Archive of Our Own

The room was a warm haze, smoke billowing sluggishly through the area, clouding everything. Lance couldn't tell if everything was blurry because of the smoke or because of his high— even though the smoke attributed to the high— but he found that he didn't care. Or maybe he couldn't care. The drug seeped into his brain, slowing his thoughts and eroding away his memories. Most of the time he couldn't remember where he was, how he got here or why he stayed. But in his lucid moments, the moments when the drugs were wearing off and the reality was bleeding back in, it hit him like a train.

He would see flashes of Keith's face— the way his lips quirked up at the corner, the way his eyes were bright, even when shaded by his bangs, or even the flush of pink on his cheeks— and the pain would come rushing back. He would think of how Keith was gone because he had failed him. Lance would never get a chance to tell Keith how he felt, how he'd always felt, how he would always feel, and he couldn't blame anyone but himself. The tears would come quickly, hot on his cheeks and choking him in a way the smoke never could.

The owner of the den would hear him then, rushing over with a refill and coaxing him to smoke until the tears subsided. The more he inhaled, the foggier Keith's face got until Lance couldn't quite picture it anymore. He had lost all sense of time, unable to tell if he'd been in the opioid den for days, weeks, months or even years. He knew he hadn't left on good terms, but he couldn't find room to feel the guilt that should accompany that thought. The only things inside of him were the gaping, Keith-shaped hole and the smoke that tried to fill the void.

Sometimes his fitful sleep would be plagued with memories of that day. He'd see, over and over again, the sentinel shooting the access pad for the door and the realization would dawn on him— Keith was trapped in there with the explosives. The ones that had already been set. That couldn't be stopped. The ones that were counting down his death. Dream Lance would yell out Keith's name, ignoring the sentinels completely and flinging himself at the door, clawing at it in sheer desperation. He'd plead, please, this can't be it, we have so much left to do together. I never even got to tell him. Please let him be okay. Please, please, please.

The dream would cut away then, going dim for a moment. Next he would be in the red lion, watching safely as the ship below him exploded into millions of pieces. He could hear Shiro and the others in his ear, telling him to come back to the ship, but he wouldn't. He would stay there, stubbornly, watching for the black lion to make a miraculous escape. When Black never reappeared, Lance would snap, turning Red in the exact opposite direction of the castle and darting away, pushing Red to and beyond his limit, raw emotion powering them both.

Lance would typically wake up then, just the edges of the dream clinging to his mind. He would be drenched in sweat, but that was a nearly constant thing at the opioid den. The owner would bring him food, shushing him gently and wiping his face with a wet cloth. She was more motherly than Lance would have expected from someone at a place like this, caring for him but not asking what brought him here. The den was full of all sorts of people and aliens, all seeming to be there for the same reason as Lance— to escape.

Some were trying to escape the law, others heartbreak, but there was always something. Still, Lance wasn't sure anyone could have more to run from than he did. How many people could say they were responsible for the death of someone they loved? The death of the savior of the universe? Honestly, he didn't care that he had doomed the future of the universe. All he cared about was his future and how it was ruined. He had always thought of Keith as the future and now he was gone.

Lance blinked blearily against the smoke filling the room, instinctively reaching out to take a hit. His head was buzzing and his arm was trembling. He wondered if there had ever been a time when his arm didn't shake? He honestly couldn't remember. His hand fumbled around for a moment, barely able to detect the pipe on the ground. Sensation in his hands had been going for a while now and it didn't seem to be stopping.

He could feel the thoughts pooling in the back of his mind, trying to push their way forward. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the memories came back, dragging him back to the pits of his own personal hell. With a weak sigh, he lifted the pipe and took a hit.

—

Keith all but smashed the door of the den in, the rest of the team close on his heels. He'd search every nook and cranny in the entire universe if that's what it took for him to find Lance. He would leave no stone left unturned. They had been searching for weeks , only taking breaks occasionally to liberate planets or fight off the Galra. Keith protested every time. How were they supposed to fight the forces of evil when they were one paladin short?

The smoke from the den hit him immediately and he coughed, hard. He waved a hand in front of him, trying to clear the air slightly so he could see where he was going. Despite the suffocating effect of the smoke, Keith pressed on, scanning every face around him as he passed. The people in this den looked even more worse for wear than usual and Keith almost walked right by Lance.

It took his brain a moment to register what he was looking at. Lance didn't look like himself. His skin was pale and drawn, sagging off of him in some places where he had lost too much weight. He didn't look like he had any muscles left on his body. His eyes were sunken into his head, half open and very dull. Normally Keith would be able to see those blue eyes glinting from across the room but, as he crouched down next to Lance, he could barely tell they were blue at all.

“Lance?” He ventured tentatively, reaching out to touch the other boy. Lance's paladin armor was discarded at his side, his black undersuit pulled off his shoulders and pushed down to his hips, exposing his chest. With just a quick glimpse, Keith could see every one of Lance's ribs. “Lance, come in.” he waved a hand above Lance's face.

Sluggishly, so slowly it looked almost painful, Lance's eyes shifted to Keith's face. Keith watched as Lance tried to focus, tried to realize and understand what he was seeing. His hand raised in a slow, jerky motion reaching for Keith's face. A moment before they touched, Lance stopped, a high pitch keen escaping his lips. “You're not real,” he whined, lowering his hand. “You look real, but you're not.”

Keith swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. “I'm real, Lance. I'm right here.”

To prove his point, Keith took a hand and brushed some hair off of Lance's forehead, trying not to notice the way it was dull and lackluster. Lance closed his eyes at the contact, letting out a sigh and slurring something Keith couldn't understand. Keith ran his hand through Lance's hair a second time, looking the boy over again. There were no cuts of bruises on him, no signs of injury. He just looked like he was literally withering away into nothingness. The fact that he had done this willingly to himself made everything worse.

“That one's dying of a broken heart,” Someone said. Keith looked through the haze of the room, barely able to make out another lump on the floor next to Lance.

“What?” He asked.

The mass shifted, but Keith still couldn't make out any features. “Poor thing keeps mumbling about losing someone he loves and it being his fault. Keeps repeating a name over and over, moaning it in his sleep.”

“What's the name?” Keith held his breath, waiting for an answer.

The alien answered immediately. “Keith.”

Instantly, Keith felt his heart shatter in his chest. He had assumed Lance had run away because he thought Keith was mad. Things had gone sideways at the mission and one of the sentinels Lance had been in charge of had managed to lock Keith in the room with the explosives. He could still hear Lance's strangled cries through the coms, telling him he was trapped. Lucky for him, there had been a nearby vent that lead outside. He'd managed to crawl out and be free before the ship exploded. The explosion sent him hurling through space but left him uninjured and Black had found him easily. The flight back to the castle had been sort of long, and by the time he made it back, Lance was gone and nobody knew where or why.

Keith had expected that Lance would return in a few days and he'd explain that he wasn't mad at all. Missions were always crazy and there were a million things that could go wrong and he understood that. Plus, he hadn ' t been injured, so what did it matter? But Lance had never returned. And now he understood why.

“Lance, “ He breathed, brushing gentle fingers over his cheeks.  Lance blinked lazily up at him.” You left because you thought I was dead?” Keith's throat was burning with a mixture of tears and smoke.”Look at me, I'm right here. I'm okay.”

Below him, Lance hummed weakly.”Wish that were true.”

That was all Keith could take. He called Shiro and the others who took a minute to navigate their way to him, gasping upon seeing Lance's condition. Hunk had to physically turn away. Shiro immediately sought out the den owner while Keith instructed the others to collect Lance's armor. He took Lance himself.

As he cradled Lance in his arms and headed to the door, he couldn't help but notice how light Lance had gotten. So light in fact, Keith was able to easily bear his weight on one arm and grab his Bayard with the other when someone stepped in their path, blocking their exit. Keith turned slightly, directing Lance further away from the person and widening his stance, sinking low for a fight.

“Withdrawal could kill him,” The person said and Keith's heart sunk.

To his surprise, Allura was the one to step forward. “I have the technology to save him. He'll be safe with us.”

“I hope so,” They replied, looking fondly at Lance. “This one is a sweetheart.”

Allura smiled, “We know.”

Keith forced his way forward, the person stepping out of his way. He was suddenly overcome with the need to be outside, to get Lance away from this place. He stumbled through the front door, sucking in as much fresh air as he possibly could. In his arms, the fresh air seemed to have the opposite effect. Lance erupted into a coughing fit, each cough wracking his thin frame so hard Keith was afraid he'd crack open right here and now. The castle of lions was within sight and Keith began to hustle for it, knowing the others would be coming soon. Once Lance's coughing died down, they were replaced by shivers.

Carefully Keith stopped and placed Lance gently on the ground, just long enough to take off his own jacket and slip it up Lance's arms and over his shoulders. Shiro had insisted that they wear street clothes instead of armor, worried about tainting the image of voltron if things went south. Keith didn't care, he would've worn anything Shiro had told him to if it meant hurrying up and finding Lance.

“Warm,” Lance murmured, weakly pulling the collar of the jacket up and around his face.” Smells good. Keith.”

Keith's heart constricted as he hoisted Lance up off the ground and settled him back in his arms. He wouldn't lie, he had been wanting to see Lance in his jacket for a long time. But this? This wasn't satisfying. He didn't like the way it hung loose on his body, drowning him in fabric. It was supposed to fit him nicely. It was supposed to make Lance's eyes light up, a flirty and teasing smile tugging at his lips.

Lance muzzled his head into the crook of Keith's neck, slurring. “Wish you were real. Want you back.”

“I am real, Lance. I'm real.” Keith assured, but his words didn't seem to make it through to him. Lance was too far gone— in his thoughts or his high, Keith didn't know— and didn't appear to be reachable. Keith picked up his pace and hustled towards the castle.

—

Everything was bright. Too bright. Painfully bright. There was a painful humming in his veins as he blinked his eyes, trying to get them to focus on anything. There was a rush in his ears, but he couldn’t quite make anything out. He felt shaky, jittery, and all around sick. There was a sound, suddenly and then a rush of air came towards him. Lance didn’t have a second to register anything before he was sick, curled over and vomiting at his feet.

He retched and retched until he felt like he couldn’t move anymore, his arms shaking under the weight of his body. The air in the room was clear and crisp and very, very cold. Shivers wracked his body as he continued to crouch on the ground, eyes closed. Something was different— everything was different and he felt wrong.

“Lance?” His head was pounding, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. His eyes snapped open and he looked up to find Keith crouched down in front of him, eyebrows creased in worry. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you still feel sick?”

Keith looked like he wanted to touch Lance, one hand was poised in the air between them, but he made no move to actually reach for him. Lance stared at Keith for a long moment, not saying anything. This had to be another dream, another illusion. But he looked so real. He looked like flesh and blood, like his Keith. “What— how are you here? Am I dreaming?”

“No,” Keith replied quietly. “You’re not dreaming.”

“You’re dead.” The world was starting to tilt, pivoting sideways and making Lance feel like he was tumbling. He could feel the words catch in his throat as another wave of nausea rose up in him with the spinning room. “You’re not here.”

Then, Keith did reach out and touch Lance, his fingers warm on the ice cold skin of Lance’s cheeks.

“I’m right here,” His voice was gentle as he scooted closer, cupping the other half of Lance’s face with his other hand. “I’m alive and we’re together again.”

“You died,” Lance said, raising one hand off the ground and pointing it at Keith before turning it around and thrusting a finger into his own chest and adding, “I’m the reason you’re dead.”

Behind Keith, Lance could see the rest of the team, all looking equally distraught. Hunk was turned halfway away, Shiro’s hand on his shoulder in what appeared to be a comforting gesture. Allura had a hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes and Pidge was looking down at the ground. Coran was to his left, standing next to the controls of the healing pod that he had apparently just fallen out of. Everything looked like he remembered it, but his dreams had been pretty realistic in the past.

“Lance,” Keith drew his attention back, “Don’t you ever do something like that again, okay? Even if I were to die, I don’t ever want you to risk yourself so recklessly.”

“You sound like my Keith,” Lance replied, sitting back on his heels and wiping at his mouth, “Nagging me the moment you see me.”

A slight smile twisted the corners of Keith’s lips, “Let’s go get you cleaned up, you pain.”

Lance let Keith hoist him off the ground and throw his arm over his shoulders, bearing the brunt of his weight. This was the first dream he’d had in which Keith actually touched him. It was nice. He’d been wanting to be physically close to Keith for ages. He’d take it any way he could, even if it was only a dream.

Keith led him through the maze of hallways inside the castle and Lance marveled at how realistic his dream was. It was an exact replica of the castle he knew. A few times he made Keith stop, resting his forehead against the wall and breathing through the agony that was his entire body. The nausea refused to subside no matter what he did and the jittery feeling in his body only got worse with each press of Keith’s fingers. Still, he would suffer it all if it meant being close to Keith. Plus, it was just a dream, so it didn’t really matter.

—

Finally they made it to Lance’s room and Keith was able to gently set the boy on the bed. He smelled like a mixture of opioid smoke and sweat and his hair was matted and greasy. Allura had warned him that the healing pod would be able to fix any internal damage done to his body, preventing the withdrawal from killing him, but it could not decrease the symptoms of withdrawal. He was still going to suffer through those, like it or not. Keith had never seen someone go through them so he had no idea what to expect, but he was bound and determined to see it through and be there for Lance.

“What’re you doing?” Lance had fallen onto his side and buried his head into the pillow on his bed.

Keith was rummaging through the dresser in Lance’s room, looking for clean clothes. “Getting something for you to wear after a shower,” he replied, pulling things out and setting them on top. Once satisfied with his selection, he shut the drawers and popped into the bathroom quickly, setting the new clothes on the counter. “Everything’s all ready for you. We’ll get you cleaned up and in bed and then I’ll go grab you some food, okay? We’ll take this one step at a time.”

In response, Lance turned his head further into the pillow. Keith could tell he didn't feel well. He talked at a lower volume, wincing and clutching his head when anyone spoke above a whisper to him. His entire thin frame was trembling and Keith suspected it was only partially from cold. There was a uneasiness that had settled into Keith's chest, nestling somewhere between his heart and lungs, pressing on each and making every beat, every breath, hurt. In the same way that Lance had, Keith was blaming himself. Except he refused to run. He would face it head on.

He crossed the room, gently pulling Lance back up. “C'mon,” he knelt down in front of Lance, trying to catch his eye. “Let's go shower the den off of you.”

“You know about the den?” Lance's eyes snapped up to meet Keith's but his gaze still looked far away. Allura had assured him that there would be no lingering damage once the withdrawal was over, but the way Lance couldn't seem to focus his gaze made Keith nervous.

Keith slipped his arms under Lance's arms, hoisting him to his feet. “Of course I do. That's where I found you.”

Lance visibly flinched away from Keith, stumbling and almost falling. Keith scrambled to catch him, pulling him back up by the wrist an wrapping an arm around him as he stumbled into his chest. They took a moment to steady themselves before Keith scooped Lance up again. He could get used to holding Lance in his arms, feeling him close and knowing that he was safe, but he hoped to get used to it with a healthy and happy Lance. One who also wanted Keith to cradle him, stroking his hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

With a sigh, Keith carried Lance into the bathroom, depositing Lance onto the counter and pivoting to turn on the shower, keeping one hand on Lance's leg the entire time. The withdrawal appeared to be hitting Lance hard as he sagged backwards, head lolling to the side, eyes still unfocused. Keith noticed again how weak he looked and realized that Lance wouldn't be able to shower himself. He responded to Keith's questions and statements, but barely, and he seemed to think this was all some elaborate dream. Plus, with his current barely conscious condition, Keith wasn't entirely convinced that Lance wouldn't fall asleep in the shower and somehow manage to drown.

“Lance. Lance.” Keith gently turned Lance's head to face him. “Can you shower on your own? Or—” he swallowed thickly,” Or do you need help?”

Lance closed his eyes, letting out a long, slow breath. After a moment, he lifted his arms above his head. Keith obliged slowly, sliding his shirt over his head and discarding it on the counter next to them. Steam was starting to fill the room, reminding Keith of the opioid den. Lance seemed to have a similar thought as he let out a sigh and relaxed against the mirror. Without a word, Keith rid him of his pants next, leaving his boxers on. That was a line he'd love to cross with Lance— a sober, flushed, breathy but consenting Lance. This Lance couldn't coherently say yes or no and Keith refused to assume. He could do a quick shower for Lance, getting most of him clean and Lance could take a better shower in a few days when he was in less of a haze.

Gently he lifted Lance again, carrying him into the shower and setting him on his feet. He swayed, hitting the wall of the shower and using it to support himself. “Help.”

Keith groaned low in his throat, rolling his shoulders. This was not how any of this was supposed to go. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes, fighting with himself. When Lance let out a pitiful noise, reaching a weak arm for him, he caved. Quickly he stripped to his own boxers and stepped into the shower, feeling the stream of hot water beating against his back. He held Lance gently, directing him so he was underneath the water, quickly grabbing the soap and spreading it in a loofah. He scrubbed gently all over Lance's exposed skin, looking at how it turned red at the touch.

He tried not to notice the way he could feel every bone in Lance's body— the way they protruded out of his thin skin, sharp edges that cut straight to Keith's heart. He tried to ignore how shallow Lance's breathing was, fighting against the absurd worry that he may just stop breathing at any second. He had wanted to be close for a while but this wasn't his Lance, this was a hollow shell of the exuberant, happy, breathtaking person Lance had been. Keith just hoped he was still in there somewhere.

Straightening up, Keith tossed the loofah to the side and gently held Lance's hips, attempting to turn him around so he could rinse the soap on his front. Instead, Lance looped his arms around Keith's shoulders and pulled them together, his soapy chest flush against Keith's clean one. Keith's breath hitched at the contact and Lance's eyes sought his at the sound.

His pupils were blown wide and Keith could only assume it was a side effect of everything his body was going through. “This is the longest you've ever stayed.”

“What?” Keith tried to lean away but Lance wouldn't loosen his grip.

“In my other dreams you're always gone by now.” He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “But I've never had a dream like this.”

The steam swirled around them, making the moment feel even more intimate. Keith let out a shaky breath. “That's because you're not dreaming. I'm really here. We're really together.” he wondered how many times he would have to say that. It felt like he'd already said it a million times. “Lance this is real.”

An absurd giggle bubbled up and out of Lance, his shoulders shaking. “You're so funny. I wish my Keith were that funny.”

That ache in Keith's chest expanded, tendrils curling around his stomach and making him feel sick. He didn't respond, just spun Lance around and rinsed off his body. He made quick work of washing Lance's hair, too. Lance hummed to himself periodically, seeming to slip in and out of consciousness. Once he was done he half carried, half dragged Lance out, sitting him down and drying him quickly.

“Okay Lance,” He said after he was done, setting the clean clothes on Lance's knees. “I can't help you with this. You need to change. Can you do that?” Lance glanced between the clothes and Keith before nodding slightly. “You do that and I'll be back in a couple of minutes to help you into bed, okay?”

Keith excused himself from the bathroom, bracing both of his hands against the wall and hanging his head, taking deep breaths. His hair was wet and dripping and the air was cold against his skin. He was in nothing but soaking wet boxers but he didn't care. He felt like he was suffocating, or drowning, or— or— he wasn't even sure what. But there was a tightness in his chest, his throat, behind his eyes…

He felt like he was moments from crumbling in on himself.

Lance was like this because of him. Lance had nearly killed himself over Keith. He was withering away, shriveling under the weight of his own imagined guilt and Keith couldn't do anything about it because Lance didn't believe he was real. It filled him with a hopeless and restless feeling that made him wish he could crawl out of his own skin.

Before his thoughts could go any further, he heard Lance fumbling with the door knob to the bathroom. Keith sprung back into action, opening the door and catching Lance as he stumbled through it. Lance still didn't seem mentally with it, but he had a better control of his body and was able to shuffle over to his bed and climb in with only slight help from Keith.

“Are you hungry?” Keith asked as he pulled the covers over Lance.

Lance shook his head. “Belly upset.”

Keith sighed. “Okay,” he said, brushing Lance's damp bangs away from his eyes. His pupils were shrinking slightly and there was a sliver of that blue he loved so much. “I'll let you off this time. But you have to eat tomorrow.”

Lance's eyes were already falling shut and Keith went to back away but was stopped. He glanced down at Lance's hand around his wrist and then up and Lance. “Stay.” it wasn't a question but more of a hopeless wish. “I know you won't be here when I wake up, but, I just— want— stay.”

Keith was helpless to deny Lance and determined to prove him wrong so he climbed onto Lance's bed, soaking wet and dripping. He settled on top of the covers and let Lance drift to sleep, face pressed into his wet chest. He refused to move until Lance woke up and saw that he was still there.

—

Next came the tears. Keith woke suddenly to a weight on his chest, shaking. He was instantly alert, trying to sit up but being held down. The weight ended up being none other than Lance, hands fisting in the comforter over Keith’s chest and head pressed firmly against him, tears pouring from his eyes. Keith wasn’t sure when he had moved under the covers, or when he had fallen asleep. He had no idea what time it was, but none of that mattered as he watched Lance’s shoulders heaving over him.

“Lance?” He reached up tentatively to touch one of Lance’s shaking shoulders.

Said boy sat up suddenly, his tear filled eyes finding Keith’s. Lance all but threw himself at Keith, pitching forward and landing on Keith with a thud, his hands finding Keith’s face. Keith watched in stunned silence while Lance’s eyes explored his face. “Keith,” he breathed, relief and disbelief conflicting in his voice. “You’re alive? You’re alive!”

“I’m alive,” Keith repeated, unsure what to do. Lance’s eyes were finally clear, though his body was still worse for wear— a clear sign that all of those things had happened and weren’t just parts of Keith’s nightmares.

Lance broke into a fresh round of sobs, pressing his forehead against Keith’s chest. Keith rubbed small circles on his back, hoping they were soothing. He had no idea what to do or how to help. He wasn’t even sure why Lance was crying. All he had said was that Keith was alive, and Keith hoped beyond hope that Lance wasn’t crying because he’d survived.

“I thought—” His words were hardly coherent against Keith’s chest. “I thought I lost you. I thought I’d killed you.”

“Hey,” Keith pressed gently on Lance’s shoulder, encouraging him to sit up and meet his eyes. Lance obliged. “Even if I had died then, it wouldn’t have been your fault. You weren’t the one to lock me in there.”

Lance opened his mouth to say something but ended up quickly covering it with his hand. He flinched, his other hand reaching up to grip his head as he doubled over in Keith’s lap. Keith sat up finally, reaching out to touch Lance. Before he got a chance to, Lance shot out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Keith could hear his retching as he climbed out of bed to follow him. He didn’t fail to recognize the fact that he was still in only boxers but he ignored it.

In the bathroom he found Lance huddled over the toilet, one arm draped across the seat, his forehead resting on his arm. His legs were balled underneath him and Keith could see his spine sticking out through his t shirt. He swallowed as he dropped down on the ground next to Lance, making sure to make some noise so as not to scare Lance. He cracked his eyes open from his spot above the toilet, eyes fixing on Keith. For once, they seemed to actually recognize Keith.

“Do you want me to get you some water? Food?” Keith reached out and brushed his knuckles gently across Lance’s cheeks.

Lance closed his eyes fondly at the touch. “No,”

Keith continued his gentle stroking, “You have to eat, Lance. You haven’t eaten in, well, I have no idea how long. You look like you haven’t eaten since the day of the mission.”

Lance took a shuddering breath, adjusting himself so he could throw up in the toilet again. Keith rubbed his back soothingly, running his fingers up and down the sides of his spine, careful not to put any pressure directly over it. A moment passed and Lance spit into the toilet, before resting his cheek once again on his arm.

“I feel awful,” He murmured, his voice still a soft whisper, barely even making it to the space between them.

“Do you—” Keith took a deep breath, thankful that the room was still dark and he had a chance to compose himself, “Do you remember anything from the last few weeks?”

Tears were instantly back in Lance’s eyes and he sniffled. “Just thinking you were dead. I was out of my mind. Heartbroken. I didn’t think I could live with that guilt and I didn’t want to find out. I— I just needed to get away.”

The room fell silent then, Keith unsure of what to say to that. He remembered what the alien at the den had said to him about Lance losing someone he loved and dying of a broken heart. There was something he wanted to ask Lance and something he definitely needed to tell him, but he wasn’t sure how to approach that conversation. Instead, he cleared his throat and stood briefly, declaring that he was going to get some water and food. He pulled his clothes on quickly as they were still on the bathroom floor and exited the room.

He hustled quickly into the kitchen, practically running into Shiro as he burst through the doors.

“Woah!” Shiro stepped out of the way. Keith stopped suddenly, turning to face his leader. “How’s Lance?”

“He’s… been better. But I guess he’s been worse, too.” Keith replied after a moment.

Shiro sighed, running a hand down his face. “I can’t believe he scared us like that.”

“He was blaming himself for my death,” Keith said after a moment. “My supposed death, obviously.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Shiro crossed to the counter and sat down on a barstool there. “The owner told me when she came to stop you from taking Lance.”

“She what? ” Keith said sharply.

“Apparently she had been giving Lance his drugs for free, knowing he was a Paladin of Voltron. She was holding him as like a ‘get out of jail free’ card in case anything were to go wrong.” Shiro sighed. “She tried to make us pay for everything he’d used in the last few weeks when you took him.”

There was an instant spike in hostility in Keith, his blood boiling below his skin. Lance had been hard to track because he had been smart enough to drop Red off somewhere and catch a different ship to his final destination. Without his lion, the only bargaining chip the den owner had was Lance’s life. The thought of her tossing that around lightly, willing to trade it in an instant made Keith feel the need to go back and smash his fist into her face.

“I hope you told her to shove it where—” Keith began but Shiro cut him off with a cough.

“I told her, don’t worry.” He said after a moment. “More kindly than you would have.”

Keith let out a shaky laugh at that, moving to the fridge to look through it. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, the only thing they had was food goo and it all looked and smelled exactly the same. Coran insisted that different types of goo had different flavors and benefits but Keith had yet to see the proof. He grabbed a bowl of some blue goo and a glass of water before turning back to Shiro, items in his hand.

“How long does withdrawal last?” He asked.

Shiro shrugged unhelpfully. “It depends on each person.”

A long moment passed between them. Keith knew there was more to say but he wasn’t sure how to say it. He wondered if he’d keep feeling this way. “I’m just glad we found him.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Shiro propped his head in his hand, levelling Keith with an even gaze.

“Tell him?” Keith echoed. “Tell him what?”

“He almost died, Keith. We had no idea that we’d actually get him back. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Shiro was in full space dad mode and Keith groaned internally.

He could feel the flush on his cheeks as he turned his face away from Shiro’s prying eyes. “I should get this back to him.”

“Just think about it, okay? You don’t want to lose your chance. This should be a lesson to you.” Shiro said, but he didn’t say any more, letting Keith exit the kitchen in peace.

There was some— a lot, if he were being honest with himself— truth to Shiro’s words. He had felt the words itching at the back of his mind for the weeks Lance had been missing. He had felt it in every sleepless night, every reckless solo mission to track Lance down. He hadn’t been able to escape it and finding Lance had done nothing to sate it. Still, he didn’t want to spring it on Lance with him feeling the way he was feeling. So he swallowed the words and squared his shoulders, preparing himself to go back in.

—

Lance had never— not once ever — felt as bad as he did now. His entire body ached while simultaneously burning up and shaking. His head was throbbing so hard it made it nearly impossible to follow a single coherent thought. His stomach felt like it was tearing itself apart for fun. The nausea came in waves but the rest of the symptoms were constant. His entire body felt so weak, as if it were going to collapse under him at any moment.

Suddenly he heard Keith enter the bathroom again, dropping down surreptitiously next to him, sitting still for a moment before clearing his throat. Lance opened his eyes slowly, letting them focus lazily on Keith’s outline. The haze of the drug had faded as he slept. When he had woken up to find Keith next to him, alive, he realized that the last day hadn’t been a dream. Keith really had saved him from the opioid den and brought him home. The tears had come instantly, the hole in his heart repairing and growing simultaneously. On one hand, Keith was alive and well and Lance wanted to personally thank every god in existence for that fact. On the other hand, Keith had found him, utterly out of his mind, in a drug den, trying to erase any and every memory he had of the other boy. He was ashamed, to say the least.

“Here,” Keith scooted a little closer, offering Lance a glass of water.

Lance sat up slowly, the motion making the pain in his head spike and the feeling in his stomach triple. He reached out and carefully took the glass, bringing it to his lips and taking a few tiny sips, relishing in the way it washed the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He waited after the first few sips, pleased to find that he was able to keep it down. He took a few more sips, slowly making a dent in the amount of water still remaining in the glass.

“This too,” Keith reached out for the glass, trading it for a bowl of blue food goo.

As Lance took the bowl from Keith, a twinge of guilt spiked in his gut. He lifted the spoon out of the bowl, taking a small bite of the goo and gagging at the taste. He leaned over the toilet, holding is position for a few moments. When he managed to not throw up again, he forced himself to choke down the goo.

“You don’t have to do this,” He said after a few tiny bites.

Keith was sitting completely still next to him, watching his every move. At Lance’s words he finally stirred, setting the glass of water between them. “I know I don’t have to.”

Lance took another tiny bite of food goo, remaining over the toilet in case he suddenly lost the ability to keep things down. “So why are you?”

To be honest, Lance didn’t know what answer he was hoping for. Did he want Keith to express his undying love? Sure, that would be nice, but he didn’t deserve it. Here he was, sitting on the floor of a dark bathroom, wearing his own clothes that were suddenly sizes too big for him. He was a sick mess and honestly just a complete disaster. His body was shaking but he wasn’t cold and his head was spinning. He didn’t deserve to have Keith taking care of him.

“Because I care about you?” Keith said as if it were both incredibly obvious and incredibly surprising. “

“I care about you, too,” Lance said, his weak voice getting even quieter. “And I show it by numbing myself into oblivion.”

“Yeah, about that,” Keith laughed gently, the sound surprising Lance. “Can you, uh, come up with a better way to show me next time? I didn’t really like this way.”

Lance laughed too, the sound strange to his own ears. His time at the den was a complete and utter mystery to him. He had memories that faded in and out, nothing clear enough to really latch onto. But he remembered enough to know he was there and that he was doing his damndest to fade out of existence entirely.

The laughter faded out as the pounding in his head took over again. He groaned, setting down the bowl and leaning back over the toilet. Keith scooted closer, rubbing a hand along his back again. His hand was so warm, Lance could feel it bleeding through his shirt and into his skin, relaxing the muscles of his back. He heaved a few times, spitting into the toilet again when nothing came up.

“How about next time I show you I care with a kiss?” Lance said offhandedly, too distracted by the feeling in his stomach to really think about what he was saying. The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them and he stilled over the toilet as the realization sunk in.

To his surprise, Keith leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to Lance’s shoulder and whispering, “I would definitely prefer that.”

Lance turned slowly towards him, dislodging him. “Yeah?” He said quietly, a bunch of emotions swirling around in his stomach, making him feel worse. He leaned towards Keith slightly.

Keith met his gaze head on, an unnamed emotion burning behind his eyes. “Absolutely. But you have to be better first. This kind of behavior doesn’t deserve a reward. I want my Lance to kiss me.”

The words hurt, but he understood. He deserved them. Still, he leaned his head onto Keith’s shoulder and whispered. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, I can wait a little longer.”

—

Recovery had been awful for everyone. Lance was constantly miserable and in a bad mood, snapping at everyone and pushing them away. Keith had been kicked out numerous times but he always went back, refusing to give up on Lance. Lance had high points and low points, but even his high points weren’t good. His entire body was revolting against him, making every waking moment miserable.

They hadn’t talked about their feelings or the prospect of a kiss again. While Lance had seemed lucid in those moments, Keith wasn’t confident that he had been and didn’t have the guts to bring it up again. Instead, he avoided it, occasionally letting the others take of his care for short periods of times so he could have a break to get his feelings under control. Shiro had mentioned it a few times but Keith had continuously brushed it off.

“I can’t believe we got here,” Lance said, entering Keith’s room with a flourish. It’d been approximately three weeks since he had first whisked Lance out of the den and he was finally fully recovered. He had put back on most of his weight from before and he looked like himself again.

“It was a long road,” Keith agreed, scooting to the side so Lance could plop down next to him.

Lance dropped onto the bed, turning to face him. “I couldn’t have gotten here without you.” He said earnestly.

Keith glanced away. “You wouldn’t have been in this situation if it weren’t for me.”

Hands appeared on his cheeks suddenly, guiding his face back to Lance, locking their eyes. “I’ve been waiting to say this because I knew you wouldn’t believe me until I was fully recovered. But Keith? You saved my life. You’ve saved my life tons of times but this time was something else. You didn’t give up on me when I had given up on myself. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

There was an emotion stirring in Keith’s chest that he could name, but he didn’t want to. He could feel his cheeks turning warm under Lance’s touch. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“There was another person at the den. They said you were dying of a broken heart. That you were saying you had lost someone you— someone you—” Keith couldn’t bring himself to finish the end of the sentence.

Luckily, Lance knew where he was going with it. “Loved?” he supplied, his voice soft. Keith merely nodded. “Yeah,” Lance said after a moment, “That’s true.”

“You—?” Keith snapped his eyes back to Lance, not really aware of when he had looked down.

Lance’s gaze was so soft that Keith felt like he was melting under the weight of it. “Love you? Keith, you idiot, I’ve loved you for a long time. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you so I— well, you know.”

Keith was surprised to find that there were tears on his cheeks as he grabbed the back of Lance’s neck. “Don’t ever do that again, got it? We’ve got too much to do and I won’t lose you.”

“Are you saying—” Keith muffled the question with a kiss, their lips lining up perfectly together. He could feel the smile that sprung to Lance’s lips as they continued to kiss. He pulled Lance closer, feeling their bodies pressed together and relishing the fact that Lance was actually here, kissing him. His Lance, exactly where he had always wanted him.

    They separated, looking at each other. Keith smiled as he pressed his forehead against Lance’s and listened to him whisper, “I promise, I’ll never do that again. It’s you and me now, together.”

    “Together,” Keith confirmed, stealing his lips for another kiss.