Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Some things, it seemed, were truly universal. It was just Pidge’s luck that hayfever was one of them. 

Serin was a jungle planet, so densely forested it was impossible for the Castle to land. Instead, Shiro lead the Lions down in single-file with the Princess in Black, and Pidge heard gasps over the comms as they burst out of tumbling white clouds. Beneath them, the canopy swayed and rippled like an ocean, hues of viridian and aquamarine fading through golden yellows and dusty pinks. Their sudden appearance startled a flock of brilliant scarlet birds, more than a thousand strong, who quickly descended towards the waves. Lance whooped into his helmet mic.  

"Woah! Watch out for birdstrikes!" 

Pidge could tell Shiro was smiling. "Stay focused, Lance." 

"Remember what I told you," Allura added, voice firm. "The Serili are highly conservative and value tradition and decorum. I trust you all to be on your best behaviour." 

They all made noises of assent and Lance crooned: "Relax, Princess. We've got this covered. Two ticks and they'll be eating out of my hand." 

"I hope it is that simple," Allura replied, and the comms went quiet.  

Pidge assumed Shiro was following exact coordinates, because it was impossible to tell from above what could be below. Their leader guided them unerringly to a tiny gap in the leaves and Green slipped through a hazy cloud of pollen into the jungle itself. A maze of pale branches swallowed them up, towering trunks the size of skyscrapers rose past the viewscreen. They set down amidst billowing leaves on a platform stretched between boughs.  

Pidge almost buckled when she opened Green's mouth: colour, smells, noise came crowding in like a stampede. Everything was bright, like an over-saturated photograph: the scents of nectar and sweet rot and growth so heavy on the air she could taste them. Her eyes began streaming almost immediately. She stubbornly blinked the tears away to look around, ears adjusting to the choirs of birds and insects clamouring in the foliage.  

The others were congregating not far away, helmets dangling from their hands, sharing looks of obvious wonder. Shiro gave her a comforting pat on the back when she joined them, noting her damp lashes. A moment later Allura straightened, her diplomacy smile appearing like magic. Which she supposed it might be, with Allura. 

"Remember: decorum," she murmured without changing her expression.  

A delegation of Serili was making their way towards them, long robes swaying as they walked. They weren’t particularly imposing, being hardly any taller than Pidge herself and generally humanoid, though gilded claws gleamed copper and gold on their bare hands and feet. Even so, she thought she wasn’t the only person who suppressed a shudder when they arrived and blinked in perfect unison, eyelids closing like shutters from the right and left of entirely black eyes.  The Serili bowed low enough to touch claw-tips to the floor, each of their bald heads decorated with an elaborate tattoo.  

Hunk nudged Lance, and he shut his mouth. 

The shortest of the Serili stepped forward.  

"This one is Kleon," they said, voice dry and scratchy like an old recording, "Speaker of Counsel. The Serili are honoured by the presence of these ones." 

Pidge noticed Allura complete a slow blink before she responded. "The Serili honour us with the invitation. I am Princess Allura of Altea, and these are the Paladins of Voltron.” She introduced them one by one, and the Serili bowed once more. 

They were lead over to one of the enormous trees. The silvery bark was freckled with lights: doors and windows and balconies carved out of the trunk itself. Inside, the grain was worn smooth and polished, the light radiating from luminous moss growing in swirls on the ceiling. There were bugs in it, flitting in and out of the glassless windows. Other wildlife scampered along beside more Serili, who also blinked and bowed as the Paladins passed. They crossed a great hall full of bird baths, flocked by more species than she’d ever seen. They walked down a corridor which overlooked a sprawl of wide pink flowers, and later across a little bridge over a mushroom garden. 

They climbed a lot of stairs. Pidge had no particular problem with heights, but she was wheezing through her tight throat by the time they stopped.  More blinks were exchanged as they were politely asked to wait in a plain antechamber. Shiro and Allura followed Kleon away to speak to the leadership, stern expressions reminding them to behave. 

The younger paladins visibly relaxed when they were left alone. Pidge immediately began hunting around in her pack for tissue. 

"Man, this place is nuts," Lance said almost immediately. "I can barely hear myself, the bugs are so loud." 

"Shame we can still hear you," Keith growled. He stationed himself against one wall, arms folded over his chest and glowering.  

"Better than hearing you complain, Mullet." Lance spat back within the second. 

"I'm not the one who complains, Lance." 

Pidge and Hunk exchanged eyerolls. This was only the latest in a line of escalating squabbles, and was on course to blow up further when Lance opened his mouth to argue. Fortunately, Lance was easily distracted. 

Pidge dabbed at her eyes and sniffed as she withdrew a portable scanner from the pack. It began beeping loudly as soon as she powered it up, overloaded by the wealth of new data.  

"Hey Pidgey, what's that?" 

"Coran gave it to me," she explained, holding it out. For once Lance didn’t touch, having learned a painful lesson with some acid-spitting roses. "It’s for scanning new lifeforms, to see if they're dangerous or useful. Or both, I guess. I have specimen pods if we find anything." 

"Will it tell us if it's edible?" Hunk asked, looking wistful. "Because there's got to be fruit here, you know? And berries. It'd be nice to get something new on board to break up the goo." 

"Yeah," Lance agreed enthusiastically, "I'm almost as sick of food goo as I am of Keith." 

Keith glared but didn't answer. Lance waited hopefully for him to take the bait before wandering off towards a window, leaving Hunk and Pidge to test the new equipment. Pidge barely managed to control her sniffles as they took moss samples. 

"Hey, does the Princess ever talk about me?” Lance asked, cutting into their quiet conference. “Does she say anything to you guys when I'm not around?" 

"Oh yeah, all the time," Hunk replied without looking up. 

"Wait, really?" Lance asked, hopefully. 

"Yeah.” Hunk adopted his Allura voice. “’Quiznak, what has he done now?’” 

“Hunk!” 

Hunk grinned and Keith chuckled. Lance rounded on him, pouting. 

“You're just jealous!" 

Keith's brows jumped. "Of what? Your ability to annoy the Princess?" 

"You're jealous because I'm closer to Allura than you are. What can I say, Keith. The Princess has taste.” 

Keith actually sighed. “Do you ever have anything but girls on your mind?” 

"Only when I'm thinking about how I'm gonna kick your ass next!" 

Keith snorted, but there was colour in his cheeks. "As if." 

"Yes if!" 

"Can you not just shut up? Is that even possible for you?” 

Pidge wasn't sure if Lance was proving he could shut up or had just run out of comebacks, but he didn’t respond. He turned and stuck his head out the window instead, leaning out far enough to make Hunk nervous. The Yellow Paladin kept looking up to check he was still there instead of reading the moss analysis.  

"Hey guys, look at this!" 

'This' was a beetle. Sort of. 

When Lance pulled himself back through the window, it was crawling sedately up his forearm on eight jagged black legs. The body was covered in an oil-slick shell, and six antler-like horns were arranged in pairs along the pointed head, an impressive pair of pincers at the end. Altogether it was easily longer than Pidge's hand. It trundled up to Lance's elbow. 

"Cool," he cooed, fascinated. 

Keith stepped forward. "Put it down, Lance." 

Lance predictably bristled. "Why? You scared?" 

"I'm not scared!" Keith snapped. His eyes narrowed when Lance smirked. "We don't know if it’s dangerous." 

"Keith, I'm wearing armour. It's a bug. How bad could it be?" 

"Didn’t you say that about the flowers?" 

Hunk interrupted before Lance could retort. "Uh, Lance? Maybe you should put it down, just for a minute? We can check it out." He waved at Pidge's scanner. 

Lance paused, abruptly less confident. Then he lifted his chin. "You’re just exaggerating," he said, not quite sure. "The tree-aliens would have told us if we had to watch out for poisonous bugs." 

"Venomous," Pidge corrected. She aimed the scanner at the beetle, which was walking around Lance's upper arm to the underside with no apparent regard for gravity.  

“Is it?” Lance squeaked, jerking his arm further from himself, closer to Keith. 

"Lance-" Hunk began, warning. 

They all froze. 

The beetle had flipped up, hanging from Lance's armour with just its two hindmost legs, the other six waving in the air like a mime. Pidge could see the reflection of a gleaming white underbelly in Keith's startled eyes.  

"What did you do?" he hissed.  

"Nothing!" Pidge insisted. "I was just scanning it, it shouldn’t have felt anything." 

"Oh my gosh oh my gosh," Hunk's eyes were glued to the beetle. "It's gonna be dangerous, isn't it? I bet it's dangerous. We're gonna have survived battling the Galra and actual magic and training with Allura only to get taken out by a beetle.” 

The beetle stopped moving. It hung there, still and spread out like a ninja star, then slowly sank down – or rather up - onto all its feet once more. 

"See? No problem," Lance said.  

The beetle jumped. 

Keith yelped and stumbled backwards. The beetle’s pincers were buried in the flesh beside his chin, blood welling at the spot. His hand cracked against the shell but it didn’t budge. Lance reached forward to help; Keith shoved him away and swiped at it again. It clung on until Keith got both hands round the carapace and wrenched it off. Shining wings unfolded to carry it away towards the opposite wall.  

"Catch it!" Pidge yelled.  

"I got it, I got it!" Hunk dived for the beetle and slammed his helmet over it, trapping it behind the visor. Pidge scrambled after him and handed over a collapsible specimen pod, urgently pressing buttons on the scanner. She heard scuffling feet behind her.  

“Keith, are you okay? Are you bleeding? Let me see.” Lance said, followed by more shuffling sounds, stumbling. “Let me see, Keith. Oh. Oh wow, you look… are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m… I’m fine.” 

Keith sounded faint. Pidge chanced a glance behind her before the scanner beeped, and she held her breath as she scrolled through the readings. No warning symbols. No flash of red or orange. 

Hunk began transferring the beetle into the pod while Pidge got up and elbowed her way past Lance, who had corralled Keith into a corner, peering close into Keith's face with a frown. One brown hand was cradling Keith’s jaw towards the light, the other was on his forehead, under his hair. 

"Is that your pulse?! It's going crazy! You're really warm!" 

Keith's face had flushed into a blotchy red and he was breathing in shallow gasps, fingers trembling a little as he gingerly prodded at his chin above Lance’s fingers. The bite marks had swollen up, like angry pimples. Pidge batted his hand aside to make room for the scanner, seeing it reflected in Keith’s dilated pupils.  

"M'fine," Keith tried to say, and it came out slurred. Blood beaded over the puncture wounds while Pidge ran the scan. She gasped as familiar chemical structures flashed up, backed in yellow. 

"What is it?" Lance asked instantly. "Is he okay? Is it poisonous?" 

"You mean venomous. It’s not exactly, but...” she took a deep breath, double-checking the details on the screen against her memory. Biology was never her favourite science. Keith swayed on his feet in front of her, and Lance steadied him with a hand. Pidge looked from the screen to Keith’s face. “Keith’s not in danger, but he is reacting. I need to get him back to the castle for tests." 

"I got the beetle," Hunk reported, hurrying over with a holo-glass sphere in his hands. "Is Keith alright – oh, boy. That looks nasty." 

"Huh. Thanks Hunk,” Keith said, trying to smile. Or Pidge thought he was; the effort was a bit lopsided. The ballooning points on his jaw were pulling at his mouth.  

"Are you making a joke right now?" Lance asked, surprised. Keith turned to look at him and apparently overbalanced, one knee buckling and propelling him downwards. The Blue Paladin was quick enough to grab him before he fell far, and Keith faceplanted Lance’s chest instead.  

“Woops,” Keith said, looking up and into Lance’s startled expression. Then he laughed, mouth stretched wide and eyes crinkling into slits, and Lance stared at Pidge in horror. 

“Pidge,” he whispered, “I think Keith’s dying.” 

“He’s not dying!” she snapped, seeing Keith turn to her as well, looking more confused than frightened. “He’s just, uh... emotional right now.” 

"Emotional?” Hunk queried. Lance was staring at Keith again, but Hunk looked down at the scanner screen. 

“Aren’t those horm-" 

"Paladins!"  

They all jumped on the spot except Keith, who was too wobbly. Fortunately, Lance hadn’t let go. Allura, Shiro, and the Serili Kleon were standing in the antechamber door.  

"I trust nothing is amiss," Allura went on, sweetly. Pidge had never managed to work out how Allura could be sweet and scary at the same time. Maybe it was a Princess thing. She was turning blue eyes on each of them in warning, but stopped when she got to Keith. Keith just smiled back, pink and red blotches peppering his cheeks, blood starting to drip onto his shoulder. Pidge braced herself.  

"I have a question." 

Allura's smile didn't flicker. Shiro was less impassive; he was openly frowning at Keith’s wonky grin. Pidge pointed at the specimen pod in Hunk’s hands, and he held it out to Kleon. It was about the size of a beach ball. 

"This beetle bit my friend. Can you tell me what it does?" 

Kleon peered at it. Hunk nudged her with an elbow, questioning. She showed him the scanner screen again and he sucked in a breath. 

 Abruptly Kleon began bobbing his head up and down, blinking rapidly.  

"This is most auspicious indeed!" Kleon declared, dry, crackly voice uplifted by pleasure. "Which of you is the blessed one?" 

"Blessed one?" Lance squeaked. He pointed at the paladin beside him. "Keith?" 

Pidge pulled Keith forwards. The smaller boy went slowly, half tripping, face the colour of his Lion still. When Keith was in front of him, Kleon bent and placed two hands flat on the floor, the other two level with his head, all of them palm up.  

"This one is honoured," he intoned, and he sounded like he really meant it.  

"Uh?" said Keith. 

"What the cheese is going on?!" Lance demanded. Allura shushed him with a look before turning to Kleon. 

"Speaker of Counsel, perhaps you could tell us more about this beetle? We had no such species on Altea." 

"Or Earth," Shiro added. "We need to know how it might affect Keith." 

Kleon addressed them with solemnity, all his palms still turned upwards. "This is a jiyana." He bowed to the beetle the same way he had to Keith. A gesture of respect? "They are most rare. It has gifted the one that is Keith-" he bowed to him again, "-with the jiya." 

"And what is the jiya ?" Shiro pressed, eyeing Keith. Keith shrugged helplessly, still smiling. 

Kleon’s dry tone was solemn. "The jiya is a blessing; a temporary period of ji. I do not know what your word for ji is. It is the state of true contentment; the peace of mind, body and self. Reaching it is the primary purpose of all sentient life." 

"It is?" Hunk asked, confused. 

"But temporary?" Shiro repeated.  

"Indeed. True ji cannot be given, only achieved when one attains great wisdom." Kleon said. He gave Allura another long, slow blink. "This one is Speaker of Counsel. This one must convey the news to the Waysetters." 

"Of course," Allura replied, catching up faster than the rest of them. "We will wait here for you." 

Kleon left, robes rustling like autumn leaves, and everyone fell in around Keith. 

"Keith, you okay?" Shiro asked gently.  

Keith smiled awkwardly, like he was blushing. It was impossible to tell with his cheeks already blooming. "Fffeel fine, Shiro. Feel great." He said, still slurring a little. “Maybe it doesn’t work on humans?” 

“Oh, it works on humans alright,” Lance contradicted, folding his arms. “If you weren’t full of good vibes right now, you’d be kicking my ass - trying to kick my ass,” he corrected himself, glancing at Allura. “You’re being weird.” 

Keith winced. “Sorry?” 

"So what’s it like?” Lance pressed, prodding one of Keith’s cheeks with a long finger. “How does a ‘state of true contentment’ feel, huh?” 

Keith placed a hand on the cheek, rubbing slightly. "I – I feel pretty good, I guess." He admitted, and another smile broke across his face. “I always feel better when I’m with you guys, though.” 

Lance reeled back like he was burned. Hunk’s eyes went gooey.  

“Aww, man. I’m telling you, if my hands weren’t full of crazy beetle right now, I’d be giving you the biggest hug.” 

“Can we do it later?” Keith asked, excited. “I like your hugs.” 

Hunk’s fingers squeaked on the holo-glass. “Dude, you’re killing me! Someone hold this.” 

"This is so weird," Lance whined, reluctantly accepting the specimen pod. Hunk swept Keith up. "Keith is actually happy." 

Keith’s face came unglued from Hunk’s shoulder. Slowly, the larger paladin let him go. “Is that bad?” Keith asked, quiet. Pidge didn’t even know Keith could look forlorn. Her internal notes were expanding pretty rapidly.  

Lance choked under Keith's purplish gaze. "N-no! It's just weird! From you, yeah? You're always, like, Keith. Keith-ish. Keith-like." 

"And that's bad?" 

Lance's mouth fell open. 

"Pidge, do you know what's going on?" Shiro asked. 

"I think so. Keith's not in danger, but I need to get him and the jiyana back to the Castle." 

Allura bit her lip. "I don't know if we can do that, Pidge. If this beetle is really so culturally significant..." 

"But this is scientifically significant!" Pidge protested. She caught Allura's eyes with her own, turquoise and amber. "We can give it back after I’ve studied it. The portable scanner isn't giving me enough information to help Keith." 

"But you can do it, right?" Lance babbled, looking aghast. Keith's shoulders had risen and he was looking at them all through his lashes, head lowered. "It's only temporary anyway, yeah? That Serili dude said so." 

"Kleon," Allura reminded him, still worrying her lip. 

"Please, Allura?" Pidge pleaded, using the eyes that worked on her Dad.  

"I'm okay!" Keith interjected, hands lifted. He was still pink, still swaying, but slurring rather less; his eyes were bright. "The mission should come first. I'll be okay." 

"Yeah right," Lance retorted sharply, "as if we're gonna let you run around whacked out on good-time juice when we need you to form Voltron." 

Again, Keith's eyes fell on the Blue Paladin. "I... I guess that makes sense." He looked to his feet. "Sorry, Lance." 

 Lance spluttered and Allura's mouth set with determination. 

"Alright, everyone. I'm going to get us that beetle." 

What Princess Allura said she'd do, she usually did, laws of physics permitting. Sometimes even when they didn’t. 

Within a varga, Pidge, Keith, Green and the jiyana were safely back at the Castle. Red had been left behind, as Shiro didn't trust Keith to fly. Keith hadn’t even argued about it that much.  

The cool, rubber-smelling air of the science suite was a welcome relief after the hot sting of the jungle. Pidge felt sticky, not just because of the heat but because of the leaking from her eyes and nose. She was literally itching to escape and take a shower, but stayed to watch Coran flutter around Keith. It took only ticks to establish he wasn't in any danger, and only a little longer to complete a full scan. When Coran declared Keith as fit as a Squibaloogian Hutbuck-jumper, whatever that was, Keith went off to change and wash while Coran and Pidge moved on to studying the beetle. It continued doing sedate laps of the sample pod, oblivious to the machines the major-domo pointed at it. 

"Well, well, well." Coran shook his head, leaning back from a bright screen. "King Alfor mentioned these tricky little critters once, but I never thought I'd see one. Poor Keith is going to be redder than a Squibaloogian Hutbuck-jumper’s behind when this wears off." 

"So I was right?" Pidge asked eagerly, wiping her face.   

Coran rose from his seat and gestured for her to take his place. "See for yourself, Number Five." 

Pidge scrolled carefully through the details on display, blinking back scratchy tears to scan-read the translations Coran had provided. Behind her, the Altean hummed as he adjusted some of the equipment, tidying up benches and checking results, occasionally muttering into this moustache.   

Pidge spun in her swivel chair. Swivel chairs were another thing that was apparently universal. "Coran, this is amazing. We have cameras, right? I’m gonna need one.” 

She could have sworn that the curl in Coran's moustache hid a smile. "Now Pidge, we shouldn’t take it too lightly. It wouldn’t do to upset the team over this, especially when you’ve been bonding so well!” 

Pidge snickered. "Oh, I bet Keith will be really into bonding -” 

"Bonding?"  

Pidge spun the swivel chair and Coran turned on his heel. Keith had returned, freshly showered with his hair still damp, his eyes still a little too wide and dark to be natural.  

"Who's bonding?" he asked, walking in to join them with a nervous bounce in his step.  

"I think the whole team has been bonding splendidly," Coran said smoothly. He smiled fondly at Keith, who hovered and smiled dozily back until Coran waved him into a seat. "Well now Keith, we think we've got our little friend here all figured out." 

"Oh. Okay." 

"That's right, but it would be super if you could answer a few questions for us, just for posterity." 

"Alright," Keith nodded, straightening a little. He relaxed into the chair instead of crossing his arms like usual, swinging his feet. 

"Excellent," Coran said, beaming. He clapped his hands and whipped a small orange notescreen from apparently nowhere, white-clad thumbs flying as he typed with them. "So. Fill us in on how you're feeling." 

"What?" 

"How do you feel, Keith?" Coran asked patiently, ignoring Pidge's slight snort behind him.  

Keith scratched his chin a little. The wound had gone, deflated and sealed by Altean ointment. "It doesn’t hurt anymore." 

"Not that," Coran said gently. "I'm talking about your emotions. How do you feel in yourself? Alright? No strange thought or feelings or sensations tickling around in there?" 

"Oh." Keith's face tinged pink. It was a lot more dignified than the red blotching he'd had earlier. "I feel fine." 

"Just fine?" 

"Uh. Happy, I guess? It’s pretty nice.” He paused, smile slipping. His foot swung back and forth. “It’s not that weird, right? Lance said it was weird.”  

"Not at all, not at all. Just wanted to make sure nothing else was going on. Nothing new or unusual bothering you?" Coran asked with exaggerated casualness, eyes too piercing to be convincing.  

"No?” Keith shifted on his stool. He glanced at Pidge, who was still staring, eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "Should I be worried?”  

"Are you worried?" Pidge asked quickly, before Coran could speak.  

Keith shook his head. “Not really,” he shrugged, smile creeping back across his face, wide and simple. "I’m okay, and it’s not like we can change it now. What's the point?" 

"But aren't you angry?" Pidge prompted. "This is kinda Lance’s fault." 

“Yeah, but it’s not like it was on purpose.” 

Coran and Pidge exchanged looks.  

“What?” Keith demanded. “What is it?” He straightened in his seat. “There’s no point being mad at Lance, okay? I’m fine. I’m not hurt, am I?” 

“You’re usually mad at Lance,” Pidge said. Keith slumped back down, and Pidge cursed herself for being blunt. People were difficult.  

“That’s not true,” Keith muttered, colouring with his own lie and suddenly developing an intense interest in the wall opposite. “He’s just always mad at me for some reason.” 

Pidge looked to Coran, but the major-domo was watching Keith with a bland expression she couldn’t judge. Keith shifted, apparently aware he was under scrutiny without looking. 

"He really hates me, doesn’t he?" he asked, and even Pidge could tell he was trying to sound uninterested. Badly.  

Coran smoothly set aside his notescreen, expression unchanged and voice calm. "What makes you think that?" 

Keith made a vague gesture with his shoulders, still studying the wall. "He makes it pretty obvious." 

"Oh, I suspect that's just some of Lance's nonsense," Coran said encouragingly, earning him a quick look. "Our Blue Paladin’s awfully fond of his jokes, isn’t he? Just think of all the silly things he says to the Princess!"  

“He isn’t joking,” Pidge said. Coran hid a double-take by twiddling his moustache. 

“Really? Still, not to worry,” he went on, catching sight of Keith’s crestfallen look. “I’d say Lance is just joshing you along, Keith. Harmless banter.” 

"Lance locked Keith in a closet last week,” Pidge pointed out.  

"Well, yes…”  

“Keith punched him.” 

“Not hard,” Keith protested, a little desperate.  

There was a pause. A long one, long enough for a new and interesting hypothesis to take root in Pidge’s brain. She opened her mouth, and abruptly closed it again, looking to Coran for help. The major-domo smiled reassuringly and patted Keith on the shoulder. Keith started under the touch.  

“Nothing wrong with some healthy competition,” he declared breezily. “Why, I remember the japes my comrades and I got up to in engineering school. There was this one incident with a Brizzock-“ he caught himself on Keith’s frown. “But you know Keith, it’s quite impossible that Lance hates you.” 

 “Really?” Keith was a little too quick.  

“Absolutely. You’d never be able to form Voltron if he did.” 

Pidge leaned forward on her chair so she could follow the rapid breathing in Keith’s throat, the way his eyes widened a little. She tapped notes into the computer. 

“I guess… I guess that’s true,” Keith said, a smile peeking through again. Coran beamed.  

“It certainly is, or my name isn’t Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe.” 

Keith blinked. “Is it?” 

The major-domo huffed. “Yes. But if you want to see for yourself, you should spend some time with him.” 

Pidge choked down her own glee. Coran was a genius, and she owed him some time cleaning the pods or something. 

Keith swallowed, a kind of brightness creeping into his eyes. "Yeah, I could." 

“That’s my boy,” Coran said, warmly. He rubbed his hands. “Now, Keith. I think you’re completely Castleship-shaped, as you Earth folk would say. But if anything changes, or if you ever need any advice or just a friendly man-to-man chit-chat, you know where to find me, yes?" 

 “Uh, yeah?” 

“Excellent!” Coran nearly knocked Keith off his perch with a hearty clap on the back. “Now, if you two want to run along, I think I’ll carry out a few more tests on our snippy guest here. And perhaps I’ll see if I can rustle something up for that ‘hey-ya-feefer’ you’re having trouble with, Pidge.” 

“Thanks, Coran,” she said with feeling. Not just for the hayfever cure, either.  

“You’re welcome.” The Altean actually winked at her. “I’ll see you in the dining room for debriefing!” 

They didn’t have to wait long. When the others returned, Keith, Coran and Pidge were ready for them, talking quietly over steaming mugs of not-quite-coffee. Pidge felt infinitely better: clean, sniffle-free and a batch of data scrolling over her tablet screen. Keith looked almost just like himself again, only he wasn’t scowling.  

They heard the rest coming down the corridor before they joined them. 

"Where's Keith?" Lance asked as soon as the door slid back. Keith gave him a wave and a grin from his chair, warmth spilling over in his voice. 

“Hey, Lance.” 

Lance stopped in his tracks and whirled on Pidge. "Haven't you fixed him yet?" he demanded, pointing dramatically at Keith. Keith sank down a little, jacket creaking.  

"Lance, calm down." Shiro instructed. He sat in his usual place half-way down the table, accepting the mug Coran offered with a grateful nod. “How are you feeling now, Keith?” 

“Fine,” Keith said quickly, turning away as Lance sat down, looking steadfastly at the Princess instead. “I’m fine.” 

Coran pulled out Allura’s chair and produced a plate of purple biscuits. Or at least they looked like biscuits, though they seemed to be vibrating. Allura gratefully reached for one, sighing after taking a swig from her cup.   

“How did it go with the Serili?” Coran prompted, standing to her left.  

Allura frowned as she chewed and wrapped both hands around her mug. 

“Not as well as I might have hoped.” She picked another biscuit and pushed the plate down the table towards Hunk, who prodded one suspiciously. The biscuits hissed in protest. “For the most part, we were made welcome, and Kleon’s support is clear. Unfortunately-” she pronounced it with the kind of distaste usually reserved for unlocking u-bends, “-there is another faction within the Serili government that are hesitant to join Voltron.” 

“Why?” Keith demanded. “What are they waiting for?” 

“The Galra,” Allura said, weary. “Hereebi, the Speaker of Counsel who leads this faction, seems to feel that Serin would be better off allying with the Empire." 

“But that’s stupid!” Pidge exclaimed. “The Galra don’t take allies, they’ll just wipe them out! Or enslave them, like they did Olkarion.” 

It had a 92% probability, in fact. She’d worked it out before they landed.  

“Of course,” Allura agreed grimly, “and unless we can convince the Waysetters to join us, that’s exactly what will happen.” 

Hunk brushed purple crumbs off his lip. “So… what do we do? How do we convince them that we’re the good guys?” 

Allura bit her lip. “Well, we have a useful selling point." 

It took the others a few ticks to get it.  

"Keith?" Lance exclaimed. "You mean hot-head, stab-first-ask-questions-later Keith? He’s jacked up on a freaky bug bite!" 

“And that means the Serili hold him in extremely high regard,” the Princess countered. 

“It does?” Keith asked. Allura nodded. 

“You are something like a prophet, I suppose? The Serili consider you to be both wise and a good omen – and that reflects well on Voltron." 

Keith shifted in his seat. "So what do I actually have to do? Sit around looking wise for a few days?" 

“Have you ever given a speech?” 

Keith laughed. Actually laughed, out loud and wide-mouthed, his eyes creasing. At least until he realised no-one else was. “You’re joking right?” he glanced around; the smile fell from his face. “Aren’t you?” 

Allura sighed. “We’ll think of something more suitable. We should take into account your… condition.” 

“I said I’m fine!” 

“And that reminds me!” Coran declared loudly, snapping his fingers and leaning over the table. “You’ve got nothing to worry about Keith, but I actually have one more test to run.” His eyes gleamed. “Would you mind popping down and getting the Wootzit for me? I left it in the science room.” 

Keith blinked. “Me? Now?” 

“Why thankyou, Keith!” Coran nodded enthusiastically. “If you just run along, we’ll see you a couple of doboshes.” 

“Oh,” Keith stood very slowly. “I’ll just… go then.” 

“Right-o!” Coran waved cheerily until Keith was out the door, looking back over his shoulder. Everyone held their breath as the door slid shut. After the soft thump they sprang into a huddle. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Lance hissed. “Happy Keith is giving me the heebie-jeebies.” 

Shiro frowned. “Lance.” 

The Blue Paladin shrunk a little. “Sorry, but you know what I mean! He’s weird! He’s all… relaxed and stuff!” 

“Oh the horror,” Pidge added dryly, smirking.  

“You know what I mean! It’s freaky!” 

Coran tapped a finger on the table top, gaining everyone’s attention. “Keith is quite healthy. However, he is experiencing a heightened emotional response.” 

“No kidding,” Hunk chimed, concern obvious. “If I saw what I thought I saw-“ 

“You did,” Pidge confirmed, and she couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face like ink through water. “Keith is producing large amounts of serotonin, vasopressin, dopamine, oxytocin...” she trailed off. 

“In layman’s terms please, Pidge.” Shiro prompted. 

“Yeah Pidge,” Lance seconded. “The castle doesn’t translate scientific mumbo-jumbo.” 

The Green Paladin paused, savouring the moment. In the middle of an intergalactic war, you learned to take the laughs when they came.   

“Keith’s in love.” 

Chapter Text

There was a strained, choked sort of silence.

Lance heard himself break it without really registering it was him speaking the words.

“He’s what now?"              

“Well, chemically he’s in love,” the Green Paladin corrected herself, as if that made any sense.

“Keith’s in love,” Shiro repeated weakly. “Right. Okay.”

“He can’t be,” Lance said, stupidly. “How?”

Coran coughed, straightening to pull on his lapel. “Well, King Alfor’s hypothesis was that the jiyana bite is chiefly intended for mating purposes –“

“Mating!?” Lance squeaked. Shiro made a pained noise, rubbing a hand over his face.

“The bite contained a nerve agent that’s making Keith’s body produce lots of hormones,” Pidge explained, wicked little smirk lit by the glow of her tablet. “The same hormones people produce when they’re head over heels in lurrvvve.”

“But that’s not the same. That’s not being in love.” Lance protested, looking round the table. One of them had to say something that made sense sooner or later.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Well obviously Keith doesn’t have any of the psychological associations or neural connections people usually make when falling in love-“

“-but it probably feels the same,” Hunk finished for her. “Wow.”

“It probably doesn’t make sense!” Lance retorted. “A beetle can’t make someone fall in love. That’s stupid. Love’s not… it’s not that simple, right?”

He didn’t miss the way the others softened, the way Pidge’s eyebrow raised or the tender curve of Allura’s mouth. He didn’t want to see it like this, though. In fact, he really didn’t want to see any of this, thanks.

“Lance is right,” Shiro said firmly, proving once again that he was awesome. “But if this beetle really is making Keith feel that way -” Lance groaned “- then just who is he supposed to be in love with?”

Lance could have sworn the light gleamed dramatically on Pidge’s glasses.

“Who else?” Pidge asked, face about to split in half with the width of her grin. The little demon was enjoying herself, and he was going to wipe all her save games on Killbot Phantasm I. “It’s Loverboy Lance, of course.”

“Now we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions -” Coran interjected, lifting his hands as Lance’s jaw dropped.

“- but Keith practically sparkled when Coran suggested you two hang out,” Pidge finished, triumphant.

“Fix him!”

“Lance, calm down. We’ll get through this,” Shiro began.

Lance was half out of his chair. “Put him a pod!”

Coran hesitated. “It’s unlikely the pod would help…”

“Surprisingly, loving you isn’t actually a disease,” Pidge sniggered. Lance turned to Hunk, searching for more sympathy.

“You’ve got to do something!”

“Lance, please stay calm,” Shiro pleaded, rising himself.

“Hey. Hey, uh...” Hunk melted like a marshmallow under Lance’s beseeching stare, “maybe we could just tell him? Warn Keith that it’s not, like, real?”

“Would that work?” Shiro asked quickly, settling a human hand on Lance’s shoulder and squeezing, guiding him back into his seat.

Coran shook his head. “I’d advise against it, Shiro. We can’t be sure how Keith’s other emotions are affected. Stress might be quite dangerous.”

Shiro sighed. “No stress. Okay.”

“What about my stress!” Lance complained, sinking down. “Keith’s supposed to hate me, not -”

“Want to have your babies?”

“Pidge,” Shiro warned.

“Why is it Lance?” Hunk asked. He flinched when Lance looked at him. “Sorry buddy, no offence. I’m just asking for science.”

Pidge shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t know yet. Maybe it’s an association thing?”

“So the beetle bit Keith while he was looking at Lance and just like that, he’s in love with him?” Hunk’s mouth twisted in confusion.

“This. Is. The Worst.” Lance slid down until his chin was level with the table-top.

“Now Lance, let’s focus on the positives, shall we?” Coran chided. “This is better than Keith getting a face-full of neurotoxin, yes?”

“Not for me, no!”

Allura shook her head, lip quirked in amusement. “I realise the situation is… unusual. But I’m sure we’ll overcome it if we work together.”

“Together with you would be fine, Princess. Together with Keith sounds like-“

“It won’t be a problem,” Shiro interrupted. He caught Lance’s eye and pinned him with the kind of earnest expression that gained him the nickname Space Dad. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of Keith while he’s compromised, Lance. Or any of you,” he added swiftly, wiping the maniacal grin from Pidge’s face. “I realise this could be very uncomfortable for you, but we can’t let it affect Voltron.”

Lance whined, a pitiful noise like the air being squeezed out of a hose. “How long?” he demanded of Coran. “How long is Keith going to be weird?”

The major-domo tapped his chin. “At the most... an Earth week?”

A whole week?

“Can’t we put me in a pod?” Lance pleaded with the Princess.

“Absolutely not. We need all of you to form Voltron.”

“Auurrgh.” Lance moaned. “I’d actually rather be fighting Galra.”

“Indeed,” agreed Allura wryly. “Unwanted advances can be bothersome, can’t they?”

 “Ouch,” remarked Pidge, only just under her breath.

Lance skipped dinner and went to bed to contemplate the mysteries of the universe. One: there was a bug out there that could make you crush on someone you didn’t even like. Two: of all the bugs ever anywhere, that was the one he just happened to find and accidentally aim at Keith. Three: somehow, being bitten by it had turned Keith into some kind of alien celebrity, and now the fate of the planet rested on the Red Paladin convincing everyone to be friends.

If Lance didn’t know Allura and Shiro were involved, he’d say the Serili were doomed.

He woke up ravenous and late for breakfast. The kitchen was deserted when he arrived, so he filled a bowl to overflowing from the dispensers and sat at the counter to eat. He had a full mouthful when Keith slipped in, leaning up against the wall with his arms folded against his chest, a mirror of his pose the day before. Except the part where he was wearing a hundred-watt smile. That was new.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Lance mumbled, spoon clicking against his teeth.

“So we’re back on Serin today.”

“Uhhmm.”

“Thought I’d go and train for a bit first.”

Lance only nodded, because really, what did Keith ever do with his spare time? Some things were too certain for even a freaky space insect to mess with.

“Wanna come?”

Lance dropped his spoon. It landed with a splat, green gloop splattering the table, sticking to Lance’s nose.

“You what?”

Keith’s jacket squeaked as his grip tightened. He was biting his lip down to stop himself laughing. “Wanna come train with me?”

Lance scrubbed at his cheeks, little balls of green sprinkling the table. “Seriously? You want me to train with you? Not Shiro?”

Keith cranked his lightbulb smile into a teasing look instead, and the hairs on the back of Lance’s neck rose. “Only if you think you can keep up.”

“Oh it is on, Mullet-man!” Lance said, looking as threatening as possible with flecks of green goo on his face. “I’ll run rings around you!”

Keith lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? You care to prove that, Sharpshooter?”

“You bet I will!” Lance snapped back, standing up. He realised he was still in his slippers when his feet hit the floor. “Just, like, after breakfast? I need to change.”

“Sure,” Keith said, stepping towards the exit. He tossed the rest over his shoulder. “Take your time. Guess you need to work yourself up to it.”

“Like quiznak!”

He could hear Keith laughing down the corridor.

Lance slumped back onto his stool and flopped over the table, groaning.

“Smooth.”

The goo bowl clattered on the table with the force of Lance’s jump. He turned to glare at Pidge, who was standing behind the preparation counter with her hair even more wild than usual, like she’d recently been in an explosion.

“How long have you been there?” Lance demanded, picking up his spoon to shovel goo into his mouth. He had a feeling he was going to need the energy. “Is that what you do now? Hide and wait for people to have conversations for you to eavesdrop on? Creepy, Pidge.”

“I fell asleep here,” Pidge explained with a shrug, and Lance really wished that was more surprising. Or surprising at all, really. “It’s not my fault you and your boyfriend are too loud.”

“Keith is not my boyfriend! We’re not even friends!”

“Sure, that’s what that train-wreck of a conversation sounded like.”

“Piiiiiddgge.”

“Laaaaaance.” Pidge imitated, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You know Keith is normally training by now, don’t you? He must have been waiting around just to ask you to go with him.”

Okay, so if they hadn’t been talking about Keith here, that might have been kinda nice. Or really nice. Lance actually felt a little warmer and fuller inside, but that was probably the food goo.

“So,” Pidge went on, hopping up to sit on the counter, “I was doing some research on the jiyana. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Lance swallowed another mouthful of goo, wishing for the thousandth time it didn’t cling as it went down. “Unless the good news is you’ve found an antidote, then neither.”

“The good news is you’re less than twenty-four varga into this whirlwind romance and you’ve already got a date -” his best baleful glare did nothing to slow Pidge down, “- and the bad news is you’re probably not going to score.”

Lance choked for the second time that morning. Pidge watched, looking rather satisfied and not at all as concerned as she ought to. She waited for Lance to wheeze back into life before finishing.

“The hormones Keith’s making are more associated with romantic behaviours than sexual ones.”

“Pidge!” Lance hid his face in his hands. “You did not just say that. I do not want to think about that.”

“Better luck next time, Lance,” Pidge replied sardonically. She stole his bowl and spoon. “You’d better go change. You don’t want to stand Keith up on the first date, do you?”

Lance didn’t stand Keith up, because he was a gentleman. Also, because this wasn’t a date.

Keith practically bounced over when Lance arrived at the training deck. He looked slightly flushed, like he’d started working out already, and rocked impatiently on his feet.

“Hey Lance.”

“Hey,” Lance replied, a little wary. He tossed his jacket onto a bench, next to Keith’s, and worked through a few stretches, rolling his neck. Keith’s eyes tracked the movement until Lance coughed.

“So. What do you wanna do?”

They chose a pair drill. A stream of spherical training drones dropped from the ceiling and took aim at Lance and Keith, backed against the wall. Lance was to take them out while Keith covered him with his shield. Simple enough, until it wasn’t.

Lance had never realised how close they were during training before.

It was all movement. A couple of blasts would ping past Lance’s right shoulder, then Keith would be reaching across him to deflect. A moment later he’d be back covering his left side, their legs brushing when Keith shifted. His shoulder pressed against Lance’s chest for a fraction of a second when a volley came in high. Lance found himself swallowing as he willed himself to concentrate, and almost didn’t realise when he took the last drone down.

“Was that it? Did we win?”

“Yep,” Keith answered, grinning. “Good job, Sharpshooter.”

Oh, Holy Crow. Warmth filled Lance’s chest like a balloon inflating, and he pulled himself up taller without meaning to.

“Ah. Thanks.”

“Want to try something else? You’re great at ranged stuff anyway.”

The blood in Lance’s ears felt like a pinch. “Like what?”

“Close combat?”

Lance blinked. “Spar? Us?”

“You don’t get the chance to practice hand-to-hand much, do you?” Keith said, reasonably. “Want to try it?”

Yes, actually, but Lance couldn’t help but be suspicious. His eyes narrowed. “You just want knock me on my ass.”

There was that eyebrow again; the one that was mocking without really mocking him.

“Guess you’ll just have to stop me then, huh?” Keith stepped backwards, onto the matting, knees bending into a crouch. “So? Ready to show me what you’ve got, Lance?” Keith pronounced his name like a challenge.

“You bet I am,” Lance replied, sinking down himself. He pushed up his sleeves, ignoring the way Keith was following the movement again.  “You wanna set some rules before I wipe the floor with you?”

“No bayards, nothing above the shoulder, no crotch shots.”

Well, that was reassuring.

“Oh, and Lance?”

“Hm?”

Keith’s eyes gleamed. “When you’re ready to surrender, say ‘paladin’.”

“Screw you!”

Lance cut off Keith’s laugh by swiping low at Keith’s stomach. Keith grunted and stepped backwards, boots rasping a little on the floor, and came back with a jab of his own. Lance twisted out of the way and swung in again, too wild. Before Lance could withdraw, Keith locked his hands – still clad in those stupid gloves – around his upper arms, wrenching hard to throw Lance down. Lance stumbled over himself but recovered fast, whirling on the spot and throwing himself in to grab Keith’s waist, dragging him sideways. He managed to get one of Keith’s feet off the floor, but then his knee came up and crashed into Lance’s stomach. The air wumphed out of Lance in a rush, and Keith shoved him hard and knocked him down.

“No fair!” Lance protested, arms wrapping around his middle. “That was a dirty move, you cheated!”

“You knew the rules,” Keith replied, reaching down to offer him a hand. Lance hesitated for only a second before he took it, and Keith easily hauled him back up one-handed.

“It was still dirty,” Lance grumbled, rubbing his hip and scowling.

“Didn’t think you’d have a problem with dirty.”

Lance wheezed, and Keith’s eyes expanded into purplish circles.

“Let’s just fight.”

Lance barely had his breath back when Keith thumped him.

They scrapped some more, pinwheeling across the deck as they tried to get the advantage over the other. Any other time, Lance might have been pleased with how well he was holding up to this, but right then all he could think about was trying to win. Keith wasn’t hitting him much; Lance had better reach and honestly they were mostly just grappling, hands scrabbling at sides and shirts as they tried to hold a grip on the other, but Lance was pretty sure he’d picked up a few bruises. He took a chance and lashed out with his foot, and then the ceiling flipped over him and he was back on the mat, all the air in his lungs suddenly not anymore.

“Bit of advice,” Keith said, huffing, pale skin gleaming under fresh sweat, “kicking almost never works.”

“Now you tell me,” Lance groaned. He wasn’t in a particular hurry to stand up, content with getting his breath back, so stalled for time. “How come you’re so good at this, anyway?”

Keith chuckled. “I practice every day, Lance. You should try it sometime.”

“You train with a sword though,” Lance pointed out, sitting up. His shirt was clinging to his shoulder blades. “I know you got into fights a few times at the Garrison, but when did you get good?”

When Lance looked at Keith, he was blinking at him, fringe pushed out of his face for once. “You knew that?”

“Well duh,” Lance snipped. “I was there.”

He was pretty sure Keith’s flush wasn’t just from exertion. “Oh.”

They panted into the silence for a moment.

“So when did you get good?” Lance repeated, looking at Keith’s knees rather than his face. Keith hesitated.

“Before the Garrison.” He sounded like he wanted that to be the whole answer.  “And I spar with Shiro, sometimes.”

“Of course you do,” Lance muttered, scrambling to his feet.

Keith hesitated. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Lance dismissed his own words airily, waving a hand. “Now, are you ready to get beat?”

“Oh, are you ready to beat me now?” Keith retorted with mock surprise, expression ruined by the curve of his mouth. “I thought you were busy falling over.”

“Shove off!” yelled Lance, and demonstrated. Off they went again.

And it was actually fun. Sort of. Okay, it was more painful than Lance’s usual definition of fun, but he couldn’t deny that something was singing in his veins and his heart was pumping so hard it was filling his whole chest with every beat, and it felt a bit like flying in Red on a good day, when there were no Galra to worry about. And he was close, so close to actually winning, but then his world spun round and Lance was standing with his back arched, his arm pinned against it by Keith’s hot grip on his wrist and shoulder.

“Ready to give up yet?” Keith growled in his ear, voice deep and satisfied, and goosebumps popped all the way down Lance’s neck.

“Nope,” he spat, and threw his weight backwards. Keith stepped back, releasing him.

That jerk let him do that!

Lance fought viciously, all elbows and fast jabs, and Keith did it right back. Maybe they were being too rough for a sparring session, but Lance found he didn’t care, not until he was falling to the mat again. It clapped against his belly as he landed.

“Give up now?” Keith taunted somewhere above him.

Lance made a bit of a show of pushing himself up, gathering his feet beneath him. When he had enough contact he kicked off into a turn, catching Keith’s knees in a surprise tackle. The Red Paladin went down hard, chest collapsing. Lance wasted no time, scrambling forwards to pin Keith down. He pressed Keith’s shoulders into the floor, sitting across his waist.

“How about you give up!” Lance crowed, then saw eyes Keith’s eyes narrow and WHAM! Lance went dizzy as his back slammed into the floor, weight pressing down on his hips, knuckles slapping against the mat on either side of his head.

When the swirling stopped, he was trapped underneath Keith. His wrists were wrapped in tight fingers, held down to the floor, and the shorter boy was pitched forwards, knees jammed against Lance’s ribs. Keith’s fringe dangled over Lance’s eyebrows. He was so close Lance could see each of the blue flecks that made his eyes seem so purple, and the dark reflections of Keith’s eyelashes and his own gasping face. Keith’s grin was feral.

“Back at you, Sharpshooter.”

Lance was weak.

“Paladin,” he whispered.

Keith’s grey-violet eyes shot wide. He moved off him immediately, sitting beside the Blue Paladin. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, hurried, as Lance sat up. “Your head?”

Lance rubbed it, not looking. “Just my pride. You really got me, huh?” He hoped Keith couldn’t hear the strain in the words.

“I guess I did,” Keith agreed, not sounding pleased about it. “But that was pretty good.”

“You what?” Lance asked, jaw dropping.

Keith didn’t seem to notice. “That was clever. You’re definitely getting better.”

Lance stared. “Okay, now I know that beetle messed you up.”

“What?” Keith demanded, drawing back as Lance gaped at him.

“You never compliment me, dude. Like never. And that’s the second time today.” Lance admitted thickly, heat in his face.

“Oh.”

Why was their own breathing so loud?

“You are good though?” Keith said eventually, not looking. “You learn really fast.”

Lance’s breathing caught high in his mouth. “Seriously?”

“Ye-yeah.” Keith finally looked at him, and his cheeks were pink over a lopsided smile.

Lance jumped up, new energy behind his heels. “You said that was better, right? How? And how do I do what you just did?”

“You’re taking advantage of your height more. And you have to use the other person’s weight– “

“Show me,” Lance insisted, grabbing Keith’s hands to pull him up. Keith was wrenched off his feet and fell against Lance’s chest, driving the wind out of him for the sixth or seventh time. Keith’s head tilted up to look at him, and they were very, very close.

“Keith?”

Keith blinked and started backwards, hand jumping to his hair, eyes dropping.

“Uh,” Lance said, feeling his own face go red again. “Uh, I… sorry.”

Did Keith swallow before he spoke? He might have done.

“It’s fine, Lance.”

Quiznak, was Keith blushing? He was blushing sure, but was Keith blushing? Because Keith had totally been looking at him just then, and Lance found it made his knees feel warm and melty even though it was Keith and not some pretty alien. Though he guessed Keith was a pretty half-alien, technically.

“Um…” Lance began, his usually imperturbable wit failing him in his moment of need. His face was heating up even further in sympathetic embarrassment and Keith was drilling holes in the wall with his stare.  “So… that was good. Yep.”

“Uh, yeah. That was good.” Keith agreed. The trip must have winded him too, because he sounded breathless. “You’re actually pretty strong.”

“Uh-huh, well, that’s Lancey-Lance,” he winced inside his own head, but his mouth wasn’t terribly interested in what he was thinking. It wasn’t the first time. “Impressive, huh?”

Keith looked at him, mouth twitching. “I guess you could say you impress me, yeah.”

Lance’s throat got stuck on nothing.

 “Paladins!”

Allura. Just when had Allura been bitten by the timely interruption beetle?

The Princess marched across the deck with Hunk following her, dressed in his armour and open curiosity, big brown eyes travelling between the other two paladins like he was watching a tennis match. Allura stopped with hands on her hips, frowning at them both.

“Everyone else is waiting to go down to Serin,” Allura chided. “You aren’t even in your armour! What’s going on?”

“Sorry Princess,” Lance rushed. “We were just training, we didn’t realise-”

“It’s my fault,” Keith interrupted. Lance stiffened, because Keith hadn’t sounded like that a second ago. “I asked Lance to practice with me and lost track of time. Sorry.”

Allura studied Keith for a moment, considering. “Alright, Keith. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. We need to impress the Serili, after all.” She turned on her heel. “Wash up and get changed. We go planet-side as soon as you’re ready.”

“Yes Princess,” Keith and Lance chimed. Hunk waited so he could walk beside Lance as they traipsed away, Keith trailing after them.

“Dude, what’s up with Keith?” He whispered in Lance’s ear, glancing back. “He looks wrecked.”

“I don’t know, man,” Lance told his best friend, not daring to look behind himself. “He was fine up until a moment ago.” Apart from the stuff at the end there, but Hunk didn’t have to know about the stuff. Hunk should probably never know about the stuff, and Lance probably shouldn’t be thinking about it so hard, either.

“Really?” Hunk prodded. He looked back again, and Lance almost did the same out of sheer habit, but caught himself just in time. “Do you think it’s to do with the bite?” Hunk whispered, and Lance winced at how loud a Hunk whisper really was. “Did he say anything to you? About how he fe–“

“No!” Lance cut in, quickly. Hunk pulled a face and Lance shushed himself. “No way, Hunk. We just sparred. Man, I can’t wait to have a cold shower. I mean a shower! Just a shower. A regular shower.”

Lance escaped in that direction as soon as they left the training deck, clearing his head under a flood of crisp water.

Serin was every bit as spectacular the second time; Lance couldn’t help but gawp as Blue set him down amongst clusters of golden yellow leaves. The Serili delegation and Kleon were waiting for them, and Allura, Shiro and Pidge were addressing them already. As Lance approached, he caught the Princess blinking slowly and apologising for being late. The Serili that responded wasn’t Kleon: they were taller with broader features, though the same tattoo swirled over their scalp.

“Among the Serili, it is customary to be punctual,” they said, and Lance thought at once of an old geography teacher at the Garrison. He’d always hated Sergeant Jacobs. There was something similar in their voices, though the Serili’s was scratched and thin.

“A worthy custom, Speaker of Counsel Hereebi.” Allura agreed, gravely. “But the Paladins and I have many demands on our time, and many duties to perform in order to keep the universe safe. Sometimes a little lateness is unavoidable. I’m sure you have found the same.”

It wasn’t obvious if Hereebi had or not, because how were you supposed to tell with aliens like these? Hereebi was nearly expressionless, and you just couldn’t read eyes that were entirely black. He – they, Lance reminded himself - didn’t even have eyebrows.

Whatever Hereebi had to say was interrupted when Keith caught up, coming to stand beside Lance at the back of the group. As soon as Kleon saw him, they dipped into the same bow as yesterday, palms up, two on the floor and two raised, and a bunch of the other Serili did so behind them. Were they going to do that every time? Was a whole nation really going to be bowing to Keith now?

Hereebi was motionless. “Kleon. What is this?”

Kleon straightened. “The one that is Keith, Red Paladin, is blessed with jiya,” they responded, and abruptly the remaining Serili stooped into a bow as well, even Hereebi.

“Forgive this one,” Hereebi intoned. “This one was not aware.”

Allura nodded encouragingly at Keith, who just looked flustered. “Uh, it’s fine.”

“Today, this one and the one that is Hereebi will escort you on a tour of our capital,” Kleon informed them. “Tomorrow, the Serili would be honoured to present these ones to the Waysetters over the evening meal.”

“Thankyou for your hospitality, Speaker of Counsel.” Allura agreed, blinking slowly. “We’d be delighted to accept, but it is not possible to meet with the Waysetters before then? Every varga could be crucial to stopping the Galra.”

“The Waysetters also have many demands on their time,” Hereebi said, scratchily. “All are considered in due course.”

Allura’s expression didn’t falter, though her tone was cool. “I quite understand.”

The Serili all blinked back in perfect time, which was just plain creepy.

They formed a little train to follow the Princess, Kleon and Hereebi into the one of the giant tree trunks. The rest of the delegation dispersed behind them. Shiro took up the rear, gamely listening to Hunk’s chatter about what the cuisine might be like tomorrow, leaving Lance, Keith and Pidge bunched up in the middle.

“Woah,” breathed Lance, ducking his head. “Hereebi seriously sassed Allura, huh?”

“Must have a death wish,” Keith whispered back, and Pidge and Lance snorted. The Blue and Red Paladin’s eyes met for a second over Pidge’s head, and the next Lance’s face was flaring and he was looking away again. He never used to blush this easily! It had to be a Serin thing. He was going to pop a blood vessel, and his carefully maintained complexion would be ruined.

Unfortunately, looking down at Pidge to escape from Keith’s eyes meant he had no escape from hers, and her face was gleeful.

“So how was your date?” she asked, prodding Lance in the stomach.

“It was not a date,” Lance hissed. She’d got him right in a bruise, too. Keith abruptly tensed on her other side.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but did you have fun?” she pressed on, wickedly. “How was it, Lance? Are you going to see each other again?”

“We’re literally seeing each other now.” Sticky air hit the roof of his mouth when Pidge gaped. “Not that way! Not the seeing each other way, I just meant that obviously we can see each other, we’re together.” Pidge was grinning, the evil monster. “As in both here, in space!" She was still grinning. “Ugh, you know what I mean,” he grumbled.

“I had fun.”

Lance’s head whipped up to face Keith fast enough to give him whiplash. “What?”

“I said I had fun. With you.”

Holy Crow, Keith was going to kill him. He had no business being that direct, not when he was all pink and sweaty and eyelashes from the oppressive heat down here.

“Yeah?” It came out as a question, but Lance had no idea what the answer was. Apparently, Keith did.

“Want to do it again sometime?”

Lance squeaked an ‘okay’ before he knew it.

Wow, Lance. That was not cool.

Keith did the hundred-watt smile thing again, eyes turning to half-moons, then turned away, fixing his eyes on Allura’s bun. Pidge tugged on Lance’s arm to get his attention, looking like she’d uncovered every embarrassing photo his family had ever taken of him. She held up two fingers and then a thumbs-up, sniggering when Lance pulled a face at her. Then Keith looked round and Lance was left to wonder when his voice got replaced with one of the mice’s and exactly when he’d been turned into some kind of bipedal jellyfish.

When he actually started to pay attention, the tour drove everything else from his mind. Even Keith sticking close enough for their arms to brush.

The capital was incredible. They passed from tree to tree through wide interconnected branches, climbing through galleries of strange plants and meandering through a maze of indoor streets. Always they were thousands of feet up, and every wide window looked out onto dizzying stretches of glorious colour. Some of the giant trees had water pouring down from them in thundering waterfalls, crisp and sparkling under the light. Apparently the water was drawn all the way up the trunks, and the Serili used the natural plumbing to create baths and pools. Lance decided there and then that he’d be looking for those as soon as he had a chance, but even after walking and talking for hours neither Kleon or Hereebi looked like they were running out of things to show them.

They called the capital Olloria, which Hereebi said meant ‘the bountiful place’. Lance was still struggling with the raspy voices and ponderous movements, but he thought the Serili were proud of the city, and wanted them to be impressed. They certainly took their time pointing out features as they reached them, and the air grew hotter and stickier as the hours ticked past noon. Sweat and humidity had stuck his hair to his neck, and Pidge has gone from red-eyed to red in the face and swollen. She didn’t complain, but Shiro fretted over her anyway, and Lance honestly thought he might call them to a halt early, when Kleon finally announced the last stop on the tour.

They were being lead to a set of high doors. Lance had seen enough by now to know doors were unusual; the Serili seemed to favour open tunnels and halls with only the occasional curtain to separate spaces, but Lance had the distinct impression that they’d gone upmarket. The corridors were wider, and the wood grain was polished to a bright shine. Swirling carvings were cut deep into the walls, thick glowing moss picking out elaborate patterns that wound tighter and tighter as they reached the doorframe, surrounding it with a glowing halo.

“This is the Hearts Hall,” Hereebi intoned gravely. “The centre of the first tree to be colonised.”

“We’d be honoured to see it, Speaker of Counsel,” Allura replied, not a hair out of place despite the heat and the long walk, and the paladins all nodded obediently.

It took both Kleon and Hereebi to open the doors, four hands each pushed firmly against the wood, careful not to scratch it with their gilded claws. They swung inwards slowly, gasps following them.

The Hearts Hall was vast, probably taking up the whole width of the tree. Thousands of rings spread out from the centre of the floor, marking its age in smooth, rippling circles. Pillars had been left stretching up towards the ceiling, tree-sized themselves, circled with bands of yellow light and long gossamer-light white banners hanging from the top. You could have comfortably parked all the Lions and a shuttle or two in the space, if you could just get them in there in the first place. Wandering inside felt like being swallowed. Kleon and Hereebi watched as they fanned in.

“In this Hall the Serili celebrate great events and new ways,” Kleon told them, small dry voice in danger of being lost in the cavernous room. “This one hopes to celebrate an alliance with Voltron here in the days to come.” They bowed again, and Allura inclined her head formally, and Lance had to hope they weren’t all going to have to start doing that, or Team Voltron was quickly going to end up with backache.

“I hope so too, Speaker of Counsel,” said the Princess. “For the sake of the universe and Serin.”

“The Way remains to be decided,” Hereebi intoned. They were hovering by the door, watching them carefully.

“And when will it be decided?” Allura asked, opening her arms. She moved closer, expression all sincere concern. “The Galra could be here in a matter of quintants. Deliberating too long could doom Serin.”

Hereebi didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything Lance could have recognised as emotion. Even so, he and the other paladins drew closer, Shiro stepping up to Allura’s side. Together, they towered over the two Serili. For once, Pidge didn’t have to glare upwards.

“The Serili have never experienced hostility from the Galra,” Hereebi said, apparently unperturbed. “There is no cause to assume there will be such.”

Lance couldn’t stop himself. His mom always said his mouth would get him in trouble.

“You’ve gotta be kidding, right?”

“They’ve never been here!” Pidge snapped. Her cheeks were wet, Lance noticed guiltily. “The only reason they haven’t been hostile is because they haven’t found you yet.”

“The Galra took over or destroyed every planet they came across until Voltron stopped them.” Hunk put in, earnest. “They nearly killed a Balmera!”

“We can provide proof of all this.” Allura added, her expression determined. By her side, Shiro's hand twitched. “Please, Hereebi. You must consider what is best for your people, before it is too late,” Allura insisted, eyes wide and blue and beautiful.

Lance swallowed. Honestly, if Allura had looked at him like that he’d do anything she said, including kiss Zarkon. He’d consider kissing Zarkon if it meant she would look at him like that.

“This is stupid!”

Breath whistled sharply through Shiro’s teeth and they all turned to Keith. The Red Paladin was glowering through his hair, brows knitted together with the intensity of it, hands balled up at his sides, perilously close to his bayard. And oh, that was not good. Lance eased ever so slightly in Keith’s direction, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but the shorter boy was too busy eyeballing Hereebi with the heat of a solar flare.

“The Galra are going to kill you! They don’t negotiate, they don’t make alliances. They don’t have to! They can wipe you all out easily and you’re just going to let them!”

The air between them stood taut, every paladin frozen but Shiro. Lance was pretty sure Allura was holding her breath. Shiro gently placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, communicating without words.

Keith’s mouth twitched, but his face fell when he met Shiro’s eyes. He looked at his feet instead, shaking under the Black Paladin’s hand. 

Hereebi was watching, unblinking. “The one that is Keith is agitated,” they observed, ponderously. “It is not so with Serili who receive jiya, or attain ji. It seems... indecorous.”

Oh well, shove that out the airlock for a barrel of space mice!

“Hey, Keith is right-” Lance began hotly, the blood in his ears stinging. The Princess was going to disembowel them for this later on.

“Speaker of Counsel,” Allura cut in, “Keith speaks passionately because he cares passionately about saving your people. I promise you will not find such concern amongst the Galra.”

They waited, tense. Lance’s fingers flexed uselessly at his sides.

Hereebi didn’t immediately respond, and when they did, it didn’t do a thing to relieve the atmosphere. “It will be seen in the days to come.”

Chapter Text

Pidge was ready to scream. She settled for glaring silently at Hereebi instead. They didn’t seem to notice, because they were busy pricking a black-eyed stare into Keith’s back.

Keith didn’t say anything as they made their way back to the Castle, head down and hair rucked up on the collar of his armour, ignoring Lance’s frequent looks. Shiro walked close behind him the whole time, which might be why Lance didn’t comment. He was obviously itching to, hovering around the smaller paladin like a wasp. Then again, everything seemed pretty itchy to Pidge just then. She swore even her toes needed scratching.

To top it all off, when they gathered in the dining room for debriefing, Coran had made lunch. Something furry was steaming quietly on the table next to plates of quivering green gunk.

“Paladins!” He greeted, affably. “How are our friends the Serili?”

“They’re morons,” Pidge answered bluntly, scrambling into her seat. “Did you get anywhere with the medicine, Coran?”

The major-domo proffered a small blue bottle. Pidge took it and dropped three little yellow jelly spheres into her palm, swallowing them all at once. They tasted like bonfire smoke and were cool in her throat, like they’d come from a fridge, though they hadn’t felt cold in her hand. Frowning, Shiro tugged the bottle off her as he sat down. “It could have gone better,” he admitted, stashing it out of reach.

“You can say that again,” muttered Lance, not quietly enough. His eyes flicked towards the Red Paladin as he slid into his usual place. Keith froze with a hand on the back of his own chair.

“Everybody was pretty tense back there,” Shiro supplied, managing not to look. “We should talk about how to handle this constructively.”

“Yeah, constructively,” Lance agreed, with none of Shiro’s discipline. Keith caught him looking. His empty hand tightened.

“Just say it, Lance.”

“It’s just, what the cheese, man?” Lance asked, half-shrugging wildly. “We’re supposed to be playing nice with these guys, and you just went off at them!”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I mean, I get it, you’re the angsty angry one,” Lance barrelled on, apparently oblivious to the ‘stop, do not pass go’ looks Allura and Shiro were aiming in his direction. “But these guys don’t know you like we do. They’re not gonna just say ‘oh, he’s just a hot-head, nevermind’. They could be really offended! They might decide not to work with us! You could blow this mission-“

“I’m sorry, okay!” Keith snapped, letting go of the chair. Lance finally caught himself, mouth shutting with an audible snap. “I don’t know why I lost it. I didn’t mean to mess things up, I just…” Keith stopped, panting, and his face crumpled and closed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he finished, quiet and fierce.

Lance’s jaw had slipped open again. “Keith, no, I didn’t mean -”

“I’m going to train,” Keith cut him off, turning on his heel and marching out of the dining room. It wasn’t quite fast enough to be called running.

“Keith, wait!”

“Let him go Lance,” Shiro advised gently. “Keith probably needs some time.”

Coran clucked to himself, fussing around the arrangement of the plates. “It seems the jiyana has done a real number on him, doesn’t it?” he observed at the table in general. “Still, nothing a quick friendly chat can’t fix.” He elected to pat Lance’s shoulder before he sat down to his own meal, scooping up a hearty portion of the furry stuff. Slowly, everyone else picked up their spoons, though only Allura reached for the fuzzy mound.

Pidge jabbed her lunch vindictively. She was probably just projecting, but she thought it was particularly slimy today. It least it smelled inoffensive, like antiseptic.

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” Lance was unusually quiet, eyes fixed on his food.

Shiro smiled, a little tired but nice all the same. “It’s okay, Lance. Keith did react badly back there; I just don’t want to push him about it while he’s under this jiya thing. Stress can do some pretty terrible things.”

“Right,” said Lance, who looked like his own goo was sour. He stirred it without enthusiasm.

Hunk coughed from his end of the table. “So, uh… is there a plan? Because it seemed like Hereebi was gonna be tough to convince.”

“Could Hereebi be working for the Galra?” Pidge asked. The idea felt sticky and horrid, like the food goo, but it made an unfortunate amount of sense. “They’re so sure of themselves, it’s like they don’t want to even try and listen.”

Allura and Shiro exchanged an anxious look, but Coran shook his head, moustache fluttering. “I can see why you might think so, Pidge, but I’ve been monitoring Serin communications for some time. There have been no transmissions to or from Galra occupied space. Not a peep outside this quadrant, actually.”

“So Hereebi is just really dumb?”

Allura sighed. “The Serili are not a war-like species. It probably seems unfathomable to Hereebi that anyone would conquer for the sake of conquering.”

“Hereebi doesn’t get out much, huh?” Lance observed humourlessly.

Hunk hummed from his end of the table. “I don’t suppose the Galra might just… leave Serin alone? It’s not like they’re a threat, right?”

“Serin is one of the only places in the universe that produces Sleeping Tree Sap,” Coran interjected. “It’s quite useful; very valuable.”

“Oh, right.” Hunk chewed his lip. “Guess they can’t catch a break.”

“Since when has anyone caught a break from the Galra?” Lance demanded.

“Hey, it might happen one day.”

“The real problem here is ignorance,” Allura pronounced, frowning. She set down her spoon and drummed her nails on the tabletop, turning to Shiro. “I think we’re going to have to work on that. You and I can approach the Speakers of Counsel and tell them what we know of the Galra. It’ll be more convincing from people with first-hand experience.”

“I can send across some of our data files,” Coran chirped.

“That sounds doable,” Shiro agreed, nodding. “And the other paladins?”

Allura’s gaze swept the table. “They can drum up support.” She straightened in her chair. “I’ve arranged to stay in Olloria for the next few days,” she told them, voice strengthening. “While we’re there, I want you to spend as much time with the locals as possible. Talk to them, tell them what Voltron is really about. If we can convince the population, Hereebi will have to reconsider.”

“You want us to razzle-dazzle them?” Lance said, eyebrow lifting. “Sure. We can do that.”

“Don’t go overboard,” Allura said quickly. “Be an example. Show them we can be trusted. Keith, especially.”

Shiro hesitated before catching the Princess’s eye. “I’m not sure Keith is in the right place for diplomacy at the moment.”

“Or ever,” Pidge added, and Lance nodded vigorously.

“I realise Keith is not at his best right now,” Allura conceded, a dramatic understatement if you asked Pidge.  “But his being bitten by the jiyana is a great asset to us. We should make it as visible as possible. Though…” Allura frowned, searching for the right words, “…he doesn’t necessarily have to talk to anyone.” She paused, and then the sweet and scary smile came back. “I’m sure with the three of you to help, there won’t be any problems.”

Right, because controlling Keith was easy. On the other side of the table, it looked like Lance wanted to say as much, mouth working like it was stuck on a really sticky toffee. Surprisingly, Hunk actually beat him to it.

“Um, Allura? Princess?” he began with an forced smile. Lance turned to stare mutely at him, as though hoping Hunk would get them out of this. Hunk swallowed and ignored him. “I was sort of hoping I could go and talk to the people in their research centre. That little glider thing they showed us earlier was super cool, and it gave me an idea for some upgrades for Yellow I want to try? And uh… I think I can use some of the stuff they showed us on Olkarion to improve their design, and seeing as we want to win them over anyway, maybe I could go and do that? Instead, I mean.” Hunk was looking at the Princess the way he sometimes looked at Lance when he wanted a favour, and it seemed like Allura was going to be as weak to it as Lance was. For himself, the Blue Paladin was staring at the Yellow in horror, unable to believe this betrayal.

Allura blinked. “Oh. That sounds very good, Hunk. I’m sure Pidge and Lance can accompany Keith.”

“Oh, uh,” Hunk blurted, eyes rolling up to the ceiling to avoid Lance’s accusing look. “I, uh, I was kind of thinking Pidge should go with me. Because – because she’s a genius, obviously – and she can do some programming stuff I might need help with. Because she’s really good at it.” Hunk was doing the pleading thing at her now, and Pidge was annoyed to find she was weak to it as well. She’d underestimated him; she’d have to come up with some kind of counter-attack.

“Okay,” she agreed, steadily. “I wouldn’t mind getting a better look at their communications setup. There might be something in there we can use, and I can set up an early warning system in case the Galra do attack.”

It wasn’t even a lie.

“Oh,” Allura blinked. “That does sound useful.” Sidelong, she considered Lance.

“Hey - hey I can do this!” Lance protested, predictably. He pulled himself upright, pushing his chest out. “No problem. Just leave Keith to me, Princess. I can keep him out of trouble, you have the Lance guarantee.”

“Oh good,” Allura said faintly.

 The tension around the table broke when Coran let loose a satisfied ‘aaahhh’, smacking his lips and wiping steaming fuzz out of his moustache. “Well, that sounds like it’s all worked out nicely,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I’ll start prepping the information packages. Perhaps this would be a good time for you all to take a rest?” he suggested. “You’ll have a busy few days if you’re staying in Olloria.”

Shiro nodded. “That’s a good idea. We should use this chance while we can. What will everyone be doing?”

“I want to do some work on Yellow,” Hunk chimed in immediately. “Especially with these upgrades I’m planning.”

“Alright,” Shiro agreed, turning to her. “Pidge?”

Pidge hummed, considering. “I’m developing a new scanner system. And there’s still a bunch of tests I could run on the jiyana.”

“Don’t hurt it,” Allura cautioned.

“I won’t.”

“Lance?”

Lance looked at the Princess. “Wanna hang out?” he asked, hopefully.

Allura shook her head, but she was smiling. “I’m going to help Coran prepare the information for the Serili.”

“Oh. Guess I’ll just watch a film or something then,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” Shiro said. “And I’ll be in the library reviewing some of the data from our last battle, if anyone needs me. And Keith…”

All eyes travelled to the empty seat beside Lance.

“Keith will probably be busy brooding and training his butt off,” Lance supplied.

“You should take him some food,” Hunk blurted. Lance frowned at him. “I mean someone should take him some food,” Hunk corrected. “He hasn’t eaten anything since this morning, right? He must be hungry. And he was pretty upset, and I know I always feel better when I’ve eaten.” He was still looking at Lance, who bristled.

“I’m not going. We both know I’m the last person Keith wants to see right now.”

“But he loves you,” Hunk argued. “He probably wants to see you the most.”

“He doesn't love me,” Lance snapped, going squeaky at the end. “He’s just all weird because of the bug.”

“Okay, so he doesn’t love love you, but he feels like he does,” Hunk countered. “He’d still be happy to see you, right? Aren’t we supposed to keep him from feeling stressed?”

“Why does nobody care about me being stressed?”

“I’ll go,” Shiro offered, interrupting the argument. “I want to speak to him anyway, so I’ll take him lunch.” He rose, lifting Keith’s plate.

“Don’t forget the kwablecker,” Coran said encouragingly, pushing the plate of furry stuff towards him. “I made it with my own Grandmammy’s recipe.”

Shiro considered. “Sure,” he agreed finally, scooping a tiny portion onto the side of Keith’s plate. “I’ll see you this evening, guys,” he said, strolling towards the elevator.

“It is very good kwablecker,” Allura commented, licking her spoon contentedly. Even Hunk looked a little queasy after that.

Pidge tried to work on the new scanner. She really did, and she did get her teeth into a really tricky problem with a piece of repeating code, but when that was cleared she couldn’t keep her brain from wandering back to the other puzzle.

Eventually, she gave up. She closed her laptop up and left it amongst the piles of things on her bedroom floor, stepping around them to make her way to Yellow’s hangar.

“Hey, Hunk.”

“Hey Pidge,” Hunk returned. He was sitting on a platform halfway up the side of the Yellow Lion, tongue between his teeth as he worked on something behind a loose panel. “Don’t suppose you could chuck the thirty-three up here, could you?”

The Yellow Lion’s bay looked a little like the space equivalent of a garage workshop. Hunk had dragged a couple of trolleys and work-benches into the room, surprisingly utilitarian compared to the gleaming smoothness of the rest of the castle. Tools and half-dissembled engine and weapon parts crowded the surfaces. She could almost smell oil, though in her experience Altean tech didn’t need it. Pidge scanned the collection.

“Hey, that’s my screwdriver!”

“Really? My bad,” Hunk admitted, voice caught as he fiddled with something delicate. “I kind of really need the thirty-three though, so if you could just grab it -“

Pidge sauntered over to the extending platform and threw it up. It wasn’t as poor a throw as it would have been a year ago, and Hunk caught it. Still, physical pursuits were never going to be Pidge’s favourite thing.

“Thankyou,” Hunk said, immediately turning back to his Lion, “and now I just… there we go.” He whistled in satisfaction and patted the Yellow Lion’s side. “All better, buddy.”

Pidge waited while Hunk got things finished off and lowered the platform. She didn’t visit other Lion bays often. It felt oddly intrusive. Hunk’s dismantled projects and paraphernalia were similar enough to her own that it didn’t bother her too much.

“So what’s up?” Hunk asked, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Allura got more for us to do, or did you want help with something?”

“Why do you want Lance and Keith to hang out so much?” Pidge asked. Hunk jumped and fumbled, and Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, I get that seeing Lance fail to deal is funny, but you’re not even going to watch.”

Hunk turned towards a tool cart, rearranging things pointlessly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to check out the Serili research centre, that’s all.”

Pidge just stared, unimpressed. There was no way Hunk could have ever snuck into the Garrison. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Hunk sighed and leaned heavily on the tool trolley for a moment. “I really do wanna check out that glider.”

“Oh yeah, me too. Did you see that wing tapering? But -” she was getting off topic, “- we could do that whenever.”

“Hm. Yeah, I guess.”

“Hunk.”

“Okay, okay. Just hear me out first, right? Before you say anything.” Hunk turned and leaned against the trolley, hands buried deep in his pockets. “Don’t you think Keith and Lance are sort of… getting along?"

Pidge blinked. “You saw that stuff earlier, right?”

Hunk nodded seriously. “Yeah, and I saw that Lance was like, really sorry about it. He didn’t mean to upset Keith. And… that’s pretty good? I mean, for them.”

Pidge had to concede the point, but she couldn’t see Hunk’s yet. “So… what?”

“So I thought maybe this a good time for them to make friends.”

Pidge snorted. “I don’t think ‘making friends’ is what Keith has in mind.” She scooted things aside to make a space on the bench and hopped up onto it.

“I didn’t mean that!” Hunk’s eyes widened, flustered. “I just thought maybe if they hung out this week, while Keith is all…”

“All over Lance?”

“…feeling super nice and happy and everything, then perhaps Lance wouldn’t push the rivalry thing so hard?” he looked oddly hopeful, waiting for confirmation. Pidge could only shrug; not her area. “I just don’t want it to go back to how it was before, you know? With the arguing and the pranks and stuff.”

Pidge had to agree. The bickering decreased their efficiency, and it interrupted her concentration. Besides, it was irritating. However, she suspected Hunk’s logic was flawed. “Won’t Lance just use this against Keith later?”

His rival falling for him? They’d be lucky if any of them heard the end of it. Only Hunk shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Lance is romantic, he takes this stuff pretty seriously. Plus,” he looked up, musing to the arched ceiling high above them, “I think he’ll be too embarrassed to mention it. Like, ever.”

Pidge giggled, swinging her legs up to perch cross-legged. “He could barely look at Keith earlier.”

“Oh, you didn’t see them this morning. Lance was the colour of Keith’s Lion. And then,” he paused for dramatic effect, a habit Pidge wanted to (but couldn’t entirely) blame Lance for, “he said he wanted a cold shower.”

“Gross!” Pidge squealed. Hunk nodded, and she took advantage of his distraction to pocket a nice pair of pliers without shame, because two could play at that game. “Why is he so bad at this? It’s like no one’s ever had a crush on him before.”

Hunk swallowed, eyes shifting abruptly sideways. Even Pidge knew what that meant. “Well…”

“No way!”

“Okay, no, obviously people have had crushes on Lance,” Hunk explained, rolling his eyes, “but he sort of… never noticed? Or never believed it, even if I told him? So, yeah. This is probably the first time he’s ever had to actually deal with it, if that makes sense?”

Pidge’s nose wrinkled up. She had to prop her glasses back on. “Huh. I guess I figured it was a Keith-specific thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pidge blinked at the sharpness in his voice and rocked back on the bench as he leaned into her personal space. “What?”

“Why would you think it’s Keith-specific?”

“ ’cos of everything you just said!” she pushed Hunk’s face away, palm over his nose. He went cross-eyed as he backed up. “They fight all the time.”

“Oh. Right.” Hunk looked very deliberately across the hangar at Yellow, and then his eyes slid round to her again. “Is that all?”

“It was.”  Pidge settled her elbows on her knees, lacing her fingers together in front of her mouth. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing!” Hunk said at once, raising his hands and waving them at her. Pidge just stared at him. “Really it’s nothing.” More staring. “Nothing I can prove?” Hunk said eventually, wincing.

That she could work with.

“So what’s your hypothesis?”

 “Look, I’m not saying this is real or not, okay? I don’t know. I was just thinking. Wondering. Idly. It might be nothing.”

“Observations, then conclusions.”

“Okay, okay. I just wondered if there might be… more… to this rivalry thing.” He gave her a significant look.

She didn’t get it. “What does ‘more’ mean?” she asked, bluntly.

“It means more than a personality clash and not liking Keith’s hair.”

Hunk gave her encouraging nods as she tried to translate this. “You mean Lance having feelings for Keith other than wanting to show him up?”

“Yes, that! I mean… possibly,” Hunk corrected himself, with some shame.

Pidge frowned. “Like what?”

“Like ‘like’ maybe?”

“Seriously?”

“It’s just an idea!” Hunk rushed, edging in closer again. “ ‘cos, you know Lance is always talking about Keith -”

“Complaining about him.”

“- and he’s always trying to get Keith’s attention -”

“Lance always wants everyone’s attention.”

“- and they did have a bonding moment -”

“Which Lance says he forgot.”

“- and he looks at Keith all the time.”

“When he’s not looking at Allura. Or whichever pretty alien is around.”

“So it’s not perfect!” Hunk said, straightening and folding his arms. “I said it was only an idea.”

Pidge huffed and pulled off her glasses, wiping the lens. “Why suppose it, though?” she just caught a flicker of something on Hunk’s face through her squint, and an idea popped into her head. “Has Lance said anything to you?”

“Nope.”

“So it wasn’t Lance that suggested it,” Pidge murmured, restoring her glasses and her frown, “and it can’t have been anything Lance did since space, because he’s only ever flirted with Allura and other girls…”

 “Alien girls,” Hunk corrected, wagging a finger. “We don’t know they were girls, technically. Look at the Serili.”

Pidge nodded curtly, acknowledging this. “Okay, that’s fair. But it doesn’t mean he likes guys… unless you know something I don’t.”

“Um.”

“Hunk.”

“I… probably shouldn’t talk about this. It feels mean.”

Pidge waited. It didn’t take long.

“Okay, so I’m not sure or anything, but there was this one time when I thought Lance could have a thing for a guy.” It spilled out of the Yellow Paladin in a rush, flowing like an overfull cup. Pidge just kept nodding, afraid to interrupt and dam the flow. “Only, it was sort of different from normal, right, because normally when Lance gets serious, he’s kind of… shy? Sort of? Like he’ll kick up a big fuss whenever they’re around, hoping they’ll notice I guess, but he would never actually go and talk to the person? But he’ll talk for hours about them, oh my gosh, on and on and on, about their eyes and their voice and their laugh and their hair…”

Hunk paused, catching his breath. “It can actually get kind of annoying,” he confessed, guiltily. “Anyway, this time, with this guy, he did all that but made out like he really hated it rather than liked it?”

Pidge pitched forward, gleeful. “When was this?”

“Garrison,” Hunk said promptly, then his face collapsed into a wince.

Pidge cackled, her face cracking open like an egg. “It was Keith, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t say - yes,” Hunk admitted, shoulders slumping as he gave up. “But after Keith got kicked out, Lance was super hyped about being in the fighter class, so I thought perhaps I was wrong, or he’d gotten over it? And then Shiro crash landed and we all ended up in space, and then you mentioned it and I thought you could have seen something?” He looked hopeful again.

“Nope,” Pidge said. “I just figured they were idiots.”

Hunk’s expression crumbled, head falling to his hands. He groaned. “Lance is going to kill me.”

“No he won’t,” Pidge dismissed, mind racing. She unfolded her legs and jumped down from the bench. The pliers hidden in her pocket thudded heavily against her hip. “He won’t even know you told.”

“You’ll keep it secret?”

“I won’t tell him. It would bias the data.”

“Data? Pidge, are you going to mess with them?” Hunk demanded, peering down at her.

“Of course I am.”

“That’s going to be really obvious,” he warned.

“To Lance?” Pidge scoffed. “Lance is way too distracted right now to notice.”

“That’s true,” Hunk mused, miserably. He shook his head. “Ugh, I’m a terrible best bud.”

Awkwardly, Pidge patted his arm. “No you’re not. I mean, you didn’t actually tell me any secrets. You just shared your… theories. With a fellow scientist.”

“And does my fellow scientist think my theories are sound?”

Pidge grinned, she couldn’t help it; it was infectious. “Based on what you told me, I’m about ninety-three percent certain Lance had a crush on Keith at the Garrison.”

“I knew it!” Hunk gloated. “I just knew it. See, you weren’t hanging around with us then, so I couldn’t ask you, and I didn’t want to ask Lance in case I made it worse, but I was so sure-“

“I get it, you called Lance’s crush,” Pidge said, waving a hand and turning to head from the hangar out into the corridors, intending to grab snacks from the kitchen. “What about now?”

“You mean… does he still fancy Keith?” Hunk asked, dropping his voice to a whisper as he followed. He waved at Yellow as he left. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

Pidge frowned. “Why?”

Hunk stared. Pidge supposed she’d missed something ‘obvious’ again. “Pidge, that would really suck for Lance. Imagine liking someone who suddenly got interested in you just because of a freaky bug bite.” He waited patiently for her to think that through, stepping into the elevator with her.

“Yeah, I guess that would suck,” she admitted a few floors up, still thinking. “If they were only interested because of the bite.”

Hunk’s eyes went practically round. The whole elevator seemed full of his energy all at once. “You mean you think it might not be?” He bounced on his toes, enthusiasm making him loud. “You think Keith might actually like Lance back?”

“Well, I-” Pidge began, but Hunk was on a roll.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. That’d be amazing. They’d be so cute. Do you think the Alteans have a Valentine’s day equivalent? Should we ask? Oh my gosh,” Hunk gasped, hands balling up with sheer excitement, “Lance could knit them red and blue couple sweaters!”

“Shouldn’t they be purple?” Pidge said, before she could stop herself or ask what couple sweaters were for.

“That’s perfect!” Hunk enthused, and Pidge felt obliged to cut him off.

“I don’t know yet,” she insisted firmly. “It’s one of the things I need to find out. I’m just saying we can’t rule out the possibility. We don’t know for sure why the jiyana made Keith like Lance, out of all of us.”

“You think it might not be the proximity and association thing?”

“I don’t know,” Pidge repeated. The elevator reached the living quarters level, and she and Hunk wandered towards the kitchen. Halfway there, she’d made up her mind. “Here’s the plan: you and I are going to keep Lance and Keith together as much as possible this week, and we’re going to watch them. If Lance says anything that suggests he might really like Keith, we need to know. And the rest of the time, we’ll keep researching the jiyana.”

“Okay,” Hunk nodded, chewing his tongue a little. He did that when he made machines, sometimes. “I mean… at least if it turns out we’re wrong, they’re still getting a chance to bond, right?”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, because that went so well last time.” She didn’t think they were wrong. In fact, she found herself really hoping they were right.

“This is going to be hilarious.”

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

Lance dawdled his way down to the recreation suite, Keith’s ‘ I don’t know what’s wrong with me ’ echoing uncomfortably in his ears.  

The suite was tucked into an out-of-the-way part of the ship Coran had only just rendered functional again. They hadn’t had much chance to use it yet, but it was already one of Lance’s favourite places to hang out. The gleaming, sleek, alien beauty of the rest of the Castle was less obvious there ;  everything softer and cosier. The room was smaller than the Paladin’s lounge, stuffed with a long low sofa and huddled beanbags. Lance knew from experience that the bags actually contained a warm jelly-like substance that was as comfortable as it was weird, and chose to flop down on the sofa instead.   

He picked up the control panel for the screen, which curved across a whole wall. Unfortunately, Coran hadn’t been able to translate any of the movies or their descriptions yet, so Lance was forced to pick at random, scrolling through the selection until he found something he hoped would turn out to be an action flick. The lights automatically dimmed as the  film  started, lilting notes from an instrument Lance didn’t recognise swelling through the room.   

Lance allowed himself to stretch out, head lolling back against the cushions as he closed his eyes. Everything was a mess. Keith was a mess. And he... he’d messed up.   

He tried to follow the film instead of his thoughts, but he got lost. The  Altean  dialogue just sounded like jabbering without the Castle translating, and there were a lot of long monologues while the beautiful man and woman onscreen looked out of windows and sighed, not an explosion in sight. After a while, they started looking at each other and sighing, and Lance figured he’d somehow managed to pick an alien version of the slow romantic dramas his mom liked to watch. He didn’t mind, particularly. The meaningless sound washed over him, and his  breathing slowed  until he was dozing, chest moving easily up and down in the still, dark air. He didn’t even move when he just caught the edge of the door sliding open, sometime later.   

“Hunk?”  

“No. It’s Keith.”  

Like Lance couldn’t tell, hair prickling on his neck as soon as he heard the growly sound of Keith’s voice.  He made himself not move, even when the Red Paladin stepped into the room and looked down at where he was sprawling, legs extended.  

“Hey.”  

“Hey,” Lance croaked. Keith kicked one of the  not-a-bean bags closer  to the sofa – closer to Lance –  and flopped into it, freezing suddenly when he felt the squishy, cuddly warmth. It was with a certain amount of distrust that he eventually eased down, pointedly not looking at Lance.  

“Sorry about earlier.”  

“Nah dude, it’s cool.” Lance said, without thinking. Then he swallowed, remembering he was the one who should be apologising. “I’m sorry too.”  

“ It’s  fine,” Keith murmured, only glancing at Lance quickly. Some of his hair was stuck to his cheek, wet from a recent shower. Lance could faintly smell the sweet  juniberry  scent of their standard issue soap. It filled his nose for a few moments, only the alien actors speaking.   

“What are you watching?”  

“ Dunno ,” Lance shrugged,  shirt dragging against the cushions. “I chose at random.”  

“Really?”  

“Yeah, why?”  

Lance peered. Onscreen, the  Altean  couple were gazing at each other with naked affection, the music swelling passionately, pinkish-toned light glowing on Keith’s face.   

“She looks like  Allura ,” Keith said.   

“What?” asked Lance, sitting  up.  He leaned forward, studying the  closeup . “She looks nothing like  Allura ! Her hair’s the wrong colour. And her face mark thingies.”  

“I mean apart from that." Keith sounded oddly petulant about it.  

“ Allura  is way prettier than her!” Lance insisted, indignant. And then he saw the way Keith’s jaw clenched, and nearly choked on his own tongue.   

Keith was jealous?  Or... not just jealous?  As Lance stared, mouth open, he thought he saw Keith’s eyes creasing up, and for one horrible moment he thought the other boy might  actually  cry. Then Keith glared sharply his way, and Lance abruptly shifted his gaze back to the screen.   

...where the characters had apparently deepened their relationship  very  quickly, because the male  Altean   pinned  the not-an- Allura -look-alike against a wall, and then they were making out.  Or the  Altean  equivalent.  Which was horribly similar to human making out, complete with little pants and noises that brought colour into Lance’s face like the rising sun.   

Inevitably, Keith caught his eye.   

“It was an accident!”  

“Sure it was.”  

“I picked at random!”  

“Uh-huh.”  

“I don’t even read  Altean !”   

“Lance, whatever.  It’s just a film.”  

Right, right. Lance shut his mouth, flopping back against the sofa cushions, willing his heart to slow down. Keith’s face was fixed on the movie, light shining off his hair and the planes of his throat. Lance followed the pulse in his pale skin, and then a breathless female voice let out a long, heady moan that needed no translation in any universe.   

“Off!” Lance yelped, scrambling for the control panel.  Which was, of course, lying on the sofa on the other side of Keith, just out of reach.  Lance lurched up, but his foot slipped on the  jellybag   and his other foot got tangled against Keith’s, and he pitched forward like a felled tree.   

All the air rushed out of Keith with a painful cry as one of Lance’s knees fell square onto his leg before sliding off. Lance landed over him, buried up to the wrists in the soft, fuzzy  jellybag   with  his knees pinned tight to Keith’s thighs, close enough to twist his jeans. Poor Keith had been forced to arch his back to keep Lance’s face from crashing into his own, and a strip of alabaster flat stomach was exposed over his waistband. Their middles were dangerously close, and Lance felt his own traitorous heartbeat deafen him as he ended up staring down at Keith in a nearly perfect reversal of yesterday morning.   

Lance was still weak. Keith was flushed and damp and breathing too quickly, and the air was full of happy wanton noises  of the kind  you’d be embarrassed to hear in the presence of relatives. Lance’s imagination skipped right past getting to know each other and onto the sticky bits.  

“I’m sorry!” he gabbled, struggling to stand. But the  jellybag  just kept giving under his weight, sinking left and right under pressure as he tried to push himself up, and he could feel Keith’s breath against his ear and he was pretty sure they could both hear his racing heart and why did she just keep  moaning,  didn’t they need to stop for breath yet?  

“Lance, quit it!” Keith s napped , and Lance swallowed down a gasp when hands were placed on his chest and pushed him up, leaving Keith free to struggle out of the offending seat.   

“I’m sorry -” Lance said again, but then the male  Altean  made a suspicious groaning sound and Lance leapt for the control panel, slamming his hand onto it until the noises stopped.   

It  was painfully quiet for a whole minute.   

“Heh...” A sort of snort escaped Keith’s nose and then he was gone, head thrown back and arms clasped over his  belly , shoulders shaking as he laughed. It was a wonderful, rich, full-bodied sound, soaking up all the awkwardness like a sponge. Soon, Lance was laughing too, an ache at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Keith. The purple- ish  eyes were scrunched nearly shut, his mouth stretched wide, and hey, he looked really, really good like that.   

Oh. Oh no.   

Lance stopped laughing, casting about for an excuse to run, to stop this, to move on from the weird bonding moment thing they were having, because he didn’t think he could claim to forget it this time.   

“So, uh... tomorrow,” he said, lurching into speech before he’d had a chance to think it through. “Tomorrow we’re going to stay on  Serin , and  Allura  wants us to go round  chatting to  people.”  

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said, shrugging, laughter still decorating his mouth, lifting his cheeks. “As long as she handles the talking, I’m okay with that.”   

“ It’s   gonna  be just us,” Lance said, and he really hoped it was just warm in here now, that wasn’t him heating up again. “ Allura  and  Shiro  are going to chat to some  Serili  about the  Galra  and stuff.”  

“Right.”  What was Keith thinking? Why was it so hard to tell what Keith was thinking?  “ A nd Hunk and Pidge?”  

“Going to do geeky tech  sciencey  stuff.”  

“ Okay . So it’s the two of us tomorrow.”  

“Uh-huh , ” Lance said, an d before he could stop himself he  tacked on: “Lucky you, Samurai. Just don’t cramp my style, okay?”  

“Yeah, lucky me,” Keith actually watched as Lance flushed, smirking the whole time, “guess I’ll get to see your ‘style’ first-hand.” His head tilted slightly. “If you’re lucky, I might even save you from yourself.”  

“Hey!”   

Keith laughed again.  

Later, Lance couldn’t recall exactly what he and Keith talked about after that.  Home, food, music, something.  At one point they put another film on, but he couldn’t remember that either. He just knew that it had finished and they were still talking when Pidge and Hunk had to come and fetch them for dinner, their smiles’ a bit too knowing. Keith’s followed Lance to dinner and to bed, glowing like a bulb behind his eyes long after lights-out.   

The next morning, head reeling from all of  Allura’s  last minute advice, Lance headed down to Blue’s bay with a hastily packed bag swinging at his hip. He stashed it carefully in a locker before sinking into the pilot seat, shuffling around a bit as he got comfortable, stretching the kinks from his shoulders.  He  jumped when a hand landed on the back of the chair.   

“Hurry it up, Sharpshooter. Aren’t you supposed to be the best pilot in Voltron?”   

Keith had one eyebrow up in that not-really-mocking way again, lips curved upwards. Lance hadn’t even heard him come in – had expected him to travel with  Allura  and  Shiro  in Black, seeing as Red was still on the surface.   

“The best pilot in the  universe  Keith, come on,” Lance retorted automatically, mentally urging Blue to give it her all. She purred in his head. Keith watched every move as they set out, making Lance surprisingly nervous as he steered Blue down into  Serin’s  atmosphere.    

He forgot his nerves in face of the view. Lance deliberately flew low, letting Blue’s claws skim through the swirling white mists above the jungle, leaving a churning wake across the sky. Sinking  under  the silver sheen, the rainbow-hued canopy stretched out  be neath them, swaying and rippling with gentle zephyrs before Lance took Blue down to the landing platform between the vast white trunks. A fluttering swarm of butterflies rose around them, bright emerald and  sunflower- yellow wings bigger than the span of their hands.   

Lance set carefully down beside Red, and caught Keith smiling fondly at his lion as he stepped down the landing ramp,  Altean  overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Lance opened up the locker and came away surprised.   

“Hey, Keith.  Have you seen my bag?”  

“Yeah, this one?”    

“Oh.” Lance straightened up carefully .  “Then where’s yours?”  

“I don’t really have anything.” Keith shrugged, turning away. “Come on.” He disappeared around the corner of Blue’s head.   

Okay.  Right.  So that was a thing they did now.   

Hopefully, no one else would notice.   

Today, the jungle smelled a little like mint and overripe oranges, the insects seemingly louder than before. A few bright little lizards were crawling around the platform near  Allura’s  feet, unpleasant looking stingers on the ends of their tails. The Princess was gamely ignoring them, exchanging a few formal sentences and slow blinks with the  Serili  who had come to meet them. There was only  one  today, with no sign of either  Kleon  or  Hereebi , and as soon as they saw Keith they dropped into the  strange  bow.   

“ Uh… hi, ” Keith  said, glancing at  Allura .  

“It is an honour to meet with a blessed one,” replied the  Serili . Their voice was slightly higher-pitched than that of the Speakers of Counsel, and their scalp bore a different, simpler tattoo. “This one would show the one that is Keith, Red Paladin, and all those of Voltron their lodgings while they stay with the  Serili .”  

“ Thankyou ,” said Keith, carefully.  Allura  nodded her approval before adding her own, more eloquent thanks.   

They followed their guide into a tree and through rounded, curving halls. Lance was beginning to wonder how any of the  Serili  ever got anywhere, the place was a maze. He tried counting steps and turns, trying to remember how to get back to the Lions if he had to, but lost count whenever Keith brushed against him, still carrying his bag. He thought he was up to the fifth  or sixth  left when Hunk snuck up behind the two of them, bringing up the rear.   

“I just had a thought,” he said in his trademark stage-whisper. “These guys are like, super small. Are we even going to fit in their beds and stuff?”  

“Pidge will,” Lance quipped. Walking ahead, Pidge stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder. She looked rather better today, having taken some of Coran’s medicine over breakfast. Her scanner was out in her hands, beeping occasionally as she pointed it at things she passed. Keith stuck his tongue out back, surprisingly childish.  

That was kind of cute, actually.   

“Alright,” Hunk went on plaintively, “but I don’t know if this is going to work. Wouldn’t you rather be in the Castle?”  

“Aw, come on Hunk, this is part of the fun of visiting aliens, right?” Lance nudged Keith. “Right, Mullet?”  

“I’d rather have the training deck.”  

“You’re both boring,” Lance retorted. He looked back at Hunk, catching the slight flicker in the corner of the molten brown eyes. “Tell you what buddy ;  if it bothers you we’ll have a sleepover.”  

Hunk’s face perked up a little at that. “Aw yeah, that sounds good.” He appeared to consider something as they walked on, and Lance narrowed his eyes at his friend’s obvious plotting. Hunk responded with a bright, innocent smile and suggested: “Keith should come too.”  

“Me?” asked Keith, surprised.  “Really?”  

“Sure, why not,” Lance agreed with studied casualness, not letting on that he could think of a hundred reasons why not, actually. Starting with the big fat fake crush Keith had just now and working all the way through to the fact he looked actually excited about this, and that was kind of cute too. Lance swallowed, pushing the thought away. “Just bring your pyjamas and whatever snacks you’ve got.”  

“I don’t think I have any,” Keith mumbled, embarrassed. “And I usually sleep in my clothes. Can I still -?”  

“Woah, dude.   Seriously?”  Lance’s skin crawled at the very idea.  Appalling.  “What about the red paladin pyjamas?”   

“Weren’t they King  Alfor’s ? I didn’t  wanna  just… you know.  In front of  Allura .”  

Oh. He’d never even thought of that. Since when was Keith the sensitive one? “Still, dude. I bet Coran would find you some if you just asked. How do you even sleep?”  

“It’s alright . ” Keith adjusted the strap of Lance’s bag on his shoulder. “This way I’m always ready if something happens.”  

“You’ve been doing it since the start?  But what about relaxing ? Please tell me you take your boots off,” Lance demanded, half whining.   

“Hey…” Hunk interrupted, pointing at the bag. “If you don’t have pyjamas, what’s in there?”  

“This is Lance’s stuff,” said Keith, a blush finally breaking over that marble skin. Hunk’s eyes greedily snapped to Lance’s desperate ones.   

“Really?”  

“He gave me a ride,” Keith said, trying to play it off as a favour for a favour. He wasn’t convincing anybody, especially not Lance, who knew he hadn’t exactly offered.  

The delighted look on Hunk’s face chilled his best friend to the bone, all the heat travelling up to his face instead. “Oh okay,” the big man sang, and Lance spent the next few minutes avoiding meaningful eye-contact.   

They were led across three trees before their guide stopped beside an actual door, the first they’d seen today. Here, the air smelled less like citrus and herbs and more like crushed leaves, a cleaner, lighter scent. He could hear falling water, tantalisingly close. “Your suite while you are with the  Serili ,” announced the guide, pushing the door open.  

Hunk needn’t have worried. Beyond there was a human or  Altean  sized living room, carved directly out of the wood. A padded seat wrapped around a smooth coffee table, scattered with dozens of cushions in shades of white, off-white and grey. One wall was almost entirely carved out to form tall, glassless windows, white-gold light flooding across the grain of the floor. They opened onto sprays of delicate gold leaves, and when Lance looked down he saw a waterfall spilling from the tree out into the air, dropping in  shining bands so far he couldn’t hear it land. The wall of windows curved gently around with the trunk, formin g a corridor that presumably le d to their rooms.   

“ The  Serili  hope this is acceptable,” said their guide, after they’d all shuffled in.   

“This is beautiful,”  Allura  answered, enraptured. “Please accept our thanks.”  

The  Serili  slowly blinked in return. “This one will leave these ones to be settled. Please feel free to explore the capital. Should these ones require anything, any  Serili  will be glad to assist.”  

As soon as their guide left, Pidge sprang into action.  “Shotgun the biggest room!”  

“No fair!” yelled Lance, jumping after her without thinking. They raced down the corridor followed by Keith and  Shiro’s  laughter.   

Like the living space, the sleeping chambers were carved directly from the wood. There were no windows, being in the tree interior, but they were cosily lit by spiralling patterns of the glowing moss, growing in deep lines carved into the domed ceiling and walls. Lance sauntered into a room he thought was just a shade larger than the others, poking around. A tub had been hollowed straight out of the floor, wood worn smooth and seamless, deliciously fluffy-looking towels stacked at the edge. Behind it, an arched doorway lead to a toilet and sink, with little leaf-wrapped packets of soaps and shampoos and things left out, like in a hotel. It was only when Lance strolled back into the room and pulled aside a heavy curtain that he found the bed. It was more of a nest really; a rounded alcove in the wall, completely lined with thick padding, big enough for two or three people to curl up even with the mounds of blankets and pillows stuffed into the space. Lance jumped into it, groaning as he was buried face first in soft warmth. Behind him, the curtain had barely settled before it was once again swept aside.   

“Looks nice,” Keith said, and Lance wasn’t even surprised it was him anymore. He replied with another happy groan, rubbing his face into velvety fabric. “Who won the race?”  

“I did,”  came  Pidge’s satisfied reply, and Lance rolled onto his back, lifting himself on his elbows. Keith had apparently found a hook or something for the drape and was gently setting Lance’s bag on the floor while Pidge looked over him with her arms folded. He raised an eyebrow at her smug expression.  

“Um, are you lying in luxury right now? No? So I’m winning,” Lance retorted, wiggling  his body  further into the nest to make his point. Keith quickly looked away, his ears going pink first.   

“Hunk says we’re having a sleepover tonight.”  

Lance pulled his attention away from the creeping colour.   

“Uh, yeah.   After this fancy meal thing?  In here?”  

“Got it,” said Pidge, turning on her heel to leave. “I’ll bring some cards. Have fun on your date today.”  

“It’s not a date!” Lance insisted to her back, leaving him in silence with Keith.   

“...do you want to go?” asked the Red Paladin,  after a moment or two .   

“Sure, sure,” Lance said, scrambling out of the pillow-mound with as much grace as he could muster. “Where do you want to start?”  

Keith shrugged. “We’re supposed to talk to people, right? I’ll follow you.”  

“Oh,” said Lance, swallowing down a whole bubble of feelings for another time.  “Okay, so... the market?”  

Markets had people in, right? More importantly, he vaguely remembered passing one yesterday, and he suspected  Allura  would have words if he went off hunting for the pools  Kleon  and  Hereebi  had talked about instead. Keith seemed content with his choice, letting Lance lead the way from the room and through the living space, exchanging a few words with  Shiro  and  Allura  before  setting out .  They were out the door and half way down the corridor before Lance cast a glance over his shoulder.   

“ So. .. any idea how to get there?”  

After more than an hour of  not  being lost, because Lance had the common sense to ask a passing  Serili  for directions rather than stomping off blindly like Keith, they made it to the  Ollorian  market.  

The day before, they’d had hardly any time to see anything other than rippling white canopies, and it wasn’t until Lance stepped out of one gargantuan trunk that he really had a chance to appreciate the place, breath stolen from his lungs. The market wasn’t inside a tree like the rest of the city; it sprawled along conjoined branches and a fretwork of interconnected bridges and platforms, suspended in the air amidst dazzling arrays of leaves. Hundreds of stalls lined the walkways, surrounded by shopping  Serili  in white robes or buzzing swarms of insects or chattering birds, lizards and frogs scampering along handrails and tented rooves. One particular  Serili  sat in the middle of a suspended cloth, sagging low with piles of throbbing red fruit. Another walked past them with armfuls of sapphire leaves, each the size of a dustbin lid. It was noisy too; the  Serili  weren’t shouting about their wares like vendors in Earth markets, but there was enough chatter amongst the shoppers and the flocks of animals to drown out most other sound.   

“Woah,” breathed Lance, looking around. Beside him, Keith was gazing with equal wonder, lips just slightly parted. He inhaled deeply, and when Lance did the same his mouth was filled with the smell and taste of sugar and baking and something sharp and spicy.  

“This is awesome,” he said to Keith, who nodded agreement, face lighting up with that brilliant smile. Lance bumped him with a shoulder before dashing out along the extended branch, Keith shouting something as he raced out after him.   

For a while, it was enough just to explore ;  maybe shaking the hanging bridges a bit to spook each other, teasing by leaning out to look down, staggering back when the height made them dizzy. Keith shoved him in the shoulder the third time he did it, mouth twisted with annoyance while he told Lance to ‘get out of it’. Lance stopped because he could see genuine worry deep in the indigo.  

They walked around instead, peering into stalls as they passed. They seemed to be in the food section, and Lance knew he was going to have to come back here with Hunk and Pidge’s scanner, because he’d never smelled anything as incredible as the stuff on their tables. The  Serili  all seemed very pleased to speak with them, especially Keith, and whenever Lance introduced him he was greeted with the same low bow and awed words. Keith looked more awkward every time.   

Eventually, they wandered away from food stalls into other territory. On one table there were various woven baskets, heaped full of gleaming devices made of reddish metal. The vendor was demonstrating for a small crowd that parted to allow him and Keith through, and they saw a claw tap trigger a bundle of wire and plating to unwind into a tiny mechanical gecko creature, which ran up one of the vendor’s arms and  settled on their head against the lines of their tattoo. Others unfolded into shuffling millipedes or spider things, and a larger one into a model of what had to be a  jiyana . Lance pushed them along to the next place.   

A tent with gold and copper embroidery around the edges and stiff, serious-looking  Serili  outside was selling jewellery. Delicately shimmering chains of metal and thread supported glittering stones that would have been the pride of royal collections back home. One dark, velvety black-purple crystal had pinprick points of light trapped inside, like the universe in microcosm, and Lance found himself staring at it for far too long before Keith tugged him away from the unblinking gaze of the guards.   

Keith’s hand on his wrist pulled them closer to a smaller stand. The  Serili  manning it bowed at once on seeing them, slow blinking. They blinked back as  Allura  had told them.  

“These ones are the Paladins of Voltron?”  

“That’s us,” Lance said, winning smile plastered on. This was the best bit about saving the universe :  actually  getting out into it,  meeting  people. Even if the people had four arms and really unnerving body language. “I’m Lance, the Blue Paladin. This is Keith, the Red Paladin. He’s all blessed and stuff.” Keith sent him a withering look when Lance patted his back. The  Serili  behind the counter missed it because they were bowing again. Two hands to the floor, two at head level, all palms up.   

“It is an honour,” they intoned, straightening. They waved their lower hands over the goods on display and Keith and Lance crouched down to look. “Please, anything these ones wish.”  

A dozen objects were laid carefully on a cloth stitched with geometric lines in fine white thread. Some were recognisable; like a bottle made from what appeared to be a fat, spiky seed pod, a globular white stone  resembling  a pearl serving as a stopper. The scent rising from it reminded Lance of cinnamon. There was a folding fan made out of the reddish metal they’d seen earlier, intricately carved with feathers ;  and a squat little purse embroidered with a pattern too complex to discern.  Keith was instantly fascinated with a tiny knife, no longer than his middle finger including the handle, which looked black but gleamed gorgeous green as he turned it around. Lance shook his head, letting Keith play with the blade while he checked out the rest of the stock.   

On the far left, at the back, there was an oval- ish  crystal about the size of his palm, mounted in a silvery ring of smooth  stone . It gleamed colourless like a diamond, but ocean and sapphire blue crashed together inside, flecks of brilliant  colour  splashed through and glittering azure where they caught the light. It looked like a wave trapped in time and glass by magic, and he couldn’t help but reach out and stroke his fingers over it, half-expecting them to come away wet.   

“Is there anything this one desires?”   

Lance looked up, but the black eyes of the  Serili  were focussed on Keith, who immediately set the miniature dagger back on the display.   

“We don’t have any money. I was just looking,” he explained quickly.   

“There is no charge for the one that is Keith, Red Paladin,” said the  Serili , blinking. Lance was never, ever going to get used to the sideways eyelids thing.   

“Woah, really?” he said, nudging Keith, who was looking on with more su rprise  than gratitude. “You’re sure?”  

“This one wishes that the blessed one might remember the  Serili  fondly,” said the vendor. “The ones who attain  ji  have told the  Serili  that generosity is wisdom.”  

“You don’t have to  give us stuff , though – ow!”  

“Not that we’re ungrateful!” Lance put in, retracting his elbow from Keith’s middle, retaining his best smile. The  Serili  seemed unfazed ;  or at least nothing in their posture or completely black eyes changed that Lance could see. “It’s very kind of you.”  

“Kindness too is wisdom,” said the  Serili , and turned once again to Keith.  “If anything appeals to you, then please.”  

Keith scratched his neck, then shrugged and pointed.  “How about that?”    

Lance sucked in a breath, Keith’s hand hovering over the frozen wave.   

“As this one wishes,” said the  Serili , scooping up the crystal and wrapping it in a long,  ripe  banana - coloured leaf.   

Lance nudged Keith, careful to keep his smile on while he murmured: “Don’t you want the knife?”  

“I’ve got a knife,” Keith replied, taking the parcel from the  Serili  and holding it up. “Thanks.  For this.  It’s... it’s really kind.”  

The  Serili  bowed again. “This one was honoured.”  

Well, if that wasn’t awkward. Lance picked up Keith’s arm to pull him away.   

“ It  was great to meet you,” he said, smiling even harder at the vendor. “And we’re like, super grateful for the awesome present and everything, but if it’s okay with you we’re  gonna  explore a little more.” Keith followed the pressure of Lance’s hand without protest, shyly waving at the stall holder before they moved on.   

Lance led them over a swaying bridge, plates of wood beneath their feet overlapping like scales, and down a wider, less busy walkway before he slowed down.   

“How about that, huh?” he asked lightly, aware of the not-much distance between them, “they’re not just bowing to you, there’s freebies too . ” He  looked  round and saw Keith  staring  down at the leaf-wrapped package in his hand, brows knotted over it like a tricky physics problem. “Keith?”  

“Here,” said Keith abruptly, thrusting the parcel at him. “You have it.”  

“ Keith! ” Lance hissed, looking back to make sure they were well away. “You can’t give me that!”  

Keith’s frown deepened and his fingers tightened around the gift, bleaching to an even paler shade.  “Why not?  I thought you liked it.”  

“ Because ,” Lance went on, with emphasis to hide the giddy feeling reeling in his chest, “it was given to you,  that’s  why .   For being all blessed and special and stuff .  You can’t just give it to me, they might be offended . ”  

“Oh,” said Keith, and his hand retracted a little. “I’ll give it to you later, then.”   

Lance controlled his breathing, getting the giddiness back under control and hoping Keith wouldn’t notice the heat glowing in his cheekbones. But who was he kidding, of course Keith would notice. Keith was looking at him  all the time .   

“You were supposed to get something for yourself,” he muttered, wandering along without really paying attention to anything other than the boy beside him, who at least had the decency to look a little  sheepish.  

“It’s not like it matters,” Keith  argued , and  because he was direct with no respect for Lance’s fragile inner calm, he  return ed  his gaze squarely  and smiled, eyes bright and cheeks blotched . “ I got something I wanted to give to you. That should count. ”  

Lance choked.   

He was saved when a dry voice started behind him, and they both  startled .   

“If you would excuse we ones?”  

Behind them stood two  Serili , neither of them as tall as Pidge and both bobbing their heads up and down, blinking rapidly.    

“This one is  Jaseeva , Keeper of Places,” said the one who had originally spoken, standing to the left.   

“This one is  Seonor , Tender of Birds,” said the other. “Are these ones Keith and Lance, Paladins of Voltron?”  

Lance’s response was automatic, rescuing him from his own bubble. His threw his chest out, pulling himself up. “Yeah, that’s us,” he said smoothly, or as smoothly as he could manage just then.   Which was as smoothly as anyone trying to swallow their own fluttering feelings.  “I’m Lance, this is Keith.” He might have clapped Keith too hard on the back that time, propelling the Red Paladin forward into the inevitable bows.   

“You really don’t have to do that,” Keith protested awkwardly, wincing.   

Jaseeva  and  Seonor  popped up like  meerkats . “Does it displease the one that is Keith?” asked  Jaseeva .  

“Have we ones offended?” asked  Seonor .  

Keith’s eyes widened and he lifted his hands, one of them still clutching the present. “No!”  

“ It’s  fine, it’s fine,” Lance carried on easily, smiling to reassure Keith as much as the  Serili . “He’s just not used to it, that’s all. You’re doing great,” he said, giving Keith a look so he knew he was included in that statement. Keith’s shoulders unwound before his eyes, a hopeful smile in their wake.   

Lance’s heart beat faster.   

“That is good!”  Jaseeva  said, and both  Serili  blinked rapidly, heads bobbing. Lance figured that meant they were pleased.   

“We ones did not mean to disturb these ones,”  Seonor  continued, and Lance took a wild stab that the rocking movement they were making with all four hands meant they were... shy? “We ones just wondered what being a Paladin of Voltron is like.”  

“Yes, yes,” continued  Jaseeva . “Is it very difficult? Do these ones have to do much fighting?”  

There was something about the way the dry, scraping voice lifted on ‘fighting’ that made Lance think maybe the  Serili  didn’t do it much.  Allura  had said they weren’t a war-like species.   

“ Weellll , ” he drawled, shifting his weight onto one hip and affecting an unconcerned shrug, “I’m not  gonna  say  it’s   easy , but we do our best. Right, Keith?” he prompted, giving the Red Paladin a chance to complete his mission to razzle-dazzle.  Also, to distract him.    

Keith jumped and dragged his eyes from the Blue Paladin, and Lance shivered with quiet relief. “Yeah,” he agreed, and Lance could practically hear his brain scrambling to catch up. What he came out with in the end was: “Especially Lance.”  

Lance nearly fell over.   

“Yes?” said  Seonor ,  and both the  Serili  looked at Lance instead.   

“Yeah,” said Keith, who joined in with a nod. “He always gives everything he’s got when we’re in combat. And he’s way better at strategy than I am, and  an amazing  shot.”  

Lance’s mouth fell open, the back of his throat tingling.   

“Really?” asked  Jaseeva ,  and alien body-language or not, Lance  thought he detected admiration . “Then you do fight  often ?”  

“We fight for the freedom of the universe,” Keith said, pride filling his eyes and making Lance’s stomach flip, rushing to take part in the whole tingly thing he had going on. “It’s dangerous, but it’s worth it.”  

Holy Crow.  It turned out there was only so much awed staring he could take after all.   

“Keith’s the best fighter,” Lance blurted,  because someone had to say  something . And he couldn’t very well ask Keith what the cheese was going on, but complimenting him instead  definitely   hadn’t been the plan. “I swear he’s beaten up guys twice his size.” Keith grinned, and it wasn ’t so much a hundred-watt smile this time  as a thousand, dazzlingly bright even with his lifted cheeks stained red. Lance felt blinded , voice going strangled . “But then, he’s short.” Keith snorted.  

“You are changing colour!” exclaimed  Jaseeva , peering in at them in apparent concern. “Are these ones quite well?”  

“ It’s  fine, it’s good!” Lance squeaked. “It’s just... it just means we’re happy, that’s all.”   

“How interesting!”   Jaseeva  said.   

“These ones must respect the other ’ s  abilities  very much,” observed  Seonor , and then the rocking palms came back. “Are these ones perhaps...  lidilidi ?”  

Jaseeva  touched all their  clawtips  together in the middle of their chest, and Lance didn’t have the foggiest what that meant, either. He blinked.   

“Uh... what does ‘ lidilidi ’ mean?” Keith asked, cautiously.   

“Oh,”  Jaseeva  perked up. “A  lidilidi  is a companion whom you respect very much, whom you value not just for their  capabilities  but also for their  judgement ;  and whom you have very strong affection for.”  Jaseeva  indicated the other  Serili . “The one that is  Seonor  is this one’s  lidilidi .”  

“The one that is  Jaseeva  is this one’s,”  Seonor  confirmed. They looked at each other, sharing one long blink in perfect unison.   

“ So. .. like a best friend?” Lance hazard ed, glancing at Keith. Were they ?   

“A  lidilidi   is more than a close companion,”  Seonor  explained. “A  lidilidi   does not just have one’s  affection,  they have one’s absolute trust, and the very highest regard for their being.”  

“Yeah, Lance is my  lidilidi ,” said Keith, suddenly. He met Lance’s look without flinching, pulling himself straight. “All of Voltron are  lidilidi . ” He folded his arms, as if daring Lance to argue.   

And Lance...  Lance didn’t want to.   

“Yeah.  Yeah, we’re  lidilidi ,” he said thickly, his tongue slow and stupid in his mouth, his chest full of too many things. “We all are.”  

Jaseeva  and  Seonor  erupted in a flurry of head bobs and blinks, still weirdly in unison.   

“That is most rare!”  

“It is most amazing!”  

“It is very, very good to hear that the Paladins of Voltron share such a bond,”  Jaseeva  said. “You must have been bred most carefully to achieve this.”  

“Yeah,  I guess so   you   what now ?” Lance squealed.   

The head bobbing stopped abruptly. “Oh no,” said  Seonor , “we ones  have  offended   this time.”

Chapter Text

Pidge tilted her head towards the caress ing  sunlight, feeling the cramp in her neck ease a little. She had to hand it to Hunk: a break probably was a good idea, even if they were on a roll. The marketplace was noisy and alive, but not so much so that she wanted to slink back inside to the computers. Beside her, the Yellow Paladin made a point of rolling his shoulders and shaking his arms out, taking deep appreciative breaths.   

“Oh, oh hey,” he sniffed, eyes closed, turning his head about like a radar sweep. “Something smells divine in…  that  direction.” He pointed, blinking furiously as he adjusted to the sun and explosive colour. “Is that Keith and Lance?”  

“Where?”  Pidge demanded, straining on tip-toe to follow the line of Hunk’s finger. He motioned her over and wrapped his hands around her elbows, lifting her into the air with arms pinned to her sides.   

“Sort of eight o’clock- ish ?  With some  Serili ?”  

Pidge spotted them :  white, red and blue visible over the tops of bald heads. She leaned out as far as she could, and Hunk squawked as he shifted his grip.   

“Be careful!”  

“ HEY  KEITH!  LANCE!”  

“ Pi- idge ,” Hunk whined close to her ear, audibly wincing. “Everyone is looking at us now.” Keith and Lance  waved . Pidge wriggled until Hunk set her carefully back on the platform.    

“We’re supposed to be attracting attention, aren’t we?” she said, grabbing as much of Hunk’s hand as she could hold and tugging it fruitlessly in the direction of the other paladins.   

“The  good  kind,” Hunk reproached, following her relentless pull on his fingers. “ Allura  wants us on best behaviour.”  

“Well  I  want to see Lance’s behaviour,” Pidge retorted, skipping ahead, “so let’s go.”  

“Oh right!”  

It was easier to make her way through the crowd with Hunk; aliens parted around them like a shoal of fish around a cruising shark. It was more complicated to figure out how to reach the other two among the winding walkways and booths, but when they caught up   Lance and Keith were waiting with the strangers and pink faces.  

Keith’s smile was wide and genuine. “Hey guys.  You good?”  

“Yeah, we’re good,” Hunk said, chest swelling.  “That glider?   Totally awesome.  And Pidge and I have nearly finished a planetary early warning system, which, you know, is pretty cool.” It was pretty cool. The visual alert was colour-coded. “So what about you guys? Lance,  wanna  introduce us?”  

“Oh yeah,” Lance agreed, startled. His attempt at a bright smile seemed lopsided, like it was being propped up by rubber. “So, this is…”  

“This one is  Jaseeva , Keeper of Places,” said one  Serili ,  jumping in .   

“This one is  Seonor , Tender of Birds,” said the other.  Pidge carefully returned their slow blink, just as  Allura  had taught them.   

“Hey. I’m Pidge.”  

“And this one, me, I’m Hunk, the Yellow Paladin,” he tapped the bright ‘v’ emblazoned on his chest proudly, then hesitated.  “Though I guess that much is obvious, now that I think about it.”    

“Pidge and Hunk are pretty much geniuses,” Keith added. Pidge looked him over, noting the smile, the relaxed stance, the arms folded loosely against his chest. None of  it  typical Keith behaviour, at least not in the presence of strangers. “Plus, Hunk can cook just about anything.”  

Hunk  beamed,  eyes gooey and shiny.  “Keith, man.  You’ve  gotta  go easy on me, I’m not that good.”  

“Yeah, he’s modest too,” Keith said to the  Serili , sidelong. His gaze turned sly , and he jerked his head the other way.   “Unlike this one.”    

Lance snapped straight, reddening further. “Hey, I’m totally modest!  You’re  the one who was talking about how great I am!”  

“ Was he ?” Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose, and Lance stopped himself at once.   

“Were you?” Hunk asked, eyes jumping from Keith to Lance like he was following a tennis match.  

“These ones were explaining the close relationship of the Paladins of Voltron,” said the  Serili  called  Jaseeva , with delighted head bobs.  

“Yes, it is clear that there is very much affection between you all,”  said  the one called  Seonor . Lance squeaked like one of the mice, eyes going wide and hand going to his mouth like he’d swallowed one by accident.   

“Oh  my gosh  guys,” Hunk gushed, hands clenched together in excitement. “That’s just so...  do you  want a hug?”  

“If you don’t mind,” Keith replied quickly, already moving in. Hunk scooped Keith into his chest, and after a bit of hand-waving, dragged Lance in on it too. Pidge didn’t bother pretending for long, wriggling her arms around Keith’s middle, the left squished between red and yellow  chestplates . It was much too warm, but she didn’t let go.   

“Truly, the Paladins of Voltron are  lidilidi ,” said a dry scratchy voice.   

Pidge’s arm was shoved out of the tangle, brown hands shunting bodies apart.   

“ Okay ,  that’s great, hug time’s over, that’s enough, we’re done. So what are you guys doing anyway?” Lance babbled, turning an accusing stare on his best friend. “You said you two would be busy science- ing   all day .”  

“Science isn’t a verb, Lance,” Pidge said, turning Lance’s annoyance onto  herself  instead. “Hunk made us take a lunch break.”  

“Well yeah,” Hunk said plaintively. “I’m all for getting in the zone, but you can’t let i t  distract from the other important stuff. Do you even know what time it is?”  

Pidge shrugged, as did Keith.   

“You guys haven’t eaten either?” Hunk sighed, long-suffering. “What would you do without me to look after you?”  

“Get hungry, probably,” Keith replied.   

“Exactly,” Hunk said severely. “So,  Jaseeva ,  Seonor , I hope I’m saying that right: do you know what that great smell is? Because I think we should find out.”  

Seonor  and  Jaseeva  both tilted their heads curiously ;  same angle, same timing.  Weird.    

“Smell?”   Jaseeva  queried.   

“Yeah, it’s malty, chocolatey,  a little  hint  of paprika maybe?” Hunk said, sniffing again experimentally. “Coming from that way?”  

Jaseeva  simply stared, but  Seonor  seemed to straighten a little.   

“The  balikojo ?”  

“Of course!”  

“We ones can show you!”  

“Uh… Hunk?” Lance said urgently, blue eyes very wide; foot tapping nervously. “We don’t have any money , and I don’t think we should bank on more freebies. ”  

“We  have money ,” Pidge corrected, pulling a string of little donut-shaped metal coins out of the tiny compartment on her right forearm. “The scientists paid us for fixing this hot filtration system they had lying around -”  

“Coffee machine,” Hunk interrupted. “It was basically a coffee machine.”  

Pidge frowned. “That’s what I  said .”  

“Anyway, shall we go check this out?” Hunk prompted, edging in the direction of the mysterious foodstuff.  “Because if  Jaseeva  and  Seonor  here would be kind enough to show us the way, I’d really like to learn something about  Serin  cuisine.   Preferably with dessert.”  

“At once!”  

Hunk took the time to give Pidge a significant look before he turned to follow their alien guides. It was unnecessary; Pidge was reaching to touch Lance’s arm before he’d even started to follow.   

“Walk slower with me?” she asked, doing her best little sister. Lance slowed without even thinking about it, letting her hold onto this arm. He was watching Keith’s back, apparently transfixed by the hair sticking out from his collar. Pidge took notes: chewing his lip, slight pupil dilation, unresponsive to other stimuli… she leaned into his waist with her shoulder. “What was that?”  

“Huh?” Lance dragged his eyes to hers, staring mutely through the glasses lens until he caught up. Then: “Nothing.”  

Yeah, right.   “What were they  talking about?  The ‘ liddle ’ thing?”  

He swallowed.  Nervous tic?   “ Nothing  Pidge, geez.  Man, I’m hungry.”  

“Uh-huh.”  

“Yeah, uh-huh.  Hunk’s right, it smells amazing.”  He sped up, and Pidge grabbed onto his belt to  force him to keep pace .   

“You know if you won’t tell me I’ll just ask.”  

“ Don’t !” Lance hissed.  Then he carefully packed the fear away under her scrutiny, stubbornly keeping his mouth shut. Pidge frowned.    

“Fine, I won’t.”   She waited for relief to make his shoulders sag.  “Yet.”    

Lance glared.   

Jaseeva  was an eager guide, pointing out anything they thought might interest and readily answering all of Hunk’s questions in their strange, scratching voice.  Seonor   offered further comments only  occasionally, more reticent. They didn’t devote much time to exploring: the Yellow Paladin was so keen to find the source of the bewitching smell that he physically pulled Pidge away from a stall of quirky, shiny metal devices that clicked, which was totally unfair. He didn’t even notice when Lance slowed to  a dawdle , peering into a tented stall selling clothes.   

“Did you want something?” she asked, when Lance continued to  study  the light, floating fabrics. “We could come back after lunch, if you want.”  

The Blue Paladin looked torn for a second. “Nah, I’m good.” He picked up his feet once more.   

When they reached the food section, they discovered Hunk was just as right about the  balikojo  as he was about taking a break. They were delicious: gentle warmth and spice filling her all the way up to the nose, soft and fluffy on her tongue, with a lingering aftertaste not unlike vanilla, if vanilla had heat to it.  

“They’re sort of like churros?” Hunk pronounced, on his third. “Just  like,   really good  churros. Churros evolved.”  

Keith moaned rapturous agreement, eyes half-lidded as he chewed. Lance coughed violently.   

“The one that is Lance is changing colour again,”  Jaseeva  observed over the top of  their  own  meal, courtesy of Hunk. “The one that is Lance is happy, then?”  

“Lance?” Keith lowered his food, concerned. “You ok?”  

“Fine, fine, everything’s great,” said Lance, biting off too much  balikojo  and gagging as he tried to swallow.  

After lunch, and after Hunk had negotiated for a  balikojo  recipe amongst a flurry of praises and flattered nodding, there  was  still a decent handful of donut-shaped coins on their little string. Pidge weighed them in her hand before consulting the others. “Want anything else?  Souvenirs?”  

“I’m good.” Keith said, licking the remains of lunch off his lip.  “Unless you want a mechanical lizard thing?”  

“Mechanical - Lance, what’s up?”  

The Blue Paladin rolled his eyes to glower at the crowding leaves overhead, pink and white and brilliant silver.  He huffed.  “I was just thinking that maybe we should get Keith some pyjamas.  Maybe.”  

She couldn’t stop herself. She smiled, and behind him Hunk was doing the same.  “Pyjamas.   For Keith.”  

“Yeah, for Keith.  The rest of us have pyjamas, right?  So. ”  Lance folded his arms, nose pointing up defiantly.   

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Hunk said with unabashed enthusiasm. “We can do that.  Definitely.”  

“What are pyjamas?”  Jaseeva  asked.   

“Comfy, loose clothes for sleeping in,” Hunk supplied.  “Keith doesn’t have any.”  

Jaseeva  and  Seonor  looked up at Keith. “You are very big,” said  Seonor .   

“All these ones are very big,” said  Jaseeva , blinking slowly at Hunk. “But we ones will help these ones if we ones can.”  

The paladins should really introduce the word ‘I’. It would make the  Serili  tongue about twenty percent more efficient.   

They eventually found what they were looking for at a stall high in the market, nestled among cascading fronds of long violet  leaves ; swaying and scented a little like sharp lavender. They bought Keith a sleeveless white tunic probably intended to be a robe on the shorter  Serili , and a pair of soft grey trousers he could wear as shorts. The Red Paladin held them high against his chest, glove-clad thumbs rubbing the folded edges of the material.   

“Are you... sure?” he asked, tentatively. His gaze travelled them all, but lingered particularly on Lance, who was doing his level best to act like this wasn’t a big deal and thereby making it one.   

“ It’s  fine, it’s fine,” he said, flapping his hand as though to wave Keith’s concern away. “They’re just pyjamas.”   

“ Thankyou ,” Keith breathed, reverent. “Thanks, Lance.”  

Lance flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.  

“Are you all ready?”  Allura  asked, wiping imaginary creases from her gown.   

They had assembled in their borrowed living space, tired but satisfied. At least Pidge was: she and Hunk had completed the warning system and returned in time  for her  to take a bath and another medicine ball before joining the others. Now, she was sitting cross-legged on the padded sofa, leaning against the Yellow Paladin so he could read her laptop screen over her shoulder. Coran had sent through some more information about the  jiyana .  

Shiro   nodded,  standing and straightening from his seat nearby. Keith and Lance were shuffling under  Allura’s  critical eye, the Blue Paladin rocking back and forth on his toes. He ducked his head, briefly.   

“Uh, yeah.  There’s a... a thing I should probably mention first.”  

Allura’s  gaze sharpened at once. Lance winced. He only spoke after Keith gave him a nudge that was probably meant to be comforting.   

“So, uh... there’s a chance that, probably...  theSerilithinkwe’retogether .”  

“Excuse me?”   

Lance took a deep breath.  “The aliens.   Uh.  They think we’re ‘ together’ , together.  Romantically together.”    

Air hissed through  Allura’s  teeth . Lance stiffened as though he was considering whether or not to run. “You told the  Serili  that you and I -”  

“Not just you and me,” Lance cut in, desperate.  “Everyone.  All of us.”  

Shiro’s  eyebrows disappeared beneath the white tuft spilling over his forehead. “ All  of us?”  

“ Ewwww !”  Pidge said, jerking away from Hunk.  

“Yeah, no offence guys, but  eww ,” he agreed, emphatically. Pidge was pretty sure  Shiro  was apologising to someone under his breath.   

“It was an accident!” Lance protested, voice going high.   

Allura d elicately pressed  a hand  to her temple, scowling . “Lance, if this is some kind of joke or ploy, I have to say -”  

“Lance wouldn’t do that!” Keith interrupted, glowering. For a moment, everyone forgot their disgust to stare at the Red Paladin, his arms crossed securely in front of his  chest  and his brows knitted together. “It’s not his fault. I said it first.”  

“You did?”  Shiro’s  mouth popped open in shock. Keith didn’t drop his glare, even when answering his mentor.   

“ Jaseeva  and  Seonor  – the  Serili  we met today – they asked if we were close, and I said we were. We didn’t know they meant lovers.”  

“Are you sure they did?”  Allura  asked,  quick  to hope . “Perhaps this is some kind of miscommunication -”  

“Yeah, they started talking about breeding right afterwards,” Lance put in, flinching when Allura turned back to him. She pressed a knuckle to her mouth, clutching her elbow. Shiro was muttering  sorrys . “They didn’t act like it was a bad thing, if that helps? They actually  kinda  seemed pretty pro about the whole idea, which is way more progressive than I was expecting from these guys to be honest -”  

“Lance!”  Allura  cut him off.  He  was practically hiding behind Keith now, and the other boy seemed to have no intention of backing down.  Allura  took a deep breath, setting her shoulders. “It’s done. I suggest we focus on persuading the  Waysetters  to join the coalition and don’t mention this again.  Ever ,” she added, when Lance opened his mouth.   

He shut it, and summoned a weak smile and limp finger guns. “You got it, Princess.”   

Allura  turned away, and  Shiro  fell in behind her. Hunk stood up to follow, but Pidge pulled up another window on her laptop, watching as Keith placed a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder, receiving a wan smile in return. She typed ‘protective behaviour’ into her notes.   

A solemn  Serili  guided them to dinner, and  Allura  artfully shuffled the paladins around until she and Keith  were  in the lead, the Princess leaning on his arm. Keith simply looked puzzled by the whole manoeuvre.   

The  Waysetters ’ dining chamber was above the Heart’s Hall, behind a smaller but equally impressively carved set of double doors. Inside, the large round room was festooned with geometric tapestries stitched in glittering metallic thread. Small indents in the walls held figurines carved in glimmering perfect crystal :  shapes of  Serili  with inscrutable expressions. The table in the centre was also round, a little drinking fountain hollowed out of the middle. Gently trickling water formed a backdrop to the scratching conversation, which halted when they entered.   

“ Allura , Princess of  Altea  and the Paladins of Voltron,” announced their guide, and everyone completed a slow greeting blink along with  Allura’s  curtsey. Then she took over introductions, taking care to present ‘Keith, the Red Paladin, blessed with  jiya ’ before moving on to the rest.  

Several  Serili  were seated around the table, which was going to be very low for their team. Among them were  Hereebi  and  Kleon , and three others bearing the same  tattoo.  The remaining four were dressed more opulently; gold and copper patterns decorating the hems of their long robes, tiny gemstones set into the bright gilding on their claws. Their tattoos didn’t match; each was swirling and elaborate, full of curls and little flourishes.   

Kleon  introduced everyone in turn, all as either  Waysetter  or Speaker of Counsel, and they sat down. The stools used by the  Serili  were squat as footstools, forcing Allura and the paladins to fold their legs in front of them. Only the Princess managed it with any dignity, arranging herself  elegantly , like a mermaid on a rock.  

“T he  Serili  are honoured by the presence of these ones,” intoned one of the  Waysetters , and they gestured over their shoulder. More  Serili  appeared from behind the various tapestries, decking out the table with  dish after dish of stewed vegetable and dripping sauces, dried fruit and thinly sliced stalks and roots. There was no meat, or nothing Pidge could identify as meat, and fortunately the  Serili  didn’t seem to mind her pointing the handheld scanner at it before the paladins dug in; at least after  Allura  explained what it was for. They wasted no time in assuring the  Serili  that is was all delicious, and a few places away Pidge could practically hear Hunk plotting how to get hold of the ingredients.   

Inevitably, the Princess and  Shiro  steered the conversation towards the  Galra , and the impending threat to the planet. Pidge figured that negotiating was outside her speciality for good reason, and focused on ensuring nothing was poisonous instead. Next to her, Lance also kept his head down, pushing a mixture of petals and berries around his plate and throwing frequent looks around the table, listening in.  Hereebi  was attempting to counter everything  Shiro  or  Allura  said, and the Princess appeared to be taking a ‘kill with kindness’ approach, responding with a frigid smile and devastatingly sweet tones.   

The polite argument was interrupted by the  Waysetter  who spoke earlier. Pidge had already forgotten their name.   

“This one is advised that some of these ones visited the market today.”   

For all it was a general observation, the  Waysetter  was looking at Keith, and they clearly expected an answer. Keith quickly swallowed his mouthful. “Yeah, it was...” he glanced at  Allura , who nodded keenly, “... really interesting,” he finished lamely.   

“Then the one that is Keith thought well of it?”   

Keith nodded slowly, as though expecting a trap.  “Yeah.  It was very nice.” He paused, and then blurted: “we bought pyjamas.”  

“Indeed,” said the  Waysetter , and it was just impossible to infer what they were feeling without more data. Pidge was tempted to point the scanner at them and see what that told her, but she suspected it would be rude. “Does the one that is Keith have any  learnings  to share with we ones after the experience?”  

Keith’s eyes were starting to look wild, and Pidge couldn’t fault him. What great revelations could  he  possibly have while shopping?   

“Uh...”  

Pidge jumped when Lance suddenly spoke up. “Um, I know I’m not blessed or anything, but I wanted to say that everyone was very kind.  Seonor  and  Jaseeva  showed us round, which was great. They were really helpful.” Lance stopped, sucking in a breath and tentatively looking to Allura. She smiled  encouragement .   

“What are the ones that are  Jaseeva  and  Seonor ?” asked a Speaker of Counsel.   

“Oh, I know this,” Hunk said. “They’re a Tender of Birds and a Keeper of Places, I think. No, wait :  the other way round.”  

“This one is pleased that those ones were of assistance,”  Kleon  said.   

“Those ones were outside their roles,”  Hereebi  put in. “And th ose ones  fill lesser roles to begin with. It is well nothing ill came of it, however.”  

Lance  gulped . “We didn’t mean to do anything wrong -”  

“These ones did not,”  Hereebi  said. “These ones do not know the way. But the  Serili  are best able to attain  ji  when they remain true to their role and devote themselves to it.”   

“Is that a truth from  jiya ,  Hereebi ?”  Kleon  queried, quietly.  Hereebi   didn’t  blink when  replying ,  and Pidge had to wonder if that was significant.    

“It is.”  

Keith looked bewildered. Pidge suspected they all were, but Keith was showing it ;  a frown  sett L ing  between his eyebrows. “They were helping. What’s the problem?”  

Allura hid her gasp behind another carefully pinned fake smile, and Shiro  shifted minutely  in his chair. The Waysetter that initiated the conversation leaned closer over the table, blinking at Keith.   

“Does the one that is Keith think those ones’ actions were wise?”  

“I don’t see what’s wrong with trying to help if you can,” Keith said, stubbornly. “I mean...” he hesitated then, eyes flicking around the table, rolling over Lance, whose mouth was slightly parted. “They were being nice. That’s  hard  for some people. Why shouldn’t they practice?”  

There was a scrape of wood on wood and then the  Waysetter  was standing, swiftly followed by the rest of the  Serili  at the table. They followed the  Waysetter  into a bow, two hands pressed to the floor, two at head height,  all  palms up.   

“The  Serili  thank you for this insight,  b lessed  o ne,” said the  Waysetter  when upright again.   

“Oh... ok,” said Keith, looking lost. “Sure.”  

One of the other  Waysetters  looked to Lance, who was opposite, and took up the conversation again, ripe blue fruits held delicately in three sets of claws. “This one was advised that the Paladins of Voltron hold each other  lidilidi . Is this correct?”  

There was a pause.  

“Uh-huh, yeah, absolutely,” said Lance too quickly, nodding madly. He looked like he was copying the  Serili  head bobbing thing. “It’s... great. So about the market again -”  

“It is remarkable for such a bond to form between so many,” carried on the  Waysetter , popping one of the fruits into their mouth, entirely ignoring Lance and his strangled squeak. “Many groups of young ones profess themselves  lidilidi , but rarely does t hat prove true  into adulthood.”  

Allura   frowned . “Groups of your  children  are  lidilidi ?”  

“In a lesser form.”  

“Perhaps these ones also recognise something lesser as  lidilidi ,” suggested  Hereebi .   

“Or perhaps these ones are excellent examples of carefully planned breeding,”  Kleon  replied.   

Thankfully,  Allura  stepped in. “If you would excuse me,” she said, delicately setting aside her dish and valiantly keeping a straight face. “Amongst my people, and the paladins’ race, matters of procreation are considered somewhat private and personal, exclusively for adults. I take it this is not so for the  Serili ?”  

“They are?”  

“Then how are such things arranged?”  

“It cannot be that breeding is not planned at all!”  

“Perhaps,” said the first  Waysetter , whom Pidge hypothesised was the oldest or most experienced, because everyone else stopped talking, “these ones people’s romantic?”  

“Ah!” said one  Serili .   

“I have heard of such,” said another.   

Allura  blinked. “ Alteans  and humans form romantic relationships, yes. It is typically romantic partners that... choose to breed.” Even the princess was struggling to hide her embarrassment now. The  Waysetter  in charge made a slight ripping noise in the back of their throat , but apparently that was a normal thing.    

“The  Serili  do not experience such an emotion,” they declared, and that made every non- Serili  round the table frown. “Nor do the  Serili  engage in... I believe it is known as ‘marriages’?”  

“Ones with appropriate traits and abilities are selected to produce offspring to fill the roles society requires,” another  Serili  continued.   

“In this manner, the  Serili  can be assured that the most suitable ones occupy each role,” finished one of the other  Waysetters .   

“You don’t fall in love?” Lance burst out.  “None of you?”  

It was  Hereebi  that responded, voice crackling like old paper. “The  Serili  have no need of such.”   

Lance gaped, leaning away from the table. “But... but don’t you  want  to?”  

“Is romantic attachment important to this one’s kind?”  

Lance blushed.  “Yeah.   To some more than others, but yeah.”  

“Are romantic relationships governed in any way?”  

“Um.  Not usually...”  

“- and yet they are allowed to produce offspring? Unsupervised?”  

“It’s not something people want to be supervised during!”  

“Who determines the role the offspring will fill?” asked someone else.   

“The offspring do?” Lance tried.  

“As long as they can do it,” Hunk put in, trying to help. “There are often tests and stuff.”  

“So you do have some method of assessing suitability?”  

“I guess.”  

“What of those ones who are deemed unsuitable?”  

“They could try again? Or do something else?” Hunk paused, chewing his lip. “What do you do if someone doesn’t  want  the role they are given?”  

“Those ones are rare,”  Hereebi  crackled dismissively. “Those ones are offered a lesser role to which they might be suited. Few achieve  ji .”  Hereebi  turned from Hunk, and their unblinking, totally black eyes fell on  Allura . “This one is curious. This means, then, that the Paladins of Voltron were not bred for the responsibility?”  

“They were not,” replied the Princess evenly. “I was brought up with an understanding of Voltron and its Paladins, but I wasn’t bred for it either.”  

“Then they were tested for suitability in some way?”  

Allura  hesitated.  “Not formally.”  

“Then how was it decided that these ones were the most appropriate ones for the role?”  Hereebi  demanded, and Pidge’s skin crawled when he looked around the table at each of their faces.   

Allura  frowned.  “Our  achievements so far have more than  proven -”  

“We were chosen,” snapped Keith. “That’s how.” All eyes turned on him; black  and  coloured. Keith’s hands were balled up, pressed against the table, a shredded plant stem discarded on his plate. He was glowering at  Hereebi , at least at first. “When we found the Blue Lion on Earth, she chose Lance,” Keith switched to the Blue Paladin next to her, and Lance flushed. “Out of all of us, she chose him and only him. And then Yellow and Green chose Hunk and Pidge, and Red chose me. And Black picked  Shiro . Who cares if we weren’t bred for it or whatever? Who says you   have   to do whatever someone else thinks you’re best at?” Defiantly, he looked back at  Hereebi , fighting with words. “The Lions don’t work with just anyone, but they picked us.  Us , in the whole universe.  That’s got to mean something.”  

“I agree,” said  Allura  suddenly. “In fact, I think our different backgrounds and views make us more effective.”  

“I know Pidge’s analytical tendencies have saved us more than once,”  Shiro  put in, and he winked when she grinned at him.   

“And Hunk’s got the best instincts,” she added. “He can always tell when something’s up.”  

“Coran looks after us all. And Keith's super brave, and he calms me down when I get  anxious ,” Hunk supplied, nodding.   

“Lance holds us all together,” Keith said, quietly. “We’d never have got this far without him.”   

Slowly, the  Waysetters  and Speakers of Counsel rose again, and team Voltron found  themselves  standing up as well, without thinking. They didn’t follow the  Serili  into yet another deep bow.  

“The  Serili  thank you for this insight,  b lessed  o ne,” said the eldest  Waysetter , all palms upwards. Keith gulped and sat down again rather heavily.   

“Well,  Hereebi ,” said the  Waysetter  with the blue fruit ,  as everyone set themselves back on their stools. “It is this one’s view that these ones  are  truly  lidilidi .”   

“It actually makes a lot of sense,” Pidge observed, when the meal was thankfully over and the team were being escorted back to their suite. Lance was hanging back with her while the others talked about the food and drink, generally avoiding the topic of what had actually been said. “If the  Serili  did fall in love, they’d probably have warned us about the side-effects of the  jiyana  bite.”  

“...  the  bite.  Yeah.”  

“You can’t have forgotten,” Pidge prompted, getting an elbow into Lance’s ribs. He wheezed and rubbed the spot, overfull.  

“Of course I haven’t,” he said, scowling. He swallowed, glancing ahead. “I mean, you heard him earlier, right?”  

Pidge considered this, carefully turning it over until she was certain. “That wasn’t the bite talking.”  

“Pidge, we both know Keith would never have said that stuff if he wasn’t high on insect  lovin ’ right now.”  

“He might not have  said  it,” Pidge agreed, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting the attention of the others. “But he definitely thought it.” Lance only continued to scowl, disbelieving. “Look, according to everything Coran and I found out, the nerve agent in the bite accelerates and enhances emotional responses, it  doesn ’t change  what you think ,” she explained. “Unless of course you assume that your emotional experience derives from the way your brain actually  works , which I suppose is technically correct -” she stopped because Lance obviously wasn’t listening. “Lance? I’m saying Keith meant it. All of it.”  

Lance was transfixed, staring at the Red Paladin’s retreating form, and Pidge was forced to give him a nudge before they were left completely behind.   

“Hey. At least we know you guys were right about the  lidilidi   thing after all.”  

He  blinked, blue eyes round and vacant as he looked at her. “Huh?”  

“The  lidilidi  thing,” Pidge repeated impatiently. “They were talking about us all being close, not getting it on with each other.”  

“Huh. Yeah,” Lance wobbled back into life, trudging down the corridor with her. “Guess it was my mistake.”  

“Yeah, but it’s understandable,” she said, as  casually  as possible. “I mean, they were talking about you and Keith to start with. No wonder you assumed it was romantic.”  

Lance froze.   

“Lance? You ok?”   

He didn’t seem to notice her grin. He was too busy staring into space, chasing the lines of Keith’s shoulders.  

“Lance?”  

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah I... I’m coming.”  

Chapter Text

‘No wonder you assumed it was romantic’.   

No wonder you assumed it was  romantic .  

There was no way. No way in this or any parallel universe. It wasn’t possible that he was thinking about  Keith  romantically. Was it?  

Pidge had to be wrong.   

Lance ignored the voice in his head that reminded him Pidge was never wrong.   

The team returned to their suite to find it full of whispering shadows. The golden sprays of leaves outside the windows were luminously pale in the fading light, the chorus of birds and insects replaced by the louder, shriller sounds of night-time creatures. It was still warm, but cool breezes stirred the branches and canopy, rustling and slithering in the air. It perfectly toed the line between restful - yet - mysterious and outright creepy.   

From the look on Hunk’s face, he thought it was a good few toes over. “So are we still on for that sleepover? Because I’m not sleeping  a wink until I know there are like , three people between me and whatever’s out there.”  

“Hey,” said Keith, nudging the larger boy with an awkward elbow. His  reassuring  smile was lopsided, like he didn’t know how to do it properly. “You know we’d never let anything get you, right?”   

“I’m just saying that would be a lot easier if we were all hanging out,” Hunk said, fingers twisted. He hit Lance with the pleading eyes ; round and brown and bottomless.  “Can we?”  

“I’m game,” Lance  agreed  easily. Truthfully, Hunk had a point . There was a high-pitched howling sound amidst the other noise that definitely belonged to something  carnivorous .  “ With the four of us and  our   bayards ,   i t ’ll be the safest sleepover in the universe.”  

“It’s not like we can use them,” Hunk whined. “Well ,  I guess Keith can, but  we  shouldn’t.  What if the y start  a fire?”  

  “ Urgh .”  Lance glanced around, taking in their very wooden, very flammable- lookin g accommodation. “ Great. Now  I  won’t be able to sleep.”  

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you either,” Keith said, sincere and still smiling. Lance  gulped.     

“You guys planning a slumber party?”  Shiro  asked. He seemed close to slumber himself,  sitting on the padded bench with his back to the wall and arms folded. Dark circles shaded his eyes.  Next to him, Pidge had balled up with her laptop, the  clickety -clack of pressed keys its own kind of insect  c hatter .  Allura  watched curiously from the other side.  

“Yeah.   Wanna  join?” Hunk offered, hopefully.   

Shiro  shook his head, smiling gently. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Just don’t stay up too late, okay?”  

The frantic typing  ceased,  and Pidge sniggered.  “Sure thing,  Dad .”   Shiro’s  face twisted, nose scrunching up.  Allura  giggled softly.  Lance watched as Keith turned away , a hand over his mouth to hide his own chuckles.  Shiro  wasn’t fooled.   

“You can cut that out,” he said, his tone amused rather than cross. “I’m not really much older than you are.”  

“Don’t worry  Dad ,” Keith returned, his mouth widening into something gleeful. “We don’t think you’re past it  just  yet.”  

Shiro  jumped out of his seat, and Keith ducked behind Lance.  Gl oved hands  brushed against  the back of  Lance’s  chestplate  and he felt it  like a real touch, heart rising in his chest.  Shiro  sank back down,  looking smug .  “Not that past it, huh?”  

“At least it’s Space Dad and not Space Daddy,” said Pidge.   

“Enough!” cried  Shiro , head falling into his hands. “That’s enough. I never want to hear those words again. Go and play, please, I’m too tired to deal with this.”  

“I…”  Allura  hesitated. “I’m not sure I understand.”  

Hunk reached over  Lance’s  shoulder to slam a hand over his mouth. He squawked protests into his palm before giving up and glaring instead, asking the question with his eyebrows.   

“Just… don’t say anything, Lance. Please.”  

“I don’t want to know,”  Allura  declared. “I’m going to  speak to  Coran before I turn in. And the rest of you are… having a slumber party?”  

“Do  you  want to come?” Lance asked, wrenching Hunk’s hand  away . This was good, this was right. Chill time with the Princess was always the plan. “We’re  gonna  play cards and do facemasks and stuff.” He waited eagerly while  Allura  considered, biting her lip.  

“I really shouldn’t tonight, but … maybe next time?  If there is one?”  

“Sure,” Lance replied, nodding enthusiastically. He topped it off with a wink. “You’re always welcome in my room, Princess.”  

“I’ve  just  changed my mind.”   

“I’m  gonna  go change,” Keith muttered, heading quickly off down the gently curving passage. They all watched him go, even Lance, his heart still refusing to co-operate like a rational organ, his mouth strangely dry.   

Pidge slammed her laptop shut with a snap, breaking the moment.  “Me too.  I need more medicine.”  

“One ball this time,”  Shiro  said warningly, and Pidge rolled her eyes at him  dramatically before  she hurried away, laptop cradled in her arms. Hunk set a hand on Lance’s shoulder as they made their way after her.  

“How long do you need, buddy?” he asked, uncharacteristically hushed.   

“ Gimme …  gimme  half a  varga ?”  Lance suggested. Long enough to get clean and a grip on  himself . “I  wanna  take a bath.”   

“Okay. I’m  gonna  check on Keith.”  

“Why?” Lance asked, before he could stop himself. He sucked in air when  his friend’s gaze  met him with something like censure , something like disappointment.  

“You know why, Lance.”   

Hunk trudged off, leaving  his friend  standing outside his room.  Lance  ducked inside, carefully lowering the curtain over the entrance before he pushed his palms into his eyes and shook himself all over, like a wet dog drying off.  Half a  varga .  He had half a  varga , and then he just had to survive a sleepover without going crazy.   

He didn’t linger in the bath like he normally would, all too aware that only a curtain separated his naked body from the rest of the team, but still found time to investigate the little leaf-wrapped packets. It wasn’t until he was slathered in deep blue gel that smelt of surf and sweet raspberries and tingled pleasantly  on his skin that he thought to wonder if it was safe. He should probably have  had Pidge check it out first. Especially given what an insect bite could do to people on this crazy planet.   

Yeah. Insect bites.   

Yeah, he  was still thinking about it. About Keith. What a difference a smile made.  

An unbidden vision of  the  crush-struck  Red Paladin  walking in on him in the bath had Lance hauling out of it ;  bundling up into spun-sugar-soft towels and then into his  Altean  pyjamas and robe. He  carefully dried  between his toes and donned his Lion slippers, letting the water out of the tub. By the time Keith actually showed up, Lance was rummaging through his overnight bag on the floor . He didn’t even bother to turn around.  

“Am I too early?”  Keith  asked, hovering by the archway.   

“’s good,  s’good ,” Lance  mumbled,  frowning as he scrabbled around the inside pockets. Where were they?   

“What are you  looking  for?”  

“My -” Lance finally looked up and only just stopped himself from saying something stupid. Like, say :  ‘gosh’. Keith was transformed: softer and slender. Lance had almost forgotten he could look like that; had only seen it that time they tried to go to the Castle pool. His makeshift pyjamas didn’t fit all that well ,  the sheer white fabric of the tunic was tight across his collarbones and upper chest but hung loose down to his thigh. The  Serili  trousers made decent shorts :  muzzy grey material brushing the tops of surprisingly skinny knees. About the only bits of him that didn’t look spindlier than usual were his bare arms ;  obvious muscle taut under alabaster skin. Lance pretended he didn’t envy that.   

“I look ridiculous,” said Keith flatly, catching Lance’s stare.  

“No you don’t,” he said quickly, feeling his own face  heating up in some sort of bizarre solidarity with Keith’s.  “You look… comfy.” He skipped right over the other words that came to mind, like ‘cute’ and ‘cuddly’ and ‘arms of Adonis’.   

Suspicion was replaced with shy appreciation . “It is  pretty  comfy,”  Keith   admitted , plucking at the top. “Thanks for getting them.”  

“No-no problem man,” Lance replied. He blinked  when Keith kept looking at him, growing more and more quizzical.   

“Lance? What were you searching for?”  

“Headphones!   Right, yeah, my headphones.”  

“You mean  my  headphones,” Pidge cut in, sweeping through the curtain. She  too had donned pyjamas; hers were green. Lance guessed  Alteans  (or maybe  just  Coran)  were  really into the colour theme. The tiny girl  was dragging a blanket behind her with one hand, clutching her laptop with the other. Lance jumped up.   

“ Nuh -uh  Pidgey , you know the rules,” he pronounced, pointing imperiously. “No  tech-stuff  at sleepover time.”  

“Attempts to separate me from this computer will be met with deadly force,” Pidge growled, and Lance knew she was absolutely serious. She kicked the blanket into a pile and stole a few of Lance’s cushions before settling down on it, laptop balanced across her knees. She set her  bayard  on top, just to be extra clear.  And man, that thing stung.  “ If  you’ve lost my headphones, I might hurt you anyway.”  

“ Relax,  I just left them on the Castle.”  

“Do you want me to go get them for you?” asked Keith.   

“What?”  

“What?” echoed Pidge, with  relish.  

Keith turned sheepish under their joint stares. Lance didn’t even know sheepish was a thing Keith could  do.    “You can’t sleep without them, can you?”  

Lance breathed in, avoiding the gremlin at all costs.  He could feel the  aura of  mischief from her direction like  heat from a flame .  “When did I tell you that?”  

Keith wasn’t meeting his eyes, though they flicked over his face. “ Dunno . Sometime.”  

“ Awwwwwww ,”  crowed  Pidge, and thankfully Hunk interrupted, bursting into the room with his arms full of what had to be every blanket and pillow from his own sleeping alcove. His overnight bag was over his shoulder.   

“ Oooooohhhh-kaaaayyyy …” Hunk said, carefully navigating around trailing blankets that threatened to tangle his bare feet.  His pyjamas were yellow, of course.  “I’ve got a few of those goo candy-bar things I was working on, and some of those sweet nuts we saw at the market yesterday, and like, everything left from our last stop at the mall.” He dropped his bundle in front of Pidge, tossed  the  bag between them, and began constructing a sort of nest in the space in front of Lance’s  padded hollow  bed. Lance hopped into th at, turning himself around and thrashing and wriggling until he was comfortably ensconced, and Keith sat himself down on the floor near the Yellow Paladin, who immediately insisted on sharing some pillows.   

Lance rearranged his  towel-turban , loosened by  the  fidgeting. “So what are we going to play first?”  

“Snap , ” Pidge said, already laying out the cards.   

Snap lasted for a good while, even after Allura came and asked them to keep it down a bit. She stayed to watch a few rounds before shaking her head and leaving, muttering about ‘these Earth games’. It was eventually broken up by Hunk, who  claimed  Keith and Lance were making it too serious and scary. Lance pinned Keith with a look and demanded a future rematch, and Keith just grinned at him.  

“You’re on, Sharpshooter.”    

His  belly  flipped.   

Lance hid the colour in his cheeks with a facemask, brought from the Castle. He tipped the pot at Hunk after he was done  expertly   covering  his own face in the soothing, silky cold goo. His friend nodded eagerly.   

“Yeah dude, lay it on me.” Hunk shifted until his back was to the wall under the alcove, settling his arms along the opening and leaning his head back so Lance could apply the mask upside-down. He hummed a little when Lance got to work, carefully avoiding his eyes, mouth and nostrils. Pidge was talking about school, back before the Garrison, and Lance found himself joining in :  telling stories of his own teachers and detentions. Keith laughed when Lance told them about getting three hours for giving Susanna Clarke a lizard because she said she liked animals.  He  thought it was cute.  

“What about you ,  then?” Lance demanded, finally finishing applying an even layer to Hunk’s face. “You must have had detentions too!”  

Keith shrugged.  “Sometimes.   For  skipping , mainly.  Nothing exciting happened to me at school until  Shiro  turned up.”  

“ Shiro  came to your school?  Hey, Pidge.  Want this?” Lance offered her the pot.  “Because your pores totally do.  I can see them screaming from here.”  

Pidge huffed. “If I can put it on myself,” she said, snatching it from his hands.  She gave the contents an experimental prod, flinching back from the chill before she braved it against her skin.  

“Yeah  he did ,” Keith  answered Lance . “That’s how I met him. He turned up with a flight simulator.”  

“Oh yeah! ” s aid Lance, nodding. “The Garrison sent someone to my school  with that.  I loved that thing! I mean, I already knew I was  gonna  be a pilot, but it was the first time I really got to feel what it was like,  y’know ?”  

“You’d already decided to be a pilot?” Keith asked , sounding a little amazed.   

“Yeah.   Since I was  six .”  

“Oh.” Keith’s head fell back a bit, considering him. A small smile curved over his mouth.  “Yeah.  I can  kinda  see that now.”  

“What?” Lance demanded, grateful that his flush was  both  concealed  and  moisturised. “What’s wrong with that? Every kid wants to be a hero, right?”  

“I guess.” Keith said, leaning back on his hands.   

“Didn’t you?”  

“I…” he  hesitated, just slightly. Lance couldn’t be sure anyone else had noticed, eye briefly catching the bob in Keith’s throat.  “I didn’t really want to be anything.  Except maybe my Dad.”    

He didn’t seem to  realise  that everyone had stilled. They didn’t know all of it, of course.  Just a little more than everyone  at the Garrison  had known.   Snatches stolen from the mind-meld headsets, when focus wandered.  More glimpses of Keith’s old shack than of people.  A brief, too-old memory of a  man  who still seemed like a giant, invincible.   A flash of a grave.  There was more to read in what wasn’t there than what was.   

Lance knew he couldn’t imagine it ; knew whatever he tried to say would be trite and empty, unknowing.  Only Hunk was brave enough to speak.   

“That’s… that’s cool, man. I wanted to be like my  Mom when I was little. I thought she could make or do anything .”  

“I wanted to be like my brother,” Pidge supplied, done applying the mask. It was streaky over her  forehead,  and  glooped  up  around her nose  when she sniffed.  “Except less dorky, obviously.”    

Keith  grinned . “ I don’t think you can talk when you’ve got a  faceful  of white custard.”  

“Hey ! ”   Lance  protested,  snatching up his  pot  once again. “We’ll be the ones laughing when we’re all cleansed and soft tomorrow, Mullet.”  

“What’s it even doing?” Keith asked, peering at Pidge. She stuck her tongue out at him before gathering  a  blanket  around herself, head sticking out the top like a cherry atop a meringue. “Doesn’t it feel weird?”  

“Dude, you’ve never done a facemask before?” Lance  asked .  He sighed when Keith shook his head, light rippling across the blue-black of his hair.  “Seriously, I’m surrounded by barbarians. How do you even get skin that  good  if you don’t look after it?”  

Keith ’s protest was weak, belied by the colour touching his neck, visible against the tight neckline of the makeshift shirt.  “I’m not a barbarian. I wash my face.”  

“With what Keith,  hand soap ?”  

“It’s soap! That’s what soap is for!”  

“Are you hearing this Hunk? Are you hearing it?”  

“Yeah I am,” Hunk supplied; eyes like spotlights as he looked between the two of them. “Maybe you should put it on for him?  Let   him  try it?”  

Oh. So that could happen.   

Keith looked almost as nervous as Lance felt, surveying  the edgy Blue Paladin  from the corner of his eyes.  “You sure?  It looks  kinda  weird.”  

“It’s not that bad,” Pidge said encouragingly, amber gaze burning into Lance’s temple and right through his brain. “Try it.”  

“Okay.” Keith scooted forwards, sitting cross-legged on the floor right in front of Lance, not quite between his legs as he sat upright in the  cushioned  alcove. Still, Lance found himself forgetting to breathe for a second when Keith looked up at him, pools of indigo hovering just above the height of his knees.  Keith seemed  just as  breathless , eyelids dropping just a little as he stared.    

Lance  might have imagined Pidge’s snigger, but it jerked him into action anyway. “It’ll be cold,” he warned, scooping a dollop onto two fingers.  

“Sure,” Keith said, leaning a little further forward to make it easier to reach, hands resting in his lap. He waited, face upturned and unmercifully pretty. Lance swallowed,  then   swallowed  again, just to make sure.   

“ Clo -close your eyes,” he stuttered, and Keith did; long inky eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones. Carefully, Lance leaned forwards and smoothed the first portion of mask  around the  eyesocket , running his fingers down the curve of his jaw.   

Pidge and Hunk were watching him, blast them.   

“So what was you guys ’  favourite subject in school?” he bleated. He knew the ir   answers;  he just really needed them to be talki ng. His friends  took pity, resurrecting the conversation. Lance paid only limited attention, slowly working to cover Keith’s face, fingertips overly sensitive to every line and plane against them. “I take it back,” he murmured, because Keith was nearly silent beneath his touch, and he couldn’t get over the sight of him waiting patiently  beneath  hi s hands . “Your skin is actually really dry.”  

“Is it?” Keith frowned, and a globule of goo formed between his brows.   

“Don’t pull faces,” Lance instructed, and Keith immediately relaxed,  breathing out a sigh as Lance swept the fluid substance  back into place . Lance shivered, pulling his hand back so Keith wouldn’t feel it. “Can’t you tell?”  

Keith shifted a little,  then  lifted a hand to poke suspiciously at the only part of his cheek Lance hadn’t yet covered. “What’s it supposed to feel like?”  

“Supple, you idiot.  Like mine.”   

Lance’s mouth went dry when he realised what he’d done.   

Keith’s eyes opened  -  and yes, they were close enough for Lance to count the blue flecks in the grey again  -  and he reached out. Lance held his breath when Keith stroked a single finger from just beneath his ear down his jaw, underneath the line of the mask. He couldn’t stop the little tremble that went through him.   

Keith’s eyes suddenly widened and he drew his hand sharply away.  “Yeah.  I get it.”  

Pidge and Hunk’s voices had lulled, and Lance was dying.  He almost slapped the rest of the mask on. “There. Leave it for a bit,  then  we’ll wash it off.”  

“It tickles.”  

“That’s the price you pay for beautiful skin.”  

“ You  do this all the time?”  

Lance almost choked, saved only because Keith had said it innocently, and from the look on his face had only just realised how it might sound. “…careful, Samurai,” Lance said, pushing his reaction down beneath the words, “that sounded almost like a compliment.”  

“Maybe it was,” Keith said, leaning back on his hands. It wasn’t the tilt of his head that undid  Lance,  it was the smirk that graced the pink curve of his mouth.   

“Chase the  A ce!” Lance cried, much too loudly. Hunk shushed him, flapping his hands. “Chase the  A ce,” Lance repeated at acceptable night-time levels. “Let’s play that.”  

He’d meant to avoid dealing with Keith for a while, but the next thing he knew he was explaining the rules.  

Chase the Ace didn’t last nearly as long as Snap, quickly dissolving into quiet conversation as they munched on snacks and threw cards at each  other. In the middle of it all, chewing on one of Hunk’s attempts at a  goo -based candy bar and watching Keith and Lance flick balled up wrappers at each other, Pidge said:  

“I like this.”  

“Really?” asked Hunk, perking up behind his pillow-shield. Discarded ammunition littered the ground around him. “Because I still think it needs to be sweeter –”  

“Not that,” Pidge said ,  waving the bar and then noticing Hunk sag a little. “The  goo  thing is  good,  Hunk, but I meant this.” Her blanket cocoon rippled as she shifted underneath it.  “The sleepover thing.  I haven’t really done this before.  Except with Matt.”  

“You haven’t?” Keith asked. Lance took advantage of his distraction to nail him with the next flick. The ball bounced off the side of Keith’s nose, making him jump. Pidge glared at the Red Paladin.   

“How many slumber parties did you have in your  shack,  Keith?” she  responded , sarcasm dripping. Lance frowned.   

“Hey, don’t -”   

“That’s not it,” Keith said quickly,  eyes wide. “I didn’t mean anything like that.” He scratched at his neck, leaving red trails after his nails. They began to fade even as Lance watched, colour bleeding out of the warm skin. Keith had one or two faint freckles  there.  Perhaps there were more. “I just…” Keith stopped, giving hesitant glances at each of them in turn. “I figured I was the only one.”  

“This is your first sleepover?  Ever?”  That was from Hun k, who was starting to look bleary eyed and slack, never one for late nights .  

“The other kids at the home h el d them in the common room sometimes,” Keith replied,  an uneasy lilt in his tone. Lance was sure they were all memorising that slip of information as well, whatever they pretended.  He certainly was, down with the other things he was only now learning about the guy he’d been in space with for more than a year.   “ - b ut I didn’t join. Those kids… they weren’t like you guys.” He said it shyly, meant it for them all ;  another tiny  piece of himself he was giving away, like a smile. Lance held his breath, told himself he imagined Keith stealing a long look at him through his lashes, reminded himself that even if he wasn’t, it meant nothing.  Just a symptom.    

“That is so awesome,” breathed Hunk, and Keith startled.  “Guys.   Guys.  We get to be Keith’s first sleepover.” He caught up both Lance and Pidge in an expansive stare. “You know what that means.”  

“No, I don’t,” Pidge said, only half grumpy, but Lance saw the inevitable rushing towards him with the fury of a  charging bull , and no amount of frantic eyeballing seemed to have any effect on the friend cheering it home.  

“Truth or Dare!”  Hunk pronounced, the wretched traitor.  Because yes,  normally  Lance loved Truth of Dare, normally  he’d  be suggesting it and persuading his friends and siblings that were ‘too old for it’ to join in.   Normally .  But that was before the bite. That was before his teammate looked at him  like that .   

“Do we have to? Why don’t we just -”  

“I’m fine with it,” Pidge cut him off, abruptly sitting up to her full  and still frankly tiny  height. She adjusted her glasses, and Lance had learnt from long, painful experience that was a bad sign: that meant Pidge  meant business. Worse, Hunk was rubbing his hands with the vigour he only possessed when he smelt gossip, and he had to have something up his pyjama sleeve, because Hunk knew all his embarrassing secrets already.   

Oh. Oh  quiznak . Hunk  knew all his embarrassing secrets . Lance gave him the eye, letting his friend know he was being  monitored , and revenge would be swift.   

“Lance first,” Pidge said promptly.  

“We’re supposed to spin a bottle,” Lance protested, putting up a last, pitiful defence against that incoming  bull.  

“ There’s  only four of us, we’ll take it in turns.” Pidge grabbed another snack, twisting the packet as though wringing a tiny neck. Perhaps Lance was just being fatalistic now.   

“So,” said Hunk.  “You first.”  

He was  so  stealing all of Hunk’s cookies.  “Fine.  Dare,” he said defiantly, and Pidge’s eyes narrowed at  his clever escape. At least he hoped it was.   

Lance resolutely stuck to  ‘D are ’  for the first few rounds, and with Hunk in place to enforce the ‘nothing mean’ rule, the strategy worked pretty well.  Plus, late at night in the middle of an alien  tree- city, they had  surprisingly limited resources.  Lance did the chicken dance, an impression of Iverson that had Pidge cackling, was forbidden from speaking for a whole three  dobashes , and had to stay in a headstand for fifty ticks. That last one would have been fine, but Lance’s pyjama top obeyed gravity’s demands and slipped down, revealing his stomach and chest, and Keith abruptly had some kind of coughing fit. That also had Pidge cackling, though Hunk looked actually alarmed. Keith huddled under a blanket with his arms wrapped around his knees for the next portion of the game, face red behind them. He  seemed  to be follow ing Lance’s lead and choosing   ‘D are ’  every time, though his ears were becoming more and more pink.   

The dares steadily became stranger and stranger, and after s eeing Pidge recite the Periodic  Table backwards in  a French  accent, Lance cracked.  “Truth.”  

“First crush,”  Pidge  said immediately, leaning on her arms and looking expectant. She’d somehow managed to migra te into Lance’s sleeping alcove with him,  where she was lying flat on her belly, legs kicking at his pillows.   

Lance sighed massively.  “ N aomi, from the bus stop.”  

“From the bus stop?  How old were you?” Pidge demanded.   

“Eight.”  

Keith seemed dumbstruck, but Pidge merely pulled a face like she found that vaguely distasteful. “I don’t think I knew how to have a crush when I was eight.”  

Lance forced his eyes wide and shocked. “You mean you’re not eight now?!”  

“Shove off!”  

“I was even younger,” Hunk said, reminiscing fondly. “I told my  kindergarden  teacher Mrs  Wazowski  that I wanted to marry her when I grew up.”  

“What did she say?” asked Keith, apparently fascinated.   

“That that was very nice and I should go and  put my things away  now.” Hunk shook his head, eyes twinkling. “I was heartbroken, I’m telling you. Until the new Space Ranger toys came out, anyway.” They all laughed, sleepy and lax, content to stay curled into the soft little spots they’d made for themselves. Hunk looked at Pidge. “What about you?”  

“Never had one.”  

“Aw,  come  ooonnn ,” Lance groaned ,  “ w e spilled.” Pidge frowned, rubbing at her eyes as she set her glasses carefully aside.  

“I’m serious, I never had one.”  

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but Hunk  cut  him  off . “Keith?  Your turn.”  

“What?” Keith startled, and a red flush overtook him like a wave, visible even through the mask Lance had layered on; now dry and  ready to crack . Lance couldn’t help the tiny gasp when Keith’s eyes jerked briefly to his face, then resolutely away. “Yeah, I… me neither.”  

“ Keeee-eeith ,” Hunk wheedled,  bearing down on the smaller boy. “That isn’t true, is it? You can tell us. What happens in the circle of truth stays in the circle of truth, right guys?”  

Lance nodded dumbly, Pidge with more  enthusiasm  and an evil grin.   

“It…” Keith began weakly, flinching when Hunk pitched forward in excitement. “It wasn’t a big deal.  Maybe a couple of months.”  

“Who?”  Hunk pressed, hands twitching as though he was resisting putting them on Keith’s shoulders. “You can tell us Keith,  it’s  okay.” The Red Paladin was leaning away, shrinking into himself, and Lance was about to intervene, mouth opening to tell Hunk off, when Keith suddenly shut his eyes and blurted:  

“ Shiro !”  

Hunk sat back on his heels. “Oh. My. Gosh.”  

“Space Dad?” said Pidge, agog.  “Space Daddy!”  She rolled onto her back, arms folded over her stomach as she laughed. Keith stared in horror, but Hunk was already recovering, tugging on Keith’s blanket to get his attention.   

“Oh  my gosh  oh my gosh, when? How old were you?  When you first met him or later?”  

How was Hunk so excited about this?  Should have been obvious.  Heck, Lance could have told him that much, if he’d ever asked.  Lance was tempted to say as much, but Hunk was fixated on the Red Paladin, and Keith was  collapsing under his stare.    

Lance sat up. Keith was closing himself up, the shivering in his arms turning to shakes, all the colour under the facemask draining  away.    

“I knew this would happen. I can’t – you can’t – you mustn’t tell him – I -”  

“ Keith ,” said Lance quickly, dropping out of the alcove onto his knees right in front of the rattling boy, “Keith, nobody is going to tell him. It’s okay. I promise.” But Keith was shaking his head now, hair rustling and flakes of mask falling off as though he was truly coming to pieces.    

“He’s  gonna  be so mad – I shouldn’t have – shouldn’t have said anything – I -”  

“Keith, look at me,” Lance said firmly,  holding up a palm  in Hunk’s direction so he couldn’t  crowd the panicking boy. Lance wanted to  comfort  him, put a hand on his shoulder or knee, but he wasn’t sure if Keith could take being touched right now. “ It’s  okay, Keith. No one is mad at you; there’s no way  Shiro  would be mad about something like that. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because  none of us are going to tell him .”   Lance didn’t even have to look to know Hunk and Pidge were nodding their agreement; he could practically feel the movement in the frozen air. He kept looki ng at Keith instead, keeping his own gaze steady to give Keith something to focus on. Gradually, the frantic darting slowed, their eyes meeting properly. “Can you breathe with me?” Lance asked, quietly, gently. He made a show of taking a deep breath over six seconds, breathing out again over eight.  Repeated it, never looking away.   Again and again.   He could see Keith’s  chest  start to calm, violent shudders smoothing out of his folded limbs.  “That’s great, you’re doing great,” he encouraged, keeping his  tone  low  and steady . “You’re not in trouble, not with anyone. Nobody thinks any less of you.” He cleared his throat a little, but didn’t raise his voice.  “Right, you two?”  

“No,” Pidge confirmed,  sounding  small.  

“Definitely not,” Hunk added.  

“See?” said Lance. He hadn’t dared look away once; didn’t want to drop that purplish stare now that it was on him. "There’s nothing to fear.  Look ; you’re fine now.” He sat back, giving Keith more space, and forced a smile. “You know ,  I  kinda  had a thing for  Shiro  too, for a while.”  

“You – you did?” Keith asked, swallowing. Lance smirked, not really feeling it; a chill had rearranged his insides into something stiff and painful.   

“Yeah.  There was definitely a period before I actually met him when he was more than just my hero, you know?” Lance shrugged, deliberately throwing it off as no big deal for Keith to see. “I got over it.”  

“Me too,” Keith said, over long breaths.  “Me too.”  He looked around  them all, and not even Keith could mistake the wan expressions on the others’ faces. “This is so embarrassing,” he muttered, dragging up his knees, and Lance knew he didn’t mean his old crush.   

“No, it isn’t,” he said, trying to be firm. He’d rather offer Keith a cuddle. “It was a panic attack. They can happen to anyone.”  ...e specially if they happen to be full of hormones from a freaky bite.  

“Yeah,” agreed Hunk with a shaky chuckle. “Look at me. I used to have them all the time. They gave me medicine for it.”  

Keith  peered  over his knees, scrutinising the Yellow Paladin. Then: “Well they  quiznakking  suck.”   

Hunk  stuttered and  burst out laughing.   

Lance woke in darkness.   

One by one, the Paladins had fallen asleep. Pidge had been first ;  not that they’d realised until her faint snores could be heard from a twisted ball of blankets. At some point or other Hunk had crawled into the sleeping nest as well, and was now curled up with his arms full of pillows. Together, they looked like a hibernating mama bear and cub.   

As big as the alcove was, it wasn’t big enough for three when one of them was Hunk, so Lance had been relegated to the floor, with Keith. The Red Paladin had already managed to drift off on the bare  wood, only his legs covered as he huddled around his own chest, so Lance had stretched out on the pillows Hunk had abandoned, and tried not to think about it.  Him.   Whatever this was.    

He woke with an ache in his arms from the unconventional arrangement, noting that somehow the moss in the spiralling pattern on the ceiling had known to go dim. He wasn’t going to  worry  about that. Instead, he focussed on the quiet breath sounds in the room, the continuous insect hum from outside ;  carefully stretching his limbs in the dark.  

“Lance? You awake?”  

Lance turned his head and barely made out Keith’s face in the low light, more sensing the other paladin than seeing him.   

“Yeah, just,” he whispered back.  

“Thanks for earlier.”  

Oh. His heart picked up; the lazy, steady beat of sleep left behind. “It’s nothing.”  

“Not to me,” Keith murmured, soft. The tempo stepped up again, pulsing in Lance’s throat. “And …  thanks for promising not to tell.”  

“No problem,” Lance said, closing his eyes for a moment  as he turned back to the ceiling , steadying himself, checking he wasn’t dreaming. “Just as long as you don’t tell anyone about that time I got my finger stuck in the goo hose.”  

Keith’s sleepy giggle was sweet and short and he’d remember it forever. They drifted into silence, loose and idle in the ebb and flow of night-time , only half-awake.    

“It wasn’t serious,” Keith murmured, after who knows how long.   

Lance barely ha d the energy to frown,  squinting  at Keith’s shape in the darkness once more. “It was my trigger finger. I need that finger.”  

“I meant the  Shiro  thing,” Keith breathed, tone wandering as he moved back towards sleep. He had to be exhausted; the strain of all that emotion would put Lance out for the count for a week. “It wasn’t s erious.”  Lance breathed in, fumbling for something to say, but Keith wasn’t finished. Lance couldn’t be imagining that shy expression, that tentative smile; could he?  He must be. It was dark.  “Not compared to what I’ve felt since.”  

“Oh,” thought Lance, and then realised he’d made the sound out loud.  “Really?”  

“Yeah,” Keith admitted lazily.  “Really.”  

“That’s…”  

“It’s great,” Keith murmured, and Lance could hear sleep claiming him, wrapping Keith up in its arms while he, Lance, was frozen to the spot. “ Goodnight .”  

“Night, Keith,” Lance whispered, and he knew the paladin couldn’t hear him anymore.   

He lay in the dark, unseeing, and reminded himself, over and over: four days. At most, just four and a half days left.   

Chapter Text

Pidge woke overheated and sweaty, trapped under a mound of blankets with her own morning breath and snack crumbs. Extricating herself was surprisingly difficult;  she  wriggl ed  carefully to avoid disturbing the snoring mound of Hunk, eventually poking her head out of the sleeping alcove. She peered blearily through sticky eyes for a moment, then shuffled backwards to shake the Yellow Paladin awake, a finger pressed to his lips. As soon as his brown eyes turned curious rather than startled, she used the same finger to point to the floor.  

The towel around Lance’s hair had come unravelled, leaving it tufting and  cowslicked . He was d raped  over the pile of pillows, one arm thrown out dramatically as he lay on his side. Keith was curled up underneath it, tucked as close to Lance’s chest as he could be without actually touching. There was barely a hair’s breadth between them as they breathed in time.  

Wordlessly, Hunk and Pidge exchanged looks, and Hunk  made a walking motion with two fingers . Pidge carefully collected her laptop and glasses, and they picked their way around the sleepers on tiptoe, retreating across the room and not daring to speak until they were safely in the corridor with the curtain hanging low over the entrance.  

“So?” Pidge murmured, rubbing away sleep and pushing her glasses up her nose. “What do you think?”  

“I think they’re  adorable ,” Hunk enthused, hands clenched with excitement. “I’ve  gotta  get Lance to make those couple sweaters, maybe a little bla nket, oh  my gosh …”  

Pidge quirked her lip, hugging her laptop against her front. “It is pretty cute.” She threw a warning look at Hunk. “Don’t you dare tell Lance I said that.” Hunk mimed zipping up his mouth, and she nodded approval before continuing. “ Then  you think they like each other?”  

Hunk stared, disbelieving.  “Pidge,  ye h -e s s .  Did you see them last night? They can barely take their eyes off each other!”  

Pidge snorted. “Or their hands. I don’t think Keith was more than thirty centimetres  from Lance the whole time. I want to know if you think it’s genuine.”  

Hunk sucked in a breath, glee fading. “You mean   without the   jiya  messing Keith up?” The big paladin chewed his tongue and peeked around the curtain again. Pidge looked too :  the pair were still peacefully  comatose . “I dunno Pidge,” Hunk said at last. “I’m pretty sure Lance is for real. He isn’t even this bad with Allura.”  

“Yeah, but Allura doesn’t flirt back,” Pidge pointed out, irritated to find herself irritated. Wanting her dense friends to get together could prejudice her interpretation of the data, but it was probably already too late  on that front. She was biased.  

“You think he’s just getting carried away?” Hunk asked, and Pidge shrugged. It was a possibility; she didn’t know Lance (or people in general) well enough to judge if it was the case. Fortunately, Hunk did. “I don’t think that’s it .  I mean, yeah, Lance is obviously pretty blown away by Keith right now, but I don’t think he’s just getting caught up in it, if that makes sense?” he said, waiting for her to nod understanding.  

“And Keith?”  

“I don’t know,” Hunk admitted, whining. “Keith’s hard, man! If he was always this...  open...  I might be able to guess, but…” Hunk stared as though he could see straight through the curtain to the Red Paladin’s heart, then jerked his thumb in  the boy’s approximate  direction. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think all  that  could possibly be just a hormone reaction,  jiyana  or no  jiyana .”  

Pidge let out the breath she’d be holding; getting what she was waiting for. “No, me neither.   Let’s go over the facts, right?”  

“Okay,” Hunk  agreed,  straightening up. He held up a hand and raised one finger. “We know that they both like guys now. That’s pretty huge.”  

Pidge nodded. “Two :  Keith’s been paying attention to what Lance says for a while. He knew that Lance has trouble sleeping without music.”   

“Did he?” Hunk boggled. “Aww man, that’s s weet .”  

“Focus . ”  

“Right, right.  Three:  Keith was totally jealous when Lance flirted with  Allura .”  

Pidge shook her head. “That could be the effect of the bite, it doesn’t count.”  

“Fine.  Then how about the way Keith talked about Lance at dinner?”  

“And before that,” Pidge  said.  “ Apparently he told  Jaseeva  and  Seonor  about how good Lance was at stuff.”  

“So, Keith thinks Lance is  kinda  cool,” Hunk surmised, putting up a third   finger.  “ What else...” A green crawling thing like a cricket with too many legs appeared briefly in the glassless window beside Hunk, then ducked away again as though thinking better of it. “Lance was able to calm him down,” Hunk continued, growing quiet. “After Keith freaked out, when we were playing Truth. Lance got him to relax again.”  

They stood for a moment, uneasiness making their eyes slide away from each other. It would have been silent if not for the raucous tumult of birds and insects and falling water  that filled every second.  

“You think that was the   jiya ? Accelerating his  nerves ?” Hunk asked, studying a fan of white blossoms  hanging outside.  

“Probably ,” Pidge said, resting her chin on the top of her laptop. “Do you think we should tell  Shiro ?”  

“We promised we wouldn’t!” Hunk was momentarily scandalised. “Oh, you mean about the panic attack. Maybe. We should tell Coran, at least. He said stressing Keith out could be bad for him, didn’t he?” Hunk said, still gazing out the window. The pearly flowers were crawling with tiny sparkling transparent beetles, Pidge realised ,  like ladybirds made of diamond. Hunk swallowed. “I shouldn’t have insisted he tell us.”  

“I did it too,” Pidge admitted, looking up without  lifting her chin . “We just forgot.”  

‘Forgot’ didn’t sound like a very good excuse when she said it out loud. Hunk sighed. “Let’s call Coran .   He ’ll be up by now anyway.”  

“We should ask about the  jiyana   too,” Pidge said, and raised her eyebrows when Hunk’s expression turned qu estioning . “That’s the best evidence we have, isn’t it?” Pidge prompted. “Of all of us, the  jiyana  only made Keith like Lance. That has to be relevant.” He nodded fervently. “Right.” Pidge opened up her laptop and clicked through to the camera, slipping past the curtain. Hunk hovered in the entrance as Pidge crept up to the sleeping pair on the floor, angling her screen down and taking a picture of them, then a couple more for luck.   

“Pidge,” Hunk whispered, “Shiro said not to take pictures or make fu n - ”  

“I’m not making fun,” Pidge protested, returning and displaying the shots for Hunk to see. “I’m gathering evidence. They might not believe this even happened later on, and I want proof to show people at their future wedding.”  

“Shotgun making the cake!” Hunk said at once , keeping his voice low and conspiratorial.  “Chocolate and vanilla, Lance’s favourite.”  

“Fine.  I’m making the slideshow.”  

“There is no way Keith will let you do a slideshow.”  

“But can he stop me?”  

They bickered some more about it as they headed back to Pidge’s room, and settled on white suits with red and blue ties before they hopped into  the  sleeping alcove to call Coran. The moustachioed major-domo appeared in orange-tinted light from the tiny communicator set into the wrist of Pidge’s armour; bedecked in a pair of goggles with five or six different lenses flared around his head.   

“Morning Number Five!” Coran c arolled.  “And morning to you too, Hunk. How goes things on Serin?”  

“Okay, I think. They’re being really slow, though.”  

“Yes, the Princess was telling me,” Coran said, stroking his moustache. “Still, I’m sure you’ll get there in the end. Is there anything I can help you with?”  

“What are you working on?” Hunk cut in, peering at the  holoscreen  in an attempt to study the contraption wrapped around Coran’s face.  

“I’m  still  monitoring communications in this quadrant,” he replied cheerfully, snapping a set of red lenses into place and lifting green ones out to one side. “Just setting something up to automatically record any broadcasts relating to Serin or the  Galra .”   

“Is that a continuous scan, or does it run at regular intervals?” Pidge asked, but Hunk interrupted again with a frown.   

“You’re programming? What are the goggles for?”  

“Mostly the aesthetic,” Coran said, snapping down a silver-tinted lens. “It’s all about getting into the right mindset.” Pidge looked at Hunk, but he seemed as bemused as she was. Coran smiled  wryly.  “I’m trying to distract myself. It’s rather lonely on the Castle with everyone down there.” His tone was wistful. “It’s good to know you’re all doing well.”  

“ Er , yeah.  Not quite, actually,” Hunk admitted, squirming. He nudged Pidge to explain, the coward.   

“What’s wrong?  The Princess?”  

“ Allura’s  fine,” Pidge reassured him quickly. “We had a sleepover last night and Keith had a panic attack. We think.”  

“A little one?” Hunk qualified, meekly.  

Coran pulled the goggles off, leaving his hair standing on end. “Can you describe what happened?”   

They  shared a glance , guilt lining Hunk’s face.  Pidge answered as clinically as she could.  “We asked him to tell us a secret, and he panicked. He was shaking and hyperventilating, but Lance calmed him down pretty quickly .  He was okay after that.”  

“Lance was there?” Coran mused. “Good. It sounds like it will be alright this time, Pidge, but we should really keep Keith as calm and free of stress as possible. Outbursts like the one he had at dinner and on the tour may not be good for his health, not to mention damag ing  our credibility with the  Serili .”  

“I’m not sure about that,” Hunk said, nose wrinkling as he considered. “Not the stress thing, we’ll do that :  I meant with the  Serili . If  anything  they seemed… sort of impressed? Some of them, anyway.”  

“Let’s hope so.” Coran fluffed up his moustache to full bushiness once more. “ All else  Castleship -shaped? I heard you’ve been eating well. I hope you’ve got a stash of interesting comestibles to bring back.”  

“Coran, I have got to introduce you to  balikojo ,” Hunk said seriously. “It’s  gonna  change your life, man.”  

“Looking forward to it,” Coran said. “Now, i f there’s nothing else  I can do for you  Paladins, I think I’ll finish this off and get back to coming up with an antidote for the  jiyana   bite.”  

Pidge startled. “You think that’s possible?”  

Coran hummed, lips pursed. “It’ll be tricky. I’ve nearly cracked a treatment that could stop the effect if it’s caught in the early stages, within a few  dobashes  of the bite. But I’m really struggling with anything that could help after that, and I’d like to have it on hand just in case.” In case something happened to Keith , Pidge guessed.  

“Hey, about the bite,” Hunk began ,  “ c an we figure out why it made Keith like Lance?  Specifically ?”  

Coran paused. “ That’s   certainly something to think about, Hunk,” he declared breezily. “Well, off I pop.” The  holoscreen  vanished in a blur of orange.  

“Bye, I guess,” Pidge said, shaking her head.   

“Well, that’s that.”  Hunk stood up and stretched, fending off a yawn. “I should probably get dressed. We should tell Allura and Shiro about the keep-Keith-chill plan.”  

“That 's  always the plan,” Pidge grumbled, eyeing up the bath in the floor. “But I get it. I’m going to wash, but I’ll meet you after?”  

“Sure.”  

“Good morning, Paladins.”  

“Morning, Princess.”  

“You’ve just missed  Kleon ,” Allura said, smiling as Pidge and Hunk came over to join her. She was sitting with Shiro in their living area, a variety of dishes spread across the table in front of them  that smelled like rich sweet honey and the sharp tang of citrus.  “Breakfast came too.”  

“What did  Kleon  say? Are the  Serili  going to ally with us ? ” Hunk asked  eagerly , picking up a fuzzy pale-yellow fruit the size of a golf ball and sniffing it.   

“That’s a Sleeping Tree fruit,” Shiro informed him, and showed him a little pile of segments in his hand, like green pomegranate seeds. “You peel them . T hey’re good.”  

“ Kleon  is… concerned,” Allura answered, selecting her own   fruit   and offering another to Pidge. “They fear that  Hereebi  may try to discredit us over our cultural differences.”  

“You mean all that ‘breeding for a role ’ stuff?” Hunk hazarded, working his thumb into the flesh of the fruit and unravelling the skin in a smooth spiral. The rest fell into a mound of lime coloured pieces.   

“Exactly ,”  Allura  confirmed, looking frequently at Hunk’s hands and copying his movements .  Pidge grabbed a long string bean-shaped thing from the table instead.  “Keith’s  argument  may have won the  Waysetters ’ respect, but it remains to be seen if that translates to their support.”  

“What about all the evidence you gave them?”  Pidge demanded, biting the end  off  the bean thing and chewing. It was surprisingly crunchy, and tasted like sour pistachios. “They can’t ignore the data.”  

“ Perhaps not, but there’s a difference between convincing them that the Empire is dangerous and persuading them to ally with us,” Allure said grimly, “and as you’ve seen, the  Serili  are not inclined to do either quickly.”   

“This is just  stupid .”  

“This is... challenging,” Allura corrected, diplomatically. “But Keith may tip the balance in our favour yet, if we could just persuade him to express himself more temperately. Where is he?”   

“Sleeping,” Pidge chimed, exactly as Hunk replied with ‘asleep’. Neither of them hid their smiles very well. Shiro saw and raised an eyebrow, and when neither of them responded he got to his feet.   

“Don’t wake them up,” Hunk pleaded, voice dropping urgently. “Please?”   

Shiro gave him a mild look and walked off towards the corridor leading to the bedrooms.   

“Has something happened?” Allura asked, eyes alight with curiosity.   

“No,” Pidge said quickly, silencing Hunk before he could start. “They’re just tired. We were up late.”  

“The slumber party,” Allura said, delicately picking  out  individual seeds and eating them one by one. “Was it good? What normally happens as human slumber parties?”  

Hunk was still explaining Truth or Dare when Shiro came back, shaking his head as he returned to his seat. He picked up another Sleeping Tree fruit, responding to their que rying  expressions with a look of amusement.   

“They’re still asleep. It’s rather sweet.”   

“Pidge took pictures,” Hunk said gleefully, then bit abruptly into an alien peach-thing when Pidge glared. Lilac juice fizzed and popped as it trailed down his chin.   

“Pictures of what?” Allura demanded, and Pidge dragged her laptop over to show them off.   

“ Awwww , that’s lovely,” Allura cooed. She was using the voice usually reserved for the mice, rather than the barks normally associated with the recalcitrant paladins. “Are there more?” Shiro coughed, mouth curved upwards. Allura jumped, but reluctantly surrendered Pidge’s  computer . “I’m just glad to see them getting on so well,” she defended herself. Pidge couldn’t help but snigger. Shiro tried to give her a pointed look, but his smile blunted it.   

“Just as long as it doesn’t cause trouble later on.”  

“Okay, about trouble,” Hunk said, taking a deep breath. “Keith got a little upset last night, and even though he’s fine -” he lifted his hands at the Black Paladin, who was slipping into a concerned frown, “- seriously, Shiro :  Keith is fine, Lance handled it – but Coran says we should try and keep him as relaxed as possible, just in case.”  

The Black Paladin turned to the Princess. “Allura?”  

“It’s not ideal,” she said, chewing her lip without realising she had green flesh stuck on it, “but perhaps we could give Keith the morning off to mingle with the  Serili ,  and ask him to meet with the Speakers of Counsel later?”  

“Us too?” Hunk pressed, excited.  “ ‘ Cos I know Lance would l ove  to  go  swimming, and  Kleon  and  Hereebi  told us they had pools. Please?”   

“I don’t see why not,” Allura agreed, powerless as the rest of them against Hunk’s puppy - dog eyes. She pulled a face, slumping back against the wall. “Who knows, I might even join you, later. All this diplomatic manoeuvring is getting rather tiring.”  

Pidge suspected that giving Lance an opportunity to ogle Allura in swimwear would n’t help the Keith situation , but kept it to herself. Instead, they discussed last-ditch strategies for convincing the  Waysetters  as they finished breakfast, and then Pidge volunteered to go and tell the other two the agenda. Shiro, Hunk and the Princess all followed her, each of them  stealing a look at the sleeping duo  before Pidge marched up between them and -   

“HEY, GET UP! RISE AND SHINE!”   

Keith came awake like lightning; silver flashed bright and fast enough to cut the air. Lance jerked awake with a jump and a babble of startled noises, like he’d been pelted with water bombs in the middle of a speech. Pidge staggered backwards as Keith brandished the  Galra  dagger he’d pulled from apparently nowhere. Slowly, Keth blinked into full awareness,  his breathing steadying  and the knife c oming  down to his lap.   

“Oh. Sorry.  G’morning .”   

“Morning,” she said back, privately proud of hiding the frantic scrabble of her heart against her ribs, voice barely shaking.   

“Morning   Lance,” Keith added, scratching his stomach with one hand hooked under his tunic top, revealing flat white skin.   

“ Mrrrnnnniii ,” said Lance, or something like it; high-pitched as one of the mice, blue, blue gaze transfixed on the other boys’ belly-button. Pidge was forced to consider the possibility that she was wrong. She wasn’t convinced Lance would notice right now if Allura stripped.   

Clearly, Lance was finding the whole topless Keith thing  difficult . Not in the way some people found calculus or arithmetic difficult: more like the way it was hard to be around a couple indulging in graphic, noisy  pda .  He  had been stealing little looks in  the Red Paladin’s  direction all the way to the biggest of the  Ollorian  bathing pools, but now  they’d  changed into  s wimming trunks he seemed to be trying very hard to pretend that Keith was invisible.   

“Let’s go, let’s go,” he urged frantically, rocking on his feet as they assembled in the changing and dressing area. It was a simple room, with many neatly folded sets of robes lined up along knee-high benches, and rack after rack of superbly fluffy towels waiting. A seri e s of arches lead to the pool through screens of falling water. Lance spun on his heel and marched through one, throwing his head back as the curtain split around him, soaking his hair. They followed, Hunk making the biggest splash.  

Lance got a whole three steps into the pool area before they all turned about as one and dashed back into the changing room.   

“What the  quiznak !” Lance squeaked; leaning heavily on Hunk. “They’re not – they're all -”  

“Naked,” Keith deadpanned. “Yeah, we saw.”  

“We should have expected that, really.” Pidge observed, pretending she wasn’t shocked. Still, she removed her glasses and stashed them with her armour.  

“What? How?” Lance demanded, flapping his arms.   

Pidge scoffed, folding her arms defensively. “They’re a sexless,  aromantic  race, Lance! It makes sense that they wouldn’t have the same attitudes to nudity. Especially when they don’t seem to have visible reproductive organs -”  

“You looked!?” Lance half shrieked, pointing. Hunk frantically tried to hush him, looking fearfully towards the pool.   

“It’s kind of hard to miss!” Pidge s napped  back. Keith stepped up and awkwardly patted her shoulder. She looked at him, but he just shrugged.   

“Does this help?”  

“Um. Sort of?”  

“Okay.” He kept doing it. Nearby, Hunk had wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulder, letting the startled Cuban groan into his collar bone.   

“That explains why they don’t have any changing cubicles in here,” the Yellow Paladin noted, warily. “ So. .. what are we  gonna  do?”  

“Huh?” asked Keith, finally stopping with the pit -pat.  “Aren’t we  gonna  go swimming?”  

Lance appeared out of Hunk’s skin, gaping. “You still  wanna ?”  

“Why not?” Keith asked. “They don’t care, so why should we? It’s not like they look human.”  

“It’s weird,” Lance whined, leaning further into Hunk. Fortunately, he was quieter now. “They’ve got all this extra stuff,” he waved vaguely over his own chest. “I swear they’ve got four pecs.”  

“They have four arms,” she supplied, frowning. “ Of course  they need different musculature to support that.”  

“Oh yeah,  of course ,” Lance said sarcastically. He rounded on them with hands on his hips. “So, we’re  gonna  swim. What about our trunks? When in Rome?” He dipped a thumb threateningly into the waistband of his swimming shorts, and Keith audibly gasped. Startled and reddening, Lance released it with a snap of elastic that made him yelp.   

“Absolutely not,” Hunk said flatly.   

“Everything stays on,” Pidge agreed, tilting her head up. She fortified herself with a deep inhale before leading everyone through the water curtain again.   

The pool was essentially a giant version of the baths in their suite; hollowed directly from the wood, undulating deeper and shallower in places almost like a beach. Pillars of wood stretched up from it to support the ceiling ,  many of them with water trickling down. The glowing moss spiralled across the walls and ceiling, but other  plantlife  crowded the water: short, ticklish weeds in shades of red and magenta and orange lined the sides, and floating flowers like water lilies collected in the natural corners and still patches. After a few frightened squawks they realised that yes, there really were small bluish fish in there with them – much to the amusement of the nearby  Serili . Who were all very  naked.    

After a while, they almost got used to it. The  Serili  were mostly content to simply watch the paladins;   either sitting in the shallows or sedately floating around on the slight current; and the lack of interaction made it easier to deal with. As did the lack of visible naughty bits: Pidge really didn’t think she could swim alongside any alien that looked less like a  Ken  doll down there.   

For a while, they followed the locals’ example, swimming sedate laps and exploring the rippling layout. Pidge wasn’t sure who started the splashing competition, but suspected it was Lance. Especially when he got Keith with a mighty surge that pinned all his hair flat to his face. Hunk was the decided winner when he treated them all to his ‘whale impression’ ;  breaching the water with surprising speed and agility and knocking her backwards on the resulting wave. Several  Serili  got caught up in it too, and Hunk’s frantic apologies soon gave way to giggles and head bobbing. Before they knew it,  Serili  were joining in.   

They were playing with a group of  Serili  children, barely up to her shin and as dextrous as monkeys, who had splashed over shepherded by a  Serili  who called themselves a ‘Guardian of Young Ones’. They had polka dots mixed in with their tattoo. The kids had quickly found a new favourite game in climbing Hunk and cannonballing into the water, and he was having nearly as good a time lifting them up and tossing them gently into the pool. Lance had scrambled up onto a wooden bank, grinning as he watched them play, and was blind to Keith sneaking up on him from behind. The Red Paladin leapt, wrapping his arms and legs around the Blue as he tumbled  them  into the water ;  Lance’s surprised cry echoing off the walls. They fell with a colossal splash, and Hunk and the Guardian  Serili  hauled youngsters out of the way as Lance popped up again, spluttering and gasping. A moment later, Keith’s head broke the surface, meeting Lance’s glare with a grin and roar of laughter.   

Pidge watched as Lance’s face melted into something warm and fond and oddly intimate; a stolen secret not meant for her. Then it morphed into something else :  a competitive gleam lighting Lance’s eyes as his mouth turned into a familiar daring smirk.   

“Oh, is that how it is,  Kogane ? You’re on.”   

Keith laughed harder as Lance chased him around the pool ,  diving under the water and sticking his hand up like a shark fin ,  egged on by Hunk helpfully ‘ nanana ’- ing  the  Jaws  theme tune.   

“It is an honour for these young ones to learn from the  b lessed  o ne,” said the Guardian  Serili , bobbing in the water next to Pidge. She couldn’t remember their name.   

“Keith? He’s just playing,” Pidge said, though she thought ‘flirting’ would be the better word.   

“Then they are learning that play is important,” said the  Serili  calmly, “and that to escape from our roles for enjoyment for a time is no fault.”   

“Oh. Yeah, I guess,” Pidge said, glancing to see if Hunk was nearby to help her out. He was cheering as Lance mimed savaging Keith like a shark; the Red Paladin was still locked into laughter as he twisted and thrashed around in his make-believe death throes, and anyone would have to be blind not to see how the hold Lance had on him lingered.   

“The sound the one that is Keith, Red Paladin, makes -” asked the  Serili , who was also watching the display now, “- it indicates joy, does it not?”  

“Laughing? Yeah, usually. Joy or amusement, but it can happen in other situations.” Pidge explained, happy to find her feet touched the bottom in this part of the pool. A young  Serili  was tugging at her hand to go and bring Hunk back.   

“That is well,” said the  adult , slow blinking approval. “It is a pleasure to see such a strong  lidilidi   bond celebrated.”  

“These ones are   lidilidi !” piped up the kid pulling on Pidge’s wrist with three hands. The other pointed at another  Serili  child, who was trying to catch up to Hunk across the pool.   

“And that is a very good thing,” said the Guardian, collecting their charge. “We ones will go and see the one that is Hunk, Yellow Paladin, shall we? The ones that are the Paladins of Voltron can show you much about how to achieve  ji .”  

Pidge followed, wishing she knew how they were supposed to do it.   

By the time they left the pool, the raised areas had been flooded and all four of them were sagging with the pleasant, heavy tiredness that comes with having played too hard. Somehow, their quiet, respectable morning off had escalated into what Lance called ‘the biggest, most epic alien vs. Human water fight ever in the history of the universe’ and what they’d decided to describe to Allura as an ‘inter-species positive relations exercise'.   

Pidge managed to change under the privacy of a giant towel, and was tugging her boots on when she realised Lance and Keith were still in their  swimming short s, and Lance had sat Keith in front of him on the bench.   

“What are you doing?” she demanded unnecessarily; it was obvious what: Lance was towel-drying Keith’s hair for him. Lance turned crimson. She couldn’t see Keith because the towel was in the way.   

“He was just  gonna  leave it,” he protested. “And there’s so much of it, it’ll stay wet for ages. He’s  gotta  dry off.”  

“And you have to help him?” she prodded, ignoring Hunk’s  silent  pleading for her to leave it alone.  

Lance’s shoulders rose, but a moment later he flattened them out again, his back strengthening. “Why not?” he asked, tone cool. “Nothing wrong with helping each other out, right?”  

“No,” said Pidge gleefully, as Hunk bounced up and down behind Lance, waving his arms to try and stop her. “But that wasn’t what you said when you locked him in the closet.”  

“That was an accident,” Lance replied, so quickly she knew it was automatic. He breathed in carefully, meeting her gaze steadily. “And... that was before. We’re friends now.”  

Keith’s head jerked up, the towel falling back onto his shoulders. “We are, right?”  

Lance swallowed when he looked at the other boy. “We are,” he confirmed. “We’re best friends. All of us.” He turned his head back to Pidge, daring her to comment further.   

“Cool, cool. Just checking,” she said easily, and let Lance go back to rubbing Keith’s hair dry. He was gentle, working the ends in circular motions, carefully watching Keith’s face and slackening off whenever the Red Paladin made a face like he was pulling too hard.  Keith  looked  back  the whole time.   

Pidge returned to putting on her armour, and it wasn’t until she picked up the last piece that she saw the light in her muted communicator flashing teal. She summoned the  holoscreen .   

“Coran, what’s up?”  

“There you are ,  number five!”  cried  Coran. Pidge sat up at once :  Coran was tense, pulse ticking in his jaw as he manned the control panel at the front of the flight deck. “We may have trouble on our hands.”  

The others, hearing, came over to crouch around her in  their  various states of dress, sharing frowns. “What is it?”  

“ Galra ,” said Coran, suppressed anger making the word hard. “There are a couple of scouts in the area. I believe they’re flying ahead of a larger ship.”  

“Where are they, Coran?” asked Lance, a hand falling onto Keith’s still bare shoulder unconsciously.   

“On their way,” said the major-domo. “The scanners have picked up references to Sleeping Tree Sap; they must be looking for Serin.”  

“We’ll go  find  Allura,” Keith said quickly, standing up. “We’ll have to go  to  the  Waysetters  right now.”  

“Hurry, Paladins,” Coran urged. “I’m going to move the Castle to the other side of the planet – we should still have communications, but no fire support. Don’t want to give the game away b y being spotted .”  

“We’ve got it,” Pidge said, and the  holoscreen  vanished.   

They finished dressing in rapid silence, running from the changing rooms as Keith exchanged quick words with Shiro over his comm. They raced up to where the Black Paladin and the Princess waited for them near the dining hall they’d been in the night before, wearing matching grim expressions.   

“All here?” Allura asked, scanning their faces. “Keith, with me. We need an audience.” The Princess directed the latter to a trio of  Serili  guards, standing solemnly beside the carved door to the dining chamber, a sort of short pikestaff clutched in two of four hands.   

“It is not customary  - ” began one ponderously .  Allura cut them off.   

“The planet is in danger,” she snapped, “we can save you but we need an audience  now .”  

Braver, taller souls quailed under Allura’s glare. The guard scuttled through the doors, leaving the Princess to tap her foot. “Let me do the ta lking,” she instructed, and they all nodded. Pidge didn’t doubt they’d have done that anyway.   

The doors were pulled open, and Allura (gracefully) stormed into the dining chamber, half pulling Keith with her. She stopped, towering over the figure of the  Waysetter  who had led the discussion last night, the one Pidge guessed to be the eldest. They were flanked by  Kleon  and  Hereebi .  

“There is a problem?” they said, thankfully getting to the point.   

“ Galra  scouts are approaching,” Allura said, “ahead of a larger force. They will be upon you in a matter of  dobashes . We must agree on an alliance now, before the planet is attacked.”  

“The one that is Allura, Princess of  Altea , is too hasty,”  Hereebi  cut in at once. “The  Serili  cannot initiate hostilities without cause -”  

“The  Serili  are powerless to fight the  Galra  alone,”  Kleon  interrupted, just as agitated. “To act swiftly may save lives.”  

“You are sure of this?” demanded the  Waysetter , across the Speakers of Counsel.   

“We are monitoring their communications as we speak,” Allura said with a sharp nod. “They will shortly be within hailing distance.” She fixed her eyes on the  Waysetter , ignoring the other two. “I trust you have reviewed the evidence we brought you,” she began, speaking quick and low, “and listened to all we have told you. You have seen what becomes of planets the  Galra  capture. If you do not act now, decisively, that will be Serin. That will be the fate of your people.”  

Hereebi  turned to the  Waysetter . “With the permission of this one, this one would verify these ones’ words.”  

The  Waysetter  waved  Hereebi  away, and the  Serili  retreated into another room. The  Waysetter  looked back at Allura. “Certainly, even the  Galra  Empire cannot take a planet with a few scouts,” they said. “These ones believe that more troops follow?”  

“The  Galra  are not above subterfuge to achieve their ends,” Allura responded. Besides her, Keith was bristling, eyes burning as he shifted on the spot. “And the ship that follows may contain thousands of soldiers. We have to act now.”  

“What are you waiting for!” Keith burst out, chest heaving. Lance came up to stand beside him, glare rivalling his. “They’re going to kill you!”  

“You would attack first?” asked the  Waysetter , black eyes on Keith alone.   

“Princess!”  

It was Coran,  holoscreen  appearing from Allura’s wrist. The Princess lifted it in front of her, and the rest of them gathered round.  Kleon  and the  Waysetter  crowded in too.   

“What is it?”  

“Someone on Serin has hailed the scout ships! They have been invited to land!”  

“ Hereebi !” Keith hissed, taking a step towards the exit the advisor had taken. Lance grabbed his collar, hauling him back.   

“No time,” he urged. “Princess, what now?”  

“The Lions!” cried Pidge, shaking waves moving through her as she spoke. “If they use the landing  pad  they’ll see the Lions! They’ll know we’re here!”  

The Princess opened her mouth, but the  Waysetter  beat her to it. “This one will meet with the  Galra  scouts.”  

“No!” croaked  Kleon .   

“You can’t do this,” Shiro urged, stepping forwards. “We can’t let them take you.”  

“The ones that are the Paladins of Voltron must move their ships out of sight,” the  Serili  scratched, quickly. “This one alone will meet with them while the  Serili  are moved to safety. If the  Galra  come with peaceful intentions, no harm done. If not, only this one is endangered.”   

“It’s too late, we can't reach them in time!” Hunk said, fear making his voice crack.   

“Go now!” Shiro ordered. “Princess -”  

“-   I will stay here and protect the  Serili .”  

“We can’t let the  Galra  hurt either of you,” Shiro argued.   

“Wasting time!” Lance snapped, suddenly. “Go, Shiro. Keith and I will hide and take out the scouts, you get to the Lions!”  

“Blue-”  

“She’ll move if you ask! Run!” Lance yelled, pushing them all towards the door and activating his  bayard . Keith did the same ;  the gleaming, white-edged sword reflecting the determination in his eyes.   

“Stay safe!” he shouted after them .  Pidge didn’t have time to look back.   

Chapter Text

The worst part was always the waiting: the gut-clawing seconds he could count only in heartbeats and breaths.

Lance was pressed tight against the wall by the main doors, bayard heavy in his hand. On the other side, Keith was his mirror image with a blade; glare just as sharp. He hoped they’d be hidden when they opened, hoped the Galra wouldn’t look.  He wouldn’t have time to drop the gun for a shield.

Allura stood tall beside the Waysetter, Kleon and Hereebi, only the knot between her eyebrows and the tapping of one foot giving her away. She’d barely turned a hair when the other Speaker of Counsel returned, even when Keith snarled. Lance had pulled him back while Hereebi addressed the Waysetter.

“Forgive this one; this one has spoken with the scout party -”

“We ones are aware,” the Waysetter had shut Hereebi down. “It was outside your role. Be silent now.”

Hereebi hadn’t spoken since. None of them had. They waited.

After forty-two beats, Lance heard footsteps. Somehow, he and Keith flattened themselves even further, shrinking back against the wood. Allura and the Serili drew themselves up instead, foot tapping stopped. The Princess’ expression was cool indifference as the doors were swung open. Lance held his breath.

Two Galra. Broad soldiers, each at least a head taller than himself. Both armed with blasters. Lance silently took aim at the back of one purple head, praying Keith would stay steady until they were ready; praying he got a chance to shoot first. He couldn’t see their faces, but he could imagine their sneers.

“Princess Allura,” growled the slightly larger Galra in a predatory baritone. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“If only I could say the same,” Allura sniffed, glacial.

“The one that is Allura, Princess of Altea, is a guest of the Serili,” said the Waysetter, crackly voice level and undaunted before the towering scouts. “This one is Fasseevas, Waysetter of the Serili. Perhaps these ones have also come to negotiate a peaceful alliance?”

Wicked pleasure stained the response. “Oh, of course.”

It was the work of a second. The smaller Galra snatched up Kleon, dragging the flailing Serili under one arm. With the other he held the gun to Hereebi’s head, fixed between the solid black eyes. The bigger guy lunged for Fasseevas; thick muscle bunched around their neck and a pointed barrel pressed against the swirling lines of their tattoo. The Waysetter didn’t blink, going still after only a moment’s struggle.

“No!” Hereebi’s dry scratch was driven up to a piercing hiss. They lurched for Fasseevas, ignoring the gun. The scout lashed out with it instead, striking the Speaker of Counsel hard across the face. The air cracked with breaking bone, and the diminutive alien was thrown across the room. They skidded across the smooth polish of the floor. Lance bit down hard on his tongue to control his wince; the reflexive curl of his trigger finger.

“Stop that!” Allura snapped. Lance couldn’t see her over the bulk of the enemy men, and he didn’t dare move. His crosshair was centred on the big guy’s head, and he had to trust Allura knew he was ready when the Galra spoke, gloating:

“Certainly, Princess. All you have to do is ‘peacefully’ hand over the Lions and we can go back to negotiations.”

“You’re not worthy of those Lions,” Allura blazed, “and you can save your lies. We know your battleship is coming.”

The Galra shifted, heedless of Fasseevas, limp in his grip, barely on their toes. “Then let me put it another way. Surrender the Lions and these creatures don’t have to die.”

Lance heard Keith move a fraction before the Galra did. He pulled the trigger.

The large Galra crumpled to his knees, dead, a smoking hole between his ears. Keith slammed into the other’s back, sending him staggering. Allura seized the two Serili, dragging them clear. The scout hissed and twisted, but Keith was ready. The sword flashed down against the gun hand: came up dripping red. The blaster skittered across the floor, the Galra bellowed in pain and lunged. Keith yelled, going down under him, sword trapped across his body. Lance took aim but couldn’t shoot; Keith was thrashing with the monster, couldn’t risk hurting him – the Princess stunned the spitting, struggling Galra with a roundhouse kick. Keith rolled aside, and a shot shattered the room before Lance could fire. The scout lay still.

They looked up, all of them; even the guards who came slamming through the doors far too late. Hereebi dropped the Galra gun.

“Evacuate to the lower levels,” they ordered, swift. Blood tricked down their face as they turned, blinking, to Lance; jaw moving unnaturally under the skin. “You must hurry.”

“Go!” Allura urged, and Keith and Lance pounded from the room.

“Which way?” Keith demanded, releasing his sword as he sprinted at Lance’s side. The scout’s claws had torn scratches across the skin of his face.

“I don’t know! Try feeling your Lion!” Lance suggested, and even as he spoke he felt Blue roar; calling out to him across their bond. “This way!”

Lance led the way down the trunk, curling around the tree in the direction of his Lion’s pull. The twin sounds of their panting and feet seemed loud until the siren started, wailing like a frightened animal. Pidge’s warning system.

“They’re attacking already.”

“Here!” Lance reached back, groping blindly. When he felt strong fingers grasp his own he dragged the other paladin over to one of the tall windows. “Jetpack!” he prompted, and jumped.

They fell through layers of jungle, battered by leaves and whipping vines. Their helmets sealed as they went, leaving Lance airless as the smells and sounds were cut out. He steered them towards where he felt Blue, seeing only foliage as they crashed through sprays of colour and blossom and razor-thin fronds, held together by just their hands. Keith summoned his sword again and laid about him, cutting them a path as well as he could.

“Lance, wait! Down there!”

Keith’s voice came in double, loud over the comms and through the helmet. He tried pointing with the tip of his blade, but there was too much in the way. Lance allowed Keith to pull him over and down, and when the leaves finally thinned they were heading for a long, wide bridge, full of scurrying Serili. Keith carried them both into a heavy, knee-breaking landing before Lance realised why.

“JASEEVA! SEONOR!” Keith shouted. The Serili rushed towards them, clawed feet scraping the bark.

“What is happening?” cried Jaseeva, hands waving. “There is so much noise -”

“Serin’s under attack, but don’t worry; we’re gonna save you,” Lance garbled.

“There is fighting?!” Seonor cried, voice high and crackling like static.

“We need you to get everyone you can low down and in the centre of the trees, okay?” Lance hurried on, voice lifted over the siren’s wail, the chittering of frightened wildlife. “Can you do that?”

“But it is – it is beyond we ones’ roles -” Jaseeva fluttered, fretfully.

“- we ones will do it!” Seonor seized two of Jaseeva’s hands with two of their own, clutching tight enough for their claws to scratch, and it was probably a bad time for Lance to realise his fingers were still bound up with Keith’s.  “Hurry, paladins!”

“Thankyou,” he called back, dragged away as Keith flung them off the bridge.

It was a nightmare to move through the jungle; they had hardly enough room to turn around, nevermind fly. Keith sliced them free of tangles and grasping thorns but could do nothing about the frantic dodge and weave around the larger branches and enormous trunks. Shiro’s voice sounded over the comms.

“You boys okay?”

“On our way, Shiro,” Keith reported through his teeth.

“The scouts?”

“Dead. Serili evacuating. Allura’s with them.”

“Great.”

“We’ve got a battleship,” Pidge spilled in their ears. Lance heard her slamming buttons over the link. “Payload of maybe two hundred fighters, we need backup here!”

“We need Voltron!” called Hunk.

“Hold it together, we’re coming,” Keith barked, but the edges were going wild, his movements reckless. Lance pulled him around another branch, and finally caught a flash of familiar blue.

“Lions ahead!”

“I’m bringing the Castle around,” Coran chimed in, strained. “It’s a little slow without Allura.”

“I’m sort of busy, Coran.”

“Princess, you alright?” Shiro asked. Lance and Keith burst through the foliage, streaming towards their Lions.

“Evacuating now – keep going!”

“You got it,” Shiro responded. “Hunk, on your six!”

“Right!”

The Red and Blue Paladins slammed into the landing pad with more of their team’s cries ringing over the comms. Their Lions were waiting over the mangled, half-frozen remains of two Galra scouting ships, like house cats with dead birds.

“That’s my girl!” Blue purred as she settled her bulk to let him in.

“Lance!” Keith pulled him back with the hand in his, then let go and clasped the back of his helmet instead, dragging them together until they pressed close in place of their foreheads. “You -” Keith aborted, gulping down air and shuddering as it escaped him. His fringe was in his eyes, sweat making it stick. The scratches were bleeding. “I -” a strangled noise. “Just be careful, right?” Lance sucked in a breath but Keith was gone, racing towards his own Lion. There was no time. He spun and sprinted up the gangplank, and Blue leapt for the canopy before he was even in the pilot seat. His fingers shook as he wrapped them around the familiar controls, flicking open a switch on his dash. It opened a private channel, summoning Keith’s image to his viewscreen.

“You too,” he said urgently. “You be careful too.”

Keith nodded grimly and closed the link. Lance watched Red following on his monitors, breaking out of the jungle so the rainbow sprawl stretched out beneath them.

“There are fighters in Serin airspace,” Shiro warned, tone clipped with concentration. “They got past us.”

“Shiro, watch your left!” Pidge snapped. A crash rattled in his helmet.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled, fear bleeding through the name. Lance felt it, cold and heavy in his throat. He grimaced as he activated Blue’s sensors, scanning for enemy craft. A moment later, Shiro’s line flared up again.

“I’m okay, Keith. Just take out those fighters and get up here!”

“Understood,” Lance responded, turning Blue through a circle. “Okay Keith, we’ve got hostiles.”

“I see them.” Red sprang across the sky, fast as fury. A series of dark specks were racing across the jungle top, trailing strings of bright light and plumes of midnight blue. “They’re trying to burn the trees.”

“I got it,” Lance powered up the ice cannon. He couldn’t tell if it was Red or her paladin roaring as he followed them, quenching fire with ice. Navy clouds spread and swirled over his screen, blocking his view.

“LANCE DUCK!”

He ducked in the cockpit, throwing Blue into a dive. It was through her eyes that he saw the canopy rushing up to meet them, and he felt the scrape of metal overhead like a scratch up his own spine. They pulled up just in time to see a dark ship spiralling towards the surface in front of him, spraying sparks. Red’s lasers had punched a hole through its wing.

“You okay?” Keith huffed.

“I’m good, buddy. Keith, you’re hit!”

Scorch marks scarred Red’s flank. Metal was peeling and shorn around her foreleg, but she still flew straight.

“Red can handle it,” Keith dismissed, brusque. Lance bit down the words rolling in his mouth; urging Keith to be more careful, to tell him off or something. It wasn’t the time. “More incoming!”

Lance swore and threw Blue left, Red speeding past to give chase. He turned about, licking ice over the flaming tears in the jungle below, and saw another ship speeding in. He had time to brace, to reach for the mouth cannon –

Lance yelped surprise as a slender white shape crested the forest, graceful as a dolphin breaking the waves. It was another craft; gleaming white metal with wings like a butterfly, and it flashed silver once. A crackling ball of energy burst from the front and enveloped the Galra ship. The fighter flickered, distorted amidst snapping pink lightning. Then it crumbled into pieces, falling from the air. The strange alien ship slipped back below the canopy without even a rustle.

“The Serili have a ship?!”

“The glider!” Pidge replied, sharp.

“Did you see it? I told you that engine upgrade would work!” Hunk crowed.

“That’s great guys, but if the surface is clear we need you up here,” Shiro put in. “Another wave is coming.”

“Heading out!” Lance responded. Their Lions soared for the heavens. They burst through the boil and rumble of the outer atmosphere into the starscape, erupting into battle. Swarms of Galra fighters buzzed around the battleship like flies around a bloated corpse. It was pockmarked with explosion damage. Yellow and Black had closed into a defensive circle; Green slipped in and out of vision as Pidge used her lasers to pick off lone fliers and stragglers. Keith wasted no time in charging into the fray, ripping holes in the Galra squadrons, driving them to chase him. Lance dived after, joining Hunk and Shiro. He blasted a group of ships with ice while Hunk tried desperately to steer Yellow free of a hail of fire.

“Hunk!”

“Here,” Shiro called, and Black surged forwards, shredding their lines with the mouth cannon. Hunk got clear and Yellow’s head snapped round to tear the wing off another fighter, sending it hurtling across space.  Lance took out a few daring ships on Black’s tail. “How long, Coran?”

“Another dobosh!”

“We have to take the main ship out,” Pidge said over the comm. “That’ll at least take the drones out!”

“Be quick,” Coran urged, “I’ve been blocking their communications, but when they reboot they’ll be able to contact the main fleet and ask for reinforcements!”

“We can’t hold up against more!” Hunk cried.

“We have to,” gasped Keith, and Lance’s stomach turned when he heard him; heard the panic strangling the words. Where was he, where was he?

“Keith, you okay?” Shiro asked. “Report!”

Black couldn’t get out, Blue couldn’t get out, they were surrounded; someone had to get to Keith –

“I - I don’t know -”

“Keith, behind you!” Pidge shouted. Finally, Lance spotted the crimson blur; a pack of fighters were almost on her tail. He jammed his controls forwards, knowing he was too slow but needing the opening –

“Oh no you don’t!” Hunk yelled. He threw Yellow into the melee, bright rain shattering across her armoured belly. The sudden eruption sent pilots scattering, and Red was able to dart amongst them, throwing off her pursuers. Lance flew in to take them out, pounding blood making his chest jump.

“Hunk, don’t!” Keith cried, moving after the Yellow Paladin.

“Keith, hold back!” Shiro snapped. “Red doesn’t have the armour!”

“I’ve got this!” Hunk turned Yellow about, and Lance moved to back her up.

“But I have to – Pidge, move!” Again, the Red Lion streamed across Lance’s viewscreen, looping Pidge’s Lion and turning another ship into a ball of flame.

“Oh geez, thanks Keith.”

“Keith, you’ve gotta stay with us here,” Shiro said steadily. “Not long until the Castle gets here. Patience yields focus.”

“Another wave!” That was from Pidge.

“Only one way to do this,” Shiro concluded. “Okay, team. FORM VOLTRON!”

Steering Blue into formation was second nature. Lance channelled the thought of Voltron as muscle memory did the work.

It was a feeling like no other. Nothing any of them could put into words. In those seconds Lance could hardly tell where he ended and Blue began, could feel the connection stretching beyond her to Hunk and Pidge, Keith and Shiro.  Everything they were and were together; like one thing, one animal. An orchestra reaching crescendo in perfect time. They raced through the dark together, a single spirit taking on its own shape, moulding into a single unit.

Pain slammed into his ribs. Lance buckled, hands thrown from the controls in claws; stinging sharp. His own pulse was agonising. He clutched at his throat, vision beginning to grey and blur; the familiar lights and shapes of the cockpit twisted into leering monsters. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe: he was going to faint, going to choke, going to die – going to die out here in space alone and more miles than he could imagine from home and Mom and Veronica and Luis and family –

Blue was flung into the void, spinning off into the black, and the feeling crushing him from the inside rushed out, leaving him collapsed and empty.

Hunk heaved a sob into his mic.

“What – what was that?” Pidge asked, shaky and small.

“Guys, cover us,” Lance said, and he urged Blue towards Red. The scarlet Lion was turning aimlessly, light in her eyes flickering. Lance’s hand rattled as he reached for the dash. He missed on his first two attempts at the switch.

“Keith. Keith, look at me.”

The boy in his viewscreen was a shaking mess. He was doubled over in the pilot seat, his knuckles bleached white on Red’s controls. Frantic, choppy breaths heaved against the helmet as he struggled for air, eyes wide and staring at nothing.

“Keith, please. Look at me.” Lance guided Blue carefully close. She nosed at the Red Lion, trying to rouse her. Lance’s eyes were hovering on Keith’s image, scanning for fighters every other second. They were clear for now. “Keith. Can you hear me?”

A spasm racked Keith’s back, violently jerking him forwards. Lance heard him dry retch into his helmet; but there was nothing he could do about it but talk. Red stirred, coming to life under Blue’s protection. His Lion turned under Lance’s hand, fending away a questing fighter with a burst from her tail.

“Okay Keith, it’s okay. If you can’t look at me that’s alright, you can just listen.” The others were crowding his hearing; Lance dropped the volume on the team channel, muting his own mic. “Okay, Keith. You can breathe. I know it feels like you can’t right now, but you can. You’re breathing. You can breathe.” Lance spun his Lion, firing ice at the engine of a swooping Galra ship, fighting to keep his actions from his voice, clenching his teeth. A flash of red and black followed; Shiro racing to their defence. “Just keep it steady, right? Count it. One, two, three, four. Out: one, two, three, four. That’s great. You’re doing great.” He couldn’t see – couldn’t tell – didn’t know how Keith was doing. Red was gathering herself, eyes alive, but her movements were dull; slowed without her paladin to guide them.

“Lance!” Pidge’s voice broke in on him. “Lance, is Keith okay? He’s not responding, Red’s readings are weird -”

Lance unmuted his mic to the team, but he didn’t stop talking to Keith. “We’ve got this, buddy. We’re Voltron, whether we’re formed up or not. Just a little longer.”

“Pidge, with us. Protect Red and Blue,” Shiro said quickly. “Lance, good job.”

“See that?” Lance went on, but Keith certainly couldn’t, he still hadn’t moved or tried to sit up as far as he could tell. “There they go. The Castle will be here any second. Hold on.”

 Keith shuddered, trying to haul himself upright by his grip on the controls. His elbows gave out beneath hs own weight. “They can’t – I have to -” the words were ragged and half-formed, shaken out of his mouth too soon. “Everyone -”

“We got this,” Lance repeated firmly. “Just gotta –argh!” he spluttered off, swearing, thrown in his seat by a heavy blow to Blue’s side. He felt its echo in his own chest.

“Lance!”

Lance shivered as Keith shouted his name, something in his soul giving way. “I’m alright,” he hissed quickly, shock making the words sharp. Hunk called an apology over the team line as Pidge sprang after the offending craft. “Just surprised me. Keith, Keith stop -”

Red was rushing and reeling in space, forcing the others to make way for her. A confused garble blared in his helmet. Fire boiled the air around the Lion. “Can’t let them near you, gotta -”

“Keith no, let the others do it! Fall back!”

“NO!” Keith yelled back, loud enough to make Lance jump in his seat. “None of you! Not – not getting any of you -”

“What’s he doing?!” Pidge demanded. Yellow swung around to block Red’s path, taking more fire.

“Keith, please don’t, oh my gosh -”

“What ho, paladins!”

“Coran!”

The Castle steered into sight in the corner of Lance’s screen; he’d never have missed it had his heart not been in his mouth, his eyes fixed on the streak of scarlet. Shiro began barking orders over the comm, but Lance shut them out; trusting the arrival of the Castle to give them time.

“Keith, look at me.”

For a wonder, he did; shaking and frantic and still so beautiful, hair plastered to his scalp by the helmet and the sweat slicked to his chin.

“They’re not gonna touch us,” Lance vowed. “None of us.”

Black and the others were forming up again, concentrating their fire on a spot on the battleship’s starboard flank. Pops and splashes of light and flame littered the viewscreen behind the image of Keith. The Red Paladin screwed his eyes shut and Lance refused to see the tears, refused to believe in the anguish that was shredding his own soul as well.

“I can’t – I messed up, I – I’ve let you -”

“I swear Keith Kogane you’ve never in your life let me down,” Lance half-shouted. He felt like he was unravelling from the frayed edges. “You’ve never let any of us down, so don’t you ever think that. Let me worry about that stuff, you just keep on being you!”

Shiro ballooned into view over another private link. “Lance, we need help to take the main ship down. Any chance of Voltron?”

Lance could only shake his head, hoping Keith wouldn’t know what was happening.

“Alright,” the Black Paladin said, and his voice crossed back into the team channel. He rattled off orders and Keith and Lance flew out to meet them.

The rest was a blur. With the Castle in support, it was an easier fight. The team eventually bust the battleship apart at the seams. The drones went unresponsive, momentum carrying them harmlessly across space. They blew up any that approached Serin, as well as scooping up any fighters that scattered that way. Lance was dashing sweat from his eyes before Shiro finally gave them the order to land.

They descended through the atmosphere onto the same landing platform they’d arrived on. Allura was telling them to wait and meet her there over the line, but Lance ignored it. As soon as he set down he was running for Red. The scarlet Lion didn’t hesitate to let him in, and Lance was pulling his helmet off before he cleared the gangplank. The thick, honey-rot scent of Serin and the cacophony of the bush chorus felt like a blow; an assault on his throbbing head.

“Keith? Keith?”

The Red Paladin lurched from his chair, holding himself up on the dash. He gasped as he wrenched his helmet off, desperately trying to fill his lungs. “Lance,” he said, broken.

“I gotcha,” he wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. Keith dropped his helmet with a thud, pressing his forehead into Lance’s shoulder as he continued to gabble. “I’m here, man. We’re all here. Not a scratch on us, except for you.” He teased Keith’s head back with a careful hand, critically examining the scrapes across his cheek. “That Galra totally needed a manicure.”

Keith huffed a weak laugh, holding Lance’s forearms to steady himself on his own feet. “Doesn’t matter. Glad you’re okay.”

“Me too, man,” Lance said, a horrid lump bobbing in his throat like a second Adam’s apple. “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Pidge stumbled out of Green and immediately regretted it; harsh colour and heavy, cloying sweetness driving stinging tears from her eyes. She dashed them off, close to ducking into her Lion again, when shaky arms found her instead.

“Keith?” She was released before she could hug back, the smell of the boy’s sweat wrinkling her nose.

“I’m sorry, Pidge. I’m sorry,” Keith said, stepping back into Lance’s waiting palm. The taller paladin was right behind him, rubbing pointless circles into the armour on Keith’s back.

“Easy,” he murmured, soft.

“Wait, what are you sorry for?” Pidge asked, sniffing and pushing her glasses up her nose with a finger. Perhaps her helmet would filter out the pollen if she put it back on.

“Today. I messed up and you -”

“Hey, hey, nope, we’re not going there,” Lance cut in quickly. “We made it, right? We’re all good.”

“It’s not good!” Keith insisted, jerking away from the hand Lance still had on him. “I couldn’t form Voltron! It’s my fault and it put all of you in danger -”

“- and we dealt with it,” Lance responded, firm. “Keith, this isn’t on you, right?”

“It is,” Keith rounded on Shiro, who was walking over from Black. The older paladin lifted his hands in a placating gesture, easing towards him like a spooked animal. “You cannot be okay with this!”

“Okay with what?” Shiro asked, calmly. He quickly glanced over each of them and over her head at where Hunk must be hurrying over, then met Keith’s gaze; steady and sure where the Red Paladin’s was frantic.

“With me,” Keith hissed, and his eyes seemed too bright, almost glittery… Oh. They were wet. “I messed up, and it could’ve -”

“You know, I wasn’t feeling too great myself back there,” Shiro interrupted. He waited until he was sure Keith wouldn’t look away before continuing. “I think it was a one-off, Keith. We can work on it. Don’t worry.”

Keith opened his mouth, but only a twisted sound came out when Hunk pushed past her and dragged him into a bear hug. His feet were left dangling off the floor as Hunk squeezed. “Keith, dude, you’re super cool and everything but don’t scare me like that, man! I thought Red was a goner for a second.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith wheezed, fighting for breath. “I’m sorry.”

Pidge dug her teeth into an involuntary lip tremble. Hunk must have heard the emotion riding what was left of Keith’s voice, because he set him down gently. “Woah man, it’s okay. You know I’m a panicker. Uh…” he hesitated; face creasing into worried brown lines. “Are you alright?”

“Paladins!”

Shiro, Hunk and Lance reflexively straightened at the sound of the Princess’ voice. Allura was striding across the landing platform, a few silvery strands of hair gleaming where they’d escaped her bun. They and the dent pinched into her brow were the only signs of what had happened.

“Well done,” she said, summoning a smile for them when she arrived. “You all did very well, even without Voltron.” The pause was pregnant with feeling. Keith shifted, and Allura’s eyes were soft and concerned. “What happened?”

“We think it was a one-off,” Shiro supplied easily, giving no one else room to speak. “A syncing problem; we haven’t trained together for days after all. We’ll keep an eye of it, but I don’t think it’ll be an issue again.”

“You can’t just let this go!” Keith half-shouted. Lance reached for him again, but Keith shied away from the touch. Pidge bit down harder on her lip as a flicker moved the Blue Paladin’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have to risk yourselves for me.”

“You do it for us,” Lance pointed out, quiet.

“That’s…” Keith swallowed around the absence of the right words. “That’s different. You can’t just – you should be mad!”

“Nobody is mad, Keith,” Shiro said smoothly, but it wasn’t true: Lance’s expression had changed, turning into something strained and ugly.

“How the quiznak is it different, Keith?”

Pidge looked at Hunk, at Shiro, even at the Princess; but no-one seemed to want to move. She nudged the big Samoan and he shifted in Lance’s direction, but his friend just ignored him, glaring at the Red Paladin. Something approaching horror was written on Keith’s face.

“What, so you can protect us but we’re not allowed to protect you? What do you take us for, Keith? We’re supposed to be okay with you taking crazy chances to stop us getting hurt? When you could die?” Lance’s mouth was curling up at the edges, disgusted and hurting. “You seriously think any of us is going to be okay with that?”

“L-Lance?” Hunk interrupted, voice quaking. “I think maybe we should all take a minute. It’s been a really weird day. We should all have a space-coffee or something. Maybe a balikojo.”

“This is more important than food!” Lance snapped, then flinched when he saw Hunk’s wince. He heaved breath into his lungs, obviously trying to get a grip. His fingers were twitching. “Sorry,” he said shortly, though Pidge wasn’t sure if he was talking to Hunk or Keith; he was still focused on the Red Paladin. “But it isn’t different, Keith. If I have a chance to haul your ass out of the fire, I’m going to take it. End of.”

“You can’t.”

“I will.”

“Lance, no one’s waiting for me!” Keith snapped. His eyes suddenly widened, breath stopping. Lance froze. So did Pidge. The shifting air of the jungle seemed to halt around them; somehow stifling at the same time as it was empty and cold.

Lance shook his head a little as though trying to shake the words out. His stare was rounded and strange. “What did you say?”

Pidge tasted blood against her tongue. Behind Keith, Shiro had closed his eyes. He stopped the boy as he backed away, shrinking under their stares, settling hands on the paladin’s shoulders. Keith was forced to stand even as he tried to make himself smaller, fading in front of them. His eyes darted around, and he took a breath before answering.

“You know it’s true. You guys have all got family to go back to, but there’s nothing for me on Earth. Just the shack and Dad’s grave.” He licked his lip, voice getting stronger, more determined. “So if anyone is gonna get hurt, it had better be me, right? It just makes more sense that way.”

“Stop it!”

Hunk jumped. All eyes turned on her, even Keith’s in their peculiar indigo. Pidge fisted her hands, pushing down towards the floor to stop the shaking. Warm blood trickled from her mouth to her chin.

“Stop it. Stop talking like that,” she instructed, glowering at the Red Paladin. His mouth was open. “We’re all important. We’re all going home. Stop it.” She knew the others were nodding, didn’t have to look. Keith took a shuddering breath.

“Pidge…”

She stopped him by rushing him, throwing her arms around his chest. His arms were pinned to his sides as the other moved in to join them. He still stank, but she didn’t care. She pushed her face against his chest plate, glaring at the scarlet ‘v’ there.

“You can’t be like this,” Hunk pleaded, almost sobbing. “You’re one of us, dude. We’re a team. You can’t do yourself down like that.”

“Don’t you dare,” Lance growled, somewhere in the pile. She kept her own eyes squeezed tight, unable to blame her damp face and sticky eyelashes on the hayfever anymore.

“Indeed,” said the Princess. Pidge heard her take a breath and realised one of the hands around her was Allura’s. “What we do it dangerous. I think we all know what’s at stake; not just the universe.” The huddle slackened, giving the words the space they deserved. “I’m incredibly proud of you for looking after each other, and I understand that sometimes we’ll have to take chances. But nobody, absolutely none of you is expendable,” she said fiercely. “No one should be putting themselves in unnecessary danger, for any reason. Understood?” They all nodded and murmured their agreement, and Allura held Keith’s eyes until he gave her a: ‘yes, Princess’. “Good.” Her gaze softened and she picked up one of Keith’s hands, lacing their fingers. She was quiet and earnest. “It would break our hearts, you know.”

Pidge looked up to see the blurry shape of Keith’s Adam’s apple working in his throat. “Okay.” Allura squeezed his hand before letting go, stepping back to let their huddle dissolve.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you all, but I think we must go and see the Waysetters as soon as possible.”

“Let me guess,” Hunk said, sniffing, obviously trying to raise the mood with a wobbly smile. “Now they want an alliance.”

“I quiznakking hope so,” Allura muttered.

“Do we all need to be there?” Lance asked. He seemed weary, but he stood tall under the Princess’ querying look, ignoring Keith’s. “ ‘Cos I’m not feeling too hot after that fight, and Blue got hit up there. I was hoping Keith could take us back to the Castle so we can get checked out. Maybe we could help Coran or something?” He waited when Allura blinked, catching up. “Please.”

“You said you weren’t hurt,” Keith said, frowning at the Cuban. Lance simply shrugged.

“I wasn’t; just feel a bit off. Better safe than sorry, right?” His eyes stayed carefully away; he was keeping his voice neutral. “Maybe we should all get checked out. Just in case.”

“Of course, Lance,” Allura swiftly agreed. “Keith, escort Lance back, please.”

“I’ll get your stuff,” Hunk offered, and his friend nodded thanks before turning away. Keith followed, trailing after the Blue Paladin with his shoulders sagging.

Allura coughed, and Pidge watched at Shiro reluctantly tore a heavy stare from Keith’s retreating frame. The man was ashen. “I will insist Coran examines him later, if he hasn’t by the time we get there.”

“Thankyou, Princess,” Shiro said, eyes dark and troubled.

“Right,” Allura breathed, pulling herself up once more. “Pidge, I believe Coran will have sent some data files through to you. Can you display them for the Serili?”

Pidge nodded, rubbing her face clean of tear-tracks. “If I can get my laptop first. And I need my medicine.”

“We’ll go via the suite then,” Allura agreed. “And then maybe we can finally move on.”

It took no time at all to pick up their things, and considerably longer for Hunk to gather all of Lance’s. He collected all the spare leaf-wrapped packets too, stowing them in the Blue Paladin’s bag along with the juniberry-scented toiletries. In Keith’s room, Pidge left him to raid the bathroom for more cosmetic gunk while she reviewed the files sent by Coran. She quietly played back some intercepted messages, noting and organising what they might need.

“Hey, Pidge. Look at this.”

Hunk had returned and swept the curtain over the sleeping alcove aside. In one hand he held Keith’s neatly folded pyjamas; the other was offered out for inspection. Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose as she peered over.

There was a jewel in Hunk’s palm, framed in a circle of stone. The crystal itself looked like a wave, petrified spray glittering as he rocked it back and forth.

“Pretty. It’s Keith’s?”

“Must be.” Hunk held it up, blue light bathing his face from the glowing moss. “I wonder where he got it?”

Pidge’s shoulders popped when she shrugged. Battle fatigue cried out in her muscles as she stood up, stretching. “Come on. Allura’s probably waiting, and I really need a nap.”

Hunk trundled after her; an overnight bag slung over each shoulder, and almost didn’t stop when she held out an arm.

Allura was in the living space with Shiro, and they were occupied. The Princess was whispering rapidly to the Black Paladin, who stood with his head bent and both his hands clasped in hers. He said something back, low and heavy, and the Altean’s face crumpled in sympathy. Then she spotted Pidge, and she stepped away from Shiro with an earnest smile and a last squeeze.

“Ready?”

“I’ve got it,” Pidge hoisted the laptop in her arms.

The Princess led the way to the dining chamber in confident strides. The halls and corridors were almost empty; the few Serili they passed took the time to bow and blink but did not stop. They mostly seemed to be guards, carrying two short staves each. Five more waited outside the grand doors, but they were allowed inside without question.

Inside, the four Waysetters and seven Speakers of Counsel, including Kleon and Hereebi, greeted them with long blinks. The air carried the unpleasant scent of iron and singed hair, and Pidge found herself stepping around a dark stain on the floor.

“Sit, please,” said the senior Waysetter. Pidge thought their name was Fasseevas or something. “These ones must be tired.”

That was entirely true, and Pidge was grateful to settle cross-legged on one of the squat stools. Shiro did the same beside her, pale and stiff.

“It would be beneficial for these ones to hear the whole course of events,” Fasseevas prompted. “If the one that is Allura, Princess of Altea, would oblige?”

Allura seamlessly slipped into the story, speaking of Hereebi’s part no differently from anyone else’s. Pidge caught herself glaring at the mark on the floor where the scout must have tussled with Keith, searching for scorch patterns across the grain. The Serili listened without interruption, allowing Allura to hand over to Shiro. The Black Paladin recounted their frantic flight to the Lions and the following battle in the professional, clinical manner of reporting to superior officers at the Garrison. Keith’s episode was summed up with ‘the Red Lion was temporarily incapacitated’ without inflection.

“Where are the ones that are the Red and Blue Paladins now?” asked one of the Speakers of Counsel when Shiro had finished.

“Keith and Lance have returned to the Castle for precautionary medical assessment,” Allura supplied.

“A shame,” said the Serili. “We ones wish those ones well, of course. The thoughts of one blessed with jiya on this matter would be most interesting.”

Allura’s smile was cool. “I believe Keith has made his support for Serin joining the Coalition clear. Now that the planet is safe, our highest priority must be the paladins’ health. I’m sure you understand.”

The Speaker of Counsel tapped the table with a bronze-plated clawtip. “One point remains. It seems to this one that the Galra initiated hostilities after discovery of the Paladins of Voltron amongst the Serili.” Their black eyes swept the group. “Is it possible that Serin would not have been in danger had the Serili not appeared to be associated with these ones?”

The Princess’ smile slipped. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“The Galra always intended to take the planet,” Shiro interrupted, tone flat. “They would have enslaved you all.”

“The ones that approached accepted an offer to negotiate -”

“- only to get close to you!” Pidge snapped.

“This one believes the Paladins of Voltron are correct,” said Hereebi swiftly, before she could go on. The other Speaker of Counsel stirred. If they’d had eyebrows, Pidge was sure they would be raised in shock.

“Hereebi?”

“Since arrival, the ones that are the Paladins of Voltron have stated that the Galra intended to conquer Serin.” Hereebi did not blink at the other Serili. “They provided evidence of this occurring in multiple other systems. The tactics employed today appear to resemble those used on a planet named Olkarion. Based on what this one saw earlier today, this one is convinced that the Paladins of Voltron were correct about the intentions of the Empire.”

“Thankyou, Hereebi,” Allura said, with a dignified blink.

“We can actually prove it,” Pidge followed up. Heads swivelled in her direction. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and she swivelled the laptop around, leaning over it with a hand hovering over the space bar. “This is audio captured from the scout ships’ communications with the main battleship,” she explained. “We can give this to your scientists to analyse, if you don’t believe us.” She pressed, and a deep Galra voice crackled into life, bringing a familiar chill rolling to her stomach.

‘Approaching planet identified as the source of Sleeping Tree Sap. No sign of resistance.’

‘Good,’ responded another, equally bass voice. ‘Perform scan for military instillations and craft. Do not engage. Fleet in position in twenty dobashes.’

“That’s from the command ship,” Pidge said, as the line dimmed to static fuzz. The room was airless with the listeners’ held breath.

‘Sir. The local population has hailed us, inviting us to negotiate. Your orders?’

‘Report on their defensive capabilities.’

‘None to speak of observed, sir.’

‘Excellent,’ the unseen commander’s voice was filled with evil glee. ‘Agree to negotiate. Secure their leaders as hostages. Fleet in position in sixteen dobashes.’

‘Vrepit sa.’

Pidge left the recording running as it again dulled to static, scanning the recognition on every Serili face. Then:

‘Commander! We have a visual on two of the Voltron Lions! Repeat: we have a visual on two of the Voltron Lions!’

‘Is there any sign of the others? Or the paladins?’

‘Negative, sir.’

‘Proceed as planned. Your priority is securing those Lions. Any casualties among the local creatures are acceptable.’

Pidge hit the space bar, and air rushed back into the room as the crackling stopped and everyone released their breath.

“It is abundantly clear,” said the Waysetter she thought was called Fasseevas. They rose, and the other Serili followed them up. Pidge thought about it, but stayed defiantly down, limbs aching. “This one decides in favour of joining the Voltron Coalition.”

“This one agrees,” said another.

“This one also favours the alliance.”

“And this one also.”

“The Way is decided,” Fasseevas concluded formally, and the words were echoed around the table. Fasseevas looked at the Princess, who had gracefully risen with them. “The new Way will be celebrated in our tradition tomorrow. Please attend. The ones who are Paladins of Voltron must be duly honoured.” Pidge dragged herself up when the Serili all bowed deeply, offering languid blinks. “The service these ones have performed for the Serili shall never be forgotten.”

As the Lions returned to the Castle, Coran’s happy chirps of ‘welcome home’ loud over their comms, Pidge was sure the first thing they’d all be doing was checking on Keith. It didn’t give her much time. She ran a hand over the smooth curve of Green’s claw as she hurried from the bay, promising she’d be back later.

It was hard work, and her calves were cramping furiously by the time she got there, but Pidge caught up with Shiro and the Princess on their way to the lounge. She ran headlong into the Black Paladin, whose arm had begun to glow lilac as he turned towards the sound of rushed feet.

“Pidge?” he yelped, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his ribs. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” She looked up, chin resting against the flexible black fibre of the flightsuit. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll wait upstairs,” Allura offered, slipping away. Shiro just looked bewildered.

“Right. Pidge?” 

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated stubbornly. She didn’t know how to do this, but she had to try. “What Keith said. It’s not your fault.”

Shiro held out for a fraction of a moment before he slumped. His human hand came to rest on her head; the robotic one, no longer glowing, on her shoulder.

“He should never have felt like that,” he murmured, low. Pidge wasn’t even sure if he was really talking to her, but she answered anyway.

“It’s the jiyana bite. At least some of it.”

“And the rest?” Shiro asked, bitterness on the edge of his tongue. His fingers tightened in her hair just a little. He wouldn’t look at her. “I should have realised.”

“That’s not your fault either,” she insisted. “Keith was hiding it. None of us knew.”

Shiro looked down, doubt still colouring the grey. “But I should have.”

“How? Shiro, if Keith hadn’t been bitten, we’d never have found out,” she said, holding tighter around his middle. She doubted he noticed. “This is actually better. Now we can fix it.”

“You think?” he asked, finally meeting her eyes. She nodded deliberately, the hand on her head ruffling her hair.

“Yeah. And I’m a genius, remember?”

Shiro chuckled. “All right. Thankyou, Katie.”

“No problem.” She let go, hooking her arm around his to start them off down the corridor. “Let’s go start.” They bumped into Allura round the corner, expression only briefly sheepish at being caught eavesdropping before it lit up with a smile. The look she gave Pidge was warm and grateful. Hunk joined them a few floors up, and together they approached the lounge. They stuck their heads in curiously as joyous sound met their ears.

Keith was sprawled on the sofa, his head thrown back into the cushion and his arms folded over his stomach as he laughed. Next to him, Lance was kneeling on the padded seat, arms wriggling in the air and mouth racing as he told some story or other. His grin was pulled wide, eyes crinkled at the corners. Keith erupted into fresh roars when Lance delivered the punchline, face folding into naked fondness as he watched the Red Paladin howl. Hunk nudged her pointedly as he went in.

“Hey guys.”

“You’re back!” Keith said, twisting himself upright. Lance shifted, unfolding his leg.

“Uh-huh. We got your stuff,” Hunk said, holding his arms up to display the bags.

“Hey Keith,” said Shiro, as they all followed the Yellow Paladin into the room.

Keith’s eyes darted away from the older man. “Hey. I can take the luggage.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hunk, as Keith rushed over and started taking the bags off him. “This one’s mine – oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Keith nodded, shouldering them both and making for the exit.

“I’ll help,” said Shiro, halting Keith on the spot with a violet wince. “We need to talk.”

“… okay,” Keith agreed, nervous. The two of them left without another word. As soon as the door slid shut after them, Lance slouched back against the sofa.

“You think they’ll be okay?” he asked the Princess.

“I think so. Their bond is very strong.” Allura watched anxiously as Lance nodded just once, closing his eyes. “You did well to bring him back here. And to improve his mood so much.”

“Yeah buddy, it’s amazing,” Hunk chimed, encouragingly. “I haven’t seen Keith laugh so much since… since ever, I guess.”

“Thanks,” said Lance, without any feeling. His eyes’ met the Princess’. “Coran is really worried about him.”

“What did he say?”

“His body is showing signs of fatigue, even though Keith isn’t feeling it. His hormone levels are whacked. There’s a chance it could damage neural receptors in his brain. It’s… scary,” Lance finished. “Another day like today could really hurt him.”

“Can’t we do something?” Hunk asked, urgently. “Something nice, or – or – something to help him relax a bit?” Lance was grim as he shook his head, slowly.

“It’s not about being nice. We’re just gonna have to wait and see how he is when the jiya wears off, and hope nothing else happens in the meantime.”

“Thankyou for looking after him, Lance,” Allura said, sincerely. “I’m going to talk to Coran about this. I’ll speak with you all later.” She left, and Hunk edged into a seat near the Blue Paladin. Lance didn’t move, hunched over and into himself.

“So we’re allies with Serin now.”

“Figured.”

“They’re having a party about it tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Lance?” Hunk pressed, brow creased up. “Are you okay?”

Lance sighed, lifting his head to look squarely at his friend. “I’m okay. Just… worried, you know?”

“I get it,” Hunk replied, reassuring. “I mean… we all got a shock back there, right? I never knew Keith was so scared of the Galra.”

Lance stirred, frowning. “What?”

“You know, when we were syncing,” Hunk elaborated, glancing at Pidge to include her in the conversation. “When we were trying to form Voltron. Keith was just terrified.”

“He’s not scared of them.”

“Lance, we all felt it. That’s why we couldn’t form.”

“You don’t get it,” Lance contradicted, harsh. He leaned backwards again, arms loose at his sides. “Keith isn’t afraid of the Galra. Not even a little.” He barked a short, sharp laugh. “That’s how he can do all that crazy stuff, like taking on Zarkon alone that time. He just isn’t scared, even though he should be.”

Hunk hesitated, chewing his tongue. “But, from what I felt -”

“Your fear,” Lance said, simply. “Your fear, not his.” He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, blinking too often. “That moment? I was thinking about dying alone out here. Without seeing Mom or the others again. “

“I was thinking of Matt and Dad,” Pidge admitted, the words sore and sour. “Of… of being too late, or something.”

“See?” said Lance, finally looking down, damp-eyed. “Our fears.”

“But then… what was Keith afraid of?” Hunk asked. He pulled his arms round himself, like a hug. “It must have been terrible, to get him so worked up and set off the rest of us.”

“You couldn’t tell?” asked Lance, strangely. He closed his eyes when Hunk shook his head, staring. “Us,” he murmured, quietly. “Keith’s afraid of losing us.”

The hum of the Castle’s systems was loud in their silence.

“I think maybe we should go and see him,” Hunk suggested, timidly. Pidge shook her head.

“Shiro needs to talk to him first.”

“Hey,” said Lance, far away. “If you two pitched in to help Coran, are you sure you couldn’t come up with a cure?” Hunk bit his lip.

“I’m not sure, Lance,” Pidge answered, slowly. “Coran’s already been trying, but hasn’t managed to come up with anything that works after the first few minutes after the bite. It might be impossible.”

The Blue Paladin’s gaze was piercingly straight forward. “You’ve done some pretty impossible stuff. Will you try?”

“Do you want that, though?” Hunk rushed. He squirmed when Lance looked his way. “I mean, do you really want us to? If we cure Keith, he might not… he might not have the same kind of feelings for you anymore. I’m not saying that for definite!” he added quickly, raising his hands. “Just, we can’t be sure. Is that… okay?”

Lance didn’t move, except to blink once. They waited. “I never wanted him to like me in the first place,” he said, eventually.

Hunk winced. “I know, buddy. But that was then. What about now?”

Another pause stretched on, endless as looping code. Finally, Lance opened his mouth. “Keith’s in danger. I’d take him being safe over thinking he’s in love with me any day,” he said. He tried to smile, and it came up crooked, like a broken bone. “Besides, Coran said it’d last a week at most, right? I only had three more days anyway.”

Chapter Text

Lance spent the first part of the final few days sleeping, or trying to. He waited up just long enough to be sure Keith was occupied with Shiro before he collapsed into the covers. They tangled round him like his thoughts in the dark, pulled tight and clinging like every shudder he couldn’t shake. He woke up surprised to have slept at all, as exhausted as if he hadn’t. He was aching, cramped and sore: his empty belly demanded attention.

But first, he needed to check on Keith.

Staggering around in the state he was in would likely only raise more alarm, so Lance hauled himself through a shower first. The hot water washed some of the fatigue from his muscles, making the walk to Keith’s room more bearable. There, his knocks went unanswered; when he tried the override he found the bunk empty. Keith was supposed to be resting up… Lance’s feet picked up speed on the way to the training deck.

The clash of blade on staff rang loud and shrill, masking the sound of the door. Unnoticed, Lance watched a few breathless seconds of the fight: the Red Paladin’s chest heaved with the effort of pushing the stave away, darting out and avoiding another swing. He found his voice again in time to save Keith from a low swipe.

“End sequence!”

The droid collapsed into a heap, lifeless as a puppet with cut strings, and Keith overbalanced into a stumble. “Lance!” A flush was riding high on his cheekbones. “You’re up.”

“And you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” Lance snipped, folding his arms. The familiar, worn creases of his jacket were soft and oddly comforting under his fingers. Keith deactivated his bayard.

“I turned it down a bit,” he offered.

“Keith, ‘taking it easy’ means not fighting the Gladiator, not fighting the Gladiator slightly less hard.”

“It’s only on about seventy-five percent.”

“Yeah, the point? You are totally missing it,” Lance griped, but the air in his mouth went back the other way when he saw Keith wince. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. But seriously dude; take a day off. We’re worried about you here.”

“You don’t have to -” Keith started, but he swallowed to stop himself. His eyes slid away from Lance’s frown, and the taller boy watched the slide of his Adam’s apple under the pale skin. “Sorry. I mean… thanks.”

“Huh,” Lance couldn’t keep his hands from going to his hair, still fluffy from the shower. He hadn’t bothered to do anything with it before going to look for Keith. “So I’m guessing Shiro talked to you about that stuff, then. Seems like he did.”

“He had a lot to say,” Keith murmured, still not looking. He bit the colour from his lip as he focused on the wall, and his shoulders tensed and slackened before he managed to look back. “I’m sorry about how I was.”

“Keith, no -”

“I am, Lance,” he insisted, heavily. He was scowling, but Lance knew it was at himself this time. “I was too much. I’ve been feeling too much, lately. I can’t… it’s hard.”  He shook his head, looking for words, but the scowl was fading into something softer and more hopeful, changing his face in the best way. “Thanks for being there for me. And for the past few days. You’ve been – you’ve really helped me deal with it.” He smiled, and Lance flushed despite longing to know exactly what he’d ‘been’.

“Right, yeah. No problem, man. Anything,” he gabbled, voice going up a semitone as Keith continued to smile, perhaps a little wider than he was before. “Yeah, just… anything. Whenever you need, my buddy, my pal.” He ran out of words and breath when Keith edged closer; the corners of his mouth twitching around the beginning of a smirk.

“It meant a lot to me,” the Red Paladin said, voice dropped low and full and something else Lance thought he liked.

“Yep, sure. Me too. I mean no biggie! Yeah. Glad I could help.” His mouth needed a set of brakes, his lungs needed air and more space between them, but Keith didn’t move and Lance was pretty sure if he tried he’d fall. “Anything for you, dude. Gotta have our Samurai.”

“And our Sharpshooter,” Keith added, and Lance swallowed desperately when Keith stepped back, suddenly nervous. “I mean… I know I don’t say this much, and you’d probably rather hear it from someone else anyway, but – we need you. You’re… really awesome. The team wouldn’t work without you.”

“Why?”

Oh. His voice was cracking.

“What? ‘Cos you’re part of Voltron, and you cheer everyone up, and -”

“No,” Lance interrupted, forcing steel into his spine and his eyes, “why would I want to hear that from someone else? Like who?”

“Allura,” the name tripped out of Keith’s mouth like an accident, a stubbed toe. “Shiro, maybe? What -”

“Nah,” Lance shook his head, and it would be great if his face could just get on-board with the whole ‘don’t lose it in front of the hot guy’ plan right now. His gaze felt damp, even as he fought to keep it on Keith’s. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Keith hesitated, eyes widening. “Uh. Ok. Why?”

Lance admitted it, finally. It didn’t seem so awful anymore. “I spent all of Garrison trying to catch up to you, man. You were the best and you made it look easy. ‘Course I wanna hear I’m cool from you.”

“Right,” said Keith, a little shiver in his voice that Lance didn’t miss. His smile went wobbly. “Well, I’m saying it. You’re cool.” An unwanted chuckle seeped out of Lance’s mouth, grin spreading. Keith’s tongue darted over his lip in a flash of pink on pink. “I guess I thought you’d still be angry with me.”

“I wasn’t,” Lance said at once, rocking back ever-so slightly onto his heels. The echo of the boiling emotions of the fight was tight in his gut. “No, seriously. I wasn’t,” he insisted, the same feelings reflected at him in doubt-filled indigo. “I was scared, man. And okay, maybe I was angry, but it was at us. Me. For not realising what you’d been thinking all along.”

“Huh,” said Keith, more of a noise than a word.

“You know it isn’t true, right?” Lance pressed, quietly. He’d promised himself he’d leave this to Shiro; someone infinitely better qualified, but he couldn’t say nothing, could he? Not now. “ ‘Cos it’s rubbish, Keith. Shiro told you?”

“In detail,” Keith confirmed, heavily. He sucked in air before pinning Lance with a look; fierce and dark and sure. It held him still. “I can’t promise not to do it again. Sometimes, when something happens, my body just moves on its own. But I promise I’ll try not to. Unless I have to, to save you. One of you.”

There was a clenched fist in Lance’s throat, as solid and certain as Keith’s promise. Speaking round it was painful. “I guess that’s fair,” Lance forced out, far too much blood in his body, his ears too full of it. “Seeing as we’d all do the same for you.”

Something in Keith folded, his face collapsed and fell into a smile. Oh quiznak, what a smile. Right there, right in front of him: not a simple thousand-watt flicking on but the sun coming up. “Yeah. I know.”

Lance didn’t realise he’d sucked in a breath until it escaped in a long sound almost like a whine, like something deflating. Maybe his willpower. “Soooooo… what are you going to do today, now that robot murder is off the table?” A change of subject. He mentally high-fived himself.

“Guess I’ll hang with you,” Keith answered smoothly, a little smugness lifting his cheeks when Lance coughed.

“Yeah? Yeah, okay. Something chill, then. Doctor’s orders.”

“You mean Coran’s.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Lance retorted –

All colour drained from his face as his stomach cut into the conversation with a loud, burbling gurgle, determined to remind him about the existence of food. And shame.

“Don’t laugh,” Lance instructed. Keith bit his lip again. “I’m serious, don’t you dare,” Lance went on, fighting the sympathetic twitch of his mouth as the Red Paladin’s shoulders started to shake. Keith spilled laughter all over the mat, holding his sides together.

“What was that?” Keith panted between guffaws. “How is your belly as loud as you are?”

“Shove off!” Lance crossed his arms over the offending organ, pouting. “It’s not my fault. Swimming and fighting and no food since breakfast yesterday really takes it out of a paladin. I can’t work in these conditions.”

Keith shook his head and the last of his laughter off, reaching to grasp Lance’s wrist. “Come on,” he said, pulling the taller boy after him. “Let’s get you something to eat before we all get deafened.” Lance was too distracted by the hand on him to protest.

“There you are,” Pidge observed when Keith tugged Lance into the kitchen. Amber eyes quickly fell on the contact. The Green and Yellow Paladins were sitting at the counter, heaped bowls of goo in front of them both. Beside those were bundles of cloth in their respective Lions’ colours; and when Lance slipped onto a neighbouring stool Pidge shoved Red and Blue piles his way. “Here. Your dress uniforms for the ball tonight.”

“Woah woah, cool your jets. Ball?” Lance demanded, eyes popping as he snatched at the pile.

Hunk swallowed a mouthful of goo. “We told you; there’s a party tonight to celebrate the alliance.”

“You said party, not ball,” Lance corrected, wagging a finger at the puzzled Samoan. “A ball means dancing, my friend.”

“So?” Keith asked, picking up his own uniform.

“Oh, this is gonna be sweet,” Lance hissed, shaking out the folded clothes. “Holy Crow. It has a cape.” The outfit was unmistakably Altean in design, reflecting the sleek military style of Coran’s flightsuit at the same time as the medieval, fairytale qualities of Allura’s gown. There was a long, doublet-style top consisting of a white central panel framed in his blue; waist and details and a gold Voltron ‘v’ picked out in gold. The cape was pinned to it with a gold brooch shaped like his Lion’s head, falling over the shoulders to the waist. For his bottom half there were fitted black leggings and white boots, and matching gloves fell out of the fabric to the floor. Lance scooped them up with a whoop. “I’m gonna look like a space prince!”

Keith caught his eye over the brilliant red of his otherwise identical suit. “Sounds good to me.” Lance dug his fingers so tight into his outfit he thought it might rip.

“You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore, are you?” Pidge demanded, a loaded spoon frozen in the air in front of her mouth. Hunk grabbed her elbow and steered it sharply in, and she choked on a yelp. He clapped her back enthusiastically, eyes pooling on Lance and Keith.

“Don’t mind us,” he chimed. “Just carry on.”

Fortunately, Keith was sound enough to push a clean bowl into Lance’s hands, and he hurried to the dispensers. It gave him precious recovery time.

They assembled outside the vehicle bay, and they looked good. Lance told Hunk as much. His friend was decked out handsomely in his yellow finery, complexion nicely complimented by the warm shade.

“Thanks man,” Hunk said happily. “Your blue totally makes your eyes pop.”

“I know,” Lance groaned delightedly, bouncing on his toes. He checked his hair with a hand; no longer fluffy from the shower but back in proper order.

“Where’s Keith?” Hunk asked furtively, peering around Lance as though he was hiding him somewhere. “How come he isn’t with you?”

Lance shrugged, ignoring the little squirm that came from being a pair now. “Dunno, dude. Said he had something to do.”

“Oh.” Hunk sucked at hiding his curiosity, chewing his tongue for half a second before side-eying him again. “I thought maybe you’d help him get ready.”

Yeah, as if he was in a position to be helping Keith get in and out of clothes. “Why would I – oh cheese fritters. His hair.” Lance grabbed Hunk’s arms, giving them an urgent shake. “Dude. We have to do something about his hair.”

“It’s taken care of,” the Princess announced. She arrived in a wave of gleaming silver and the scent of juniberry flowers, her gown pristine. “I can’t believe you forgot about it.”

“Why is Keith’s mullet my job?” Lance protested. As Allura rolled her eyes, Pidge stepped around her, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Woah-wa-wee-wa,” Lance gaped, staggering back into Hunk’s waiting hands with a practiced swoon. “What light beyond yonder window breaks?”

“I knew I should have asked for leggings,” Pidge muttered, folding her arms protectively across her chest. The skirt of her dress fell to her knees; white with a green layer over the top. Otherwise her outfit was a lot like theirs, but she had puffed sleeves like Allura’s, no gloves, and her cape was longer. The Princess had clearly set about her with a hairbrush too; the tamed tresses held off her face with glittering pins.

“I mean it, you look great,” Lance said, encouraging. The tiny girl graced him with a pleased smile, and Lance allowed his to turn sly. “Hey, maybe we should -”

“No,” Pidge snapped, just fast enough for it to sting. “No way. Not ever.”

He made himself look innocent. “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“And I don’t want to.”

“Heartbroken,” Lance moaned, falling dramatically on Hunk’s mercy. Hunk obligingly patted his back. Lance soaked up the attention for a moment before peeking at Pidge. “Your loss.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Pidge responded dryly. Her head tilted back with the weight of the wicked gleam in her eye. “This way I won’t have to fight Keith for your affections.”

“Pidge!” he hissed, snapping abruptly to attention when footsteps rounded the corner.

Of course it was Keith; heart-stopping in scarlet. His hair was brushed to gleaming and swept into a ponytail, emo fringe smoothed away, leaving his face and neck exposed. Which was just way more attractive than it had any right to be, what the cheese?

“Sorry, am I last?” Keith said, hurrying up and falling naturally in beside Lance. Even the Princess stepped sideways to let him stand there automatically. He looked over their faces and nudged Lance with an elbow. “You okay?”

“Gorgeous,” Lance answered breathlessly, and Pidge sniggered. Hopefully Hunk would poke her. “Yeah, I’m just gorgeous,” Lance finished, going for a save that probably wasn’t there.

“I can see that,” Keith murmured, not quite low enough for no-one else to hear. Lance knew because Pidge was making gagging noises.

“You’re not last,” Allura reassured, amusement making her eyes sparkle. “We’re waiting on Shiro.”

“Actually, I’m way ahead of you guys,” said the Black Paladin. They all turned to find Shiro leaning nonchalantly in the doorway to the vehicle bay, looking like he’d stepped straight out of the pages of a fantasy romance novel. Switch out the robotic arm for a white horse and he’d be nailing it. “I brought one of the smaller shuttles around.”

“Thankyou Shiro,” Allura said, and if Lance wasn’t mistaken he thought it was the Princess’s turn to sound a little breathless. He grinned at her as they all shuffled aboard, but didn’t quite dare to wink.

From the air, the marks of the attack were still visible. There were dark and thinned patches in the canopy, and in the distance the pale Serili ship broached the leaves and slipped under them once more, seamlessly. Shiro noticed him looking.

“It was quick thinking by you two, to put the fires out. It could have done a lot of damage,” he noted with an approving nod.

As they descended, things changed. Golden balls of light hovered in the air between the trees, like giant fireflies. They gathered closer as the shuttle descended towards the landing platform, lining the way to the giant white trunks. Hundreds of lights shone from the windows and balconies carved into the bark, brilliant white against the football-sized golden orbs. Lance kept turning his head to admire it all as they strode out to meet the Serili delegation waiting for them. They were all dolled up too; their flowing white robes stitched with metallic thread, spots and swirls of lively colour painted across their faces and exposed arms, decorating the edges of their tattoos. They blinked and bowed in unison, and Lance was blinking back before he realised that they were bowing at him as well as Keith, standing at his side.

“You see how weird that is?” Keith whispered in his ear, and pleasant chills popped all the way along Lance’s spine.

They made a sedate pace through the curling, smooth slopes of the tree-city, and thankfully the Hearts Hall didn’t seem to be as far away as it had on their first visit. When the grand, high doors came into view, one of the Serili hurried ahead and slipped carefully through while the others stopped.

“These ones will be announced,” one informed them. The Princess nodded.

“Certainly. Keith?”

“What? Oh.” The Red Paladin reached understanding and stepped up, away from Lance, their arms and capes brushing as he went. Lance knew the taste in his mouth was disappointment, whatever he might pretend. He turned to the others instead, ready to form up.

“Pidge?”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not being second choice,” the Green Paladin sniffed, grasping the uniform at Hunk’s side.  

“Don’t fight,” Hunk scolded, and looked up at Lance with a shrug. “Sorry man.”

“Looks like you’re with me,” Shiro said, offering Lance his arm like a gentleman. Lance forced himself to simper, fluttering his lashes as he took it.

“Why thank you, good sir,” he primped, tiptoeing into line. He laid his head daintily on Shiro’s arm. “Feels like I’m taking my Dad to prom.” Keith laughed, lifting the air in Lance’s chest and making it giddy.

“Keep that up and you can go alone,” Shiro threatened, with fondness instead of heat.

With everyone arranged to her satisfaction, Allura tipped the waiting Serili a nod, and they swept into the hall paced perfectly to the dramatic swing of the doors. It appeared Allura wasn’t done with the ol’ razzle-dazzle.

The Serili weren’t bad at that themselves. As impressive as the Hearts Hall had been the first time, now it was even more so. The floating golden lights crowded the ceiling high overhead, gently drifting in the stirred air. The glowing moss spiralled up the smooth carved pillars reaching from the floor, muted and hazy as fairy-lights under the fluttering of the long, cascading white banners. Some of the pillars had donut-shaped tables around them loaded with dishes, or circular benches for resting. There had to be a few hundred Serili in the space, milling about in groups and pairs, waiters moving gracefully between them with up to four trays of drinks and nibbles each. Everyone seemed to be leaving space clear in the centre, where the concentric tree-rings narrowed towards a band. Every Serili musician had sparkling pink lines painted across their faces, and claw tips delicately plucked the strings or beat the sides of more than twenty peculiar instruments. Several spectacular birds sat on perches amongst them, singing and trilling along in time to the music. They crescendoed and faded off as the Princess and the paladins were announced.

“Keith, Red Paladin, blessed with ji,” intoned a Serili into the fallen quiet. “Allura, Princess of Altea. Hunk, Yellow Paladin. Pidge -” Fasseevas and the other three Waysetters emerged from the crowd, lining up in front of their group. As the announcer ended with Shiro, all four folded into the respectful, palms up bow typically reserved for Keith, and a ripple spread through the room as all the other Serili followed suit. Even the waiters managed it, somehow.

It was astounding how quiet nearly four hundred aliens could be.

“The ones that are Paladins of Voltron have done a great service for the Serili,” Fasseevas said, voice travelling without having to raise it, “and the Way lies with them. The Serili honour these ones, and the alliance we have made.” Another bow, mirrored throughout the room. Fasseevas came up blinking. “The Serili hope that the jiyana that blessed the one that is Keith may remain with you as a symbol of the wisdom and great fortune we have found in this alliance.”

Great, so they got to keep it. Yippee. Lance was pretty sure that in another two days neither he nor Keith would want to look at the thing.

He hitched his smile back into place. Tonight was going to be fun. It had to be.

“Thankyou Fasseevas, Waysetter of the Serili,” Allura replied, voice carrying like a bell to the choir. “We welcome your people to the Voltron Coalition, and hope that together we may continue to bring peace to the universe.” That sounded a lot more gentle than it usually went down. “In return for your generous gift, we would like to offer you these juniberry seeds. These flowers were a precious symbol of hope and beauty on Altea.”

“Were they?” Lance asked Shiro from the corner of his mouth. “I thought they were just pretty.”

Shiro frowned slightly, keeping his face pleasant in front of the crowd. “I don’t suppose it matters,” he murmured back. “Pay attention, please.”

Fortunately, Fasseevas apparently had nothing else to say. Without a word in their direction, the band behind the Waysetters began to play again, Serili moved into the space to dance, and a few determined ones flocked in to speak to Allura and Keith. Shiro moved towards them, and Lance turned to follow Pidge and Hunk, who were already bee-lining for one of the refreshment tables. He was halfway there, transfixed by the smell of something like lemon and garlic butter, when a hand caught his cape.

“Can I -” Lance started, but his words were split off into a grin when he saw Keith.

“I’m glad that’s over,” said the Red Paladin, a little shyly. It was cute. His fringe was slipping out of Allura’s styling, so Lance tucked it back behind an ear. It pinked, and Keith’s breath caught. He grabbed Lance’s wrist as he tried to pull away. “What are you doing?”

“I was gonna check out the food,” Lance said, knowing that wasn’t what Keith meant. His fingers were tight around the top of his glove. “You coming?” Keith’s eyes lifted past Lance to Hunk’s back; he shifted on his feet, uncertain. “Or do you wanna see if we can touch every pillar in here before anyone guesses what we’re doing?”

Keith grinned. “Sure.”

It was too easy, really. So natural to let Keith lead him away from the others and get lost in the crowd with him. They swiped drinks and snacks along the way of their pillar tour, and Lance discovered Keith had a surprisingly sweet tooth. He hummed appreciatively as he sampled sticky preserved fruits, and flicked glistening syrup off his lip with the tip of his tongue. Lance needed another drink after that.

Many, many Serili wanted to talk to them. It seemed like every five steps another ducked into a bow, and they exchanged polite greetings and blinks and repeated the same few phrases about the battle before they were allowed to pass on to the next person. Lance was thanked and admired until he was blushing and flustered, and Keith’s brow quirked to say ‘see what I mean’ until Lance stuck his tongue out at him. His chuckles felt warm and reassuring, like the lapping of waves on sand. Lance steered them around a tight gathering of more Serili, making for the next column.

“Lance! Keith!” Jaseeva’s voice called from the centre of the knot of aliens, which parted gently to let them past. Moving through, Lance grinned down into Jaseeva and Seonor’s black eyes. They too were wearing face and body paint in twin designs; Jaseeva’s in blue and Seonor’s red.

“Cool, we match!”

“We do!” Jaseeva said, head bobbing in excitement, a lilt lifting their dry tones. Seonor pulled on their joined hands. “Oh, oh yes!” The pair straightened, and then blinked and bowed in unison.

“We ones thank these ones for their service to the Serili,” they said together.

“Its fine,” Keith answered at once. “It’s our job; you really don’t have to thank us.”

“But we ones should,” Jaseeva replied. Around them, some of the Serili were obviously listening in. They slow blinked agreement at the paladins.

“Well. You’re welcome,” Keith said awkwardly, nodding and blinking back. “And, uh. Thanks for before.”

“Before?” Jaseeva and Seonor’s heads tilted at the same angle.

“You helped us evacuate,” Lance prompted, sparing Keith from the paired gazes. “You guys were the best, seriously.”

“Oh no!”

“It was nothing!”

“It was outside our roles!”

“We ones are glad to have helped,” said Seonor, and several of the Serili blinked at them, too.

“The Waysetters and the one that it Hereebi, Speaker of Counsel, thanked we ones in person,” Jaseeva told him, apparently awed. Lance was just glad Hereebi had bothered.

“Well, you guys deserve it. Are you enjoying the party?”

 “Yes!”

“We ones are!”

“We ones are demonstrating this!” Jaseeva announced, holding up the hand that was wrapped around Seonor’s. Lance blinked in confusion this time.

“Your hands? You’re showing everyone your hands?”

“We ones learned this from these ones,” Seonor explained. “These ones did this during the attack.”

Keith was colouring at Lance’s side, and some of the Serili pressed closer to look.

“It’s alright, these ones change colour when they are happy,” Jaseeva told the crowd. Keith exhaled as they gave him a little more room, apparently reassured.

“This gesture promotes happiness,” Seonor said, and Lance dragged his eyes from the pink paladin. “At least between lidilidi.”

“Ah, yeah,” he agreed, flushing himself. “I guess it does.”

“You see?” Jaseeva told their audience, indicating the shade on Lance’s cheeks this time. When they turned back, their head was nodding rapidly. “We ones are very happy too,” they confessed, and Seonor joined in with a few quick motions.

“Yeah?” Lance pressed, eager for any conversation that wasn’t about blushing or holding hands.

“Yes. The one that is Kleon, Speaker of Counsel, has told the Waysetters that it may be best for some Serili to change their role, if their abilities or inclinations change,” Jaseeva explained. “The one that is Kleon heard about we ones and asked if we ones wanted to be a test case.”

“Really?” Lance exclaimed. Jaseeva and Seonor bobbed heads again. “Wow, that’s cool, you guys. What are you going to do?”

“This one doesn’t wish to change roles,” Seonor admitted.

“This one is going to be a Keeper of Birds, with Seonor!” Jaseeva announced. “Though Seonor thinks this one is too excitable to be with the birds.”

“Jaseeva is very animated,” Seonor put in. “Jaseeva must learn to be steady with them.”

Over Seonor’s head, Lance saw Shiro watching them curiously, a smile tugging his mouth. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Lance told the blue painted Serili, with a grin. “We ones should probably mingle. I mean we should probably mingle,” he corrected himself. “Until next time, guys.”

“Before these ones go,” Jaseeva hurried, surging forwards with free hands rocking, “would these ones please demonstrate?” Several of the watching Serili murmured, blinking.

“Demonstrate?” Jaseeva’s eyeline dropped towards his waist. “Oh. Right.” He felt his nerves in his fingertips as he reached out, and Keith jumped as Lance brushed the back of his palm. He allowed Lance to carefully lace their fingers together, stretching a little more than was immediately comfortable to accommodate the fabric of the gloves. It felt warm, despite it. Lance held their hands up; hoping no-one would notice the little shake in his arm, or the way neither paladin was looking at the other. “There you go.”

“Thankyou, thankyou,” Jaseeva said, waving them away. “Goodbye, Lance! Goodbye Keith!”

“Yeah, seeya,” Lance returned weakly, pulling Keith away and towards the waiting Black Paladin. Lance was almost afraid to look at him. “Hey Shiro, something up?” he asked, his tone painfully removed from his normal one. Shiro made a soft noise, and Lance finally lifted his eyes to a smile.

“Interesting cultural exchange there,” Shiro prompted, cheekily. Lance’s hand clenched for a second, but when he loosened it Keith didn’t, so he held on.

“It’s better than just lurking about not dancing,” he blustered, still red. Shiro only smiled wider, cocking an eyebrow.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, extending his palm.

“You wanna dance?” Lance blurted, incredulous; behind him the band swung into a flowing waltz, just to tease.

“If Keith can spare you,” Shiro replied smoothly. “What do you say, Keith?”

Keith grinned, completely failing to take his share of the embarrassment making Lance’s face burn and his toes itch. “As long as you bring him back,” he retorted, releasing Lance into Shiro’s hold.

“Of course.” Shiro swept Lance into a square-step without turning a hair. Lance stumbled after him until he found the rhythm, glaring at Keith until they turned away into the melee of dancers, losing sight of the laughing boy. He swallowed a few times as he forced himself into step.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Lance said, when he at last found his feet and his head began to clear, free of the Red Paladin’s grin.

“I’m not such an old dog I can’t learn new tricks,” Shiro said wryly, turning them carefully into the next round with graceful motions. They danced through a set of one-two-three-four before he admitted; “Actually, I can only waltz. I had to learn for a wedding.”

“Oh, cool. Whose?”

“Mine,” Shiro said simply. It was only the hand pressed against Lance’s back and the other holding his that kept him from stumbling again, gasping. The Black Paladin was gazing through him, away into time. The look was gone as soon as it appeared, something too complicated for words in its wake. “That isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

Lance opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. He had no idea what to ask, less what to say. He nodded.

“I wanted to thank you,” Shiro said, following the time of the dance with military precision. Lance had no heart to protest being the girl in the pairing when Shiro was making it so easy and graceful. “You’ve really stepped up for Keith this time Lance, and I appreciate it. We all do.”

“Oh.” His complexion would be ruined. All this blushing and flushing must be straining his poor capillaries. “It’s no problem.”

“It could have been,” Shiro said, turning them once again. “You didn’t let it, which is the point. And your actions when the Galra attacked couldn’t have been better.”

He’d probably dreamt of being praised like this by his hero, once. Now the moment was here he was on the verge of pooling to the floor like melted butter; eyes searching for Keith with every turn and sway. “Th-thanks.”

“We’re proud of you,” Shiro said, and the music churned upwards in what had to be the last chorus of the piece. “I wanted you to know.” Shiro flourished as he swept Lance around in the last turn, and he was carried lightly backwards into another pair of hands, gentle on his waist and shoulder. Shiro spoke past his head. “See. Safe and sound.”

“Yeah.” Lance bolted up when Keith spoke behind him, the touch like a brand. He darted to one side, chased by the smirk on Shiro’s lips. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Shiro said, tipping him a mocking bow. “Now where is… hey, Pidge!” He darted past Keith and Lance.

“No!” snapped the grouchy gremlin, aggravated. “Shiro, get off!” Shiro came back, triumphantly marching the struggling Green Paladin towards the band.

“If you’re gonna call me Dad, I’m going to embarrass you like one,” he told her with feral satisfaction. Pidge yelped as his arm caught around her waist and steered them into the dancers. Lance could hear her protests and threats ringing right across the room as they flowed away.

“Bet I was more elegant than that,” he observed to Keith, watching Shiro wince as Pidge stood on his foot. Probably on purpose.

“You were.” Keith confirmed. “You looked good.”

Lance knew he should shut up. But he’d never been good at that, had he? His Mom always said he lost his head around a pretty face.

“So you wanna dance?” Lance asked, rounding on the Red Paladin with confidence he didn’t feel on the outside of his skin. Inside, he begged himself to stay upright, jolts like electricity prickling all over.  

“You’re joking,” Keith blurted, eyes wide.

“Come on, Keith,” Lance urged, mind shrieking at himself, at the crazy, crazy thing he was doing. But he knew exactly how to get Keith to agree, and no matter how hard his common sense hammered the stop button the words came right out of his mouth anyway. “I dare you.”

Keith’s mouth twisted, eyes sparking as he took Lance’s offered hand. 

When the time finally came to leave, the tables were clear of all but crumbs, numerous Serili were slumped or sleeping on the available benches, and Lance’s feet and shins were probably bruised. Keith couldn’t waltz, not that it stopped them from trying. Shiro piggy-backed Pidge all the way to the shuttle under Allura’s watchful eyes, and they returned to the castle in the kind of contented, comfortable silence that falls in quiet moments after big meals; when everyone was full and happy and sleepy, and no one needed to say anything: just know the others were there.

Shiro carried Pidge off to bed while they stayed up a little longer, winding down over space-coffee in the dining room, sharing the events of the evening with Coran. Yawns were passed around the table like stories, voices slipping slower and softer as they drained their mugs. When the last dregs were settled and warm in Lance’s belly, they all seemed to reach the mutual decision to turn in, and chairs scraped and stuttered across the rubberised floor. They chorused goodnights one by one as they split off.

Lance knew Keith was following him. His steps were light and careful, but Lance felt like his every sense was attuned to Keith right now. He’d caught every slight sway of Keith’s shoulders, every glance and smile pointed in his direction when the other boy thought he wasn’t looking. He could practically smell the almost-coffee on his breath across the table.

He was nearly at his room when Keith caught up. “Hey, Lance?” he stopped him, quiet and nervous. “Can I talk to you?”

Lance turned towards him in answer, smiling in place of words. Keith’s eyes flicked up to his and down again. He took a slight step closer with his gaze drilling a hole in Lance’s navel.

“This is hard,” he muttered. Lance traced the shape of his jaw as he set it, looking up at last. “I wanted to thank you again.”

“We talked about this,” Lance murmured, sleep and lateness making the words blurred. “There’s no need -”

“I want to thank you,” Keith cut him off. His scowl opened into something more anxious; dimples forming between his eyebrows. “I want it to mean something.”

“It does,” Lance said quietly.

“No. I want it to mean something for us,” Keith explained, words low and sincere.

The tiredness clouding Lance’s veins rushed to his heart, his pulse pounded into triple-time; deafening in his ears. His fingers curled up at his sides, toes scrunching suddenly into the floor.

“I want to mean something,” Keith murmured.  

Lance opened his mouth without knowing what to do or where to go with it, but Keith went on, body inching breathlessly closer to his.

“These past few days… we’ve gotten close,” Keith said, and how could he sound so strangled and so certain at once; how could it make Lance’s knees feel so weak? “I’ve felt closer to you than I ever have before, and it’s not just that, Lance. It’s not like what I feel with Pidge or Hunk or Shiro. It’s different, and I know -” his breath shook as he sucked it past his teeth, and Lance didn’t realise he’d backed up until the wall pressed against his shoulder blades. Keith was so close… he finished speaking looking right into Lance’s soul, like he could see the sensation roaring in his blood and hear the frenzy stealing his thoughts. “- I know you’ve felt it too.”

Keith paused, and there was no air between them for Lance to whimper. Keith hesitated for just a second; brilliant and brave and always bold; but still he hesitated, when he hadn’t to throw himself between the enemy and his friends.

He leaned in. His head was moving to one side, his eyes dark with something that made Lance dizzy; his breath really did smell and taste like coffee, warm on Lance’s lips - and Lance turned his head away.

“Lance?”

“No,” said Lance, stupidly, thickly. “Not. No. I can’t do this.”

Keith stepped away at once, hands that had risen to hover over Lance’s frame still up. “Lance, what -”

“ ‘Ff gotta go,” Lance slurred, stumbling to one side. He pushed himself up against the wall, legs having to figure it out without his brain. “Go,” he repeated, and he broke into a run.

Chapter Text

“Morning.”

Pidge grunted, barely lifting her head from the steaming mug cradled in her fingers. The malt-honey smell of their coffee substitute curled in her nose and throughout the kitchen, another pot already burbling away. Shiro patted her shoulder as he slipped past her chair to get some; across the table Hunk cleared his spoon with a lip-smack and a pop.

“Morning, Shiro. Do you know when we’re going to wormhole today?”

Pidge watched idly as the older paladin went about getting breakfast, methodical movements blurred by the fog on her glasses. He didn’t answer at once; filling his bowl at the dispensing hoses before returning to the table with it and a mug of his own. “Actually, we’re going to stay in orbit for a little while.” He met Hunk’s narrowed look with a mild expression. “We decided to make sure we can form Voltron before heading back into unsecured space.”

“Sure, makes sense,” Hunk agreed, attention elsewhere. “Are you okay? You look kinda rough. No offence.”

Shiro’s brows rose at that, and over the top of her lens Pidge saw it pulling on the puffy, purplish skin under his eyes. “Right. Thanks. I guess I could do with a little more sleep.”

“Oh man, I am like, sooooo glad Allura let us lie in today.” Hunk admitted. He swirled his spoon around once, scooping up another portion of the green, jelly-like gunk. “I know staying on Serin was kinda like a holiday for us, but I totally needed some recovery time.”

Shiro sipped his drink, impassive. “Uh-huh. Are the others up yet?” His gaze wandered from Hunk to herself, and she shrugged. It was still too early for speech, in her opinion. Hunk swallowed another mouthful.

“Not sure.”

“Oh?” Shiro pushed his breakfast around the bowl, focused on the Yellow Paladin. “You haven’t seen anyone? Not even Keith?”

Pidge frowned, setting her cup down. Oblivious, Hunk hummed around his food and replied: “Nah. He’s probably off with Lance somewhere.”

“Why do you say that?” Shiro asked. Pidge had her glasses off now, wiping them clean with the ends of her sleeve, and she saw the pulse in his temple flicker. Hunk fidgeted under the scrutiny, a conspiratorial smile spreading across his face.

“Aw, come on. You must have seen them yesterday,” he said, tapping the back of his spoon against the curve of his lower lip. “They’re all over each other. Honestly, it’s adorable.”

“It's loud,” Pidge added, still frowning at the Black Paladin. He was wearing a similar look, brow pinched above his scar. His loaded spoon was frozen in the air in front of his mouth.

“-and Lance isn’t in his room, so...” Hunk trailed off, and his smile began to fade. “Shiro? What is it?”

“Probably nothing,” he muttered, more to himself than the boy. He returned his food to the bowl untouched, pushing away from the table in favour of stalking to the comms unit mounted on the wall. Hunk shared an anxious look with her before Shiro tapped the panel. “Hey, Coran. Do you know where Lance is?”

“Spending some time with the Blue Lion,” Coran replied immediately. “Has been for a while now. And Keith is still in the training deck.” He paused, and the silence was tinny and wide. “Allura is on her way down there, Shiro. I know what you said, but we can’t let him wear himself out too much. His body already needs rest.”

“Understood,” Shiro replied, grimacing. “Keep me updated, okay?” He didn’t wait for Coran’s affirmations before he turned, leaning up against the wall with human and Galra arm folded across his chest. He was obviously waiting, but Pidge didn’t keep him for long.

“Something happened,” she blurted, baldly. “With Keith and Lance.”

Hunk looked from her to the Black Paladin, fingers twisting as he knotted his hands together. “They’re okay, right? ‘Cos I know Coran was worried about Keith because Lance told us so, but he was fine yesterday so why...?”

“Something happened,” Pidge repeated, studying Shiro’s face for clues. “And they were fine, so it must have happened last night, after I fell asleep.” He remained stoic and silent. “I’m right, aren’t I?” she prompted. “Did they have a fight?”

“That isn’t for me to say.”

“But how?” Hunk demanded, a little too strident, a little too high. “They were cute together. They weren’t fighting. Everything was working, so why -” he slammed a hand over his mouth as Pidge hissed, glaring him into silence. Shiro straightened, back leaving the wall as he planted his feet to back up his frown. It was remarkably similar to how her Mom looked sometimes, and it made Pidge cringe the same way.

“What do you mean, ‘working’?” Shiro asked, stern. Grey eyes swept over both of them, and they cowered like teenagers caught out after curfew. Which they were, not that it mattered anymore. He held them in it, left them dangling in the quiet for a long moment before asking: “Do you two have anything you want to tell me?”

“Not really,” Pidge muttered, looking sideways at Hunk. He had his teeth pressed into his tongue, and she knew he was going to break. The words burst out like water from a dam.

“We didn’t do anything bad! We were just watching them, we thought it would help!”

“What would help?” Shiro pressed, firm. Hunk quailed, flinching. Pidge spared herself a sigh before she spoke up, giving in to the silent plea carried in the Yellow Paladin’s eyes.

“The jiya,” she said, and went back to the beginning when Shiro raised an eyebrow and unspoken command. “Hunk and I hypothesised that spending time together while Keith was under the jiya would force him and Lance to make friends. Or accept they already were friends, I guess,” she corrected. “Anyway, all we did was create opportunities for that to happen, and kept an eye on them. That’s it.”

“We just wanted them to stop fighting,” Hunk appealed, soulfully. “It was getting so bad, and it made me worry, you know?”

“It could have affected Voltron, in the end,” Pidge suggested. Shiro’s shoulders heaved.

“So you thought you’d get Keith and Lance to hangout... for Voltron? Knowing what Keith was feeling?”

Hunk shrank away again. “Well...”

“Hunk?”

“We weren’t being mean!” Hunk practically wailed. “We thought maybe there was a chance they liked each other for real, so we were observing them. But we didn’t do anything, I promise!”

“They did all the flirting on their own,” Pidge confirmed, crossing her own arms against Shiro’s stare. It was heavy in her chest. He sighed before speaking, and her belly shrank and shuddered.

“Did you two think about how they’d feel?”

“We did,” she insisted, teeth gritted. “We did, Shiro. It was one of the first things we talked about.”

“Honestly,” Hunk said, nodding. “And we knew they were going to be embarrassed either way, so there was no harm in seeing how it played out, right?” He looked hopefully at Shiro for a few ticks before his brow folded miserably down, creasing his eyes with worry. “I guess we were wrong.”

“What happened?” Pidge demanded.

Shiro hesitated before he let his arms slide loosely out of their fold. He smoothed a hand over his forehead. “Let’s just say it’s more serious than embarrassment.”

“But what -”

Shiro startled as the comms panel behind him lit up. A soundwave flared on it as Allura’s voice cracked into the kitchen. “Shiro, I need you in the medical bay.”

“On my way.” Shiro was out the door before Hunk had finished a startled whine. The boy exchanged one frantic, wide eyed look with her before they both ran around the table and hurried after the Black Paladin. Pidge had to jog, trainers squeaking, to keep up with Shiro’s rapid strides. He barely waited for them to pile into the lift with him, knee twitching as he jabbed at the controls, and when the doors parted on the level of the medical bay he darted out like a sprinter from the blocks.

He almost collided with the Princess as they turned a bend. Keith was draped in the slender Altean’s arms, head lolling lifelessly against her shoulder. Pidge didn’t let out another breath until she saw his chest move.

“I found him unconscious,” Allura reported, carrying the Red Paladin effortlessly down the corridor. Shiro fell in beside her, grasping Keith’s wrist under the glove between two flesh fingers and thumb. “I think it’s simply exhaustion, but I want to get him to a pod to make sure.”

“His pulse is weak,” Shiro fretted, not releasing the pale limb. Pidge couldn’t see much from her position behind them, nearly colliding with their backs with every step. Hunk made a horrid, high-pitched whimpering noise, and she glanced back at him. He met her eyes.

“Should we – should we fetch Lance?”

Shiro decided for them. “Once Keith is in a pod.”

Coran met them in the entrance to the medical bay, calmly lifting the Red Paladin out of the Princess’ hold and onto a waiting gurney. Shiro held out his arms to stop them crowding the bedside while Coran passed a number of devices over Keith’s body, humming and clucking into his moustache.

“What do you think?” Shiro asked, when none of them could wait longer.

“Fatigue,” Coran replied, succinctly. He turned, flapping his hands at them. “Now shoo! I need to prep him for the pod.”

They withdrew reluctantly, and in the stark, empty corridor outside the bay Hunk asked again about Lance. “Do you want me to go?” he offered, quiet. Shiro shook his head.

“I’ll do it.”

Coran allowed them back not long after Shiro left, and they found Keith already suspended upright; dark hair falling over his face, skin washed bluish and sickly through the hologlass. The stillness always unnerved Pidge the most: the way no matter how long you watched, you could never see them take a breath. Keith was silent and frozen as a statue, a garble of Altean symbols and numbers relaying from the pod to the screen clutched in Coran’s hands. Allura huddled in beside the major-domo to read it, and Pidge found herself glaring at the reverse of the readout from the other side, her belly still cramped up like it had been with Shiro.

The feeling got worse when the doors slid open again, and a drumroll of footsteps heralded Lance racing up the steps.

“What happened?” he asked, long brown fingers reaching out to brush the barrier between him and Keith. They were shaking. “What happened to him?”

“He wore himself out,” Coran said gently, passing the screen to Allura so he could place a hand on Lance’s shoulder. The Blue Paladin shivered under the touch, and the Princess stepped back to give them space, biting her lip. “We’re just scanning to be sure there’s nothing else.”

“What about the other stuff?” Lance’s voice was as shaky as his hands, fingertips bleaching on the spot above Keith’s chest. “The neural damage -”

“Nothing permanent,” Coran said, ignoring Hunk’s frightened murmur. Shiro stepped up to the large Samoan, resting a hand on his back as he listened in on Coran’s explanation. “There are some temporary chemical changes in his brain, but that’s not unexpected given the effect of the jiya.”

“Coran,” Allura said, and all heads swivelled in her direction, even Lance’s. His hand didn’t move; now flat to the surface. “You should look at this.” She handed the screen back, crossing her arms over herself as she watched the major-domo.

Coran’s mouth popped open into a little ‘o’ as he peered down at the screen. Pidge watched the reflection of the bright words in his eyes as they travelled left to right, reading. “Hmm.”

“What is it?” she demanded, reaching to tug at the screen herself. Coran didn’t let go, looking up only to meet Lance’s blue pleading.

“It seems Keith has developed some cardiomyopathy.”

“His heart?” Hunk babbled. “There’s something wrong with his heart?”

“It’s treatable,” Coran reassured at once. “Sometime in there with a little help and he’ll be right as rain. It’s just… unexpected.”

“What is it?” Shiro asked. “Do you know what caused it?”

Coran shook his head; gazing after Lance. The Blue Paladin had turned away from them all and back to Keith, staring through the hologlass at closed eyes. The Altean man watched him quietly for a moment before tapping at the screen.

“The ventricular muscles have weakened very suddenly. Perhaps if I show you…” he held it out, blowing up a 3-D image. Pidge shouldered in to look, Hunk and Shiro peering over her frame. On-screen, a dense mass pulsed slowly; unmistakably a heart. But it was the wrong shape; too rounded to match the diagrams in her biology textbooks.

“Takotsubo,” Shiro breathed, mouth fitting easily around the Japanese pronunciation, the hissing zed-like sound in the middle. “Takotsubo syndrome.”

“You recognise it?” Coran asked, taking the screen back. “It’s nothing like anything I’ve seen in Alteans.”

“It’s rare,” Shiro confirmed; forehead creased as he tried to remember. “I only know about it because I was looking into muscular degeneration. Sometimes, after an intense emotional event like a bereavement or trauma - or even a wedding - the heart suddenly fails. It’s often temporary,” he added quickly, as Lance drew a rattling breath into his lungs, chest juddering. “It happens when communication between the parts of the brain responsible for regulating emotion and autonomous responses is disrupted.” He looked at Coran, who nodded to show this was plausible. “It’s not usually seen in anyone so young, though,” Shiro finished. “Or men in general.”

Coran frowned, setting the screen aside. “It seems the jiyana is more dangerous than we thought. The good news is this can be treated.” He smiled, moustache curling up at the ends. “Our Red Paladin is going to be fine and dandy when he gets out; don’t you worry.” He clapped his gloved hand onto Lance’s back. The Blue Paladin didn’t move.

“It’s my fault,” he murmured, so low Pidge almost didn’t hear. “I hurt him.”

“Lance, no,” Shiro said sharply, stepping past Hunk to stand with the Cuban boy at the pod. Coran retreated beside Allura, both faces creased in sympathy. The Samoan edged up behind her, and Pidge unconsciously stepped closer to his side, grabbing a fistful of his jacket as twisted as her guts. “You can’t think you had anything to do with this,” Shiro said. “It’s far more likely that the stress from the jiya -”

“An intense emotional event, you said,” Lance interrupted. His elbows were quaking, struggling to support his body as his head slumped forwards. “And he collapsed right after -”

“Lance, you did the right thing.” Shiro’s tone was firm and certain, and hairs prickled on Pidge’s neck. She was sure without any logical reason to be that Shiro had said this before. “This doesn’t change that.”

“How can you say that?” Lance cried, and with one last effort before his arms gave out he pushed himself from the pod, turning on Shiro with glittering eyes. “Keith’s hurt. His heart is failing. I should’ve -”

“No, you should not,” Shiro retorted, flatly. “There’s no reason to believe this has anything to do with you.”

“Yeah, right,” it was a humourless sound, and Lance was definitely crying now; reflected lights from the instruments scoring bright lines on his face. Pidge’s fist tightened on Hunk’s jacket; a strong brown arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Keith just happened to get sick right after I turned him down.”

“You turned Keith down?” Hunk blurted. Pidge felt the vibration through his sides, pressed into an awkward hug. “But you like -” he choked into silence, flinching under Lance’s glare.

“Exactly, Hunk,” he said with deadly bitterness. He turned his back on them all again, fingers twitching towards the pod but not touching, balling into fists. “I should’ve just kissed him,” he muttered. Hunk and Allura sucked in gasps.

“Absolutely not,” Shiro said, and when Lance didn’t move Shiro turned him, hands on each shoulder. “Lance, you made the right call and I’m proud of you for it. To do anything else wouldn’t have been right or fair, not for either of you. Understand?” Shiro waited, holding Lance’s gaze until the boy bobbed a single nod, lip trembling. “Good. Now listen. Any event can trigger takotsubo. It could just have easily been the battle or that first argument with Hereebi as anything that passed between the two of you. Taking the blame for stuff like this is all too easy, but it helps no-one in the end.” He heaved in a breath. “Trust me on that.”

Lance’s teeth scraped his lip. “But Coran checked Keith out after the battle and there was nothing…”

“I wasn’t looking for it then, Lance,” Coran said, stepping forwards again. “What Shiro says makes sense. We will probably never know exactly what did it – and it certainly couldn’t have happened without the jiyana.”

“Which I found,” Lance quibbled, and Pidge saw the hem of Lance’s jacket rise as Shiro squeezed his shoulders.

“You didn’t make it bite Keith, Lance.” The Black Paladin smiled, waiting until Lance’s lip quirked upwards in an attempt of his own. “Don’t blame yourself. We don’t, and Keith won’t either.”

Lance’s head dropped. “We’ll have to see about that.”

“Now, now, panic over,” Coran said breezily, rubbing his hands together. “Why don’t you let me take care of Keith’s little sojourn in the pod while you go and finish up breakfast and whatnot? I’ll call you all when he’s Castleship-shaped and ready to hop out.”

“What about the jiya?” Hunk asked. “The pod won’t fix that, will it?”

“Well no, it won’t,” Coran conceded. “But the effect is due to wear off any time now.”

“Still,” Shiro said, slipping an arm around Lance. He hadn’t moved away from the pod; watching Keith through creased eyes. “Let’s be careful to stay out of trouble for a little longer.”

“Agreed,” Allura nodded, beginning to shepherd them out. Pidge tugged on Hunk’s jacket, and the larger paladin let her lead him out of the medical bay.

“Come on,” she bit out, shortly. “We have science to do.”

“We do?” Hunk asked, confused. “We’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“We’re going to find a cure for the bite.”

Hours later, Pidge was on the verge of admitting Coran was right. It seemed impossible.

They were in Kaltenecker’s room; equipment scavenged from the science suite sprawled out over the computer-generated grass. In front of them, a dome-shaped area had been sealed off, filled with plant and wood samples from Serin’s jungle. It was like a life-size snowglobe, and somewhere in the tangle of vines and leaves the jiyana was getting used to its new home.

Pidge scowled as she tapped away at her laptop, determined to find something. They had seven vials of the antidote for immediate treatment, but were no closer to anything that could help Keith. She suspected that Hunk wasn’t trying very hard. He was supposed to be screening for potential enzymatic therapies, but he hadn’t said anything useful for at least a varga.

“I just can’t believe it, you know?” he muttered, prodding at the machine in his lap.

“I did say it’s rare,” Shiro agreed. He was sitting with them, cross-legged with his hands hanging loosely from his knees, as though meditating.

“Not that,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah: that too. It just seems crazy that this is all down to an insect bite, you know? I guess that’s dumb, though.”

Shiro frowned as some leaves in the domed enclosure rustled. “It is a pretty extraordinary insect.”

“I just wanted them to get along,” Hunk added, miserably. The machine in his lap beeped once, unsympathetic. He sniffed. “And I guess I did sort of want them to get together, if it was mutual. They were just so… sweet.”

“They’re gross,” Pidge interjected without feeling, scowl deepening as she scrolled through the reams of detail about methods Coran had already explored.

“You don’t mean that,” Hunk protested. “They were cute and adorable and it all seemed so nice. It looked so real! I was about ready to swear it was genuine -”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Pidge snapped. Her chipped nails dug into the laptop keys, Shiro and Hunk both startled beside her. She knew she was too loud and she didn’t care. “That’s the whole problem. All this time and we still don’t know what the jiyana actually does; we don’t know why it bit Keith; why it made him like Lance. We got so distracted watching the two of them we forgot to establish the route causes! Even now we only know what we did in the beginning: the jiyana bite makes the body produce hormones effecting emotional responses -” her mouth went suddenly airless and dry. “Quiznak,” she murmured, quietly. She sucked in a lungful of the Castle’s sterile air, slamming her laptop lid shut. “Quiznakking… space peanuts!”

“Language,” Shiro scolded, on autopilot.

“Peanuts,” Pidge enunciated clearly, defiantly.

“What, what is it?” Hunk asked, alarmed.

“We’ve been so stupid,” Pidge hissed. She shuffled towards the other two on her knees; hard plastisteel pressing into her shins. “The jiyana accelerates and enhances emotional responses, Hunk. It accelerates and enhances emotional responses.”

“Yeah?” he said, leaning back as Pidge got in close, staring purposefully. “Yeah, Coran told us that - oh.” He closed his eyes briefly, opening them again with the light of understanding shining through. “Oh oh oh oh!”

“Words, please?” Shiro asked, exasperated. They both rounded on him and he lurched away, balancing on his robotic arm.

“The jiyana accelerates and enhances emotional responses,” Hunk said, voice laden with meaning.

“You said that bit,” Shiro agreed. “I can follow that much, but what -”

“Accelerates and enhances,” Pidge repeated, pushing her glasses up. “It doesn’t create them.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning Keith likes Lance! Like, really likes Lance!” Hunk said, triumphantly.

Shiro blinked, extending a hand to move them back and allow him to sit straight. “Yes?” he smiled lopsidedly, flicking between their pleased grins. “You know, I could have told you that from the start.”

“What?!”

Shiro jerked back again as they roared. “I’ve known Keith a long time, guys. I can tell when he has a crush.”

“You didn’t tell us!” Hunk protested. “Shiro!”

“You didn’t ask,” he replied, apparently a little dazed. Pidge opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of that particular response and he stopped her with: “I don’t see what this changes. The problem is that the jiya is dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah, but the other problem -”

“The other problem is that now Keith and Lance are miserable because they think the other doesn’t care!” Pidge spat, furious. Shiro blinked.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Hunk murmured, big brown eyes brimming with reproach; like a hungry Labrador when you eat the last of the bacon without sharing.

“It wasn’t my place,” Shiro responded, weakly. Hunk didn’t let up; Pidge knew his skin had to be crawling. He bristled. “Hey, maybe include me in your schemes next time and I can drop a hint.” Hunk pouted.

“We have to tell Lance,” Pidge said, standing up.

“Wait wait!” Shiro cried; standing with her. “Don’t you think there’s been enough interfering?”

“This isn’t interfering! This is putting it right!” Pidge insisted. She just held back on stamping her foot, if only because of the precious technology littering the faux-lawn. She tried to glare, but it crumbled under Shiro’s look. She examined her feet instead. “I want to fix this,” she admitted, words wrenched out of her almost painfully, like knotted cord through a tiny hole. “I don’t want them to be sad anymore.” She looked up again; found sympathy written on the Black Paladin’s face. “Don’t you think they deserve it?” she asked him, serious. “After all this, don’t they deserve to know they like each other?”

Hunk was holding his breath. Pidge nudged a gleaming white translation device over with her toes, eyes flicking from the ground to Shiro’s and back again. Slowly, the older paladin cracked a warm smile. “Pidge. Never expected you to be a romantic deep down.”

“Shut up!” she snapped, eyes damp. Shiro chuckled while she sniffled and scowled, reaching out to bring Hunk in. The Yellow Paladin looked hopeful once more, breath winding out of him in a long stream.

“Okay, you two,” Shiro agreed. “We’ll tell Lance. But for space peanuts’ sake, let’s do it gently.”

Chapter Text

When Lance ran that night, he ran to Shiro. He was half-blind and stumbling before he reached the Black Paladin’s room, where he was deposited on the bed and the cool smoothness of a hydration pouch thrust into his hands. Shiro exchanged rapid words with Coran over the intercom before coming to sit with Lance; taking the drink from him and piercing it with a straw when his own hands shook too much. Spilling his guts to the man who would always be his hero, Lance thought he couldn’t feel worse.

Standing in front of the healing pod, Keith’s face tinted sickly greenish by the hologlass, he found he’d been wrong.

“Not long now,” Coran said, stepping up with a reassuring smile. He offered the screen: on it the distorted, clenched fist of Keith’s heart had regained its proper shape, carefully restored with Altean science and magic. “I’m going to call the others back down.”

“Right,” Lance nodded, pulling his eyes from the pulsing organ; proof that Keith was alive and well again. “I should probably go.”

“Why not stay?” Coran suggested, gently. “Wouldn’t you prefer to see Keith up and about again?”

“Yeah,” more than Coran could know, more than he could express in such a simple word, “but I don’t think he’ll want to see me.”

“I rather doubt that,” Coran said. He studied Lance for a moment; fatherly. The Blue Paladin tried to stay tall.  “It’s up to you. I can make your apologies, if not.”

Lance swallowed, eyes wandering back to the motionless, deathly expressionless face. “I don’t think you could apologise enough.”

“Now that I know isn’t true.” The major-domo patted him on the back, and Lance caught a flash of a smile in the reflection on the pod front. A moment later, the summons was sounding throughout the Castle. In just minutes, everyone would be back here, waiting… but Lance couldn’t make his leaden feet walk away. He stayed where he was, as frozen as the boy in temporary stasis. It wasn’t long before he heard the hum of the door sliding open, and Pidge’s voice called out:

“Hey, Lance.”

“Hey,” his eyes flicked over the little counter in the corner of Coran’s screen.

“We’ve got to talk to you,” Pidge said. From the footfalls, he guessed ‘we’ was her, Hunk and Shiro. “We took another look at the jiyana -”

“Okay. Any second now, right?” Lance asked Coran. He nodded.

“Lance, listen,” Pidge insisted. “The jiya -”

“I haven’t missed it, have I?” Allura asked breathlessly, the door humming once again. Reluctantly, Lance stepped away from the healing pod, falling in with their little huddle, ready to give Keith space and leave if he wanted. The group fell to uneasy fidgeting; long, prickling seconds crawled over Lance’s skin before the pod hissed. Vapour rolled out across the floor as Keith shivered and stumbled. Lance couldn’t help it; he moved automatically to hold the Red Paladin up, so it was his face Keith first looked into, blinking and groggy.

“Lance?”

“Hey,” he said softly, holding back waves of relief with his tongue. Keith quickly pulled out of his grip, swaying backwards. His hands braced against the healing pod to support his own weight and Lance drew away; fleeing the shadow in Keith’s eyes and the twist of his mouth.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked, breaking the hush. A frown bit deep into Keith’s brow.

“What happened to me?”

“Side-effects from the jiya,” Pidge explained, critically rolling her eyes of the paladin.

“All that emotional stuff damaged your heart,” supplied Hunk, brown eyes limpid, creasing when Keith glared.

“What ‘emotional stuff’?” he demanded. Lance wasn’t the only one to flinch; they all heard the snarl behind the words. Hunk hesitated. “What are you saying?”

“Shiro and I will explain,” Coran cut in. The Black Paladin’s mouth was already parted, but he shut it with a grim nod. The major-domo looked cheerfully at the rest of them, choosing to ignore the fists trembling at Keith’s waist. “Perhaps you could give us a moment?”

They retreated in silence. Lance didn’t break it until he stepped out of the elevator into dim, forgotten parts of the Castle, abandoning the others many floors above.

“Well,” he told the yawning emptiness. “That’s that, then.”

For a while, Lance lost himself in the lonely, disused floors. The corridors were shaded and grey, barely-there emergency lighting flicking into life as he passed; somehow more eerie and hopeless for the complete lack of dust or smells other than rubber and antiseptic. He had no idea how long he wandered – long enough for the past week to turn over and over in his head; underpinned with Keith’s laughter, echoing in the silent halls – surely enough time for Coran and Shiro to explain and calm Keith down, to round everyone up and send them shuffling to a very late lunch or early dinner. Lance avoided them, and all the usual places Hunk would look, until much later; when the Castle settled into simulated evening light.  

They ambushed him in the kitchen, when he made the mistake of sneaking in to rifle through cupboards. He was snuffling wetly into the wrappers of some of Hunk’s experimental goo bars when he heard them, too late to get away.

“Lance, I’m glad we found you,” Shiro said, voice all warmth and sincerity; unbearable. Lance cringed, turning his head without leaving his perch on the counter. Shiro was flanked by Hunk and Pidge, lined up on the other side of the kitchen island like a panel of judges. Worse, Shiro was smiling; soft and reassuring, and Lance wanted to fold into the lining of his jacket and disappear. “Can we talk?”

Best get it over with. Lance nodded.

“Great. Want to sit down?”

“I’m good,” Lance refused, wriggling back on the countertop until his head clonked against the overhead cabinets. Hunk winced on his behalf. He shoved more sweetened, hardened goo into his mouth as tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes, chewing furiously to distract from the pain and heavy gazes.

“Okay,” Shiro agreed. He took a deep breath. “Lance, we want to apologise.”

Fresh tears pulsed when he bit his tongue. Hunk winced again, but none of them looked like they were joking.

“We – no, I – really dropped the ball on this one,” Shiro went on. “I was too concerned with Keith’s wellbeing and not enough with yours. That was wrong of me, and while I think you did an excellent job managing the situation -” Crumbs nearly sprayed from Lance’s mouth as he choked disbelief, but Shiro went on regardless, “- you should never have been put in that position in the first place. I let you down, Lance, and I am sorry.”

Lance thumped his chest, pitched forward with every cough. He set the remains of the goo bar down on the counter. “What are you talking about? This isn’t your fault, Shiro. I messed up.”

“I don’t think so. I certainly did, though. It won’t happen again,” he promised, and Lance swallowed. The Black Paladin nudged the other two.

“What? Oh, right,” said Hunk. He shuffled, then peered up at him shyly; a feat for someone taller. “Lance, buddy, I’m sorry too.” Lance spluttered, and his friend’s voice turned thick and clumsy, face screwing tight as he spoke. “I never meant for this to happen, I swear.”

“What?” Lance gasped, a ball in his throat bobbing up and down. “You what now?”

“I’m sorry,” Hunk bleated. Pidge took over, skinny arms clasped tight over her chest. She wasn’t much taller than the counter.

“He means how we were trying to get you to hang out with Keith all the time,” she said. “And yeah… I’m sorry too.”

“You guys -”

“We were hoping you’d make friends and stop arguing all the time,” Pidge barged on, not looking at him; glaring at the countertop instead. “But we got kind of carried away. Sorry.”

“We never wanted either of you to feel bad,” Hunk added, urgently. “We really didn’t. But we shouldn’t have messed with you like that.”

“You’re feeling guilty,” Lance translated, understanding. He looked across the panel; at the serious faces lined up. “All of you.”

“Lance, we’re not just feeling guilty,” Shiro said, carefully. “We really are culpable -”

“Stop,” Lance cut him off. His elbows shuddered; he wiped his eyes on his wrist. “Don’t. Just don’t, you guys. I get I’m pathetic. But it’s my fault. My own stupid fault for hurting Keith and falling for a dumb bug trick.”

“No!” Hunk wailed. “Lance buddy, there’s nothing pathetic about you.”

“Isn’t there?”  he challenged, sliding off the counter. His ankles trembled. His voice broke, shattered into as many pieces as his fractured feelings, but he stayed upright; on his own feet like a paladin. “I fell for something that wasn’t even real.”

“It is real!” Pidge blurted. Her voice bounced off the sterile surfaces; everyone looked at her. “That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier, Lance. Keith’s feelings are real.”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her at first; heaving breaths in his ears as he tried to steady himself. “What?”

“Keith’s feelings are real,” Pidge repeated, slow as if she were explaining to a child. “The jiya didn’t create them, just amplified them. They were already there.”

“No,” he said, stupid. Pidge bristled. “That can’t be true.”

“Lance, I’m saying you were right,” Pidge replied. “The beetle can’t make anyone fall in love. Keith actually likes you.”

“Coran said it bites for mating or something -”

“And you’re not a beetle,” Shiro pointed out, reasonably. “Besides, I’ve been sure Keith has a crush on you for months now.”

Little bubbles were rising from Lance’s belly to his chest; a hundred little pops and explosions going off dangerously close to his throbbing pulse. “But... why would he?” he asked, scanning the room for answers. He found only confusion and a scowl, in the case of Pidge. “I locked him in a closet last week.”

“You said that was an accident,” Shiro murmured. Pidge made a frustrated noise.

“I can’t tell you why he likes you,” she snapped. “I can prove scientifically that he does. What more do you want?”

So many things, now. So many.

“You’re saying Keith likes me?”

Hunk chuckled, and Pidge sighed. “Yes Lance, that’s exactly what we’re saying. I made a graph.”

“Likes me?”

Pidge rolled her eyes to the ceiling, searching for patience amongst the lighting strips. “Yes.”

“But – but -” he wrapped his arms around himself, holding in the bubbles threatening to burst through his ribcage, “but the bite -”

Pidge stifled a scream, and Shiro laid a hand on her shoulder to keep her quiet, considered stare falling on  him. “Lance, let me ask you something.”

He froze, cradling his own heartbeat in his arms, staring up at the smiling, knowing Black Paladin.

“Don’t worry,” Shiro said. “I just want the truth, no matter what it is. I won’t be mad.” He cocked his head, waiting for Lance’s nod. “What did you fall for?” he asked, simply. “Keith? Or Keith being in love with you?”

It took Lance a second to realise what Shiro meant. As soon as he did, he knew the answer.

“Keith,” he said instantly, unwrapping himself under Shiro’s eyes. “I love Keith.” His back straightened as he said it; the words aloud making him stronger. “I love Keith,” he repeated, louder, taller. Shiro grinned.

“Well then. Keith is definitely real.”

Lance nodded. He knew his face had to be blotchy, his eyes red, and it didn’t matter.

“In fact,” Shiro went on, painfully casual, “he’s so real, I bet he’s destroying the Gladiator right now. Despite our advice.”

“Right,” Lance said. “I should… I should probably go.”

“Good luck, buddy!” Hunk sang, hands pressed together in excitement. “We’ll be cheering for you.”

“Please limit the p.d.a.,” Pidge begged, hiding her smile behind the taunt. Lance looked at Shiro last, waiting for permission. The older man just smiled wider.

“Go. Be great.”

Lance broke into a run.

It was a stupid time to worry about his hair. Keith had to be distracted with the effort of turning a super-advanced Altean battle droid into scrap; he had already seen Lance sweaty and bloody and bed-headed and apparently hadn’t cared; he had a mullet and therefore no leg to stand on when it came to personal grooming. Soon the Gladiator didn’t either: Keith delivered a devastating blow across its knees, metal screeching as they clashed.

“Keith!” Lance roared, smoothing his locks as he sprinted across the mat.

The Red Paladin howled something wordless and furious; a sound like a gong echoed through the room as he hit the robot hard enough to dent. He spun on his heel, and Lance slid and stumbled to a halt on the grasping surface; a very sharp point levelled at his chest.

“Woah!”

“What,” growled Keith, jaw clenched, “do you want?”

“You,” Lance blurted, frantic, raising his hands against the glare wielding the blade. “You, I want to talk to you.”

Keith gestured with the sword; the tip made a little circle. “So talk.”

“Uh… are you going to put your bayard away?”

“No.”

“Right, yeah, that’s cool,” Lance babbled, scrabbling for words. “So, I guess you’re mad -” Keith’s mouth jerked upwards, the blade moved a fraction closer. “Which is totally fine and reasonable! I’d be mad too,” Lance went on quickly, swaying back onto his heels. “Coran said we shouldn’t tell you about the accelerated emotion stuff because it could be dangerous, but I guess he’s told you that – and yeah, probably a mistake!” he added, when Keith made a low noise in his throat, dark and angry. Was it weird to think Keith had a pretty throat? Probably. “But, uh, I thought it was all just the bug, so I didn’t… that’s why I didn’t kiss you. Right?” His breath blew out when the sword dematerialised. Keith turned away, bayard clenched tightly in his hand, the leather of the fingerless glove creaking. His voice came out closed, wound up like a spring.

“It was the bug. Forget it.”

Lance gulped, mouth suddenly dry and wanting; hollowed by hope. “Yeah. Uh. This is awkward, but the others say it wasn’t.”

“What?” Keith spat. The ends of his hair whipped out when his head snapped around. Lance squeezed the words out past the hammering in his chest, the giddy, dizzy feeling of his head spinning; emptiness looking to be filled.

“They said you liked me for real.”

Keith’s mouth opened and closed. He lifted his hands, raised his bayard: Lance almost took a step back, out of reach. Then Keith dropped it again, silent. They stared at each other, and Lance counted three long breaths before he dared speak again.

“And, uh, I know they could be wrong, and they don’t speak for you, and even if they’re right that doesn’t… that doesn’t actually mean anything without your say so.” He’d practiced for this type of thing, hadn’t he? He’d asked people out before? Why was it so much harder with Keith; when he was supposed to know Keith liked him already? “But, uh, I really hope they’re right, and you’re not that mad, because I like you.” His chest and belly clenched; his eyes must be popping, he was studying Keith’s face so closely, swallowed up by wide indigo universes. “In fact, I think I love you.”

Silences could be loud, Lance discovered. His pulse was loud, their breathing was loud, the hope clamouring in his soul was loudest of all.

“What?” Keith breathed, lost. Lance’s fingers trembled with the want to touch him, steady him, and he nodded.

“Yeah. I love you.”

“No,” said Keith, and though Lance opened his mouth, Keith didn’t look like he expected an answer. His head was shaking, hair dragging against the fabric of his t-shirt as he withdrew into himself, arms crossing over his chest. “No you don’t. This is… this is pity, isn’t it?”

“No way!” Lance protested, huddling in, trying to minimise the space Keith put between them. “I wouldn’t do that, Keith. I fell for you.”

“Liar,” Keith said, shock making his eyes round, plain in their pain. “You just… got carried away, or confused, or something.”

“I’m not confused!” Lance argued, flinching when Keith struck him with a renewed glower. “Okay, I was then, but I’m not now. I like you.” Still, Keith was shrinking away, and while he failed to believe him Lance could do nothing about it. “What do you want me to do, Keith?”

“Tell the truth!” Keith spat, voice lifting into a nearly hysterical shout.

“I am telling the truth! I like you!”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying!” Lance shouted back, and then it hit him; hard and startling as the punch to the jaw he was sure must be coming. “I can prove it!” he declared, triumphant. Keith gaped.

“What?”

“I’m going to prove I like you,” Lance said. He turned about, striding across the deck. “I’m going to prove it right now.”

“What?” Lance grinned when he heard Keith’s feet follow him from the room; picked up his pace when they began to catch up. He made for the elevator, brisk thuds giving chase.

“Where are you going?” Keith demanded, breathless somewhere behind him.

“Down three floors,” Lance answered, hopping into the elevator and hammering the button. He waved as the doors slid closed in Keith’s face. “Seeya.”

Lance hummed as he descended, foot tapping to his imaginary victory music. He was a genius; even Pidge wouldn’t have thought of this. He was going to fix everything. Perfectly, on his own. He dawdled when he stepped out, listening. This would only work if Keith knew what had happened. Fortunately, Keith was fast; soon running sounds were echoing down the circular corridor from the other elevator shaft.

“Lance!”

He broke into a run himself, and whatever else, he was faster than Keith. He nearly collided with the door when it didn’t open fast enough.

“Hey, Kaltenecker.” She mooed, but Lance didn’t go over to pet her like normal. Instead, he resumed a quick, rolling stroll over to the jiyana’s domed enclosure, fingers running around the edge of the sealed door and popping the seal. “Alright, you freaky eight-legged cupid monster,” he said, pushing into the crowded, leafy space. It was ridiculously hot inside, sweat beading on his neck almost instantly. He was careful to shut the door after him. “Where are you? Come get a mouthful of this sweet Blue Paladin bod.” He rolled up his sleeves, burying his arms to the elbow in a bush with ruby leaves.

“Lance!” Keith’s yell bounced off the walls, startling Kaltenecker. Lance would have scolded him, but he was too busy grinning, groping blindly through their miniature jungle. “Lance, get out of there!”

“Where are you, you sneaky son of a -”

“Lance, no!” Cool air flushed in when Keith opened the door; heavy hands grabbed his shoulders. As he was pulled away, Lance’s fingers stroked over something smooth and hard, like a fingernail.

“Ah-hah!”

When Lance staggered backwards into Keith’s front, the jiyana came with him. He winced as several spiky feet pricked the skin of his forearm. It was bigger than he remembered, and heavier. The oil-slick black body rippled with colour as it scraped closer to his elbow, and the silvery-bright sheen on the pincers looked a lot sharper and more wicked when they were slowly moving towards his face.

This might not actually have been the best idea.

“Keith,” he whispered, squeaking. “I’ve changed my mind about this plan.”

“Idiot,” Keith hissed. The hands left his shoulders as the Red Paladin eased carefully, gradually around the Blue, sweat sticking his fringe to his frown. “Just… stay still, alright?”

“Hurry up,” Lance whined. The jiyana paused on its slow journey; its weight pressed on his elbow, a spiky leg caught on his rolled up jacket sleeve. It had left bloody scratches across his arm, skin peeling away from narrow scarlet lines. This was a bad idea. Capital B.

“If I just…” Keith’s hand hovered over the bulk, ready to scoop it up and away. Lance watched through a squint as he slowly moved in…

Keith’s hands flinched back when the beetle flipped up; shocking white underside bright and glaring as it waved its other legs around.

“Keith!”

“Not again,” the Red Paladin murmured to himself. “Please, not all this again.”

Lance was starting to feel giddy from lack of air when the beetle sank slowly back onto all its limbs.

“Wait,” Keith said. “Didn’t it do this last ti- Lance!”

Beady eyes rushed towards him, his vision filled with jagged black, and his nose exploded with stabbing pain. He yelled, stumbling, convulsing with horror as he felt something spiny scrape over his mouth, and then Keith was shouting something and wrenching it off. The jiyana’s pincers scratched his nose as he dragged it loose, tossing it into the foliage.

“You alright?” Keith demanded, beautiful purple swimming as Lance’s head spun.

“You didn’t tell me it hurt this much,” he complained. Twin streams of blood were curling around his nostrils, running down to his lips either side of the bow and stinging on the graze there. Keith’s face creased with concern, grabbing his head and tilting it, and Lance sighed as bare fingers stroked over his jaw. “I forgive you, though. Keith. Keeeeeeeith.”

“We’ve got to get help,” the Red Paladin muttered, ignoring him. He steered Lance out of the enclosure with a hand on his back. Lance craned his head to look at him, following the lines carved into Keith’s forehead and the cute little knot tied beneath his eyebrows.

“You get it, right?” he pressed, grinning. “I like you. I really like you. This proves it.”

“You are such an idiot,” Keith snapped, pushing him too hard. “This is dangerous, Lance!”

“But it proves I love you,” Lance replied, relenting only when he saw frustration and concern written across Keith’s grimace. “Hey,” he said softly, trying to turn around to look at Keith properly, maybe smooth the frown away with his fingertips if Keith let him. “Don’t worry about me. Pidge and Coran made an antidote thing. Let me worry about you.”

“There’s an antidote?” Keith asked. Lance nodded, smiling as he reached to start with the smoothing thing. Keith dodged it, heading for the comm. “Come on!”

Lance pouted. “Hold hands with me?”

“Fine!” Keith snatched up his offered palm and Lance lurched as he was dragged across the room. He held up the linked hands and pointed at them to show Kaltenecker as Keith jabbered into the unit.

“Shiro? Pidge? Anyone? I need help in Kaltenecker’s room!” He was flushed under his hair, Lance noted. A pink colour, steadily deepening to the red of his lion. He did that. Lance did.

“Keith? What happened?” Shiro’s voice answered, soundwave flaring up.

“Lance has been bitten!”

“Bitten?”

“By the jiyana.”

Pidge’s voice responded, flat and disbelieving even over the speaker. “You have to be joking.”

“Hey Pidge,” Lance crooned, leaning over Keith to speak close to the inbuilt mic. “Tell Keith what you told me. About the jiya feelings all being real. You’re my witness.”

“You’re a moron,” Pidge replied. “Keith, keep him there. We’re coming.”

“Hurry,” Keith urged, frowning at Lance. He bent closer as soon as the others broke the connection.

“Heeeyyyy,” he said, unable to make words as clear as he wanted them. “I like you. I really, really like you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Keith sighed, but he wasn’t letting go. Or glaring, which was also nice.

“You have to believe me now,” Lance retorted, because at least that part of the plan was sound. “Does this make us boyfriends?”

Keith’s flush bloomed adorably over his cheekbones. “What?”

“Right, I haven’t asked you.” Wobbly, Lance dropped to one knee. It cracked painfully against the deceptively soft looking fake grass. “Ow. Keith, be my boyfriend. Please.”

“Please stand up,” Keith said urgently, grabbing Lance’s elbows and hauling. And Keith was strong. Lance felt a little rush down his spine as he was dragged onto his own feet.

“Let’s be boyfriends,” he urged, looking down at the impossibly long lashes framing indigo perfection. The Red Paladin was living up to his name, but was still determined to gripe.

“I’m not sure I can date such an idiot.”

Lance gasped. “Keith! Keeeeeeith!”

“Yes, okay?!” Keith snapped. “Yes, we’re boyfriends. Happy?”

“Wahoo!” Lance hollered, dancing on his feet. Keith pulled a face, but Lance saw his lip quirk upwards in a disguised smile. He was still teasing Keith about it when the others arrived.

He suspected Pidge made administering the antidote extra painful, just to punish him. But after the injection, and after sitting around for half a varga, fighting the wooziness in his belly under everyone’s watchful eyes, Coran declared him fit and jiya-free.

“You’re sure?” Allura asked, frowning. Pidge and Coran nodded, hovering over the readout from the handheld scanner.

“Looks like it.”

“All readings coming up within human normal,” Coran confirmed.

“So Lance is absolutely in his right mind now?”

“Certainly.”

“Good,” said Allura, blue stare menacing. Lance smiled weakly, but it slid off his face as the Princess drew herself up, unmoved. “Then now I can make clear to you how utterly stupid, reckless, and inappropriate this ridiculous scheme was. How could you compromise the team -”

The others fled the room a few minutes into Allura’s rant, muttering about ‘training’ and ‘baking’ and ‘algorithms’. All except Keith. The Red Paladin sat with him for the whole thing; warm, worn leather pressed thin between their palms.

“The Princess was right, you know,” Keith said later.

They were in the recreation suite, this time without the accompaniment of frisky Alteans actors, finally alone. Both sets of feet were buried in one of the jellybags, legs stretched out side-by-side. Lance’s hand was resting on the sliver of sofa between them, next to Keith’s. He shivered a little as a single pale finger stroked back and forth over his knuckles; callus rasping on skin.

“Romantic though, wasn’t it?” he replied, grinning at Keith’s eyeroll.

“As if.”

“Come on, don’t pretend you weren’t impressed.”

“I was impressed anyone could be that dumb.”

“Romance is dead,” Lance complained, resettling his cheek against the seat back. They looked at each other, heads titled at the same angle, just revelling in each other’s smile.

“Don’t do it again.”

“I can’t. Coran put a password on the enclosure door.”

“Good,” Keith murmured, and for a while that was enough; Lance was content to study the planes and lines of Keith’s face. He swore it wasn’t deliberate, but his gaze kept slipping from the soft curve of Keith’s eyes to his mouth.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Can we -?”

His hand was pushed into the seat cushion as Keith lunged forwards; breath fanning and stinging on Lance’s fresh scratches as they settled lips together. Their noses bumped as they moved and pressed against one another; causing little sharp tugs on the cut. A little noise escaped Lance’s throat when Keith pulled back, the pressure on his mouth and clasped hand easing.

“Heh,” said Lance. His smile was pulled wide as if by hooks, the spread mirrored on Keith’s. “Awesome.”

Keith snorted, daring to frown. “Very eloquent.”

“I just kissed this hot guy I like for the first time, how clever do you expect me to be? What should I have said? Thanks for the sugar, handsome?”

Keith choked, but he didn’t stop smiling. Neither did Lance. He didn’t think it was possible.

“You’re an idiot.”

“You keep saying that,” Lance observed, still gazing at the beautiful boy beside him, fingers laced together. “That’s no way to treat your boyfriend.”

Keith’s breath caught, strangled. Lance chuckled as his blush spread. “Just be quiet,” Keith suggested, squeezing his hand so Lance knew he didn’t mean it. “Before you ruin everything.”

“Embarrassed, Keithy?”

“I am not ‘Keithy’.”

Lance laughed, and his boyfriend’s mouth twitched. And of course, that brought all of Lance’s attention to it again, and everything he had yet to tease out of those smirking lips.

“Hey, 'not Keithy'.”

“Yeah?”

“Dare you to kiss me again.”

Chapter Text

Keith should have known they were up to something. He should have realised it when he walked into the theatre manager’s office and found Coran and Shiro frozen in the awkward, uncanny tableaux of people interrupted.

“Keith,” Shiro said, a shade too brightly. The air, already cramped with the two men, filing cabinets and memorabilia, felt too thick. “Good morning.”

“You’re very early,” Coran followed up, eager. He planted his elbows on his desk, screening a printout. “Everything tickety-boo?”

Keith looked from piercing blue to Shiro’s steady grey. “Uh, yeah?”

“Excellent,” Coran said, breezily. He rummaged in his drawer and retrieved a thick bundle of keys one-handed, passing it over. “Here you go. Don’t let us older folk keep you.”

If Shiro objected to being an older folk, he didn’t say so. Bland smiles and silence followed Keith as he retreated back-of-house.

Away from the gleaming gilt and pristine carpets of the public spaces, The Castle of Lions was a warren. The main office backed onto a short, wood-panelled corridor which linked a cluster of stuffy little rooms to the stairs. Down those, Keith descended into the real workings of the place. The renovation thirty years ago had scrubbed the narrow tiled corridors clean; but nothing could lift the smells of paint and talc and old perfume, or the glitter trampled into the grout. A patina of past performances, worn like jewellery. Keith liked it. It told history more truthfully than the posters on display.

He picked his way through packed storage rooms under sharp fluorescents, hunting down a set of serious-looking chairs for the live recording of a radio show that night. Easy gig. He just had to run the lights and mics, the radio people would handle the rest. He found what he needed under some dusty fake flowers, a plastic typewriter and an old parachute; had them all cleaned up before Allura arrived to help. She was somehow as glamorous as ever, even in a crop top and lycra leggings, fresh from the gym and full of energy and stories about her new yoga instructor. He only made half an effort to listen as they wrestled the furniture into the battered old service lift. He didn’t need to hear the words to tell she was doing better.

There was a low swoop in his belly when he stepped onto the stage; scuffed and bare and pockmarked with old tape; the same sensation every time, whatever the reason. He and Allura arranged things under the watchful eyes of an audience of one: Pidge, swaddled in a hoodie so oversized she wore it in rolls like the Michelin man’s. She reluctantly surrendered her Americano to go and test the lights, but was spared the climb to the box when Shiro and Coran stepped into the auditorium. She snatched the precious caffeine back with a stuck-out tongue and a noisy slurp.

“No Matt today?” Coran asked, frowning as she settled into a seat, critical eye lingering on her disregard for the ‘no drinks’ rule.

“He’s at home feeling sorry for himself,” she reported without sympathy.

“Matt is unwell,” Shiro supplied with considerably more. He leaned against the front of the stage, flesh and prosthetic arm crossed loosely over his chest. Keith sat down in front of him with Allura, Pidge in the row behind.

“Oh dear.” Coran clucked his tongue. “Tell him to get well soon from us, won’t you Pidge?”

The tiny girl’s eyeroll was almost audible. “When he stops whining, maybe.”

“Are we covered for tonight without him?” Coran asked, breezing over the apparent lack of sisterly concern.

“We are if you three can manage front-of house,” Keith said. “I’ll work tech so Pidge can stay home. Shiro can take over in the wings for me?” His friend nodded.

“Then I’ll take the box office,” Allura offered.

“Right. Right, well. About the box office.” Coran sucked in a breath, deep enough to make the orange hairs of his moustache flutter. “You’ve probably realised ticket sales have been slow of late.”

He was answered with grim nods. The last few touring companies had performed to a half-empty theatre, disappointment large on the cast’s faces and small takings in their pockets.

“While we have other sources of funding -” the manager exchanged a fond, weary look with Allura, “-The Castle was never meant to run on those alone. And, to be perfectly frank, it can’t.”

He looked over them all, the weight of his words tight and hard in Keith’s chest. He made his fingers uncurl from the prickling velvet.

“I’ve tried appealing to external bodies for help, but it seems everybody is feeling the strain. There’s a lot of competition, and they’re just not willing to support any company in our unique position.” He paused, grave. “One way or another, we must improve sales if we want to keep Alfor’s legacy alive. Fortunately, we think we have an opportunity to do just that.” His mouth curled upwards, glowing with pride. “Voltron Company never disappoints, and with our new production -” they leaned in, excited, “-we’re sure everyone’s attention will be on us once again! Shiro?”

The director accepted the hand-off smoothly. “Our next piece will be David Iverson’s Aphrodite in Silk,” he announced.

Pidge whistled. Beside Keith, Allura sat bolt upright: slender fingers pressing to the soft skin of her lip over a gasp. Her eyes seemed suspiciously glittery. Keith shifted. Were you supposed to comfort someone who was about to happy cry? Would Allura appreciate a shoulder pat or something? It was happiness, right? Yeah. Yes, her eyes were bright but cheerful: enormous as they met Shiro’s; laden with understanding.

“Allura will play Sanda, of course,” he said. Then his gaze settled unmistakably, irrevocably on Keith. Hairs prickled on the back of his neck without knowing why. “And the role of Blaytz will be played by Lance McClain.”

No.

No way.

That had to be a joke.

“What?!” Pidge shrieked, rocketing to her feet. Even standing in the row behind, she was hardly taller than he was. The fingers of her free hand dug into the cushion by his shoulder. “The Lance McClain?”

“The very same,” Coran replied, nodding. “We didn’t like to say anything before we were certain, but his manager sent his agreement through this morning.”

“The real Lance McClain?” Pidge pressed, as if there were a fake running around. “As in Oscar-nominee, feature-film starring, three times voted ‘man-I-most-want-the-love-child-of’ Lance McClain?”

“That never happened,” Keith interrupted before he could stop himself. Shiro was still watching him; mouth twitching into a smirk. Heat blossomed in Keith’s neck. At least he had his hair down.

“I made it up,” Pidge admitted blithely, shameless. “You know what I mean. That Lance McClain? Keith’s Lance McClain?”

“He’s not mine!” Keith protested. The cruel flush was spreading from his nape to his jawline, spurred on by Allura’s giggle.

Shiro was openly smug now. “That’s the guy.”

Pidge cackled; poking his back. “How about that, Keith?”

“How can we afford that?” he demanded, shrugging away from the prodding and Allura’s sly elbow to his ribs. He glared at Shiro, who was still wearing that smug look. Jerk. “Have you sold a kidney or something? Are you gonna have two prosthetic arms now?”

“Mr McClain will be working for the same rates as any of us,” Shiro replied mildly. “It seems he’s taken the role for personal reasons. According to his agent, he’s a big Alfor Altea fan.” He cocked his head, amusement dripping off his square chin. “But I’m guessing you already knew that, right?”

Pidge howled. Keith stepped up his scowl, reminding himself it was unprofessional to punch the resident director, even if he was your best friend and asking for it. As a matter of fact, he did know that about Lance McClain. Among other things. But Shiro couldn’t know he knew, could he? Not unless his stupid complexion gave him away. It wasn’t like he’d watched any Lance McClain interviews with him… well, maybe once or twice.

“It’ll be good for the theatre,” he offered finally, nearly biting his tongue with the effort of speaking normally.

“And great for Keith’s view,” Pidge quipped. Keith twisted and seized her coffee; taking a deliberate swig. He grimaced through the cool bitterness and her angry yelp. He wasn’t awake enough for this. 

“I think it’s a wonderful opportunity,” Allura said suggestively, trying to catch his eye. He wasn’t awake enough for that, either.

“Careful, princess. He’ll be after your part next.”

“Our first read-through is next Monday, nine o-clock sharp,” Shiro said, voice raised over Keith’s retort. “We’ve only got about two months on this, start to finish, so expect to be busy. And I know some of us will be very excited about working with a star of McClain’s calibre -” Keith channelled into his face just how much he hated Shiro at that moment. His friend didn’t seem to care, “- but keep it under wraps, please. There’s a gag order on this until we’re ready to start promoting. No hints on social media, however cryptic. We don’t need any reporters of obsessed fans hanging around here.”

“Any other obsessed fans,” Pidge corrected, merciless.