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Lance first knows that he’s hip deep in shit when he starts coughing up bloody handfuls of petals. Two kinds of petals to top off the “Oh fuck no” sundae.
This here is the kibosh to his very mature decision to pretend he didn't have feelings for the worst possible candidates. He could have, and had, passed it off as just some really inconvenient crushes when it was one or two unbloodied petals he coughed out randomly. Everyone went through it, nothing to get worked up over. That was just a sign of that is was a serious crush, not a passing thing. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d seen Keith cough up one or two on this mad space odyssey. It was right after Allura and Hunk proved just how strong they could be when they wanted, and Keith was coughing suspiciously for, like, a week. And Shiro had acted pretty suspiciously around that one Galra right?
So, a few petals was nothing. Though now he wished he’d paid a little more attention to the information on what people thought the petal type symbolized. Supposedly the kind of flower you grew was what most attracted you to the person? Or something like that.
But not even speculating over the hows and whys of magical lung flowers can really distract him. When you have bloody handfuls of petals (and was there some leaves and maybe stem in there-fuck there was) not even weapons-grade denial can destroy the fact that Lance McClain is in so over his fucking head right now.
Being forced awake to run for the toilet, in order to vomit up a bloody mouthful of mixed petals and leaves, is the rudest and most painful wake-up call he's had in space. It's even on a metaphorical level, because this is the "Come to Jesus" warning that said he was screwed. So, despite his very deep reluctance to do so, Lance owns up to himself that he’s half-way in love with Shiro and Keith. Possibly more. And that they very obviously don’t feel any of that love back at him, otherwise there wouldn’t be goddamn flowers trying to grow in his lungs. In fact, they seemed to be eyeing each other if anything, which was an insult to injury. A very hot insult to injury, because Lance could easily admit to the sexiness if not his legitimate feelings.
Which, not to put too fine a point on it, was not good. Like mega-not good, because while he might not have hawk-like observation skills, he was painfully aware of how he seemed to be the eternal seventh wheel. And that was just in the day-to-day stuff. Sure he had Hunk, which meant he was winning against like 90 percent of the universe, Blue who flew them to a chill 95 percent, sometimes Pidge which meant he was boosted to winning against 98 percent, and Coran who slid them (not with the Sliperies slick, god no) all to a cool 99 point eight…But he really didn’t have much of a good relationship with the other three.
Emphasis on good.
Allura, well, he would admit that was on him. Now that the hour of self-honesty had come (one every decade!) Lance could say that he had made his bed there. Though Lance felt that by now Allura should at least treat him like the Paladin he was. Holding his poor reaction to stress and fear – jokes and flirtation to try to defuse it and make it less pants-shittingly terrifying, and doesn’t hurt she’s utterly gorgeous – against him forever is unfair. But honestly, he can deal with it. Or rather, he will deal with it, since he’s still the Blue Paladin. There’s also the bonus that it won’t kill him within weeks if he’s unlucky.
And hell, if he’s going to be honest, he might as well try to resolve his issues with Allura after this. And her issues with him, because he’s aware he’s not perfectly in the right. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it? Mending the fence with the hottest princess in the universe and going on to be kickass friends who kick ass together? Yeah, that totally is an awesome thing to aim for! If Hunk knew he’d absolutely give him one of his amazing hugs at this positive thinking!
(Hunk cannot know because he’s nosy, invasive, and can’t keep the secrets he ferrets out most of the time. Lance absolutely wants this to never see the light of day, because Hanahaki isn’t something you move on from.)
Now, to square up and face the two headed beast as he tells himself. Lance immediately sniggers as the infamous Shakespeare quote “beast with two backs” slides into his thoughts at his word choice, and Lance is torn between oh god no and oh god yes. The two of them together was too sexy for his poor, stupid heart. And for his poor, sad dick, which was currently sucking his brainpower out him.
Unfortunately, he knows he can’t have a very sexy daydream. Lance can’t afford to waste his allotted time of self-honesty– plus, you know, he’s literally going to die if Hanahaki has its way – so Lance braces himself and digs out the really horrifying stuff he keeps in a locked box for situations he can’t afford to be distracted by horniness:
Zarkon, wearing a too small g-string and nipple tassels, gyrating on a stripper pole made by the Black Bayard. There’s sweat dripping off the matted purple fur, the tassels bounce madly, and he’s smiling at Lance in the hungriest manner possible while his eyes are focused on Lance’s crotch.
Oh yeah, that did the trick. Lance absolutely could be celibate for life right now. Never again would his sword raise proudly, no guns in his pants, no sexual metaphors or simile would ever apply to him again, since his dick now felt like it was trying to shrivel off. Virgin monks, who had never seen an attractive person ever, were sex-mad party-animals in comparison to him. So, he was now in the perfect state to seriously consider the shitty situation he had gotten himself into.
Falling for Shiro is so easy to understand, really. Lance knew the man left infatuated aliens in their wake like the contrail of a jet. In fact, it was a damn good thing that the Galra hadn’t caught onto the pattern of besotted aliens in the wake of Shiro passing by. That would quickly make stealth missions impossible, well, more impossible than they are already. There were some downsides to being the only humans in space.
But really, Shiro was just so very kind.
His kindness just shone from him, bringing all his other good traits into an even better light. The way he cared, helped others, and gave so many damns about the universe despite what had been done to him… It would be impossible not to be a little in love with the man. And Lance had already been more than a little in love with his hero, long before he finally met the man.
It hurt to see him question himself, get that particular haunted and blank look on his face. Lance knew with a certainty that was stronger than Voltron, that no matter what Shiro had done he was a good person. Perhaps one who had been forced to do awful things to survive, but they hadn’t made him into a monster. It also hurt to watch him dismiss him, and even Hunk, but it was like the Allura situation. The bed was made by their own first impressions, along with the fact that Shiro could have some titanic biases for certain people. And so far, he hadn’t really tried to force Shiro to look again since they’d been busy trying to figure out how to survive in Star Wars: The Grimmer and Power-Ranger-y edition. Plus, there was the little fact he’d contracted Hanahaki.
Lance felt his lungs stutter on an inhale as the flowers inside moved, and pain wracked him with futile coughs that splattered his hand with blood. He guessed thinking about Shiro too much had aggravated the Hanahaki. Wasn’t too far-fetched, he supposed, since the damn thing could divine emotions so perfectly.
He pulled his hand away from his mouth and grimaced. Ugh, so unsanitary. And noticeable, far too noticeable; he had sounded like a pack-a-day smoker. He really had to hurry up with this whole self-honesty business, didn’t he? Too bad he hadn’t practiced it more beforehand.
Back to the business of doomed romance then. Keith was, was… It sounded like a Facebook status, but his relationship with Keith was complicated. Keith had been a goal, a rival to measure himself against, and even something to reluctantly admire back in the Garrison. The fact he was pretty was just the icing on the cake of rage back then, not the majorly pressing issue it became out here in space.
Actually meeting with Keith, and interacting with him, was pretty much a confirmation of the burning hatred in his gut. His rival was a rude asshole who didn’t even have the decency to remember him! The nasty little desert hobo even had the nerve to completely hog Shiro, his hero!
Lance frankly would have been content to continue along that nice and familiar road, but no, Voltron had to have teamwork, and they had to get along etcetera etcetera. Plus, a spaceship, no matter how big, is always too fucking tiny. Everyone lived on top of one another, and you couldn’t try disappearing into an unexplored floor without someone losing their mind over you being gone. The fact Lance had gotten lost for two days exploring the Castle had nothing to do with that whatsoever.
Lance gave himself a mental shake and forced himself back to his original train of thought. All of those things had meant he had to actually get to know Keith somewhat, work with him on life or death missions, tolerate him at least a little. And God he regrets it right now, but it turned out Keith wasn’t totally awful. Underneath all the assholeness, the emotive ability of a concussed tiger, impulse control of a squirrel on cocaine, and various fixations, Keith was almost likable. Like poisonous fungi, he grew on Lance. He was also slowly killing him in more ways than making him see that ugly mullet.
Though unlike his feelings towards Shiro, without the Hanahaki Lance still wouldn’t have classified the churning mix of emotions Keith inspired as love. In fact, if he was talking to Hunk about this, he’d have said Keith was closer to Kismesis; that hateful, bittersweet kind of love based on rivalry, infuriating the other to do better, be better.
(Hunk had sworn on his family’s secret recipe book, which was better than even the holy book with Hunk, never to reveal his Homestuck phase. No one could ever know, but most especially Pidge could never know. His Trollsona was going to stay in its grave damnit!)
Huh. It felt weirdly good to have everything set out so clearly in his head, to have looked at his feelings and accepted them! Maybe self-honesty wasn’t too bad after all?
The choking sensation of blood rising up his throat told him otherwise.
As a human, and not one of the cheating Alteans or Galra, Lance was relatively fragile when it came to blunt force trauma. Thanks to his involvement with Warhammer 40,000: Somewhat Less Grim and Religious Edition, Lance is quite used to passing out from pain. He could even claim to be a sort of connoisseur of it by now. Concussions were quick, but passing out from blood loss had a certain “je ne sais quoi.” However, he really wished he hadn’t discovered just how much more terrifying it is to pass out from vomiting up blood and plant matter. With no fallback if he started choking to death on his own bloody vomit, which was the only thing he could think of as his mind winked out.
Lance could only thank God, and possibly the Lions, that nothing had occurred to have one of his castlemates come across him like that. No matter how terrifying and likely phobia-creating passing out alone like that was, it was far better than to have been revealed as riddled with Hanahaki. More than one can only keep a secret if the others are dead, and haven’t made backup files of all your darkest secrets that would be mailed on their death to interested parties.
(One day, when he got back to Earth, he would finally find Hunk’s evidence stash of embarrassing shit he’d done and it would finally meet its destined fiery end. Hunk is the worst for keeping those pictures of his intense anime-craze, when he’d modeled all his clothing after that one cool looking dick called Gilgamesh. And that summer where he temporarily became a nudist in the vein of Nudist Beach. …Why couldn’t Hunk have been the one to do blackmail-quality shit?!)
Lance pinched his thigh sharply, biting back the yelp that wanted to escape as the pain got his brain to focus again. He was probably entering Stage 3 of Hanahaki, which meant the blackouts would only continue from here as the flowers continued to starve him of oxygen. He was going to be dealing with coughing up entire flowers from this point on. Hell, with his luck of having two flowers to deal with, it could be bouquets!
There wasn’t any more time to stall was there? He was a Paladin, and he was going to be sent on missions where a Hanahaki attack could get everyone killed or captured. Worse, knowing Haggar, something even more terrifying than those two.
“Even…Even if I’m just a seventh wheel, I’m still a wheel.” Lance whispered to himself. “Until they actually find someone to replace me, I can’t act like this is my choice alone. We need Voltron, and there’s no Voltron without Blue.”
It ached to say that. Like poking at where a rotten tooth had been pulled out, hurting and soothing at the same time. Which, was a whole other kettle of fish scented issues. Lance didn’t really have the time to look too hard at all the kettles on his stove, though. He’d have to save it for the next hour of honesty.
“It’s not fair! It’s not…I just found out I love them, and I have to choose between keeping my feelings or living!”
He hadn’t even really had the chance to just…Just be in love with the idiots. He’d denied it was happening until the Hanahaki came in so rapidly, that he’d never gotten a chance to even flirt with them. All that time, wasted, then stolen and tainted by Hanahaki.
“And I don’t want to give this up, to give up my feelings for them! I want to keep them; I want a chance at this!”
His throat was burning with the pressure of oncoming tears. It was closing in a way that was without any Hanahaki helping. But he knew that saying things helped to actualize his thoughts, making it real to him. He deserved everything that could help make this even a little easier, didn’t he?
“But even if I did tell them, if it somehow impossibly worked out that they’d loved me all along… I’d never believe it would I? I’d always wonder in the back of my mind, if it wasn’t just to keep a Paladin alive. We can’t afford the time it’d take to find and train a new one, not unless there’s no other choice. So, of course Shiro would throw himself on the sword. And of course, Keith would follow Shiro into Hell without being asked.”
It was possible it would fool him if they did that. Maybe even fool the Hanahaki too. They wouldn’t even need to have the flowers entirely fooled, just enough to ensure he was still combat capable. They’d just have to keep it up until they found his eventual replacement before ripping the illusion away.
… God that was depressing and horrifying to contemplate. That was pretty much one of his worst nightmares. Top five at least. The other four contenders tend to be dealing with death of loved ones (there’d already been a few with Shiro and Keith as the stars) or getting captured by a pissed off Haggar.
Lance shook his head, ignoring how wet his face felt. He knew, deep down, that neither Keith nor Shiro would ever do such a thing. To think “yeah, that’s totally how it’d go,” was just him demonizing them because he was insecure and his heart was being strangled by the hold they had on it.
“Damnit McClain,” He rasped out to himself, “Focus.”
He took as deep a breath as his lungs would allow to calm down. It was mildly terrifying how short that maximum was now, but he forced his thoughts back into order. Tears wouldn’t save him now; they’d just water the flowers trying to put him in his grave.
“The real truth is, there’s no time. No one falls in love that quick. And…And I’m entering Stage Three. With two flowers at this rate, Stage Four might come in a week. Fuck, maybe less.”
Stage Four was when Lance would be at death’s door, only kept alive through constant intensive medical aide as the flowers finally began to make their way out of the lungs and into the larynx. Even the extraction surgery might not be enough to save him, with or without the unnatural healing that all Hanahaki affected areas experienced after the cure or removal of the disease. Odds were good he’d die in the middle of surgery, the operation being too much on his wrecked and infested body.
“I love them, I’d die for them. But…I can’t. Not like this, not because of fucking Hanahaki. I can’t do that to everyone. A-and…I love so much more than just them.”
His family: parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, waiting for him back on Earth. His friends: Hunk, Pidge, Coran, and Allura. His Lion, space, Veradero beach, the ocean… hell, he was even fond of the Blades!
There was so much more to live for, even if he had to pay the highest price the extraction might take: his entire ability to feel love.
“…H-haha, I guess I’ve made up my mind. Shiro, Keith…I’m so sorry.”
Lance could swear he could hear weirdly muffled sounds. It was a bit like those ancient Peanuts cartoons. Waw-wa-wa-wawawawa. They were almost Coran-y in tone too.
Wait. Coran?
Ack! The attempt to open eyes swiftly and sharply, like all those cool action heroes do, was a mistake! A terrible and painful mistake!
“I see you’ve come around Lance.”
As Lance was groaning about the light, he noticed Coran sounded weirdly…Solemn. Without the bounce and pep he usually had.
He immediately felt like the idiot Pidge always called him as he recalled why.
Vowing Coran to secrecy, even from Allura. Explanation of Hanahaki and its progression, and the side effects of treating it medically. Trying not to cry with Coran, and both failing a bit. More than a bit, Coran’s hankie had been soaked. Getting into the cryo-tube after Coran had modified the ever-loving fuck out of one of its programs to essentially do massively invasive surgery non-invasively.
“…How do you feel?” He asked softly, and Lance didn’t need his eyes to cooperate to know the look on Coran’s face.
“Physically, like I just got done being used by Zarkon as his chew toy. But I can actually breathe instead of wheezing, so…”
That wasn’t the actual question though, as Lance very well knew. Coran wanted to know what exactly the consequences were for Lance ripping out and destroying the magical disease that was very literally rooted in his feelings of love. And as much as he wanted to never think about this ever again, ignoring that it had come to this, Lance knew he needed to know.
He deliberately thought of his family first, carefully watching his feelings as he did. If it had damaged even those feelings, then the consequences would be…substantial, as he’d outlined to a deeply horrified Coran.
“Familial love is okay Coran. I’m not feeling any different there.” Lance confirmed with relief, which meant that he’d probably gotten to Coran in time.
He called up memories and impressions of his friends, feeling the emotions rising and flowing as he did. Those seemed to be fine, nothing was really different-
“Shit. Something’s different about Allura. Everyone else I feel platonic, non-familial love is fine I think.”
He could practically feel Coran tense along with him as he said that, and he swallowed. It meant he almost certainly had damage in his emotive ability now. That was terrifying to know, that he wasn’t going to be one of the lucky ones who escaped with no real damage. But what would be even more terrifying is not knowing exactly what was damaged.
Lance braced himself, and carefully thought of Shiro and Keith. Less carefully, he ran through memories that had always been guaranteed to make him feel things for the duo. With a bit of panic, he switched to thinking of all the various attractive beings he’d seen out in space and tried to think of how he’d felt about them.
“Coran…I…I think I’ve lost almost all romantic love. Maybe even attraction. A-and, I think it damaged my general feelings to Shiro and Keith.”
Lance was startled to feel strong arms pulling him out of the cryo-tube, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thought distantly, I’m in shock, aren’t I?
It helped to have someone hold him while he broke down in ugly, terrible tears.
Months later, Coran would tell him the cryo-tube had removed but not atomized the flowers when they were extracted. To save power and precious time, the tube had instead shunted the “biohazardous waste” to a specially prepared container that kept the sample fresh for study. Mostly, Coran confessed, he’d wanted to research the unique human disease. Just in case there was another incident, another case of Hanahaki. But he’d also wondered if Lance might want…a memento, now that they had succeeded. A few of each kind of flower had survived, and were almost pristine.
Out of morbid curiosity, and other things he wasn’t going to admit to himself right now, Lance had agreed to at least look at them before saying that he actually just wanted them destroyed. It didn’t take Coran long to pull out two tiny bouquets from their hiding place, each surface glinting in the light like they’d been covered in glass.
“I took the liberty of ensuring they’d remain unspoiled without the container my boy. Just in case.”
Lance wasn’t paying attention to Coran though. Instead, he was paying attention to the flowers he was seeing for the first time.
The flowers were small for something that had nearly killed him. Not a single one of them was a rose. For some reason he found it surprising, despite knowing all along that the petals weren’t rose petals. The shape and size had been all wrong, though he’d never really been able to make out the colors till now. Lance smiled involuntarily as he realized that even now, he knew instinctively which flower belonged to whom.
The vibrant yellow-orange flowers were Keith’s, each one having four round petals to it. And each flower was close enough to its neighbor to touch, several flowers each to a stem, making a cute little ball of flowers that looked ready to burst.
The soft, pure pastel blue flowers were Shiro’s without a doubt. Each stem had a solitary, fragile looking flower. The five petals looked like they’d tear in a harsh breeze, but something about them gave off a sense of hardiness in spite of their appearance.
“I know these flowers…Flax and wallflowers…I just wish I remembered what they mean. They’re supposed to be what I loved best about them, what I really fell for.”
“Don’t you already know that?” The Altean asked slowly.
Coran’s question shocked him into a burst of laughter, and Lance grinned.
“Heh, you’re right. I do, don’t I? Hey Coran…Thanks. I think I will keep them after all.”
“It was no trouble at all Lance.” Coran said softly, and handed him the bouquets.
“…You know…I think I could use some help displaying them properly. Would you–”
“I’d be delighted my boy. Lead the way.”