Chapter Text
A pit stop, they said.
Just a few vargas, they said.
Just need to find some unpronounceable part to repair Pidge’s cloaking device, they said.
Yet here they still were, hours after meeting the locals and being invited to a grand feast at the palace. Minutes after Allura had graciously accepted accommodations for the night on the paladins’ behalf. Seconds after dropping off the last remaining paladin to her room. Currently standing at the end of the hall with their guide gesturing through the open door at the room within, lavishly decorated in pinks and purples, lights dimmed to a romantic setting, and candles surrounding the single queen-sized bed peppered with flower petals.
Keith and Lance shared a confused look.
The awkward silence was unsurprisingly broken by Lance, who shook his head and chuckled, “I’m sorry, what was that again?”
The alien repeated herself. “This is your room, paladins. I hope it is to your liking.”
Keith clenched his jaw for fear of it falling open and words spilling out. He knew that no matter how awkward this was, it would be rude to refuse the lodging provided to them.
Lance, though, had no such reservations. “There must’ve been something lost in translation, here. Mullet and I will be requiring separate quarters, please and thank you.”
As Lance grinned at his astute problem-solving skills, Keith internally fought to keep his hand at his side and not swung at the back of that moron’s head.
“If this is not to your liking, we have another suite overlooking the gardens, but it will take some time to prepare,” the guide offered.
“Hm, well, I guess I’ll take this one,” Lance suggested smugly as if he has just tricked Keith into waiting until another room was made up.
You idiot, Keith screamed internally, hoping their connection through the Lions would relay the message to Lance’s infantile brain, they are not offering separate rooms!
The alien guide smiled gently at the pair. “You two are cute.”
Lance shrugged. “I don’t know about him, but I’ve been told on good authority that I’m adorable.”
Oh my god, stop talking!
The guide laughed softly. “You are too much! If you have any other concerns about the room, one of you can report to our servants.”
Finally, the smile began to slip from Lance’s face. “Eh, that’s alright. I can just bunk with Hunk like we did back at the Garrison.”
Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dull the stress headache that was forming. How could a full-fledged paladin of Voltron be so clueless?
“It’s quite alright, paladins,” the guide reassured. “Your relationship is most welcome here.”
All at once, Lance seemed to understand what was being insinuated. “Wait, what?!” he sputtered. “You think Keith and I are…like…a thing?!”
Ding ding ding, Keith thought bitterly.
“Of course,” she stated. “And how could we separate a couple so beautiful on such a lovely evening?”
For once, Lance seemed to lack any response, for which Keith was grateful. Despite the relative peacefulness of this planet, Keith knew almost nothing of their customs. Prior to landing, Coran had informed them that the planet had previously been conquered by Lotor, who deemed it too beautiful to decimate and allowed residents to continue governing themselves. After Lotor aligned himself with Voltron, this central world was left alone as the outer rim planets in the quadrant took the brunt of retaliation from Galra forces still loyal to Zarkon. Without any other information, Keith had no idea how to properly conduct himself on the foreign world.
He wished that Allura or Shiro were here. The Voltron leaders were tactful enough to refuse this offer without upsetting their hosts and fracturing the delicate alliance that was building for the Coalition. Keith had always been bad with people, never knowing the correct or polite thing to say, so he usually opted for silence. Lance, on the other hand, seemed to lack any kind of verbal filter, which meant that he was likely to say something offensive about the undesirable sleeping arrangement.
Before Lance’s big mouth could inevitably ruin their stay, Keith stepped into the room and casually remarked, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
Taking this as a challenge, Lance scowled and copied Keith before thanking the guide as she closed the door.
“I call bed,” Lance declared while belly flopping onto the mattress. Keith wouldn’t even bother arguing. He had slept in worse places than on the floor of an alien honeymoon suite.
“Just give me a pillow,” Keith demanded. Said pillow was flung directly into his face.
“There you go.” Realizing that Keith was shooting him a death glare, Lance mocked, “Oh, did I hit you? My bad! I didn’t break anything, did I? I always forget how fragile bones can get at your advanced age.”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Would you stop with the elderly jokes? I’m only four years older than you.”
“Exactly! You’re geriatric.”
As Keith seethed, Lance spread himself diagonally across the plush bed with a smirk. “These digs aren’t so bad. The others’ rooms were smaller than a broom closet.”
Keith laid at the foot of the bed, pillow tucked under his head. “Yeah, because our room is for couples. Which is fucking weird, Lance.”
“I know. What would give them the idea that we were together? Were you checking me out earlier?”
“No,” Keith responded tersely.
“It’s okay if you were. I’m pretty great to look at.”
“Absolutely not.”
Lance rolled onto his belly to peer over the side of the bed, fixing Keith with a dramatic sad puppy face. “Why not? What’s so wrong with me?”
Keith began counting on his fingers. “You’re loud, stubborn, oblivious, flirty, arrogant, competitive, terrible pilot—”
Another lobbed pillow silenced the rant.
“Jesus, Mullet,” Lance complained, “I didn’t expect you to have so many bullets at the ready.”
“Just go to sleep. This will be over by tomorrow and we can continue our trip home.”
“Home,” Lance repeated wistfully. “I always wondered when we’d go back to Earth.”
“Yeah…me too.”
It was the easiest response. Lance would never understand that Keith had nothing to go back to. He had no family waiting for him like the others, and therefore had no reason to return like they did. For most of his life, he had nothing—until he met Shiro. Shiro became his reason for everything. He studied hard so he could stay at the Garrison with Shiro. He pushed himself to break records regardless of what the other cadets thought of him because he wanted to stand as equals with Shiro. He accepted expulsion for punching Iverson in his stupid, bureaucratic face because he refused to believe the blatant lies about Shiro’s “pilot error.” He flew into space and protected the universe in a sentient mechanical lion alongside Shiro. The only reason Keith was going back to Earth was because that was where Shiro was going. The man was everything to him.
His silent brooding was interrupted by an excited query. “Do you think they’ll throw a parade for us? You know, since we’re space-travelling, reality-hopping heroes?”
Keith grumbled, “I think they’ll be more interested in locking us up and dissecting the Alteans and Krolia. Probably me too, now that I think about it.”
“Dark, man.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Just go to sleep.”
“Fine,” Lance pouted, “but stop raining on my literal parade.”
“Goodnight, Lance.”
Lance, never not having the last word, replied, “Don’t let the space bedbugs bite, gramps.”
Keith woke earlier than Lance, who somehow found a way to spread-eagle himself further across the mattress. God help his eventual sleeping partner.
The sun was just beginning to rise, so Keith left his snoring comrade and quietly walked down the hall toward the bedroom he had taken note of the night prior. He knocked softly and waited patiently for an answer.
As the door opened, he greeted, “Morning, Shiro.”
Shiro’s eyes widened at the sight of Keith so chipper at this early hour. Back in their Garrison days, Shiro used to joke that the only way to interact with Morning Keith was to put a giant cup of coffee in front of him then back away quickly and quietly.
“Hey, buddy,” Shiro replied. “What’s up?”
Despite having a full night to rest up, Shiro looked just as drained and aged as when they’d arrived. Although, maybe it was the hair. Keith was still getting used to seeing his beloved friend with the shock of white atop his head, contrasting starkly with his tanned skin. Even without the facial markings, he could be mistaken for an Altean. A very tired, one-armed Altean.
Keith took a step closer. “Just wanted to check up on you. I know that you haven’t been getting very much sleep lately, especially after getting back from…you know.”
Since Allura brought him back, Team Voltron avoided having lengthy discussions about what happened to Shiro. Nothing beyond ‘Where were you?’ and ‘How did you get there?’ were ever asked. And nothing more than five-word answers were expected in return. They didn’t want Shiro to suffer through any more than he already had by reliving the experiences. Still, Keith worried that avoiding the subject might be more destructive. All he wanted was for Shiro to be back to normal, or at least what passed for normal nowadays.
As if reading Keith’s troubled thoughts, Shiro simply shrugged and smiled. “I’m okay, I think. Still a little drained, but I’m pulling myself together.” He sheepishly ran his hand through his tangled hair.
“I can cut it if you want.”
The words were out of his mouth before Keith even had a chance to consider how he knew that Shiro wanted a haircut. He had always implicitly known what Shiro was thinking just by studying the older man’s body language. Throughout their conversation, he noticed that his leader seemed fidgety and discomfited, refused to maintain eye contact, and was hunched over, refusing to stand at his full height. Anyone else might say that Shiro was just tired, but anyone else didn’t know what Shiro was like at his most exhausted, and Keith knew that this was different.
Right now, Keith sensed that Shiro’s unease stemmed from being back in his-but-not-quite-his body. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with the minute differences that reminded him of that. The clone had worn different clothes and styled his hair slightly shaggier than the real Shiro. Not to mention that Shiro was now lacking the Galra-installed arm that he had learned to accept and use against its makers. Keith guessed that maybe all he needed was to feel like he was in control of his body again, even if that meant something as small as a haircut.
As expected, Shiro’s eyes grew soft with appreciation as he opened the door fully. “I’d like that.”
Keith stepped over the threshold and pulled a chair to the middle of the room, motioning for Shiro to take a seat while he grabbed scissors and clippers from Shiro’s bag. He set the tools down on the table before softly running his fingers through the white mane, deciding on a place to start.
By the time Keith was touching up the finished product, it hit him. It had been years since he had given Shiro a haircut. The routine was born at the Garrison when the barbershop was closed for the holidays and Keith offered his services to Shiro despite knowing nothing about cutting hair. This resulted in the most uneven, choppy undercut that had ever been sported in all of history. Yet Shiro just laughed it off, saying that it was still technically within Garrison regulations. After that, he continued to go to Keith anytime he needed a trim. And over time, Keith had actually gotten good at it.
The last time had been the night before the Kerberos mission, the first—and final—night that the older pilot had free after returning from a six-week training course off-campus. When he returned, he’d looked so scraggly that Keith insisted on cutting his hair so the older pilot would be photo-ready for the launch.
While on the Castle of Lions, Keith had offered to start the haircuts again, and Shiro eagerly agreed, but they always managed to get sidetracked. Whether faced with the Galra, space pirates, or Haggar’s robeasts, they always found an excuse to put it off until the next week. Then Shiro went missing again.
Keith assumed that once Shiro was found, the first thing he would ask for would be a haircut. Yet the clone never approached Keith to continue the tradition. He had cut his own hair, in a style different than how Keith knew Shiro liked it. Small instances like this—he dressed in short sleeves despite his metal arm being displayed, he didn’t stop to play with a pack of alien cats, he never finished a full plate of Hunk’s “mac and cheese”—began to pile up in Keith’s mind all at once and pointed to a single conclusion: the doppelganger obviously wasn’t Shiro.
“Keith,” Shiro whispered, “are you alright?”
Tears began rolling down Keith’s cheeks before he could stop them. How could he have been so blind? The others didn’t know Shiro well enough to notice the minutiae of his personality and mannerisms, but Keith did. Yet he’d still let a spy infiltrate the Castle-ship, left him alone with the team, allowed him to take Shiro’s place while the real Black Paladin was trapped and alone and dead. Was he really so desperate and pathetic that he willfully ignored the discrepancies of Haggar’s crudely designed copy for the sake and comfort of having something akin to Shiro back in his life?
Keith felt a gentle tug on his shirt, pulling him down until he was kneeling in front of Shiro’s seated form and held against his chest. Through his cries, he could hear a soothing voice comforting him with promises that everything was alright now. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms tightly around his oldest and dearest friend, fearful of letting him slip away again.
Shiro continued to hold him and rub circles into his back until the sobbing subsided. By the time he stopped shaking, Keith realized how embarrassing this was and moved to pull away, but was held in place by the other man’s strength. Keith looked up at Shiro, who began tenderly wiping the tear tracks from his swollen face, his warm grey eyes beaming down at the younger man like he was something precious. At that moment, all Keith wanted to do was kiss him.
Wait, what?!
Before Keith could consider the thought any further, the door opened and the alien guide from last night stood gaping at them.
Keith immediately jumped up and away from Shiro, tripping over his own feet in the process. Real smooth, dipshit, Keith thought.
“I was told to inform the paladins that breakfast is ready in the dining hall.” Unlike yesterday, the guide’s tone was cold and unwelcoming, smile absent from her impassive face.
Seemingly unaffected by her poor mood, Shiro calmly responded, “We’ll be right there.”
The alien retreated without even closing the door behind her. Rude.
“I need to get ready,” Shiro stated as he stood to his feet. “Thank you, Keith. This helped a lot. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Keith couldn’t find the words to respond, so he exited with much dignity as possible while power-walking away from his emotions. As he made his way back to his room, he began panicking about the trajectory of his thoughts during the haircut.
Why would he want to kiss Shiro? Shiro was his friend, his leader, his family. Though he’d never had a brother, this was the only thing he could equate their relationship to. Shiro had always been there for him, had believed in him, had protected and nurtured him when everyone else dismissed him as a lost cause. They had always been closer than the other paladins. The others were their friends, but what Keith and Shiro had was stronger and indestructible. That was brotherhood, right?
Still in shock, Keith threw himself through the bedroom door and slammed it shut, startling his roommate out of unconsciousness.
“What the quiznak, Mullet?! I was sleeping!”
Right, Lance was here. Present for Keith’s mental breakdown. Awesome. Keith had to think of something to distract him.
“I…um…food.”
Nailed it.
“Oh, food!” Lance was up and dressed before Keith could even utter another syllable. “What’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I just…i-it’s nothing.”
“Whatever, dude,” Lance replied as he sprinted out the door. “Race you to the table.”
With Lance gone, Keith could finally take a moment to sort through his thoughts. After getting his heartrate down to a relatively normal level, he considered skipping breakfast to avoid Shiro. Whatever confusion was brewing in his heart could only spell danger for their relationship. But Shiro couldn’t help the effect that he had on Keith. And if Keith avoided him for too long, Shiro would get suspicious. He had to face him sooner or later, and fate seemed to decide for him that it would be sooner. Keith took a deep, steady breath and reluctantly made his way to the dining room.
Everyone was sat at a long table, with the alien leader seated at one end and Allura at the other. Comet was busy pacing between the chairs as certain people—Hunk—snuck the space wolf food under the table. Keith also noticed that the only other open spot was right next to Lance, because apparently being trapped in the same room with the guy wasn’t torture enough.
“’Bout time,” Pidge called out as she skillfully shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth while stealing something off Matt’s plate with her other hand. “Grab a plate before it’s all gone!”
Keith shuffled awkwardly up to the table. On the way, he caught Allura’s eye. Just from her expression, Keith knew he needed to apologize to the host for his tardiness.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Leader smiled down at him. “It is forgiven, paladin. Please, have a seat next to your partner.”
She gestured to the empty seat beside Lance, who was happily distracted spooning something that looked like blue potatoes onto his already overflowing plate.
Keith could only barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. So that’s what I forgot to tell Shiro this morning. These weirdos think I’m dating Lance…on purpose!
As he sat down, he realized that his and Lance’s chairs were much closer than everyone else’s, to the point that their arms were pressed flush against each other. Keith looked to see where Shiro was seated, finding him on the other side of the table at the furthest end. As far away as he could be, then. Great.
The paladins ate in silence, with the only occasional noise being the grunts of pain from Lance and Keith when one would accidentally elbow the other, and the other would respond in kind.
At finishing her meal, Allura announced, “Thank you for your hospitality. We truly appreciate your aide in feeding and housing us, but we must get back to the matter at hand.”
“Ah, of course,” Leader replied. “The mechanism you are searching for is unfortunately unavailable at this juncture. I suggest your team remain here for the time being until we can sort something out. Perhaps one of the citizens would be willing to donate their own machine parts for your cause.”
Allura, ever the diplomat, agreed, with stipulation that the Holts and Hunk be involved in tracking down the part. Krolia invited herself along on their quest, stating that she wanted to take Comet on a walk anyway. Meanwhile, Coran, Lance, and Shiro went about exploring the palace. This left Keith and Allura to spend some quality time together, which Allura took to mean as having a private chat in the Blue Lion.
As soon as they were sealed inside, Allura began the interrogation. “What was going on at breakfast?”
Keith felt his adrenaline spike. Was he that obvious? Did Shiro know something? How did Allura figure it out? Keith didn’t even fully understand what he was feeling yet. Probably best to play dumb.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean why did the locals suddenly feel the need to control our seating arrangement? As soon as Shiro came in, they insisted on sitting him at the end of the table with me, and placed you so close to Lance that you were practically in his lap. Did you do something to insult them? Were they punishing you?”
Keith sighed in relief. “No, nothing like that. I think—they think that Lance and I are together. Like…romantically.”
The princess’s eyebrows rose so far up into her hairline that Keith wondered if they would ever come back down.
“You and Lance?” she probed curiously. “What would ever give them that idea?”
“No clue,” he admitted. “They had us bunk together last night too. I didn’t know how to say ‘no’ without possibly causing an interplanetary incident, and Lance was so shocked that he couldn’t speak, so we just went with it. It…was awkward.”
Allura’s gaze bore into him for a few seconds before she finally cracked. It started with some light snickers, which evolved into hearty giggles, which grew into boisterous laughter. Keith couldn’t help but smile at seeing the princess so full of life after everything she’d been through, even if it was at his expense.
As Allura wiped the tears from her eyes, she assured him that everything would be fine. “We won’t be staying here much longer. As soon as Pidge finds what she’s looking for, we’ll be back on our way to Earth. And I’m sorry you had to put up with Lance for the night, I know you two are at odds most of the time. Being confined to a small space must not have helped matters.”
Keith shrugged. “Eh, he’s not that bad.”
Allura smiled shyly and remarked, “No, I suppose he’s not really bad at all.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Keith responded before realizing that she was mostly talking to herself.