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Smoke.
Noise.
Red.
Lance doubled over, heaving for air while trying to keep last night’s meal inside him. His stomach felt like a tangled line of rope, knotted tightly. The weight of his blankets on his legs felt like they were trying to suffocate him, to trap and pin him down. Flailing his legs, Lance managed to push them to the ground. Now exposed, Lance’s entire body felt covered in ants, crawling over his skin in a swarm. His breathing quickened as his dream came back to him.
Dream. Right?
Lance scrambled for his phone, dread pooling in his stomach, adding to the chaos there. The light burned his eyes, the brightness setting was far too high for this hour. He didn’t bother to change it, too focused on what he was doing to take the time and lower it. His finger hovered over the call button. Lance didn’t want to wake him up if he was sleeping….
The scent of blood and dirt was suffocating.
He slammed his finger on the green phone icon.
Nothing. It rang until the default voice recording told him to leave a message at the tone. Lance ended the call and tried again, his heart climbing into his throat.
“Come on, come on, pick up.” With every ring, another knot formed in the pit of Lance’s stomach.
“Lance?” The blue paladin—the former blue paladin—closed his eyes in relief and let out a small sigh as he leaned back against the wall.
“Lance?” The boy on the other line repeated, less sleep and more urgency prominent in his voice. “Are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine. Just a nightmare.” His voice cracked, and Lance winced.
There was a pause before Keith spoke again. “Do you want me to come over?” Lance’s eyes snapped open.
“Tha—um, you don’t, you don’t have to do that. I just… needed to hear your voice.” Keith didn’t comment on the sappiness of it, which Lance appreciated. He knew what it was like to need to hear someone else’s voice, to need to be reminded they’re okay.
Screams.
Lance shuddered.
“Do you want to come over?” Keith sounded slightly hesitant, as if he was unsure if what he was doing was right. Lance loved him for it.
This time it was Lance who paused before replying. Even if he loved what Keith was doing, he didn’t want to be a burden. Especially if he loved what Keith was doing. “Could I?”
“I’ll be over in five.” A click.
Lance lowered his phone, blinked from the shock of what just transpired before getting out of his bed. He went to the bathroom, deciding to take off his face mask, now ruined from when he struggled in his sleep. Stupid nightmares ruining my skin care routine, he thought before heading back to his room to grab his jacket. As an afterthought, he grabbed a sticky note from his desk, quickly scrawled out that he had a nightmare and was going to stay at the shared apartment of Keith’s and Shiro’s, and stuck it on his pillow. His mamá had dealt with finding out he was missing too many times, and Lance didn’t know if he would be back home before she came to wake him up.
As quietly as he could, Lance made his way downstairs, careful to avoid the step that always creaked from the slightest bit of pressure. Some of his siblings were light sleepers, and he didn’t want to wake them up. He glanced at the clock hanging above the oven and winced. One a.m..
With nothing else to distract him as he waited for Keith, the dream came back full force.
You couldn't save them. You weren’t strong enough to save them. You—
A soft rapping came from the door, soft enough that Lance almost couldn't hear it. He pushed back the nightmare and went to open it, wincing as the rusted hinges whined loudly.
Keith stood on the doorstep, looking like he had rolled out of the bed and came directly here. His hair was a snarly mess, flattened on one side and windswept. He was still in his pajamas, without his fingerless gloves or even his red jacket.
“Hey,” he said, like it was normal to show up at someone’s doorstep at one a.m. simply because they had a bad dream. Lance rushed him, hugging the other boy like there was no such thing as tomorrow. His dream still lingered, the taste of sweat and metal still thick in his mouth, but he could breathe easier now.
Lance grew aware of Keith rubbing small circles on his back, of Keith making soft, soothing noises with his throat. He pulled himself closer, breathing in Keith’s citrus-y conditioner, tugging him as close to his chest as possible until there wasn't even an inch of space between them.
“It was a dream. You're safe. We’re safe,” Keith murmured into Lance’s ear, breath warm in the cool air. Lance practically crumbled and he would’ve fallen had Keith not been there to catch him, to prop him up. “You good?”
Lance nodded, though it was a slight lie. He wasn't okay, but he was getting there. Just like all of them, getting there.
He shut the door.
Keith lead him to the street where he had parked his red and white hover cycle, engine still running.
Lance stared at it, ran a hand over the cool metal. Memories of the first time he saw it bubbled up, memories of how they all got into this mess in the first place. It had all started with this bike.
When he took his hand back from the hover cycle, it was trembling.
Keith was waiting patiently for him, probably understanding what was running through his mind, understanding the whirlwind of memories and ideas that still clung to the bike, of the first time he had ridden it to escape the Garrison teachers, and then all the times since; all the late night drives with Keith. Lance threw his leg over the side of the bike, lifted his feet from the ground, and clung to Keith. The vehicle had gone fast the first time Lance was on it, when there were five people all weighing it down. With only two teenage boys on it, the bike was sure to be able to outrun even Lance's thoughts.
It did. The two boys sped over the street, wind whipping through their hair and stinging their skin. The corners were sharp, abrupt turns that got dangerously close to tipping the bike several times, and they were going fast enough that tears sprung from their eyes. Lance was enthralled. He felt frozen in the moment as the past and the future gave away to speed and darkness, broken only by the scattered streetlights and the headlights. The world was how close they could cut the corners, how fast they could go downhill. The universe shrunk and became if they could make the light a block away about to turn yellow, if they could hang right in time if they couldn't.
Eventually, they had to get to Keith’s apartment, and the speed, the chase, came to an end. The universe expanded again, returned to its original size. Lance slipped off the bike, heart rate still elevated from the thrill, and had to catch himself on the seat. His legs had turned to jelly from the hover cycle ride. Lance played it off, doing a belly roll to sell the act, but Keith only shook his head, lips curled in a knowing smirk of Lance’s antics.
Keith reached around the bike and pressed a hidden indent on the bike, and it lowered itself to the ground, the engine still. Lance remembered how the first time he had seen that happen, he had questioned it, and how Keith explained somewhat reluctantly that each bike by the brand had a unique place for the switch, so that only the owner knew how to turn it on. Trips up robbers, he had said, then changed the subject. That was before they had found the blue lion, before the word rivals didn’t quite fit them anymore.
Keith pulled a set of keys out from his pocket and made to unlock to door to the complex. However, before he could turn the key, Lance spoke up.
“Thanks for, you know, doing this for me. You didn’t have to.” Keith froze. For a long moment, all was still. Lance held his breath, wondering if he had said the wrong thing. Then the former red paladin strode back to where Lance was hovering by the bike, grabbed Lance’s hands, and sandwiched them between his own. He stared directly into Lance’s eyes.
“I would do anything for you,” Keith said with feeling. Lance could feel heat rush to his cheeks, and a faint blush spread over Keith’s face as well. Nevertheless, Keith stood where he was, staring with the same intensity until Lance swallowed thickly and nodded. Blush still evident, Lance followed his boyfriend to the door, where they quietly slipping into the building and crept up the stairs, wary of every creak.
On the second floor landing, Keith stopped. He turned around, putting a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence, and opened the door smoothly. Behind his back, Lance rolled his eyes. He could be quieter than Keith.
Once Lance closed the door softly behind him, he reached out and grabbed Keith’s hand. The boy started, a small yelp emitting from him before he whirled around to look at Lance. Under his glare, Lance merely entwined their fingers and used his free hand to mimic Keith’s shushing gesture. Keith scowled at him, but didn’t pull his hand away as he started down the corridor, footsteps near silent.
As they made their way to Keith’s apartment, Keith pulled out his set of keys again. Lance could hear him curse under his breath as they clattered together in a discordant melody of noise. Keith pulled his hand away from Lance’s to hold the other keys still while he found the correct key. Lance missed the warmth immediately. He made up for it by draping his entire body across Keith’s back as the other boy unlocked the door, but even that didn’t last long after Keith closed and locked the door behind him.
The boys made their way to the kitchen, the counter still a messy pile of assorted papers, tea boxes, and empty containers of instant coffee. Keith opened a cabinet over one of the few clean areas, and struggled to get two mugs from a shelf just out of reach when he went on his toes. Lance watched from the side as Keith fruitlessly attempted jumping to get the handle of one. After four tries, Keith hopped on the counter and snatched two cups. Lance could see a frown on his face, most likely caused by having to sit on the counter to be able to reach something.
Keith filled them both with water from the tap and shoved them in the microwave. Lance watched all this play out from his spot at the entrance to the kitchen, a fond smile playing on his lips while he wondered how Keith managed to look so captivating while doing the most mundane of tasks.
The two sat parallel to each other at the small wooden table positioned just outside the kitchen—the ideal spot to not have to walk far to get to the fridge— as they waited for the water to heat. Lance drew nonsensical patterns on the surface of the table with his finger, little strokes turning into broad, sweeping lines extending to Keith’s hands.
“So,” Keith asked, voice covered with a calm façade that Lance saw through immediately. “What was your dream?” Lance’s finger froze mid stroke. His dream.
Lasers shot down from the sky, causing trenches in the ground and pillars of smoke to waft up. Galra soldiers completely surrounded a village. In the sky, two cruisers aimed their ion cannons at the lions dancing and weaving through their shots. But every hit that didn’t land a lion landed the ground, and though they were trying their best, Team Voltron kept getting pushed closer and closer to the village. It wouldn't be long until a missed shot hit it.
Lance watched this all from below, where he stood feet away from Blue. She urged him to move, to pilot her so that he could help his friends. They need Voltron, she whispered to him. They need you. But Lance couldn't move, couldn't make his body do anything but watch, powerless, as one by one his friends were shot out of the sky. Where they hit, plumes of dirt sprayed everywhere.
Something fell from the atmosphere. It gained speed as it hurtled to the ground, flames licking at the edges. It hit the ground with a sickening crack, and when the dust settled Lance could see it was the castle-ship, completely devoid of power, one tower broken and lying apart from the rest.
“You call yourself a paladin?” A voice asked, and Lance could finally move, could turn to see Lotor holding a knife against Keith’s throat. Keith’s eyes, normally so fiery and full of life, now seemed fractured and lost. Lance's mobility that he had seconds ago fled, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself to move, to help Keith.
“You’re no paladin,” Lotor continued, pressing the knife tighter to Keith’s throat. “You couldn't save them. You weren’t strong enough to save them. You don't deserve to be part of Voltron.”
The knife against Keith’s throat glinted in the sun.
Red.
“Lance!” Keith’s voice shocked him back to reality. He was in his boyfriend’s apartment, the war was over, he was shaking.
“Lance!” Keith said again. He was kneeling in front of Lance; his hands cupped Lance’s face. Eyes focusing, Lance met Keith’s, a frantic and desperate air about him.
“I couldn't—I couldn't save them, I couldn't save you .” Recognition dawned on Keith’s face. All the defenders of the universe had those dreams. The dreams where they were just a little too late, or just a little too weak.
“Lance, Lance, Lance, it’s alright. It’s alright.” Keith repeated it like a mantra. Lance watched as Keith rested his forehead against his own and shut his eyes, still repeating himself.
Lance reached out one hand. It was trembling. He set it on Keith’s neck. The warmth that flooded his palm and the steady rhythmicity of Keith’s strong, sure pulse calmed him slightly, allowed him to think coherently. The microwave beeped, but neither boy moved.
Keith opened his eyes again, stared at Lance with set determination. “Pidge, Hunk, and Matt had that nerd convention, remember? Right now they’re probably passed out on a couch in the Holts' living room. Shiro is here, down that hall, sleeping — or at least pretending to. Allura and Coran are both in space, making sure all the planets abide by the Voltron Alliance rules. I’m right here. We’re safe, Lance. It’s over. The war is over. Okay?” He pushed his forehead closer to Lance’s. “Okay?”
“The water’s cooling down,” Lance whispered.
“ Okay? ” Keith repeated forcefully. Lance nodded.
It’s not okay, Lance thought. It’s impossible for it to be okay.
Keith squinted at him, and Lance could tell he was trying to see if he was lying. On impulse, Lance leaned forward, angling his face so that their noses didn’t collide. A startled noise came from the back of Keith’s throat, but soon he was kissing back.
It was a brief kiss, short and sweet. Lance leaned back, looking at Keith looking at nothing. Red crawled up Keith’s neck and he covered his face with his hands. Lance smiled. Even after all this time, even when they were the only two in the room, he could still make Keith blush.
“Seriously though,” Lance said. “The water’s cooling down.” Keith blinked, then stood up, striding to the counter with an unaffiliated air, despite the cherry hue still blooming on his face. Lance followed him, grinning cheekily.
Keith pulled two packets of hot chocolate from somewhere on the counter, there was so much junk on it that Lance genuinely couldn't see where it was coming from while Lance pulled the cups out of the microwave, wincing at the initial heat trapped in the handle. While Keith poured the powder into the mugs, Lance stood beside him, one arm wrapped around the other’s waist. The domesticity of it warmed Lance, helped flush some of the coldness of his nightmare from him.
They drank in silence, parallel again at the table, hands not holding cups connected over the small table. Lance finished first, holding the cup completely upside down over his mouth as he worked on getting the clumps of chocolate powder close enough to the rim so that he could use his tongue to get them out. While Keith finished draining his cup, Lance played with his free hand; holding it, gently rubbing the skin, examining the nails. Lance glanced up at Keith’s face and saw him looking back with a bemused smile on his face. Keith took one last sip of his drink before setting it down. Lance’s mouth dropped in horror.
“You gotta eat the clumps, those are the best part.” Keith looked at him like he had grown a third eye.
“Those things are disgusting, I’m not eating them.”
Lance straightened his back, using his height to his advantage to look down his chin at Keith. “I can’t believe this. I’m dating a heathen.” he slouched again, wiping away a fake tear. Keith scoffed.
“C’mon, drama queen. Sleep.”
“Drama queen? I’ll have you know that I am at least a drama empress ,” Lance protested as Keith pulled him away from the kitchen towards his bedroom, leaving the cups on the table. Lance tried to go back to put them in the sink, but Keith just shook his head, yawned, and pointed to Shiro’s room, indicating that his roommate could deal with it in the morning.
“Well then, Empress, here is your twin sized bed that you're sharing with me tonight.” Lance looked around the room. No matter how many times he tried to convince Keith to get rid of it, the conspiracy theory board he brought back from his desert shack stubbornly remained on the wall. There were a couple space posters hanging on the wall, and several miscellaneous photos of the voltron family, but other than those and a dresser, the room was barren save the aforementioned twin sized bed.
Lance simply shrugged in response to Keith’s comment. “Just means more cuddling. Be glad of your tiny bed, it means you get to be closer to this.” Despite his flippant tone, Lance felt the dread begin to pool up again. What if he had a nightmare again, one that was even worse than the previous?
“Hey,” Keith said, softer, picking up the change in the atmosphere. He hugged Lance. It was slightly stiff at first, but his time in space had clearly given Keith social experience. The hug shifted as Keith loosened his arms. “I’ll wake you up. I’ll remind you of what’s real.” Lance relaxed. “And what’s real is that I love you.”
Lance choked on air.
“Keith! You can't just—just say stuff like that!” Lance stammered out. It wasn't the first time Keith had said it, but to hear him say it so casually, yet so sincerely….
“Why not?” Keith shot back, already climbing in bed. “It’s true.”
Lance opened his mouth, then shut it again. The lateness of the hour finally hit him, so he merely pursed his lips together and tried to move with dignity as he slipped under the covers next to Keith.
Later, when Keith’s head was resting under Lance’s chin, and his arm was sprawled across his chest, Lance whispered to him, unsure if he was still awake.
“I love you, too.”
It might not be yet, but everything was going to be alright.