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He’s fidgeting.
Being nervous has never treated Lance too well, and it isn’t being much kinder now. When he’s in anticipation for something to happen, or uncertain of the future, he can usually somehow deal with it; improvisation is one of his stronger suits, and he’s proud of that.
This time, though, he isn’t improvising; on the contrary. He’s had weeks to think about the encounter he’s currently anticipating, and while most of that time was occupied by him spending well-deserved time with his family and helping with the restoration, he’s still found himself lying awake at night countless times, making up scenarios on how he would act if he ever brought up the courage to stand his ground and demand answers.
“Lance, what’s wrong?”
His sister Veronica looks at him with a raised eyebrow and adjusts her glasses in a quick motion, but he knows she’s nothing but concerned and caring, even if for a stranger, it might look like she’s scolding him.
“There’s this...thing I’ve been wanting to approach. You know, before we go back to risking our lives in intergalactic robot fights?”
His attempts to ease the mood or calm his racing heart fail miserably, and he finds himself in desperate need to clear his throat and look away and focus on a particularly interesting tile on the floor next to his feet.
“This thing doesn’t, by any chance, have to do with your leader being back, in any way?”
Now she’s teasing. To be fair, Lance doesn’t blame her — he’s always the first to tease her as well when it comes to embarrassing confrontations of either kind; be it with their parents, higher-ups or crushes back in high school.
“I don’t need your sass, Veronica,” he pouts in return and uselessly readjusts his new uniform. It reminds him of his old Garrison uniform, but it has a slightly nicer design and a way better color. Lance can’t deny how glad he is that his is blue despite him being the red paladin now, because the color reminds him of the beach back at home, and makes him feel confident; he still doesn’t say that out loud, though, and instead simply claims that it plays nicely round his beautiful form, whenever anyone asks. He’s an excellent actor, after all.
“That’s a yes then.”
He rolls his eyes and turns to leave the storage room they’ve both been assigned to help in.
“If it makes you sleep better, sure!”
Truth be told, it is an affirmation. All of the paladins were allowed some free time to spend with their families or friends, but Keith was wounded the worst in the battle against the robeast, so the rest of the team unanimously decided to forbid him from helping with rebuilding until further notice. He complained, resisted, and eventually had to be convinced by his mother to take the time off. After, they left the Garrison together with the short notice of “going back home”, and only returned a few days ago, immediately busy catching up on everything that happened in the time they were gone.
For the most of it, it was fine. The paladins were busy helping where they could, but even so, Lance found himself occupied with selective thoughts that he’d been keeping to himself for weeks prior to making it back home to earth.
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. There’s absolutely no reason to panic over this — he and Keith are friends, after all, and a simple question shouldn’t be able to ruin that friendship in any kind of way. And yet, Lance is nervous, fingers trembling a little at the prospect of being rejected. What if Keith doesn’t have time?
“I don’t have time for this, Lance.”
Sure, the situation with Lotor was an urgent one, but that was hardly a reason to barely even look at the team. It hurt, and in a way, it still does.
“Calm down, Lance,” he tells himself quietly while making his way over to Keith’s room. “It was a busy time, and now you both have a moment to breathe. It’ll be so easy and you’ll sleep like a baby tonight—”
“Who are you talking to?”
He freezes, feels a cold shiver running down his spine and heat crawling up to his cheeks. Out of a million voices, he’d be able to distinguish the throaty, almost playful tone of this one effortlessly. Great timing, really.
“Uh, what?” he answers and turns around and — yeah, that sure is Keith, wearing his new uniform as well and oh wow, it looks really good on him. The bright red always accentuated his light skin and dark hair perfectly, but like hell will Lance embarrass himself by saying that out loud. Instead, he stares — which hardly helps any more, but at least it makes him smile. Other than fine — very fine, at that — Keith looks rested and healthy, which is definitely a big improvement over how he looked back when he and Krolia left.
If someone ever asks him, Lance will blame that very fact for himself closing the distance between them and pulling Keith into a bone-crushing hug. As expected, he hears a shocked gasp for a reply, and he almost chuckles nervously when the motion isn’t reciprocated, right before it eventually is.
“That was sudden,” Keith admits shortly but doesn’t let go, warm hands gently placed on Lance’s shoulder blades. It’s not as awkward as it could be, considering that hugs aren’t usually their way to show any kind of affection, but it’s awkward enough for Lance to feel himself blushing a little. It was sudden, he can’t even deny that.
“You look so much better than when you left, so I kinda felt the need to. Don’t call me out for it!”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m glad you’ve been doing well, too.”
They fall silent and stay like that for a while longer. Lance makes a face when he realizes that Keith’s hair has grown even more, yet can’t help but imagine what it would look like tied up into a short ponytail. Somehow, he’s grown quite fond of it, although he’s not proud of that fact. In a way, even this terrible hairstyle looks endearing on Keith, and Lance knows he has to acknowledge that as something positive.
“You mean other than Iverson giving me hell? Yeah, great,” he jokes and finally lets go, but lets his hands rest on Keith’s shoulders.
“Shiro told me it was a busy time. I would’ve helped-”
“Okay, no, not going there, shut up. Must I remind you how much longer you were unconscious than all of us? Give yourself a break sometime, man!”
“...Sorry.”
He smiles, and if Lance didn’t know better, he’d say it’s almost shy. He’ll take that over stubbornness, though, and as a good sign that he’s chosen the right day to get the words he’s been dancing around off his mind.
“E-either way, I’ve been looking for you. Unless you’re busy? Then I didn’t say a thing, I mean, not to take your time or anything, I just—”
“Lance.”
He falls quiet and looks away, purses his lips and does his best in order not to pout.
“You’re rambling.”
“I know, but—“
“Lance. What I mean to say is...don’t worry about it? I’m finally allowed to help around here, but it doesn’t have to be right now. Is there something bothering you?”
At first, he wants to blurt it all out — spill his entire mind about this thing that is in fact bothering him day and night, but then he stops and blinks, fully struck with awe. It’s nothing he acknowledges too often, but right now, he’s blown away by how dedicated Keith sounds. Not only does he offer to listen without hesitation; he sounds eager to help if he can, and that realization is awfully reassuring. In the time ever since he returned to the team, he was way harder to approach — understandably so, considering what they were facing back then, but still. Now, Lance feels as if he’s thrown back to when he voiced his concerns about being the fifth wheel in the group towards Keith, and it immediately makes him feel so much lighter, so much more confident.
“W-well, if you ask like that...”
He scratches his neck and looks at an especially interesting point on the wall next to them, before nodding eventually.
“Yeah, I guess...there’s this thing I’ve been thinking about for a while and— It’s kinda super dumb and I’m probably giving it too much thought? But I suppose it’s bothering me and I uh god what’s my problem I—”
“Lance. Rambling?”
There’s amusement in Keith’s voice, but it doesn’t overshadow the worry that goes along with it. Lance sees him cross his arms before his chest and decides to face his friend again, even if he’s more than mildly embarrassed by his own unrestrained babbling.
“Do you want to talk somewhere more...private?”
He nods automatically. Not standing in the midst of the Garrison hallway, where anyone could run into them at any time, would probably help a lot already.
“That’s a good idea, yeah.”
“Alright. My room is closer, I believe.”
“Y-yeah.”
Lance decides to keep quiet on their way, and focuses on taking slow, deep breaths to calm himself down. It’s not even the thing itself he’s so worried about — he’s not ashamed of the things he’s curious about; what bothers him is the prospect of interpreting too much into it, and annoying Keith with something so trivial.
Because it is trivial. It should be, at least.
…
Lance wishes it were.
They come to a halt in front of Keith’s door, and Lance notices that the letter K is still carved into the wall right next to it. He stares at it in shock, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Something the matter?”
“Can’t believe they didn’t fix this.”
He points to the carving and chuckles nervously, wishing he could forget why it’s there.
“Iverson gave me a look for it when he led me back here, but I still have no idea where it came from.”
“Hah...”
There’s silence between them for a moment, but then neither of them can keep it together — it’s so obvious where it came from, and they burst into genuine laughter at the same time, although Lance still can’t hide his embarrassment.
“Don’t get me wrong, Keith. Back then, I couldn’t have been happier you dropped out — being a fighter pilot was my dream, but...your expulsion was still not fair, and you had a right to keep your spot, so I made sure people remembered it as your room.”
“That was your intention?” Keith asks, still not making a move to open a door.
Lifting an eyebrow, Lance shakes his head.
“’course not. Back then, I was just being a little prick who made Iverson believe that you’d done this to piss him off. But I’m a wiser man now,” he explains dramatically and raises his chin with a big, poised smile. It’s quiet, but Keith chuckles again and shakes his head.
“Of course.”
The door opens, and they’re immediately greeted with a room that screams Keith. Unlike on the castle, he actually has a few belongings here — mainly pictures of himself and his father, a few of himself with Krolia, and a few books. But it still looks almost sterile, the exact opposite of Lance’s room. There is, however, one thing that doesn’t exactly fit the overall cold picture.
“Is he still growing?” he asks mostly himself and walks over to the gigantic space wolf who has curled up on Keith’s bed.
“Hey, Kosmo.”
The wolf raises his head the slightest bit and lets Lance scratch him behind one of his big, slightly glowing ears. He looks bored, if anything, and Lance can’t really blame him for it.
“I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me. He’s still as wild as when we first met. And his name still isn’t Kosmo.”
As if on command, Kosmo — fight me, Keith, Lance thinks — teleports right into Keith’s arms and knocks him onto the floor with the sheer force of his weight. It’s an endearing scenery, and it reminds Lance of the hundreds of times he’s been knocked over by the combined powers of his siblings or his niece and his nephew, and even though it’s something he doesn’t see too often with Keith, of all people, he has to admit that he could get used to it.
“Is he agreeing with you, or telling you I’m right and his name is in fact Kosmo?” Lance teases with a cocky smile and sits down on the edge of the bed, watching Keith trying to get Kosmo off of himself — with little success.
“N-neither,” Keith manages to press out, although it’s muffled by Kosmo’s fur covering at least three quarters of his face, and the wolf lying flat on his chest, effectively making it hard for him to breathe or speak.
“Okay, I believe you,” Lance replies in the most unbelieving tone he can manage his voice to produce, and waits until the wolf has bathed its owner in enough love to finally teleport off of him and back onto the bed, dropping his head in Lance’s lap and motioning to be pet. Being as adorable as he is, he gets his wish granted without even a second of hesitation.
“He’s opening up to me! How heartwarming,” Lance says and means it, because he remembers how wary Kosmo was of the rest of the team when Keith first brought him along.
“He’s clever, and he trusts my judgment,” Keith explains simply while getting up and fixing his uniform in a few quick motions. To Lance’s amusement, he entirely disregards his messy hair, as if it doesn’t even bother him in the slightest.
It probably really doesn’t.
After kicking off his boots, Keith sits down on the bed and crosses his legs on them. He seems relaxed, more so than ever since Lance can remember, and he wishes he could just salvage that sight for the rest of his life, without having to worry about saving the universe from an angry, powerful witch attempting at their lives. As outgoing as he is, as much as he loves living life to the fullest, spending so much time with their lives on the line, Lance thinks he’s finally learned to cherish the calm moments, too. Between their aligning breaths and the steady movement of Kosmo’s rising and falling figure, Lance’s heart manages to rest — for the first time in weeks, maybe months. He doesn’t want to let it go.
“Are you okay?”
Keith’s voice quietly cuts through the silence, but it’s as if a clean silver knife gently, soundlessly divides a cloud in half. It’s unexpected, yet not disturbing at all. There’s no pressure behind it, but genuine curiosity, even worry.
Lance loves it.
“I think so,” he admits just as quietly, although he knows his voice sounds doubtful. There’s things on his mind, countless questions and worries and fears, but right here, with only the two of them and a huge, glowing wolf from outer space, the feeling of safety outweighs all of Lance’s insecurities.
“We don’t need to talk about this right now, if you’re not ready…?” Keith suggests benevolently, but Lance shakes his head and clears his throat. He’s been waiting to talk about this for longer than he remembers, and he needs to get it settled before they go on another mission where they could all die. He still knows it’s slightly pathetic, but he can’t let that stop himself.
"No, it's not that I'm not ready. It's more like, uh...I feel a little dumb for it? It shouldn't be important or anything, you've probably forgotten about it long ago, and will laugh at me for remembering."
"I doubt that."
And Keith sounds so sure of those words that Lance finds himself growing a little more nervous. What's worse, actually? If Keith has already forgotten about the ordeal, of if he hasn't? Great timing to give that question a thought, really.
"Fine then."
He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes wanders around the room. Keith is the most patient person he's ever met — at least in a situation as harmless as the one they're currently in — and Lance believes that he won't be judged for taking his time with the wording; he doesn't want to make this awkward, although he feels like the way he beats around the bush achieves the exact opposite of that.
"Okay, whatever," he decides and rolls his eyes at his own sheepishness. Who is he to make a fuss over something like this? It's pathetic, really.
"I know it was like...a mutually shared, intergalactic, supernatural dream, but...that weird game show?"
He lets those words sink in and ignores the feeling of warmth covering his cheeks. At least he's managed to bring the rough topic onto the table, which is already worth something, he thinks. It's both a good and a bad memory; they made it out by choosing each other and proving their worth as a team, which is great, but it’s still a constant reminder of how the whole universe seems to see him as nothing more than a moronic idiot that can't get anything done. He remembers not being able to come up with the names of the faces Bob threw at him, and how casually various participants treated him like a waste of air for not always being the sharpest tool in the shed.
This is not what you want to talk about, he tells himself and shakes his head to free it from the thoughts. It's a bad memory, but nothing new at this point; he's aware that in the face of people as smart as Pidge or Hunk, as wise and outstanding as Allura or Coran, or as multi-talented as Shiro or Keith, there's little that he himself, the seventh wheel of the group, can contribute. That's fine. That’s something he’s forced himself to learn and accept over the course of their time together.
"I still can't believe that happened to all of us. Is it even a dream if we all experienced it?" Keith asks curiously, and Lance can't even answer that. Sure, it didn't physically happen, but they were all conscious during the whole ordeal, and Coran even mentioned knowing about Bob.
"Dunno, man. Maybe that's why it bothers me? Really can't tell you. Anyways..."
He thinks about all the questions he got wrong. He's already forgotten half of the names again, simply because they mean nothing to him. Why remember the name of someone that's either your enemy or whom you've met weeks or months ago and barely exchanged a word with? Besides, the game totally cheated him by changing the person whenever he said that he remembered a face.
Yet still, that's not it. That's not the part he cares about — or at least he doesn't want to care about it. What grinds his gears day and night is the ending of the show, how they were forced to choose one person to leave with the rest having to stay behind. He remembers the sweet, friendly, careful words exchanged between Hunk, Pidge and Allura, the relatable, honest statements they made about each other. Each of them were true, and all of their choices were valid.
Lance also vividly remembers his own; how he gave himself the time to think about whom he would choose, although from the beginning, there was only one name swirling around in his mind. If anyone had asked him back then, he wouldn't have been able to explain why he was so sure of it, but when their time ran out and he felt his fingers place the word Keith on the display, Lance felt courageous and certain about it. Even now, it brings a smile to his lips, although it's a slightly embarrassed one.
He doesn't regret the explanation he gave at all, but it wasn't exactly something he'd planned to say. Keith should have been a logical choice. He was and is the leader of Voltron, part-Galra and thus affiliated with the Blade of Marmora. It made sense. However, calling him the future in what Lance knows was a way too smitten tone was indeed not at all part of the plan, and the looks both Pidge and Hunk gave him for it still haunt his dreams sometimes. It's not like he's ashamed of being honest — he really isn't! — and it felt alright to say it out loud...until the moment Keith gave his explanation, and the world shattered a bit. Worst part is, Lance can't even say which shocked him more — the fact that Keith chose him out of the whole group of paladins, or his cold, annoyed explanation for it. The former was nice, the latter hurt, and if Lance could erase but a single thing from his memory, it would probably be those few disgruntled, angry words that Keith spat out about him back then.
Lance almost jumps off the bed when he feels something touch his shoulder that pulls him out of his trance. It's Keith — quite obviously. He's inched a little closer, sitting properly, feet now standing firmly on the ground, and his hand feels heavy, but not unpleasant. There's worry all over his face, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips a tight, straight line.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. What about it, though? The game show, I mean."
Trying to find the right words, Lance nervously taps his knee repeatedly, still busying his other hand by stroking Kosmo's fur. He wants to cover the words up cleverly, and not make himself seem like a sulky, sad mess. He wants to sound confident, curious, maybe concerned, but in no way disappointed or desperate. If he doesn't show weakness, then no one can call him out for it. As long as he keeps up a brave facade, he can get some answers and then tell himself that he'll never think of it again, even though that would be a lie.
What he does eventually say is neither witty nor wise, not smart or suave, but instead consists of merely two measly, miserable words:
"Why me?"
There's nothing admirable about it, only anguish. Not the slightest hint of force in his voice, only frustration. At least that fits into how he feels about this — vulnerable and vain, in all senses of the word. Selfish. Dumb. Ridiculous. The list is endless, and he's short of taking the words back when the pressure on his shoulder increases a bit and he feels Keith inch just a tad closer. It's almost like he's proposing another hug, but without enforcing it.
"Care to elaborate?"
No, Lance wants to say, because like hell doesn't Keith know what he's talking about. Is he playing dumb to turn this into a joke? Doesn't sound like something he would do in a situation like this, but then again, it wouldn't be the first time, either.
"Come on, Keith, don't do this to me. You're smart — w-way smarter than me, and don't believe I'll say that again! So stop feigning obliviousness and give me an answer."
He doesn't, but he also doesn't deny actually knowing what this is about. Lance refuses to say anything more than that, either, because he feels like Keith is making fun of him, even if it seems out of character. Neither of them moves closer or away from the other, but Lance leans into the hand on his shoulder and can't help the smile that spreads on his lips when it causes Keith to draw sloppy circles on his shoulder blade. It's a seemingly small gesture, but still incredibly intimate. It almost reassures Lance enough to actually explain what he's trying to get at, but he can't bring himself to break the comfortable silence just like that; the more he says, the more might change for the worse between them, and he wants to cherish what they currently have, even if it's covered in uncertainty.
"Alright, the guessing game it is," Keith says with a hint of annoyance in his voice, but when Lance looks over, he sees him smirk teasingly. That's good enough.
"I'm honestly not sure what you're talking about. You being chosen for the single-person quiz? You being the only one able to communicate with Bii-Boh-Bi? Which, by the way, is still beyond me, but I've decided not to question it ever in my life."
Honestly, Lance couldn't agree more. It's not like he really understood what Bii-Boh-Bi was saying to him back there, but in a way, things made sense — even though he still landed in the weird aquarium that would have fried him alive if not for Pidge getting them into the final round.
"Neither of those," he replies sheepishly and feels his heart skip a beat. The longer he waits, the harder it gets, and if they keep this pace up, they probably still won't have gotten to the point in a week from now.
"I...you know...I meant, after all that? Bob asked us to choose someone we think was worthy of leaving the show, right?"
He tries to read Keith's expression, but it's blank, almost suspiciously so. His mimic gives away nothing when he nods slowly, but it doesn't seem like he's going to say anything, so Lance figures he might as well repeat his stupid question again, because apparently he didn't feel pathetic enough when he asked the first time.
"Why me, Keith? You're reserved and collected, I figured you'd choose someone out of genuineness, make a smart or at least heartfelt choice like the rest of us. But no, you base one of the most important choices ever on how much you despise me. I don't get—"
"Wow, hey, wait a second."
Part of him wants to disobey and scream out his entire frustration, his fiery anger about being the only one to be chosen not because of his worth, but out of spite. Up until now, he's mostly felt miserable about it, but currently, he's fuming. Still, he shuts his mouth and makes sure he isn't pouting, because he's not going to give that to Keith right now. It already hurts enough to be mentally exposed, let alone physically.
"I don't despise you, Lance. Why would you think that?"
Not sure if he's heard that correctly, Lance quickly blinks once, twice, thrice in a row before laughing, his voice entirely void of any amusement whatsoever.
"Are you messing with me right now? In case you've forgotten, you said, and I quote: I just don't want to be stuck here for all eternity with Lance. Ring any kind of bell, samurai?"
Judging from the way Keith's eyes widen in surprise, it does. He looks at least a little embarrassed, and as petty as it is, Lance is grateful for it. Serves him right, he tells himself. Rude enough of him to forget it in the first place.
"I'm sorry about that," Keith says eventually, head hanging low in what appears to be genuine shame, but it's not what Lance wants or even needs. He hasn't waited for Keith to return to the Garrison for weeks to listen to a halfhearted, pitiful apology. He's here for the truth.
"I'm not asking you to feel sorry for me, Keith. It's fine." It totally isn't fine, and Keith seemingly wants to intervene right there, but Lance doesn't give him a chance to. "No, listen! I just want to...understand? I meant what I said, you know? You're our leader, and I trust you. And then you make such an irrational choice right after just to pick on me, it makes no sense at all!"
Keith finally lets go of his shoulder and gets up to pace around the room, an angry scowl on his forehead. He seems to be looking for the right words to say without much success, and eventually comes to a halt, shakes his head and drops his arms, eyes steadily focused on his feet, resolve seemingly faltering. It's like a cue to get up and leave, and Lance almost takes it, right when he feels and hears a deep growl coming from Kosmo. The wolf sits up, head lifted and eyes blown wide like those of an impatient predator. He's staring Keith down with a kind of force that vicariously sends a shiver down Lance's spine.
"I know," Keith almost barks in return, and Lance would insist that it's at least twice as awkward as him communicating with Bii-Boh-Bi, but something tells him that this is none of his business and he should keep out of it. Besides, it's almost endearing to watch, even though he's currently too angry to properly acknowledge that.
Kosmo growls again, before jumping off the bed and stretching with relish. With a lot of fantasy, one could pretend that he's shaking his head at Keith, and with even more fantasy, it might seem like it's conveying a message, and that this message actually reaches Keith, because he sighs again, rubs two fingers against his temple with closed eyes, and makes his way back over to the bed to sit down right where he's been sitting before, now with a new sense of pride sparkling in his silvery eyes. But instead of saying something groundbreaking, he stares without blinking and deadpans:
"I lied."
For a solid fifteen seconds, they look into each other's eyes. Neither of them blink, neither of them even seem to breathe. Lance waits for a little more than that, but nothing happens, so he resorts to throwing Keith's own words back at him.
"Care to elaborate?"
He's rewarded with a chuckle, but refuses to allow himself to indulge in that, and instead keeps staring.
"Elaborate how? I lied about the reason I chose you. That's it."
"Uh, no, that's totally not it, Keith. I didn't spend literal months questioning if I'm worth anything to any of you just for you to get away with that. Like—"
"You did what for months?"
Thinking about it, those words really do sound embarrassing, so Lance refuses to repeat them, and instead looks away in the shame he's been trying to avoid — great job on that so far, anyway.
"What the hell, Lance?"
"No! Don't even start! I know I'm emotional and dramatic, but it's still not fair, okay? Everyone gets all these nice words thrown at them. Allura is a princess and important to the universe, which is true by the way; Pidge is the smartest and will finish with her family what my father began, equally true if I may add; Hunk is so nice and gets along with everyone, don't make me explain that one — he is, he does, he's like a big cuddly teddy bear and my best friend for a reason. And even I pour my goddamn heart out to you, and all you have to say is that you don't want to be stuck for eternity with me, me out of all the people in the world you could be stuck with, and now you think a simple I lied settles it? 'What the hell, Lance?'? More like 'what the hell, Keith?'!"
He's out of breath by the time he finishes his loud, whiny monologue, but his heart immediately feels so, so much lighter that he feels like it might just jump out of his chest. Sobs are trying to creep up his throat, but he keeps them at bay, absolutely not planning on embarrassing himself any further than this. At least, he tries to tell himself, Keith looks at least as embarrassed as he himself feels.
"Why did you keep this to yourself for so long?"
"When was I supposed to bring it up? While we were lost in space trying to come up with a way to locate our lions? While we were busy defending earth against part of the remaining Galra empire? While you were unconscious after almost dying in the fight against the robeast? Oh no, I know, how about while you finally got the time to visit your old home, because that's certainly the time you want me to get on your nerves."
"You're not getting—Alright, okay. This isn't going anywhere, so let me start from scratch."
Keith's hands are clenched to fists, but from the looks of it, he isn't angry about the words he's just been confronted with. No matter how disappointed Lance currently is, he can't deny that Keith is more the kind of person to get angry at himself rather than others.
"I'm not sure if you noticed back then, but when Bob made us pick someone to leave, I didn't really need to think about it. Even before coming up with a reason, I knew I'd choose you."
In a twisted kind of way, Lance thinks he understands that, because it was the same for him — sure, he still allowed himself to wait and reconsider, but ultimately, the choice was made without him even realizing it. He nods in affirmation and feels his muscles relax a bit when Keith reaches for his shoulder again, squeezing it gently.
"But then why, Keith? You said you lied, which I don't understand but accept. Still, there's gotta be some reason you wasted your vote on me, and it's keeping me up at night that I don't know. Please, just give me...something here. Why me out of all the possibilities?"
Keith fidgets. His left hand twitches on Lance's shoulder, his right grabs deep into the fabric of his pants, his eyes wander around as if looking for something, but eventually they're staring into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity or two, and his expression softens notably.
"It's because..."
He bites his lip with one sharp canine tooth and swallows hard before taking a deep breath and shaking his head.
"It's because it's always been you."
There's an incredible weight to the worlds, as if they held the secrets of the whole world in them. In a way, they're overwhelming, and even though Lance doesn't understand them, he still does. He wouldn't be able to explain it, but suddenly, things seem to start falling into place. He wants to say something, but when he opens his mouth, he can't find himself able to come up with anything smart at all, and instead asks:
"What do you mean...always?"
And Keith chuckles, seemingly prepared for the question. There's now a faint hint of red on his cheeks, although it's fairly subtle.
"You...you were right when you said we're a good team, back when we initially defeated Sendak at the castle. It was the first time I truly accepted being part of this team, so in a way, it all started with you. Since you constantly picked fights with me, it meant I could let my guard down without the fear of getting scolded, and at first, it was simply a relief."
His eyes wander and Lance lets his own follow to find Kosmo rolling around happily on the floor, seemingly very happy again. Sometimes, Lance wonders just how far the wolf's ability to read and understand their actions and words goes.
“At first?” he asks without tearing his eyes from the scenery, kneading his fingers in his lap for comfort. They’re still shaking, but he’s feeling at least a bit better nonetheless, allows himself to hope that there’s some kind of positive explanation for all of this. For the most of it, Lance sees himself as an optimist, although the last months weren’t exactly easy.
“When you knocked on my door that one night and offered to step down so none of us would have to...I think that’s when I realized what it really was,” Keith goes on in a slightly unfocused voice, as if he’s not really sure how to word what he’s trying to say.
“What it was?”
“Yeah, I...it’s hard to explain.”
His fingers start tracing around Lance’s neckline, seemingly without Keith even noticing that he’s moving them. Apparently, he’s fully lost in thought, and also a bit reluctant on whatever truth he’s trying to reveal.
“I’m extremely bad with people, Lance,” he eventually states in a matter-of-fact kind of way, voice firm but still worried. It’s clearly something he’s uncomfortable opening up about, but he does it anyway. “So when I made my choice, it was genuine, but when you gave your explanation, it made me...”
He hums, frowns, looks away and gestures around with his other hand, as if he could fetch the words out of thin air.
“I guess it made me nervous? I’ve grown up to people leaving me behind whenever I let them in too close, and I think it’s sort of a self-defense mechanism. I cut the ties before I can get rejected, or something like that. It didn’t occur to me that I might hurt you with it; I promise that wasn’t my intention.”
Blown away by both the dedication and honesty of the words, Lance leans back a little and simply stares. Keith, resident lone wolf yet confident fighter and leader of Voltron, opening up to him as if it’s no big deal at all. Immediately, a wave of guilt washes over Lance’s mind, because suddenly, he feels like he’s the bad guy for saying all those terrible things earlier. He wants to say something kind, but can’t come up with anything fitting, and instead blurts out:
“And you blame me for keeping my insecurities a secret for a few months, while you’ve been carrying yours around for—what, years?”
“That’s different!”
He shakes his head vehemently.
“It really isn’t?”
“Definitely is. My problems are rooted in the past which is none of your fault, but yours were caused by us treating you unfairly. There is a difference here.”
“God, Keith, fine. Whatever floats your goat. That still doesn’t answer my initial question.”
The formerly pained expression returns to Keith’s face, but he nods in acknowledgment, yet doesn’t say anything. In fairness, Lance can’t blame him — he’s been beating around the bush with his own problem earlier as well, and he’s fine with having to be patient as long as he does get some kind of answer eventually. Instead of pushing it, he lets his mind wander, to the fact that he’s been lied to, but in what seems to be a good sense, to the realization that maybe Keith doesn’t despise him despite everything that’s happened between them, to the hope that they can be friends again like they used to be.
“I can’t really explain why it’s you,” Keith admits eventually, and doesn’t sound too happy about it. From the looks of his, his mind is working hard trying to come up with the right thing to say, but it’s undoubtedly evading him elegantly.
“You could just tell me what’s going through your mind right now?” Lance offers curiously, careful not to push his luck. The fact that Keith is opening up to him at all is already worth a lot, and he knows that it’s a privilege, but he still wants to understand.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than me getting kissed by a space mouse?”
Soft laughter escapes Keith’s lips, but he still nods. Lance doesn’t really believe it, but plays along, taps his chin and hums, trying to come up with an even worse memory of him making a fool of himself.
“Did I ever tell you the story of Pidge re-programming one of Lotor’s robots and the thing almost knocking me out with a punch straight to the face?”
“You—what?”
Now Keith’s laughing genuinely, raising a hand to his lips to muffle the sound, but with little success. It was a rude move from Pidge, but in hindsight, Lance still manages to find the whole ordeal at least a little funny — besides, they had a lot of fun back there; one of the few good memories from that time.
“See, I’m the embarrassment-champion, so don’t try me, mullet. Come on, spill it.”
“Fine, fine, give me a break,” Keith insists, voice still dripping with amusement, his hand now dropped onto the bed somewhere between their hips. There’s still so many lingering questions, so many things left unsaid, but the more time they spend together, the easier it gets to warm up about them, to let each other in and return to what they used to be, even if every single step takes an incredible amount of effort.
“I tried to come up with a better explanation I could’ve given for...choosing you?”
“Far reach here, Keithy-boy, but how about the truth? Ahh, I know, don’t say it—I’m a genius, you’re right.”
Lance grins smugly, and feels it turn into laughter when Keith shoves him with little force, rolling his eyes but smiling just as fondly. Maybe being honest and open with each other is all they need for this to work.
“I wish I could say that it had a rational reason, like all of you did. Something like he’s adaptable and will somehow end up making the right decisions or anything along those lines, but...”
“But?”
“I didn’t think of anything like that. I just wanted you to be free to go home.”
“Wha—Keith.” This time, it’s Lance who reaches out to shove his friend, although less amused and mostly embarrassed, maybe even flattered. “You can’t just say something like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—god, you’re unreal.”
A warm feeling bubbles up in his chest, a highly pleasant mixture of shock and appreciation. Sure, he wouldn’t have minded being praised and chosen for a rational reason, but he’s fairly certain that being someone’s choice simply out of genuine care is the most incredible thing he’s ever heard. Suddenly, his own explanation feels one-dimensional and lame in comparison, but he doesn’t say that, instead closes the already tiny gap between them and pulls Keith into another sheepish, slightly awkward hug — it’s not the most comfortable one ever, but when Keith’s hands slowly reach around him and pull him closer by the hip, Lance decides that it’s still easily one of the best he’s ever had. He allows his fingers to touch the tips of Keith’s way too long hair, but can’t even say anything about it — it’s a mullet no matter how much Keith denies it, but it still looks good on him, so Lance can’t really insult him for it. He indulges in the warm breath on his neck, in the feeling of their heartbeats aligning right next to each other’s, and lets his eyes fall shut for just a second, just long enough to inhale deeply and sigh happily.
“I feel a little dumb now,” he admits eventually, but doesn’t let go.
“You shouldn’t. Besides, if anyone has messed that one up, it was me.”
“Maybe.” He lets the b pop a little against the warm skin beneath his lips, and finally drops his chin onto Keith’s shoulder to rest it there, feels himself grow comfortably drowsy, and finds that if they were to stay like this until the war is over, that would be entirely okay. Not that he really thinks that he can make that choice in any way.
“Hey, Lance? I’m curious now, too.”
“’bout what?”
“Just realistically...why didn’t you choose anyone else? Hunk and Pidge have been your friends ever since the Garrison or even longer, and Allura...I don’t think I need to explain that.”
If Lance didn’t know better, he’d claim that Keith’s tone drops a bit, as if he’s legitimately sad about his own words. Is he? They part unanimously and stare into each other’s eyes, but no matter how hard Lance tries, he can’t find an answer to that question, so he tried to think of what he should say.
“Pidge and Hunk...they’re great, don’t get me wrong, I would’ve chosen all of you if that had been an option, but choosing either of them didn’t feel right. They’re like a power duo, our personal pack of science freaks, I’ve grown to the fact that one of them can’t go without the other, you know?”
Keith frowns, but nods slowly, seemingly trying to get behind that. Judging from the was his eyebrow rises, he’s skeptical about it, though.
“To be honest, I think I would’ve chosen Allura like, a longer time ago? Back before all the stuff with Lotor and the quintessence-field happened. She’s amazing, and Hunk’s words about her couldn’t have been chosen more wisely, but it...didn’t feel right?”
He hums, and Lance grows more nervous with every passing second. Suddenly, he entirely understands why being honest was so hard for Keith, because he finds it increasingly difficult as well. It’s not even like he’s ashamed of it — he mostly really doesn’t know how to word it best.
“I mean, when Bob told us to make a choice, some sort of instinct told me it should be you. A-and even when I, you know, tried to weigh the possibilities out against each other, it still made sense to just...follow that instinct? God, that sounds dumb.”
“It doesn’t. Elaborate.”
“There’s nothing—I mean, I guess I thought of the time when you weren’t there, after stepping down so none of us would have to—don’t give me that look, Kogane, I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”
As if not entirely sure of that statement, Keith purses his lips a little and hums, but Lance is too busy rambling to take the time and pick a fight about that.
“I tell you I’m worried about there being a paladin too much and suddenly you decide to spend all your time with the Blade of Marmora and eventually leave — really subtle, leader; not. Anyway! I think while you were gone and I didn’t spend around four fifths of my lifetime getting on your nerves, I...realized a few things.”
Memories of the time he’s spent on his own come back up. He remembers feeling lost for a while, with Pidge and Hunk working on things that were far above anything he’d ever understand; he remembers watching Allura and Lotor grow closer and working together; he remembers the way Shiro treated him — and while Lance is aware now that it was a clone, it doesn’t change anything about the way he felt back then; excluded, alone, like a major waste of space.
What’s even more important, though, is how things immediately changed when Keith finally returned. Sure, they weren’t as close as before his departure, but he made Lance feel like a vital part of the team again, listened to his suggestions, put him in charge of important tasks. It felt good. It felt right.
It still does.
“I used to be very sure of what I want, and tried hard to achieve those things, but in the time you were gone—and, I guess also after you returned? I could, you know, accept that maybe my choices hadn’t always been...smart. I lost Blue over a stupid flirt, risked our lives with stupid moves just to impress someone I had to learn is on...another level than me?”
He realizes he’s rambling again, but Keith doesn’t try to stop him, a neutral expression resting on his face. He’s patient, and he’s not making fun of Lance for being honest about his emotions — it shouldn’t mean as much to him as it does, and it shouldn’t be so different from what he’s used to, but sadly, it is. When he thinks of being true to his feelings, he thinks of being made fun of.
It still hurts, but the wounds are slowly mending.
“It was subconscious, but I think that somewhere deep inside, I knew I had to make a choice not for the sake of feelings I’d developed somewhere in the past, but for a future in which I can be...myself? I wanted to be able to stop reaching for more than I can chew, and the only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m...good enough the way I am...are you.”
He takes a deep breath and tries to shake off the feeling of vulnerability before nervously adding:
“That’s that. You’re free to laugh now.”
But Keith doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t move from where he’s sitting, doesn’t break the sudden silence and doesn’t make any kind of face that would give away even the slightest clue on how he feels. Lance thinks it should set him on fire, activate his flight or fight instinct, but it doesn’t — instead, he finds himself able to take a deep breath, close his eyes and will his racing heart to calm down.
This is fine, he forces himself to believe. I won't regret this.
His eyes fly open when he feels a finger on his cheek, slowly wiping a tear that he has hardly shed yet.
"S-sorry."
"What are you apologizing for? It's okay."
It's okay.
It's okay for him to show his true self, to show doubt and insecurity and fear and anxiety. It's okay not to be okay, to have flaws and problems and weaknesses. It's okay to scream and cry. It's okay to be who he is.
Maybe, Lance can't help but realize, somewhere deep inside, buried underneath his ridiculous sense of rivalry, his piled up jealousy and need to prove himself...maybe somewhere way down there, it has always been Keith, too.
"Anything else you need to get off your chest?"
"No—wait, actually..."
Instead of saying anything else, he leans into the touch on his face, smiles fondly when the finger stroking his cheek makes way for a warm hand cupping it gently, pulling him a little closer; and right there, right then, it's as if the world is standing still. And before he can even think about it, he notices how he's closing the distance enough for their nose tips to touch. He's always been one to listen to his gut feeling, and currently, it's telling him he needs to get even closer, eliminate whatever could still be standing between them, even if it's but the air they're breathing.
For the record: Lance has never before in his life even considered getting this close to Keith. While he's extremely fond of and used to being physically close to people — be it friends or family — he's not at all used to it being so intimate. It feels like his heart is lying on a silver platter, entirely open and available for Keith to take and tear into pieces.
He doesn't.
Instead, he reaches for it with delicate tenderness, carefully cradles it in a loving embrace, supplies it with the affection it's been craving for way longer than Lance even remembers.
He's not sure what he feels when Keith's lips lightly brush against his own, shaking yet determined, shy and still decisive. There's no way to describe the feelings exploding in his chest, he can't even formulate a single coherent thought, but actually, that's more than okay.
It's short, innocent, overwhelming, and when they part, Lance finds himself struggling to not collapse like a house of cards. He catches himself and dares to indulge in how in this exact moment, the whole world means nothing outside of the small, tiny bubble they're residing in.
Judging from the faint red on his cheeks, his slightly parted lips and his uneven breath, it seems safe to assume that Keith feels the same.
"Holy—" is the only thing Lance manages to say, their noses still brushing, hearts still beating like drums.
"I...shouldn't have just...that was—I'm—"
"Keith, I swear," Lance cuts him off, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you dare to apologize for this—seriously, I mean it; don't."
Even though he’s been warned, he seems to consider doing it anyway, but then lets his mouth fall shut and smirks sloppily instead. His posture is relaxed, his fingers tracing along Lance’s neck, nave and finally coming to a rest in his hair, playing with a few loose, admittedly way too long streaks.
“Bold of you to dare insulting my hair,” he teases softly and raises an eyebrow — Lance can’t argue, because Keith is right about that one, but judging from the soft expression he’s wearing, he likes the way it feels, and that means that growing it out a little was already more than worth it.
Even though there’s a dozen questions answered, at least twice the amount of new ones has already popped up in Lance’s mind. He’s learned quite a lot not only about Keith, but about himself today, and it’s equal much a relief as it is a burden.
Above everything else, though, he’s immensely curious. This might be the last time in a long while that they’ll be able to talk like this, with no one to interrupt or bother them, and Lance decides that this time, he’ll give a voice to his mind before he finds it being too late.
“Why...didn’t you ever say anything?”
Very insightful, McClain, he judges himself, swallows and makes an apologetic face, but Keith doesn’t seem offended by the words — on the contrary, he laughs and shakes his head.
“You were too busy antagonizing me to give me a chance,” he explains, and before Lance can even start babbling out an embarrassed apology, he’s already continuing: “That, and I’m really bad with people, Lance. I meant that. I didn’t know what to say or how. I still don’t.”
Lance nods, because he actually thinks he understands that — he used to think of talking as his strong suit, but when it’s as sensitive a topic as this one, he can’t deny that it’s nothing short of scary to open up.
“Good thing I’m a master at the talking,” he claims in spite of his thoughts and grins smugly, but it’s mostly to lighten up the mood, and he feels like it works. Cracking jokes and drawing attention to himself he can do — and if it makes Keith more comfortable, then that makes it even better.
“I noticed that while you were rambling at an approximate of five-hundred words per minute.”
“Ahh, sorry, can’t hear you over my charm luring you in like a piece of fresh meat.”
Keith snorts and his eyes widen a little in amusement.
“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” he offers and pulls Lance into another hug before he can keep the argument going. For a split second, it actually works wonders — Lance shuts his mouth before getting a word out, reciprocates the hug with way more force than theoretically necessary, and buries his nose in Keith’s still messy hair contentedly, but then pulls back, grins widely and places another kiss on the corner of his lips. If asked, he’ll deny the fact that he’s shaking with both anticipation and nervousness.
There’s a lingering bit of awkwardness between them, a shimmer of insecurity, a load of questions, but it’s all overshadowed by the feeling of dwelling in newfound emotions and ascending on wings that have finally learned to fly.
“Hey, Keith?” Lance starts quietly, waiting for the affirmative hum he knows he’ll get, waiting to have Keith’s full attention.
He gets all that, with a tender, gentle smile on top.
“You said...”
His hands slowly reach for Keith’s, and he can’t help but smile when he realizes how well they fit, fingers intertwining in just the right way. He already hears people calling him cheesy for it, but he’s nothing if not devoted, and couldn’t care any less about people ridiculing him for it when it’s simply the truth.
“You said it’s always been me,” he states, his voice barely above a careful whisper, but full of dedication, hope, and love.
“I did. And it’s true,” Keith says just as quietly, clearly not as a means to interrupt, but to assure that he still believes that to the fullest.
“Well then, if it’s always been me...”
And Lance thinks back to the million times that was true — to all the times he’s forcefully taken the spotlight, the times Keith has saved his lion, him, given him a chance to stay part of the team, given him a reason to even want that…
He loves it, and now he can finally see, finally accept — there’s but one thing he loves even more.
“...then it’s always going to be you.”