibly annoying at times,” Keith admits with a shrug, pointedly avoiding Lance’s eyes.
“Rude!” Lance interjects immediately, flabbergasted at the crudeness but Keith giggles? He’ll definitely deny it later.

“We’re being honest with each other, aren’t we?” Keith says with a smirk, while Lance just stares crossly, stubbornly fights away a blush that probably isn’t from sparring. Keith shakes his head and continues. “It’s weird, but even back at the Garrison, when I hardly knew you, you didn’t bother me. I mean, you did, but not in the same sense as other people,” he says, absentmindedly as he stares up at the ceiling.

Of course, he only realizes a second too late the information he just provided Lance. Unfortunately for him, Lance catches onto it immediately, jolting up to stare wide-eyed at Keith, who reciprocates with eyes equally as wide.

“You fucking asshole!” he curses, “You acted like you didn’t even remember me!” he exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at Keith. Against his better judgement, Keith laughs something so pure and genuine and he doesn’t know why, but it's funny to him- Lance getting so upset about Keith feigning ignorance to who he was. Despite the grin evident on Lance’s lips, he says, “It’s not even funny! Get back up I’m gonna kick your ass,” and he’s already rising to his feet. Keith just watched him from the floor until Lance extended a hand out to him. Keith stares at it at first. In the back of his mind, he thinks this moment might be symbolic in some sense, but doesn’t dwell on it long enough to think about it. So, he takes Lance’s hand, hauling himself to his feet. For just a moment he allows himself to admire the way Lance’s tanned skin appears in contrast to Keith’s pale complexion before Lance is pulling his hand away. Keith has to stop himself from becoming hopeful, so he shakes his thoughts away.

“So, what’s this gonna prove?” he asks with a smirk, already taking his stance across from Lance, who does the same. Keith can already see the flaws in his form, but doesn’t say anything.

“Nothing, but when I win you’re gonna tell me why you pretended to forget who I was. And it’ll feel good,” Keith snorts, but humors him.

Lance doesn’t win.

“Next time,” he heaves out from where Keith landed him on the floor, exhausted and breathing heavy. Keith grins, but walks over to Lance to extend a hand down. Lance stares at it at first like Keith had and takes it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Keith thinks that there’s a moment where Lance stares at their conjoined hands before separating them. But, that’s probably just his wishful thinking.

“Sure.”

#

“Ow, shit!” Keith curses as he hits his head on the desk in his room, having been rummaging around in the storage unit just beneath it.

“Language,” Shiro drones automatically. Keith rolls his eyes, but continues his search as Shiro watches, digging around inside different drawers. “Keith, I still don’t know what you’re looking for,” he reminds, leaning against the wall of Keith’s room. Keith groans, frustrated and sits up, craning his neck to look back at Shiro.

“Yes, you do! Remember? You gave it to me a little while before you-” Keith’s voice catches in his throat, and Shiro can’t help but notice the way Keith seems troubled even just recalling the memory. “Before the mission,” he settles with, having stopped his frantic hunting. “After I told you about the autism, back at Garrison. You gave it to me to help with fidgeting,” Keith recalls and Shiro’s brows raise in recollection.

“Oh. You mean this,” Shiro simply says, strolling over to a shelf just out of Keith’s range of vision due to his height, and plucks a small knickknack from it, holding it out to Keith who stands to his feet to retrieve it, almost in disbelief. Some part of him wants to be annoyed that Shiro found it so easily, and had Keith not been cursed with slightly below average height, he might have spotted it himself. He isn’t though, too occupied with being relieved. “You still have that?” Shiro asks, surprised.

“Well, yeah. I might not have used it a lot but it was a gift from you and it means a lot to me. I carried it everywhere,” Keith admits, shifting on his feet as he stares down at the cube in his palm. When he hears Shiro let out a soft laugh, he looks up and is met with same expression Shiro has been giving him for a while now.

“You’re giving it to Lance,” he states with a smile. Keith’s face twists into what he can best manage to be annoyance, even as warmth spreads through his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Go on,” he encourages, raising his arms and nodding his head toward the door. “He’s probably still with Allura, but I’m sure it won’t be long,” he aids.

Despite the trying to seem annoyed, Keith nods, making for the door when Shiro abruptly calls him.

“Keith?” he calls, and Keith turns to him, brows raised before he’s suddenly engulfed inside two toned arms. He’s shocked at first, but relaxes into it, returning the hug best he can with his arms trapped at his sides. “I’m happy for you,” Shiro says, and it means so much because Shiro, of all people, knows how hard it is for Keith to bond with people, to get close. He knows how long it took Keith to learn how to work with himself. Knows for sure that he remembers all the times Keith complained back at Garrison about the cute Cuban boy who kept competing with him, and Keith not knowing how to deal with it.

“Alright, alright, I’m going to go now,” Keith announces after several seconds have passed, but Shiro doesn’t let up, only squeezing Keith tighter and nearly lifting him off the floor and Keith knows he’s smiling, laughing even. “Takashi! Come on!” he complains, despite the stubborn grin on his lips as he struggles against his almost-brother’s hold.

#

At first, Lance isn’t sure why Allura had requested to see him. Maybe a year ago, when they first met, he would have been thrilled that Allura, easily one of the most beautiful women he’s ever come across, wanted to walk with him. Now though? He’s crossed between being just that and absolutely terrified.

It’s silent as he follows her through the castle, ascending further up than the elevator can take them. It isn’t until they’ve reached a bright room with dozens of plants scattered about it, strongly resembling a garden or green room, that Allura speaks.

“You must be wondering why I brought you here,” she says, walking up to a flower to gently caress the white and pink petals.

“Well, yeah, a little. I did just follow you through complete silence to-” Lance looks around the room. “here,” he states, gesturing around the room and the many plants within it. She smiles, staring at the plant between her fingertips before she sighs and turns to Lance, hands intertwined elegantly in front of her.

“First, I should apologize for my actions a few weeks ago. I should have apologized shortly after, however I’ve been so busy with the Xescians and- really, there is no excuse,” she admits, slumping her shoulders as he brows draw together. She pauses as she regains her composure, standing up straight and looking Lance in the eye. “I am sorry, Lance,” she says, earnestly to Lance who stands wide-eyed, unsure how to respond.

“It’s… okay. To be fair I should have said something,” he reasons, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“And I should have been more considerate. It’s my duty as the leader of Voltron to be thoughtful of you all and your well-being,” she insists. “Please, accept my apology,” she requests, a slight bow in her posture.

“It’s okay, really! Apology accepted,” Lance insists, being his humble self as he raises his hands, making soothing motions as if to disperse her concerns. Allura smiles gratefully before turning and walking further into the room. Lance assumes he’s supposed to follow her, so he does.

“Well, now that that’s been taken care of, I did have other reasons for bringing you here. This is the castle’s indoor garden, where we used to grow certain herbs and food,” she explains, walking toward a particular patch of plants sectioned off from the rest, settled inside of a circular, stone, fountain-like container in the center of the room. She plucks one and extends it out to Lance.

“This plant is called Estai. When I was a girl, I had a hard time focusing and sitting still- so much in fact, that my father decided one day to seek out a professional mind doctor, who said I had a mild case of the fidgets, which, according to Hunk’s description, sounds a lot like this ADHD you have,” She explains. “With time, I slowly outgrew it, but before that, these herbs were given to me in order to aid in maintaining my focus and composure. I hope they will do the same for you. All you have to do is let the plant soak into warm water for a few earth-minutes and drink it,” she explains as Lance accepts the plant, an astounded expression on his face.

“Wow, thanks Allura,” he expresses gratefully, but is otherwise speechless as he examines the plant.

The plant is relatively small, green at the stem, but as it veins out, the leaves are a vibrant fuchsia, small, bright blue berry-like spheres freckled onto different parts of it.

“It’s the least I can offer. One plant is good for up to five steeps and you should only need to drink one cup a day. I hope it helps,” she clarifies with a smile, which Lance returns with his own graceful grin before it seems to fade in to something of sorrow, Lance craning his neck toward the door.

“Is something wrong?” Allura asks, concerned. Lance jerks his head in her direction, waving his hands dismissively.

“No! No, everything is fine! Thank you so much, princess, but I-uh, forgot about something, so I’ll see you around, thanks again!” he rambles as he turns on his heel, all but running out of the room and praying he can find his way back to the common area, leaving behind a startled Allura, who simply smiles in his wake.

#

When Keith finally finds Lance, he’s in the same room he found him in all those weeks ago. He’s sitting on the ledge again, this time looking out at the stars instead of being curled in on himself, mindlessly twisting something in his hand.

Lance doesn’t immediately notice Keith walking in, not until he’s sitting down beside him. Lance looks toward him, appearing just the slightest bit startled.

“Hey,” Keith greets. Lance blinks a few times before he turns to face Keith, adjusting to sit cross-legged on the ledge.

“Hey,” Lance replies, and Keith can see something is off. Anyone who knows him probably could, and even though it seems like their relationship only just started three weeks ago, Keith feels like he knows Lance- hopes he does. “Fancy meeting you here,” he adds with a small grin. Keith offers a smirk back.

“Is everything alright?” Keith asks. Lance looks to him and nods.

“Yeah, yeah- totally,” he confirms, then pauses in thought before adding, “Well… kind of,” Keith raises his brows.

“Kind of?” he inquires. Lance shrugs.

“Allura gave me this space plant that supposed to make me focus,” he explains, lifting the plant in his hand to display it to Keith.

“Oh,” Keith says, perking up. “That’s good, right?” he asks, looking to Lance, who is staring conflicted down at the plant.

“Yeah… I just,” he pauses, furrowing his brows. “Does it bother you?” he asks in an aggravated breath. Keith’s expression morphs into bewilderment, brows shooting up.

“Bother me? Why?” he questions, genuinely confused. Lance runs his free hand through his hair in what Keith can clearly see is frustration.

“Because I can just drink some magic-space-tea and be gone with my problems! Because I don’t have to go through years of accepting and learning myself like you did!” Lance rambles, looking anywhere but at Keith, who frowns.

“Lance...,” he says in a hushed tone, scooting close to the other man. “Of course it doesn’t bother me, and it definitely shouldn’t bother you. I mean, like I said, I’m okay. I don’t need anything to make me ‘better’. But even if I did, it doesn’t matter, just because there’s no psychiatric treatment available for me doesn’t mean you can’t have one. If drinking magical-space-tea is going to help you, then do it. Don’t make this into the pain Olympics,” Keith reassures, his voice lifting into a teasing tone at the end as his lips quirk into a smile. He’s holding the fidget cube from earlier in his hand now, but not yet exposing it to Lance.

Lance smiles, but Keith can tell it doesn’t exactly reach his eyes, so he speaks again.

“You’ve been thinking too much,” he observes, looking at the small, white cube he holds between his fingers.

“Always,” he agrees with a light huff of a laugh. Then, his eyes wonder down to where Keith’s eyes are, fascination taking over. “What’s that?” he inspects, hunching over to get closer to the object. Keith holds the cube between them.

“It’s a- fidget cube, or something like that. It’s for people who have a hard time keeping still- particularly because of things like anxiety, autism… ADHD and things like that,” Keith explains. “Shiro gave it to me a long time ago, but I didn’t use it much,” Keith explains as Lance carefully picks the cube from Keith’s palm, examining it as he plays with all the little buttons and switches on the small object. A smile tugs at Keith’s lips at the way Lance is so fascinated with the little cube.

“I- uh… I wanted to give it to you,” Keith adds momentarily, lost in observing Lance’s face shift as he tinkers with the knickknack.

It takes the words a second or two to catch up to Lance, but when they do, he nearly drops the cube, brows raised as a light blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Wait, really?” he asks, clutching the cube in his hands. Keith nods.

“Yeah, I mean, unless you don’t want it now that you have the- space plant?” Keith confirms. Lance shakes his head offended, holding the cube close to his chest,

“What?! No way! You gave it to me and it’s mine and I love it and you’re never getting it back,” he sputters, and it’s just enough to make Keith’s lips quirk up into a wider grin.

A comfortable silence falls over them, and when Keith looks over at Lance, he finds that Lance is looking right back at him, probably has been.

“Yes?” Keith asks with a raised brow as his cheeks heat up. Lance’s brows raise as if he realized he was staring and clears his throat.

“I- uh. I actually wanted to give you something too, now that I think about it,” he states, a sudden determination and confidence in his tone.

“Oh,” Keith utters, surprised, his brows pinched together. “What is it?” he asks, curiously.

“Close your eyes,” Lance instructs. Keith gives him a suspicious look that has Lance rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on. It won’t be a surprise if you don’t close your eyes. I’m not going to like, give you a wet willie or something,” he promises.

“That’s reassuring,” Keith deadpans, looking at him skeptically. Lance raises his brows in a pointed look, gesturing for him to do as instructed. So, with a roll of his eyes, he complies, shutting his eyes.

Nothing happens for the first a while. Keith can barely make out of the vague sounds of Lance’s clothing shifting as he moves, the only reassurance he has that Lance is even still in the room.

Keith is about to open his eyes when he feels it- an unexpected and sudden warmth against his lips and then he processes what is happening.

Lance is kissing him.

Lance is kissing him.

Keith’s brain does the equivalent of short-circuiting, and he opens his eyes in shock to verify that it’s Lance there and he is. But, all too soon, Lance is pulling away and Keith finds himself chasing the contact, pushing forward onto his hands to get it back, clenching his eyes shut a little too hard.

He has absolutely no clue what he’s doing, but hopes he’s doing it at least mostly right, moving his lips with Lance’s, recalling what he can from movies and shows.

Every second feels slow, lethargic, but even so it ends so abruptly, Lance pulling back, the separation of their Lips making that cliché kissy-noise.

Lance’s forehead is pressed against Keith’s own and he can feel his breath fanning across the lower half of his face and neck.

“So,” Lance breathes, bright blue eyes meeting dark violet ones. “Any feedback?” Lance asks with a small, nervous grin. Keith let’s out a small huff, eyes still wide in a daze.

“Yeah, it tasted sweet,” Keith recalls because it’s the first thing he remembers, unsure what else to say. Lance’s brows perk up before he realizes.

“Oh! Yeah, I was eating some of the little berry-beans on the herb. That’s probably what you were tasting,” Lance explains, gesturing to the plant, which Lance had dropped to cup Keith’s jaw during the kiss. Keith looks down at the plant, then back to Lance, whose biting his lip, eyes angled down. His cheeks are flushes, Keith observes, and he has no doubt that his own are too.  

“So, that’s a good thing, I think. But other than that… would you mind if it happened again?” Lance asks, hesitantly. Keith smiles, white teeth flashing and eyes crinkling as he nods.

“God, no,” he confirms happily, Lance’s lips hovering just in front of his teasingly.

“So, just to be clear,” Lance adds, his lips so, so close to Keith’s, which are literally tingling in anticipation, he can feel Lance’s breath on them with every word. “This is me asking if you want to be my boyfriend,” Lance clarifies. Keith grins, but instead of replying with words, he presses his lips to Lance’s and this time, because Keith expects it, he's a much more avid participant.

Granted, he's never actually kissed anyone before since he never really wanted to until now, but even so, he approaches it how he'd approach anything else- full force and determined. As he moves his lips against Lance's, quickly learning, he brings a hand up to gently tangle into Lance's light brown hair and basks in the tiny gasp he earns from Lance. Maybe, just as vengeance for Lance 'surprising' him, Keith decides to nip experimentally at Lance's soft bottom lip, and the literal moan he gets in response it well worth it. Keith is smirking as Lance pulls back sharply, face red. 

"That wasn't what you think!" Lance claims with a scowl, cheeks reddening by the second.

"No? Then what was it?" Keith challenges, grinning.

"Okay, shut up, it's exactly what you think. Just kiss me,” Lance demands, cheeks still red as he leans back in. "Not only does he fight dirty but he kisses like it too,” he mutters, bitterly. 

"God, shut up," Keith demands, grabbing Lance's face and pulling him the rest of the way in. "I'll make it up to you," he says between kisses. 

"If it stays along the lines of what we're currently doing, I'm so down for that,” Lance's breathes back against Keith's lips, tucking a hand around the back of Keith's neck to lightly tug the hair there. Keith is just barely successful at choking back his own gasp.

They're okay. They’ve been okay, but right now everything is especially okay. Even when they’re both sore after they fall asleep on the window-ledge, draped over each other under starlight and pressed close with Lance’s jacket being used as a makeshift blanket, they’re okay.

Let it be known that they aren’t trying to fix each other, or make it easier with affection, because neither of them needs that. Because even if it took them some time to realize it, there’s nothing wrong with them and it’s that revelation that draws them close. To that, they’re each other’s reminder; reminder that bent doesn’t mean broken. A reminder that they’re okay.

And the next day, when they both arrive to the kitchen, hand in hand, Lance’s new gift secured in his pocket as Keith asks Hunk how to brew alien-space-tea, nobody comments; just smiles knowingly. Even Pidge, despite her attempts to hide it and somewhere, unbeknownst to anyone other than Keith, Shiro suggestively quirks his brows, to which Keith simply blushes and kindly and subtly shoots him the bird. Meanwhile, Hunk is on the verge of tears for his pals.

So, yeah, they’re okay. Especially now.