Chapter Text
“Lance!”
The group of Paladins came running towards them, a mix of fear and relief on their faces. They had finally been allowed in to Lotor’s private quarters, upon his request.
Lance grimaced, finally looking up from the random spot on the ground he had been staring at as he thought, no longer being able to avoid the confrontation he’d been running from.
“We are here to save you!” Allura stated the obvious, giving him a nervous smile as Lance finally looked in their direction.
Lotor turned his head, his chin still resting on his knuckles, leaning on his chair’s armrest. He looked not at the group of Paladins, but Lance, watching his reaction.
“What are you doing?!”
“We need to get out of here!”
“Let’s go before they change their mind!”
Who was even speaking what? Lance couldn’t tell: he was staring right at all of them, he could hear them, but it was like his anxiety was eating him alive and he was left with a bunch of puzzle pieces floating around his brain, unable to connect one with the other.
“Lance?”
He had been dreading this moment.
“Uh, so why isn’t he tied up or anything?”
How could he tell them face-to-face like this? His world was closing around him, his stomach twisting at the very idea of explaining himself. Was he going to pull a Hunk?
That thought made his lips quirk into a little smile, and it gave him the power to rise to his feet, albeit his legs shook. Maybe he would throw up. Maybe it would make things somehow less awkward. Lance could only hope.
As he opened his mouth, he mentally prepared himself for whatever would pour out, whether it be the truth or vomit.
But he didn’t vomit. His voice was surprisingly calm as he spoke: “I don’t need to be saved.”
No one really knew what to say. As they were silent, he carried on, looking back at Lotor, who was still gazing at him with immense curiosity. “I wasn’t kidnapped. I came here ‘cause I wanted to.”
“Why? Why would you ever want to?” This time, Lance could decipher who the voice belonged to. Keith had been the first to gather his bearings and speak up.
“He’s tricking you!”
“How could you fall for something like this?!”
Yeah. He knew it’d hurt like this. The pieces that were finally beginning to form a full picture toppled back to the ground in a scrambled mess.
Losing his previous confidence, he sank back down into his chair, nearly missing it with his bum. His chest tightened and he felt his eyes prick, on the verge of tears. He was supposed to have explained everything to them before they came to find him, to get everyone to understand that their goals weren’t all that different and that they needed to open their eyes and consider a new tactic moving forward.
But he couldn’t say any of that right now.
Everything was fuzzy, until he felt a cool touch on his hand. His eyes focused on the slender fingers now tenderly caressing his own. The little patterns being traced on his skin comforted him immensely.
“It’s possible he’s under some kind of mind control that—” Shiro had his arm out, stopping the others from moving any closer. Were they trying to attack? Or did they think…they couldn’t possibly, right? Have they lost all trust with him, now, that they’d even think that?
“No!” Lance rose back to his feet, feeling a lot more powerful this time, especially when Lotor stood up, too, taking his place next to Lance. “I’m not being tricked, or mind controlled, or anything! I’m trying to tell you, we all misjudged—”
“Lotor is the son of—“
“—all misjudged each other!” He rose his voice: he didn’t want to hear the reprimands any longer. He was well aware of the situation. He’d spent many quintents reminding himself of it, nearly making himself sick, trying to figure out how to explain it all to the Pala—no, they were his friends, his family. “…I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Tell us what, exactly?” Keith crossed his arms, “and why isn’t he saying anything?”
On that cue, Lotor left Lance’s side, taking careful steps forward. “Fear not, Paladins. I, Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire, have done nothing. He has not been tampered with or tricked, nor would I stoop to such lows. What I find more alarming is how upset his ‘friends’ are making him. He told me you would understand, however…this kind of rejection from those he trusts with his life is—”
“N-no. They have a right to be mad, or whatever.” Lance interrupted once more. Lotor turned to him curiously, reaching up to play with the lock of silver hair draped over his eye.
And they did have a right, he just wished they weren’t. Not being able to face that fact any longer, he turned on his heel to leave, but Hunk’s voice stopped him. “Lance! Can’t you at least tell us insteada leavin’ it a mystery for us to piece together?!”
He stood frozen in place for a long tick before heaving a sigh, and stuffing his hands into his jeans’ front pockets. “I like Lotor,” the words poured out easier than anything he’d said all day, “We’re together, okay?” It sounded really dumb when he said it, like he was some moody teenager introducing his first romantic interest to his parents and didn’t really know what he was getting into or what he wanted…but the bond they’d formed was so much more than that, Lance was sure. He just hated putting a label on it.
The silence of the group spoke louder than words ever could, and it was driving Lance crazy. He turned to face them to further explain himself. “I wasn’t tryna abandon Voltron, or you guys, or the mission, or anything, I just…things happened. Plus, you have five Paladins. You don’t need me, anyway!” He shrugged, trying his best to play it cool despite his voice cracking mid-sentence. “So…so, I’m staying here.”
Lotor was next to make a move, wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulders. He leaned in, whispering something to his ear, and Lance nodded.
“We need a moment. You will be shown to the parlor for the time being.” Lotor snapped his fingers, and the guards, whom had been silently watching the entire time, moved towards the shocked team. But the guards showed no signs of aggression and with an understanding gaze between them all and a nod from Shiro, they allowed themselves to be peacefully led out, while the Prince lead Lance to their bedroom.
“That was terrible,” he groaned, sprawling out on the bed. With a small “oof,” he felt all the pressure and anxiety begin to dissipate.
“Are you sure you have not overestimated them?”
Lotor didn’t seem too impressed. While Lance had confidently reassured him over and over that his friends would understand, he’d always doubted their acceptance. Rejection was definitely not a new concept for Lotor: he’d been discriminated against all his life and it was only a reasonable assumption that the trend would repeat throughout several aspects of his life.
Lance hooked his arms around his neck, looking upside-down at him from his strange position in bed, a smile creeping to his lips when he saw the slightly puzzled look on his lover’s face.
“What is it?” Lotor asked softly, watching curiously as Lance collected himself back up, twisting around on the bed and positioning himself in his lap, straddling either thigh with his knees.
“It’s weird.”
The Prince cocked a brow, and Lance let out a chuckle before expanding on his thought. “When I look at you, it’s like everything’s okay, even though it’s not.”
“It is,” He reassured him, sighing as he brought his hand to cup the human’s warm cheek. ‘How silly he is,’ he thought fondly.
Lance’s smile fell, then, and his head tilted so that his cheek pressed into the caressing hand. “It’s not. I need to go out there and talk to them. Tell them everything.”
“They need time, as do you, Beloved.”
“How much?” His brow furrowed, impatience evident.
“That I do not know.”
With an irritated sigh, Lance leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, his own hand reaching up and tangling in the silky, silver strands that always seemed to beg to be touched…at least by Lance. It wasn’t long before their lips met in a wet embrace. It made Lance’s heart flutter happily, all his insecurities disappearing completely as he let out his feelings.
After everything he had heard about Lotor, he hadn’t expected who he’d found. Not someone so gentle, yet strong, and stable, charming, but somehow strangely sincere, and beautiful. God, he was beautiful, more than any girl he’d seen before, on Earth or in space. But besides looks and his skill as a wonderful conversationalist, it was the way he comforted Lance, addressed his insecurities and accepted them. He’d even shared his own, and that was when Lance really fell. To know that their enemy, Zarkon’s son, Prince of the Galra Empire, even felt self doubt…it somehow comforted him greatly.
Like he’d said, this whole thing was weird. ‘But good-weird,’ he thought with a small smile, and continued pressing his lips insistently up against the other’s. When he had to pull away to breathe, Lotor sighed, opening his eyes back up to admire his precious Paladin.
“I wish you’d allow me to take you on a ride. We could watch the stars; perhaps spend some time on a Galra resort planet, and you could unwind, free of worry from all of this.”
Lance shook his head. As much as he wanted to give in to the spoiling, this was something he had to face, and he had been putting it off for awhile now. It was even worse that he’d made his team worry about him disappearing, and put them in danger by making them come find him. He had been planning on telling them, without a messy situation like this, but he just hadn’t found the words in time.
“I can’t. I have to do this…as awkward as it is.”
“What do you fear so much?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid…,” he gave it a little thought, “…that they won’t agree with us, and what if they don’t want to work together?”
“Then they are fools.”
His brow furrowed. “But they’re still my friends.”
“You must rest, then we can hold another audience with them and will explain everything together.” His hands began to work at Lance’s baseball tee, pulling it off his form easily so he could be more comfortable. Lance slipped off the bed, kicking his sneakers to the side before crawling back in under the covers, which felt so nice…so cool and soft on his heated skin.
The Prince leaned over him, kissing the top of his head once he'd gotten situated. “Do you want me to stay?”
He nodded as his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t want to sleep; he wanted to go out there and confront his fears as Lotor had taught him to do…but the idea of sleep was getting more and more appealing once he actually let his body start sinking into the plush mattress.
“Then you must say it,” Lotor teased, his voice nothing but a soft puff of warm breath against his face.
Giving a reluctant whine, he turned away, rolling on to his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow.
“Well, then,” he sighed, getting up from the bed, but before he could even take a step, Lance reached out and snatched his wrist, making him pause.
After a tick, the weight on the bedside returned, and Lance smiled, finally giving him what he wanted to hear. “I want your cute Galra butt right here with me.”
“My…,” exclaimed the said ‘cute Galra’. Lance snorted.
“After we tell them everything, I wanna eat, like…mmm, a burger. The closest thing I can find to a burger. And fries. Really, really salty fries.”
“I do not know what you’re going on about,” Lotor smiled as he pet his head.
Hunk would know what meant. Hunk would make him whatever he could and he’d make it with all his heart. It’d look like a burger, it’d taste like a burger, and it’d be the closest thing he could get to a burger without going back home. The thoughts made him wilt a bit, knowing that very friend was out there, waiting for answers that only Lance could provide.
Sensing the change in demeanor, Lotor quickly tried to remedy the situation. “But I will try my best to find this ‘burger’ you so desire.”
That warmed Lance right back up, and he rolled to face him, emotions coming to a head and tears finally deciding to surface. Lotor blinked, even more confused by Lance’s reaction. He was smiling, but those tears…
He gently wiped them away with his thumb.
“Sorry,” Lance mumbled.
He shook his head with a sigh. No matter how many times he had to say it, he would—over and over, until Lance finally believed it himself. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Thanks,” he let out a shuddering breath, placing his hand on top of Lotor’s, cupping it affectionately as he sniffed. “I’m gonna see if Hunk will cook for us. Then you’ll finally be able to taste his cooking. It’s amazing, like, we always said he could have totally become a chef, but he’s also really good with technology and stuff. Obviously he's meant to be here, or he wouldn't be. Which is sort of unexpected, but then when he and Pidge get going on all their weird tech talk it’s just like—”
“Rest,” Lotor chuckled, patting his cheek before standing up and beginning to remove his armor. At first, Lance protested as he left the bed, but when he saw why, he didn’t voice any more complaints.
He gave his wet face a wipe with his palms for good measure, then watched his Prince undress to his under-armor before crawling in next to him under the covers. They spooned and it was then that Lance could truly give in, eventually slipping away into the comfort of his dreams, which were not stress-ridden like the real world, but rather peaceful.
Burgers, and the team…Coran, the little mice, and the castle. Everyone was laughing. Keith was being stupid. Shiro was politely listening as Pidge ranted about something Lance didn't understand, and Hunk was serving up fresh French fries to go with the burgers, all glittering with an obscene amount of delectable salt. It was when he realized Lotor was missing amidst this happy scene that he woke with a start, feeling a bit unsettled.
As he sat up in bed, he realized Lotor was still there in bed with him, his eyes shut, his brows unusually relaxed, and his ear twitching slightly. Unable to stop himself, he caressed the ear, rubbing it like it was a kitten’s. With that, indigo eyes were on him, twinkling with some kind of amusement.
“Are you ready?” he asked, when Lance provided no explanation for the sudden ear rubs. The human’s playful grin was replaced with a straight line, and he nodded seriously. “Then let us tell them everything.”