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They say in war your troop is your family. And Lance thinks he gets why. Day in and day out with these people—strategizing, fighting, and surviving, but also eating and breathing the same air—is not without consequence. Seeing no one but the same six people everyday makes you oblivious to things like subtle changes in weight or growing hair.
So when Keith starts leaving for missions with the Blade of Marmora every so often, Lance notices things every time he returns. Like how he's gotten leaner and more toned. And how his hair is getting longer.
The realization hits him one day when they're cooling down in the lounge after training. It's just them, but they're on the same couch, and Lance gives Keith a sidelong glance to find hair falling way past his eyes, almost to the tip of his nose; at the back it's gone further past his jacket collar.
He doesn't think. His hands just spontaneously reach out and brush Keith's bangs away from his face. “Your hair’s getting so long,” he says, fingers stilling for a moment as he takes in the sensation of the silky strands against his own skin. It's just as soft as he's always imagined. It hits him that he's always imagined it, without ever admitting so to himself.
He sees Keith tense and peer up at him, eyes now unobstructed. Lance waits for a ‘what the hell are you doing,’ but it never comes, so his hand pushes forward, brushing the mass of thick hair back onto itself, his fingertips rubbing against scalp. That's when Keith finally says something. Except it's not really a word, just a sound: a soft hum, a whine almost. It sounds like pleasure, contentment. Lance's fingers freeze again. He looks down to see Keith's gaze averted, his shoulders stilled with awareness.
Don't make it weird, Lance.
He urges his fingers to resume their pace, combing rhythmically. The angle is a bit awkward, but he makes it work. Keith's eyes drift shut. Not a word is said.
They say in war loss is normal. Lance hasn't had to deal with that yet but it's his biggest fear. It keeps him up during the artificial nights of the castle.
Keith has though. Had to deal with it. Regris is gone. Someone Lance never met, but judging by the lines on his teammate’s face, Regris’s loss is felt strongly.
Keith returns from that tragedy a stronger soldier, but a broken boy. Maybe that's why he finds himself in Lance's room, cross-legged on the floor with his head leaned back against the bed.
Lance wants to ask. Wants to talk. Knows Keith needs to talk about what happened. But he doesn't. They don't. Lance just rakes his fingers through lengthening raven locks until the heavy breathing becomes as telling as full bodied snores. He shakes Keith lightly by the shoulders, and the former red paladin gets to his feet and goes off to his own room. Not a word is said.
They say in war you lose your sense of what home is. For Lance, his home in space is the castle. It's where his found family is, where he eats and sleeps and relaxes when he's not blowing up enemy fighters.
Keith isn't home most days now. He's off running missions with the Blade. But Lance feels him in his fingertips, feels him every time Red purrs in his mind. So when Keith comes home for a few days, Lance opens his arms like it's the most natural thing in the universe, and Keith steps into them as if to say that it is. Lance's hands gravitate to Keith's hair like it's where they belong. Keith's hands rest on Lance's waist like they have nowhere to go.
Lance brushes Keith's bangs out of his eyes and gazes into amethyst. Those eyes have always been intense; he's known that even before he ever had the chance to look at them this close up. But now…now they bear the burden of loneliness, of lives taken in the name of stealth. Enemy lives, but lives nonetheless. Lance feels like he could drown, but fists his hand in Keith's hair before letting go. Keith's hands squeeze his waist for one thrilling, confusing second before pulling away. They go down separate hallways to different duties that await them. Not a word is said.
They say in war reality gets muddled. As a soldier, you lose sense of the so-called real world and what's going on in it. For the life of him, Lance refuses to become one of those soldiers. Anytime the explosions start to feel too much like a VR game, he calls up the faces of his parents and siblings in his mind. They’re real. They’re back home unaware of the evil schemes of an empire that would wash them away like ants. When he thinks of them, tears come more easily, but it's worth it because so does the sense of reality.
And then there’s Keith. It turns out that for him, war is reality. War touched his family before he'd even been born, and finding himself in the midst of it is something like his destiny.
When Keith finds Krolia, it's nothing like when he found out he’s part-Galra. This time, everyone else welcomes the Galran into the fold with open arms, marveling at the semblance between mother and son. But this time, Keith doesn't seem to know how to react. He walks on eggshells with heavy galra feet, inherently ill-suited to avoiding the problem.
When Lance enters Keith's room, Keith is sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He's deep in thought, or worry more likely. When Lance enters, Keith looks up to meet his gaze, and some of the tension rolls off his shoulders. His face relaxes into an almost smile, as much of a smile as is possible with everything going on.
Keith's eyes bore into Lance's, beseeching. Lance walks up to him, and Keith’s hands reach for him like they did last time. But they don't stop when they meet Lance's waist; instead they draw him in, closer, down, until Lance is sitting sideways in Keith's lap. Lance is stiff, aware of his long limbs and weight. But Keith's eyes have slid shut, arms holding Lance securely around the middle.
Lance wraps his arms around Keith neck, for lack of anywhere better. Every inch of his body is aware of every point of contact. He can count every one of Keith's eyelashes if he wants to, can trace over the tension on his brow with a finger if he wants to. Part of him does want to. But that would be decidedly different from anything that's happened so far, and Lance has never been good with recognizing unspoken boundaries. So he plays it safe. He keeps the counting and the tracing in his own head.
His eyes only leave Keith's face when he finally turns to rest his cheek against the top of Keith's head. It's habit now and one hand picks itself up to tangle loosely into the locks at Keith's nape. Keith's arms tighten briefly, his chest expands against Lance's in a deep breath, before the two of them are still again. Lance can feel Keith's breaths fanning against his throat; what should be a chill feels like spreading heat.
Something is different. Something is changing between them, Lance can feel it. And yet. He fights every instinct telling him to fill the silence. Not a word is said.
They say in war, winning hearts and minds is just as important as battling the enemy. Allura believes very strongly in this adage, bringing the other paladins along on diplomatic missions to hand out relief supplies while she and Coran make their speeches. Lance is pretty used to these excursions by now, but this time, Keith is with them. There were no urgent Marmora missions happening that Keith could run off with, and so here he is, squished between Lance and Hunk, accepting people's gratitude with awkward nods.
Lance keeps throwing glances at the former red paladin. They're all wearing their armor for the sake of appearances, and Lance had almost forgotten how much red suits Keith. Pretty soon, Keith catches Lance looking; but before Lance can look away embarrassed, Keith flashes him a grin. Going by how tense Keith looked just a moment ago, it's unexpected, as is the way Lance's chest suddenly feels full of air.
Because it feels right, and because he can, Lance reaches out and ruffles Keith's bangs. It's a fond gesture, and despite every other time he's felt those strands between his fingers, Lance wonders for a tense second if he's overstepped some boundary marked by daylight and the presence of others.
But Keith’s eyes fall closed like they always do before opening again to gaze back fondly, and Lance starts to feel like maybe he can explain this airy feeling in his chest after all.
But he doesn’t quite get a chance. The alien currently waiting to be handed sustenance packets smiles warmly and speaks to them. “It's so wonderful to see that the Paladins of Voltron have found love in each other.” The alien doesn't catch the stunned nature of his listeners’ silence and keeps going, “As grateful as we all are to be liberated from the Galra Empire, I hated to think that the defenders of the universe were neglecting their own needs in favor of helping people like us. But the stars have given at least you two a chance at happiness, and it warms my heart that you've taken it!”
Keith's hands are frozen, grip slack on a folded blanket. The alien smiles again and takes it from him, moving down the line to shake hands with Allura. Lance thinks to call out to the alien, correct their misconception. But he can think of nothing true to say. ‘We’re not sacrificing anything;’ that would be a blatant lie. ‘We don't love each other;’ he…doesn't know if that's true.
He looks over to where Hunk was standing a moment ago, but the spot is now empty, the yellow paladin having stepped away to speak with Shiro. Lance turns his gaze to Keith, realizing that as the other person involved in the implication, Keith could've said something too. But he didn't. And now it's just the two of them again, standing in a momentary silence that feels surprisingly familiar, comfortable. Not a word is said.
They say in war your troop is your family. But for Lance, his found family is not just for the war. They're his for life. And then there's Keith, who literally found his family because of the war.
But now, after what that alien said, what they observed, Lance wonders if there's another way a part of the war will stick with him. In the form of someone he fell in love with in the midst of it.
With thoughts like these running amok in his brain, he should be pacing, wearing a hole in the unyielding metal floor of his room. But he's not. He's lying on his bed, arms crossed behind his head, the hints of a smile he can't contain playing on his face. He hears a swish and sits up in time to see Keith walking in with a rare nervous expression.
Lance waits for him. Because he knows where he himself stands, but, as acquainted as he is with Keith's head, he still doesn't know what's going on inside it. He walks up to Keith and carefully tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. Keith looks like he's on the verge of saying something, but then he turns around and walks out, leaving behind a tingling sensation in Lance's fingers. Not a word is said.
They say in war everything is more intense. From friendship to hate to fun to love. For Lance, being in love is definitely more intense than anything he could've imagined. He’s fancied himself in love so many times, he's lost count; but this time there's a tightness in his chest all the time that won't let him forget. Even if he wanted to. And he doesn't. Because they say love hurts, regardless of war, but Lance has a feeling this love will soothe more than it could ever hurt. Because whenever he looks into Keith's eyes and catches himself in the crosshairs of an intense, fond gaze, he finds out a little bit about what's going on inside that head.
It takes a few days. Keith has some walls up so it takes some time. But one evening, Keith comes to Lance's room again. And this time, there's no doubt in his eyes.
Lance walks up to him again, doing his best to contain his smile that gives away too much too soon. But it doesn't matter anymore because in a moment, Keith has captured his lips with his own.
Keith kisses like he flies, determined, impatient, good. Lance only has the briefest second—or minute, or five—to ponder how Keith is this good at kissing, before it's over; Keith is pulling away. Lance watches the warring emotions on Keith's face—urgency and contentment, relief and determination—with growing satisfaction.
He doesn't know who starts it this time, but they're kissing again, lips parted but pace languid. Keith's hands wrap around Lance's back, holding him close. Lance's hands knot in Keith's hair, fingers just scraping his scalp. This time when Keith lets out a soft moan, it's against Lance’s lips, and Lance swallows it right up. It's still music to his ears, just as melodic as the first time he heard it.
They're in sync now. The same emotion beating in both hearts, indistinguishable now with their chests pressed so close together.
Keith's hands make their way up to Lance's shoulders, then neck, until his fingers weave into the short hair at Lance's nape. Lance smiles against Keith's mouth. They've come full circle. And not a word is said.