Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Hey.”

“Keith!” Lance’s face lights up as he turns away from Coran and throws his arms out for an embrace. “How’re you? It feels like forever since I last saw you.”

Keith smiles as he steps briefly into the hold. He crosses his arms and moves away, Lance setting his elbow atop Keith’s shoulder, “pretty good. The Blade’s made great headway in our efforts in the last little while. What about you?”

“Not too bad myself,” Lance grins, moving his hands to his hips - fidgety, he’s always fidgety - “we managed some trade deals with those Balmerans I was telling you about.”

“Farming’s still to your taste?” Keith inquires, thinly veiled surprise playing behind his expression. He’d never understood Lance’s fascination with the task. It was boring, slow, repetitive… and not something that Lance had ever really seemed interested in.

“It’s really different from what I used to want but… after Voltron the pace change was nice. I was just telling Coran that I might be joining the Garrison as a commander soon, though.”

“That’s great news!” Keith punches Lance’s arm playfully. It’s unsaid, but the words hang heavy; after three years of mournfully farming to move on past his lost love, Lance is finally taking strides to accept her sacrifice and move on.

Finally coming back to himself.

“Nothing’s final yet, though!” Lance rushes, holding up his hands, palms toward Keith, “just thinking on it for a while.”

“The thought at all is good,” Coran chirps, his hand meeting Keith’s shoulder in greeting. “Keith, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Coran. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long. I’ve been so preoccupied, time just seems to fly so fast.”

“Not to worry. I can’t believe it’s already been three years since,” Coran murmurs, his eyes flitting over to Allura’s monument, the sun only a few vargas from sinking behind it and casting the new Castle of Lions in shadow.

“Yeah,” Lance agrees, eyes worn and smile sad, “feels like just yesterday we were getting into Blue and wormhole-ing across the universe.”

“It’s been almost seven years since that,” Keith adds, “can you believe that?”

No answer meets Keith’s words, silence falling like a comforting blanket over the trio, expressions wistful.

Memories of a time long since past seem to flit sentimentally between them, bittersweet reminders cloaking their regrets and triumphs. It truly feels impossible that almost a full decade has passed since their start. That Allura’s already been gone for three.

“Sir,” an altean approaches the group, “a wormhole jump has been engaged. Ms. Katie Holt and Commander Shirogane will be with you shortly.”

“Excellent,” Coran smiles, “thank you.” And then, turning to Keith and Lance, “I must oversee preparations. I’ll have Pidge and Shiro sent your way once they’ve arrived.”

“Alright,” Keith nods, smiling, “thanks, Coran.”

Coran offers his own smile before turning away, falling in step with the other altean.

“Hey,” Keith offers, once Coran is well out of earshot, “how’re you holding up?”

Lance’s smile melts away and he turns back to Allura - or, rather, her monument - not answering for a minute. Keith lets Lance take his time. They’ve got so much of it now, anyway, what with no more galra cruisers on their tails.

“Can we sit down first?” Lance suggests, a lopsided smile thrown Keith’s way.

“‘Course,” Keith nods, following Lance across the castle courtyard to a bench. His fingers trail over a few different altean shrubberies, ancient history etched in their fine petals and leaves.

They sit close once they reach a marble bench, personal space non-existent between them after years of mental and physical closeness. They’re quiet, Keith content to lean back against the backrest and Lance hunched over, elbows resting on his knees and face in hand.

“I’m okay,” Lance says quietly.

“Yeah?” Keith murmurs, his eyes drawn to a bush of juniberries.

How Allura had loved those.

Keith traces their shape with his eyes. He sees the beauty in those flowers - wonders if Allura saw them the same way. Wishes he could hand a whole bouquet to her and see her smile again.

His eyes well up and he blinks heavily, lips curling in a sad smile. He thought he was past crying over lost people. Keith drags his eyes over the garden, landing on Lance’s hunched form.

“I miss her a lot. But it doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m… I feel pride, more than anything. Allura brought us together. She built us up and handed us a world of possibility. We wouldn’t have saved the universe if she hadn’t helped us become Voltron and her sacrifice for the universe was just so… amazing. But then again, she’s always been amazing.”

“That she was,” Keith agrees. “She made the right choice, Lance.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Lance murmurs.

“Me, too. I wish… I just wish she could’ve been here with us.”

Lance snorts wetly, sitting up, “you’re tellin’ me.”

He wipes at his nose with a sleeve, bringing his gaze up and blinking rapidly, clearing tears from his eyes.

Keith puts his arm around Lance’s shoulder, lets the former Red Paladin lean into him for comfort.

“Are you really okay, Lance?”

“I am. I am so okay.”

“And you’re not lying?”

“No, sir,” Lance meets Keith’s gaze, “not at all. I’m so much better than I was before. I’d do anything to have her back and I still love her with all my heart, but… it’s okay that she’s not here. She believed we deserved to live and so. We gotta do that. She waited ten thousand years just to give us a kick at it.”

“Yeah,” Keith smiles, letting Lance pull out of his hold and into an upright position, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“Me too,” Lance smiles, “and what about you? How’ve you been?”

“I’m good. I thought it’d be hard but… seeing you again after so long makes me feel better. And the others will, too.” Lance pokes Keith’s side in response.

“The Keith I first met never would’ve been so honest.”

Keith laughs, really laughs, “eighteen-year-old Keith was an emo mess.”

“You admit it!” Lance exclaims, “you were emo!”

“Yeah, seven years ago!”

They’re still laughing when they’re joined by Pidge and Shiro, and the laughter continues on until they’ve parted ways for the night, stomachs full and company enjoyed.

When he’s in his room, Lance stares at his picture with Allura from their first date all those decapheobs ago, then smiles and tucks it away for the first time in three years.

Occasionally, Lance forgets he has altean marks.

Some mornings, he’ll come to stand in front of the mirror and start, taken aback by his overgrown hair and the blue crescents below his eyes. He’ll come back to himself within seconds, then swear to get a haircut soon.

But today, he just stares at the marks.

Stares until it feels like the bathroom lighting has changed and then stares some more.

He reaches up and touches them. They feel like any patch of smooth skin might, cool beneath his fingers and otherwise unremarkable.

He wonders why his marks are blue, why Allura’s were pink, why Hira’s were green.

And then he digs his nails into his cheeks and pries at the blue. Moves both his hands to just working on the right side because it isn’t working with one. Isn’t satisfied when skin finally breaks and glowing blue blood starts to drip over his skin.

He just watches for a while, enraptured by the droplet tracing its way to his chin like a teardrop.

Is his blood supposed to be that colour? Did Allura’s bleed pink?

“Why’d you have to leave me with this?” Lance whispers hoarsely, eyes stinging with sudden pressure.

Unjustified anger boils below his ribs, his breath hitching.

He can almost hear Allura’s soft laughter; I should’ve fixed your ears instead.

“If you could make me Altean, why didn’t you just let me deal with the quintessence? Why couldn’t it have been me?”

Frustrated tears start to well, and it isn’t long before they’re sliding down Lance’s cheeks and into the sink, blood and water going down as one.

He’s shaking and breathing heavily, boring holes into his reflection with his broken glare.

He loses track of time, forgets how to wash his face and doesn’t even bother with his hair. It takes a while for him to finally give attention to his new wound, blood drying at the site.

He swallows thickly and then scrubs his face clean, injured cheek stinging with the sudden pressure. Lance half-heartedly slaps a bandage over the mess, hoping he doesn’t look too suspicious walking into breakfast.

Mechanically, he gets dressed and shoves his hair from his face. Then whispers an apology ot Allura, to himself, and to the millions of lives they never ended up saving. Shoes, communicator, and jacket, then he’s off.

The halls of this new castle resemble the old one in that the basic layout is the same; the chambers are in the same place and the same paths lead to the lounge, to the dungeons, to the training room. The decorative design is changed, however, updated to suit time and how it evolved from the previous castle. The flooring isn’t as plain, and pink seems to be everywhere in memory of the princess who made it all possible.

Lance can’t help but smile sourly at the thought of Allura, wincing when it pulls at his cheek and reminds him of his recent tantrum.

“Lance!”

Lance feels a grin grow on his lips despite himself, this morning already settling in the back of his mind, and takes off running away from Pidge as fast as he can. She’s laughing and taunting him as she tries to keep up, but Lance is faster - longer legs and a farmer. Pidge is basically just a kid hacking out of her mom’s really advanced basement. She doesn’t stand a chance.

“You asshole, get back here!” she calls, her bayard materializing and launching past Lance’s head, a narrow miss.

“Hell no!” Lance calls back, his own bayard appearing in hand, called for with his lion bond from the suit chamber. He pulls out his sword and deflects Pidge’s next pass.

Pidge grins, her bayard changing into a small blaster.

“That’s a bad idea, Pidge!” Lance yells. Last year, Shiro had placed a firm no guns in the castle rule.

He’d basically had their heads when Lance and Keith had chased after Pidge, guns blazing. At first Shiro had expected them to stop, but then Hunk had gotten involved with his canon and action had to be taken. The four of them had been pulled from personal affairs for a near month and spent it all cleaning their mess - grounded.

Lance doesn’t mind all that much, though. The gunfight itself was fun, and the cleanup afterwards had been nice; they’d been growing apart in the sort of way where they felt that because one month had passed since calling one another, what was another? They’d accidentally broken their promises to keep in touch, but the time spent together had led to them feeling giddy like children again, teasing each other like they’d done when they’d first become truly close.

“Pussy!” Pidge yells back, firing wildly.

Lance can only react with screaming, shield-less and in very imminent danger. He ends up tripping onto his ass, scrambling back from each bullet fired near his feet by Pidge.

And then Pidge aims right at his face, about to release a deadly shot that, with luck, Lance might potentially avoid.

“No, ma’am,” Hunk interjects, lifting Pidge by the collar.

She chokes comically, kicking and throwing fists in Hunk’s direction. Her limbs are still conveniently short, and she ends up missing every single time.

“What’s going on out here?” Shiro asks, turning the corner, Keith in tow.

He’s pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, and Lance bursts into laughter.

They must look ridiculous - one sprawled on the ground, the other hanging by their shirt and blaster at their feet, and another clearly trying to keep the peace but failing to do so in a peaceful way.

“I swear to God,” Shiro starts, eye twitching.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Keith smiles, smug because he’s not the one in trouble this time.

With a sigh, Shiro turns away, shaking his head.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Keith adds, smirking at his friends.

He holds out a hand to help Lance up, and Lance takes it gratefully, smiling.

Pidge and Hunk catch up, elbowing one another as they bump past Keith and Lance, throwing jibes at each other.

“You good?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow, mirth still playing in his eyes.

“Didn’t get shot this time,” Lance grins, “so that’s a win in my books.”

Keith laughs, the memory of Lance getting shot in one of their play-fights still a highlight of these meetups.

Lance wonders why they fight with lethal weapons. Why they take that chance with their lives. After surviving through everything… they’ve turned from firing guns with each other to at each other; they’d taken every step possible to set their weapons down for good.

Maybe it’s to remember what it’s like to fight for your life, to have death be a very real threat. Maybe it’s to see who’ll be the next to go, to have control over their own deaths like Allura did. To die in action and not in some hospital bed of age, using a privilege that was taken from millions in an instant.

“Pidge do that to your face?” Keith asks, still smirking.

“Nah, she wishes she could land a hit on this beautiful face.” Lance grins, holding his chin, grin cocky.

Keith scoffs teasingly, but asks again, “what happened?”

“Unimportant,” Lance says impulsively.

“It’s over your mark,” Keith adds, nonchalant.

“So it is,” Lance’s eyes flit from place to place, avoiding Keith’s gaze.

“I want you to look me in the eyes and honestly tell me that you didn’t do that to yourself.”

Lance turns to face Keith, mouth open and ready to fire some sort of defense. Nothing comes out, though, and Lance clenches his jaw shut a moment later.

“Let me take a look at it after breakfast,” Keith pats Lance’s shoulder, expression unreadable.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lance murmurs softly.

“I know. But what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“You really did a number,” Keith murmurs, digging through his first aid kit.

They’re in Keith’s room, seated on his bed with thighs pressed together. Lance stares at their legs, at where they meet and the fabric changes between them.

“Yeah,” Lance mumbles, tracing the denim of his jeans.

“Did you…” Keith trails off, fingers pausing before continuing in their sifting, “did you try to take it off?”

Lance doesn’t say anything, watching Keith’s fingers tear at the packaging for antiseptic pad.

“Ah, Lance,” he breathes, regretful. Then, “this’ll sting.”

At the pad touching Lance’s injury, pain erupts but Lance does nothing more than blink a few times in surprise before settling again. He’s used so many of these on so many different injuries over his lifetime.

“It bleeds blue,” Lance murmurs.

“Blue?” Keith wonders, pulling out a fresh bandage.

“But the rest of me bleeds red.”

“Huh,” Keith murmurs, pressing a new bandage in place, “there. Good as new.”

“Thank you,” Lance gives a small smile, but it falters seconds later.

“So,” Keith says conversationally, setting the first aid kit on his night stand before settling next to Lance again, “what made you want to mutilate your face?”

Lance doesn’t say anything right away, instead choosing to mull over the question. It feels infinitely later when he finally says, “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Keith’s brow furrows and he opens his mouth to ask what Lance means, but Lance continues before Keith can reply.

“I was so happy and insecure and… annoying. I’m just a shell of that now.”

“You grew up, Lance. We all did.”

Lance laughs, a bittersweet thing, and looks away. “You and the others are all so similar to before. You’ve all changed but you’re still… you.”

“And you’re still Lance.” Lance looks up in surprise, mouth a skeptical line and brow furrowed.

“But I’m not Lance from back when this whole thing started,” Lance argues, “I’m not even where I was back when we landed on Earth. I’m just… I’m a mess.”

“That’s okay. We’re all a little bit of a mess. Doesn’t make you any less of who you are,” Keith continues, hands squeezing his knees.

“I just… Keith, I feel terrible. We’re all here having fun and getting together but Allura’s dead. She’s just gone and I’ve done nothing in the last three years.” Lance grits his teeth, blinking fiercely at the vaguest sign of tears.

“She’s not dead.” Keith says firmly, “she’s gone, yes. But she’s definitely not dead.”

“You’re right,” Lance agrees, trying to calm himself. He takes a deep breath, “you’re right.”

Keith puts his hand on Lance’s shoulder, offering time for the words to spill - it’s clear there’s still more bothering Lance.

“I just don’t get why I have these marks.” Lance finally says, “I don’t get why I have to be reminded of her literally every time I look at my reflection. They don’t even do anything. I don’t get what they mean or why they’re there.” a hand reaches up to rub at the uninjured side of his face.

Keith is quiet, unsure.

“Why can’t I just move on?”

Keith frowns. Vaguely, he recalls Lance saying something to him years ago - when Shiro disappeared. About moving on.

“Do you remember when Shiro went missing?” Keith blurts, before he can think better of it and develop his idea, “when we were switching lions and I ended up with Black but I didn’t want it?”

“Yeah,” Lance scoffs, “I was super jealous.”

Keith rushes to continue, “I still think you would’ve done an amazing job as Black’s paladin. But you told me something. And I can’t exactly remember what it was, but it was about moving on past Shiro and that he’d want us to. And maybe ‘cause it’s a different situation it won’t hit as hard, but… I think Allura wanted that for us, too. To not get hung up on her and to keep her in our hearts but not let it hold us back.”

Lance frowns, tears clearly welling. “I can’t,” he says, brokenly, “I can’t move on, Keith.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Keith reassures, “and it doesn’t have to be today. But I can promise you that someday it will get easier. Someday you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt as much.”

“I don’t- I should be over her by now,” Lance insists, “I shouldn’t be hung up on her anymore. Hell, Lotor’s probably-” Lance cuts off, choking on the words.

“Hey, no.” Keith says, “it’s not about him. It’s about you. You know Allura. She’d never do anything to hurt you. Any of us. She wants you to be happy, and she knows you want her to be.”

Lance drops his face onto Keith’s shoulder, taking Keith by surprise. “I know. I know, Keith. I just-… I can’t.”

Keith rubs a consoling circle onto Lance’s back. They sit in silence for a while, until Keith’s foot starts to fall asleep and Lance isn’t shaking as hard and his breathing starts to even out.

“I think,” Lance starts, voice muffled, “I think I wanted to distance myself from everything that happened. Especially what happened with Allura.”

“...I get that,” Keith says tentatively, hands coming to his legs when Lance lifts his head.

“I know, I know,” Lance says, running a hand through his hair, “dissociation is bad.”

“I’m glad you at least talked to me,” Keith supplies, “It’s better than saving it all for an explosion.”

“Says you,” Lance laughs, sniffling, “you know you can talk to me, too.”

“Yeah,” Keith nods.

“You’re my best friend,” Lance adds, “thanks for dealing with me.”

“You’re mine, too,” Keith smiles, “and if dealing with you is the cost for an occasional meal from your mom, then I’ll pay the price every single day.”

Lance laughs, standing and offering a hand to Keith. He slings his arm around Keith’s shoulder, and the two leave the room like that, friendly banter coming easy between them.

It’s on the third day of their week-long retreat that Lance gets a haircut. His incident with his mark is two days behind him, now, and he tries not to let the concerned looks of his friends bug him too much - just shakes off their concern and says it happened while he was testing out a new feature in the training room - bots with swords instead of staffs.

And Keith has Lance thinking - thinking about how he can move on and things can get better. So he makes his way down to a salon in the city and gets his hair cut. He gets an undercut - because he’s honestly feeling a little edgy and thinks the style might suit him, which it does - opting to keep the front longer. And once it’s done - once he’s had his fringe trimmed and the back of his hair close-shaven, Lance is satisfied. He feels refreshed. He sees someone new in the mirror, and he starts to feel a little bit okay.

Maybe Keith was onto something, he thinks. Maybe all Lance needed to do was stop being stagnant and start living his life again.

The first person to see Lance when he returns is Hunk, and his response is nothing short of reassuring, hugging Lance and complimenting the look. They spend some time together then; the most they’ve spent together in a long time. They’re silly like they used to be, but somehow mature like they are now, soldiers hardened but not corrupted by war.

Hunk is and always will be Lance’s brother - friends from the moment they were lumped together in the Garrison and sticking together through it all. They have a closeness that can never be lost, an expansive knowledge of each other’s tells and quirks and ideas. And though time has seen to them drifting, finding new best friends, the reverence Lance holds for Hunk will forever hold strong.

And after they spend some time shooting up dummies in the training room, they parts ways - Hunk to help Pidge with engineering a new system to help automate the castle better, and Lance to seek out Keith solely because he can.

Lance finds him on the observation deck, standing thoughtfully at a window. Lance just takes a moment to stare; to watch Keith quirk his head at the outside world and trace the planes of his face with his eyes.

Keith has always been handsome - sharp jaw and bright eyes. A sort of dangerous look to him that manages to captivate as much as it intimidates. And time has been kind to him, squaring out his chin pleasantly and giving his lips a gentle upwards slope. His scar, somehow making him seem kinder despite the harshness of it against his otherwise pale skin. A younger Lance had been insanely jealous - of the rugged beauty, of Keith’s intensity and confidence. Now, jealousy has turned into acceptance and a strange sort of pride - pride that he’s lucky enough to call Keith a friend, that he gets to be close to his once-distant comrade.

“You didn’t really think you could sneak up on me,” Keith says softly, turning minutely in Lance’s direction.

“No,” Lance’s face breaks into a smile, vaguely startled by being noticed.

“Where’ve you been?” Keith asks, turning fully, “Pidge was looking for you earlier.”

Keith’s mouth falls open for a second, taking Lance in. Trying to connect this put-together version of him to the Lance that had been crying in arms only two days prior.

“Lance,” Keith starts, a surprised smile finding its way onto his face, “wow. You look good.”

“I know,” Lance grins, practically skipping over to Keith, “feelin’ good, too.”

Keith smiles warmly, “I’m glad to hear it.”

“So,” Lance presses on, hiding his pleased smile as he turns to look outside, “what’re you up to?”

“Nothing, really. I was thinking of finding you, actually,” Keith turns back to the window with Lance.

Lance smirks, pleased despite himself, “aw, miss me?”

Keith snorts, brushing past Lance, headed in the direction of the chambers, “hardly. I just wanted to see if you wanted to go to the pool with me.”

At this, Lance’s face lights up. “Just like old times!” he exclaims, fondly recalling a broken elevator and the teamwork required to crawl up the shaft, arms linked.

“Oh, please, no,” Keith shakes his head, “this time the elevator better be working.”

Lance falls into step beside Keith, “I dunno. Might be fun to relive the experience.”

“If the elevator gets stuck I’m literally going to set the castle on fire.” Keith deadpans.

Lance gasps dramatically, “but Keith! The memories! The experience.”

Keith just gives a small laugh, continuing down the hall with Lance at his side. Silence settles comfortably between them, until Lance accidentally bumps Keith and Keith, thinking the push was purposeful, retaliates with a bump of his own, and game of bodychecking one another is born.

They burst into the lounge like this, having taken a wrong turn somewhere when their game had turned to vicious tag. Lance is It when Keith stops at the drop in the floor, hovering above the couches. But Lance continues anyways, running at Keith and sending them both onto the table and scattering Shiro and Coran’s card game. Somehow, despite being winded and laughing regardless, their game turns to wrestling, resulting in Keith attempting to flip them so he’s on top. The action sends them off the table and rolling on the floor, scrambling for purchase. Keith eventually gets the upper hand, wrapping his legs around Lance’s hips to swing them over. In one hand, he manages to grab both of Lance’s wrists, and in the other he fists the collar of Lance’s shirt, huffing but grinning in victory.

“I… win…” Lance grunts out, breathless and very clearly having lost.

“I’m literally on top of you,” Keith retorts, his own chest heaving.

“Not for long!” Lance declares, somehow managing to bring his legs up and to his own chest, before his feet cross behind Keith’s head and the leverage is used to send Keith flipping over him.

Lance rolls with Keith, slamming him down and sprawling out on top of him, exhausted. “I think I claim victory,” he wheezes.

“Get the fuck… off,” Keith replies, chuckling as he shoves Lance away, “you’re batshit… crazy.”

“Keith, Lance,” Coran greets, “enjoying yourselves?”

Lance recovers first, getting to his feet before grabbing Keith’s hand to hoist him up. He grins, not at all ashamed, “yep!”

“You got a haircut,” Shiro remarks, smiling, “it looks good.”

Lance beams with pride, preening under the attention from his idol - still inspirational after all these years.

“We were just headed to the pool,” Keith bumps Lance, play-shoving him, “you guys wanna come?”

Lance pushes back at Keith, fully prepared to wrestle again, but Keith dodges and Lance goes stumbling a few steps behind him as a result.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Coran says, “I’ll page Hunk and Pidge to join us, too.”

And so the six of them head to the pool, their laughter filling the air. At some point Keith is on Lance’s shoulders and Pidge is on Hunk’s, fighting to upend the other.

There’s an ache between them for Allura to be there, for her to be on Shiro’s shoulders. For her to be reading on one of the lounge chairs, to be chiding her friends for their conduct.

But, without Allura’s sacrifice, they’d never have been here at all. The thought is enough to tide over sadness and let infinite gratitude take its place.

They’re watching the sunset on an outdoor deck of the castle on their last day of their week together, sharing nunvil and laughing at nothing at all. Pidge leaves early, off to a time-sensitive meeting back on Earth. Hunk hangs around, but eventually retires, having been awake since the previous day working on a project to help Coran. He’d been vague about it, but he leaves Shiro, Keith, and Lance together before disappearing for the night with promises to say a proper goodbye before he leaves.

“How’s Curtis?” Lance asks conversationally, comfortably settled between Shiro and Keith.

“He’s good,” Shiro smiles, and the fondness in his eyes makes Lance grin.

They fall into silence after that, thinking on their own lives and futures, and where they’ve gone since Voltron. Keith’s done the most; transitioned a ten-thousand year-old warrior group into a relief organization, nearly become the leader of Daibazaal’s empire, and has generally been on his feet and helpful. Shiro’s settled down to a quiet, happy life after seeing years of war and grief. He’s made a home for himself and found love despite losing it once.

And Lance? All Lance has really done is plant juniberry seeds and watch them grow. Helped Kaltenecker give birth. And not much else. He tells himself it’s good enough, that he likes what he’s doing - and he does - but he’d been lying if he said that sitting on a farm all day doesn’t make his skin itch. That he’s perfectly content to watch wind blow through perfect wheat crop year after year. For now it’s okay; he can handle it and he does appreciate the lifestyle for what it is. But does he really want to spend the next forty or fifty years farming?

“How’ve you guys been?” Shiro asks finally, filling the quiet as the sun sinks lower.

“Can’t complain,” Keith supplies, “things have been going smoothly with the Blade, and it’s always nice to see you guys again.”

Lance mulls the question over, gives it more thought than he really ought to. How has he been? Over the past year alone, he’s been doing quite poorly. Depression leers at him around every corner of his house at four AM, his alarm going off for another day of farming and setting off a deep chain of questions that always circle back to why, and Allura’s been on his mind more than in previous years, her sacrifice truly registering for the first time.

“Lance?” Shiro prompts softly, and when Lance looks up he’s met with Shiro’s kind eyes, questioning but not demanding.

“Oh- sorry, spaced out for a second. Um, things aren’t bad. Life’s good, family’s good, just… y’know. Tired.” Lance drops his eyes to his lap, fiddling with his fingers.

He tries not to let on how bothered he is. Doesn’t want to kill the mood because he misses his not-dead ex-girlfriend. They all miss Allura. Keith does, Shiro does. Lance doesn’t really have any sort of monopoly over her. They’d only been together for a short while, anyways. How special was Lance to her really? Did she even love him? Had he been stifling her and she’d been helpless out of pity and refused to tell him he was being too much? Lance’s five-minute girlfriend in sixth grade had no trouble telling him he was too much. Allura was just so kind - she’d always been. She’d sooner pretend to be in love with Lance than let him down.

Lance squeezes his eyes shut. No. Now’s not the time to doubt her.

Allura was strong; didn’t let men or romance push her around. Made decisions that she thought were right. She’d never had any trouble telling Lance to leave her alone before she reciprocated his feelings. And maybe her romantic love hadn’t run as deeply for Lance as his for her, but she had love to give him that was platonic before and they’d always had a strong friendship, even before their relationship. Allura had loved Lance in many ways. She had.

“It gets better,” Shiro says softly, ever-intuitive and picking up on his thought process, “I know it’s tough, but it gets better.”

Lance looks up earnestly, frowning. “It really feels like it won’t.”

“I know,” Shiro smiles, a bittersweet thing, “but I can promise you it’ll be better. Trust me.”

Lance gives a small smile, always inspired by his leader, “thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro just smiles in response, turning back to the sunset. They sit together until it’s dark and it starts to cool down. Keith pulls on his jacket, and Lance follows suit quickly after.

Shiro pats his leg and stands, regarding the sky for one more wistful moment. “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” he says.

“‘Night, Shiro,” Lance pats Shiro’s calve, offering a content smile.

Shiro, in turn, lightly socks Keith in the head and ruffles Lance’s hair, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And then it’s just Keith and Lance staring at the moon in the darkness on the balcony of an altean castleship. Without really thinking too hard on it, Lance drops his head onto Keith’s shoulder, shifting a little closer.

“So,” Lance starts, trying not to let melancholy seep into his words, clinging to any trace of enthusiasm, “tomorrow’s the last day, huh?”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, voice soft in the night, “guess so.”

“Can we keep in touch for real this time? Not like the last few years when we say we will but that ends up being group calls that one of us misses every few months.” Lance picks at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Keith nods, “yes.”

“Good,” Lance says, settling back into comfortable silence.

“Hey…” Keith starts suddenly, hesitant, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I think now’s as good time as any to ask.” he pauses, thinking. “Do you… do you maybe want to join me and the Blade?”

Lance goes stiff on Keith’s shoulder. He sits up, brow furrowed, “what, and go on missions with you guys?”

“Well… yeah.” Keith looks away, playing with his jacket’s zipper. “I thought it might be a nice change of pace for you, is all.”

Lance frowns a little bit. “I appreciate the offer - I do - it’s just… sudden.”

“I’m not saying you’ll be stuck with us for life or you have to start right this moment but… the offer stands.” Keith rushes, trying to be reassuring but landing closer to desperate.

“I just… I just have to think on it. ‘Cause I’ve still got the farm… and everything.” Lance speaks hesitantly, clearing trying to convince himself more than Keith that he’s really got something to worry about.

Lance knows, deep down, that he’s got four very adequate siblings to help his parents run their property. And even though Veronica might be off doing something with the Garrison every once in a while or Marco might have his hands full taking care of his kids… the McClain family would be able to keep it all under control with room to spare. Lance had practically run the entire operation himself, taking jobs from his siblings and spending as much time as possible keeping busy. If Lance can do it, then it should be easy for his family to.

“Yes, yeah,” Keith nods, “I know, you’ve got stuff to worry about. I get it.”

“That’s not a no,” Lance says, “it’s just a… well, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, “I know.”

They settle comfortably next to each other again, both thinking furiously. Lance about whether or not he should join, and Keith about whether or not asking was a bad idea and if he implied that Lance is wasting away on his farm. He meant no harm by the suggestion. Keith just misses his friend, misses the old Lance even though he loves the current one. Keith wants Lance to be happy, is all.

But Lance is dozing on Keith’s arm in no time, so he assumes the waters between them are still clear.

Smiling to himself, Keith lifts Lance and carries him back to his room, unwilling to wake the finally peaceful former paladin. Keith’s hopeful that Lance will take this opportunity and run with it. That it won’t be a waste of time and he’ll start to come back to himself and grow, like he was supposed to before the grief. No longer a shell of his younger self, and instead a leap into the future.

The next day, Lance is waiting for Keith outside of his room, bag slung over his shoulder nonchalantly. He’s leaning against the doorframe with ease, lips smirking good-naturedly.

“So,” Lance starts, cocking his head arrogantly, “do I wear my Voltron suit or does the Blade give me one?”

“You’re joining the Blade?” Hunk asks, eyes alight with pride, “really?”

Lance grins, puffing out his chest, “yep! Keith practically begged me to.” Lance examines his nails, “said he needed someone with my expertise.”

Keith shoves past, Lance taking a step to right himself. “I just suggested you join us,” Keith corrects with raised brow, smiling.

“He’s lying,” Lance stage-whispers to Hunk. Hunk nods solemnly, feigning belief.

“I, for one,” Shiro comes up behind Lance and plants his hand on his shoulder, “am proud of you. You’ll fit right in.”

Lance grins, beside himself with happiness, “thanks, Shiro.”

“Commander Shirogane,” one of Coran’s altean assistants approaches, “your transport has arrived.”

Shiro thanks the altean, hugging his former teammates goodbye before disappearing onto an earthen pod.

Hunk is next, crushing Keith and Lance in a hug before bounding off with one of his fellow chefs - Sal, was it?

And then it’s just Keith and Lance, hoisting their bags onto their shoulders. Coran embraces Lance and Keith at once, and then they’re off, waving goodbye to Coran and New Altea for the time being.

Krolia awaits Keith on a small vessel, hugging him as he enters the cockpit and takes up the pilot’s seat. Krolia, as intimidating and beautiful as ever, offers Lance a respectful nod before disappearing down into the cargo bay.

“Ack. Your mom still scares me,” Lance confesses.

“She still kind of scares me, so,” Keith shrugs, smiling. “We’re gonna head down to a small asteroid. There’s a civilization that’s been battling starvation for a short while and only now thought to send out a distress beacon. You don’t have to come with ‘cause it’s still your first day, but if you want to you can.”

Lance leans against the pilot’s seat. “I’ll come with,” he says, “may as well start learning the ropes as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” Keith smiles, “if you go down to the cargo bay and ask my mom, she should have a uniform for you. You can put it on when we land.”

“Sounds good,” Lance grins, “be back in a minute.”

He slides down the ladder, steadying himself as Keith speeds the vessel up, exiting Altea’s atmosphere.

“Who’re you?”

Lance turns and is met with the face of a galra hybrid, leaning uncomfortably close into his space. Lance lifts his hands in surrender and steps back, “name’s Lance McClain. Pilot of the Red Lion of Voltron.”

The marmorite leans back, standing to her full height, looming a startling foot above Lance.

“I’m Heik.” the hybrid introduces, sticking out a hand in greeting.

“Nice to meet you,” Lance says, his hand finding Heik’s wrist in an intergalactic sort of handshake.

She’s slender, thin like a willow branch. Lance imagines she’s incredibly agile and could probably be across the bay before he even has time to register she’s gone. Her eyes are wide and curious, and her general demeanor is vaguely childlike. She almost reminds Lance of Ezor.

“Likewise,” Heik smiles, “is Keith your boyfriend?”

Lance chokes, “wha- no. Absolutely not. No. We’re just friends. What gave you that idea?”

Heik hides a laugh behind her fingers, shrugging. “Zethrid and Ezor sometimes tease Keith about a Lance. Looking at you now, I see why. You’re considered quite attractive among humans, are you not?”

Lance smiles bashfully, looking away. “I’m sure Zethrid and Ezor just like to see Keith squirm. And whether or not I’m attractive really depends on who’s looking at me.”

Heik laughs again, her fingers ghosting across Lance’s cheek curiously. “I think you’re quite handsome, for a man.”

Lance’s brow furrows in confusion.

“I’m only interested in women,” Heik explains with a laugh, suddenly less strange, more welcoming as something shifts between them. “Well. I’m sure you came down here for a reason. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Oh- okay. I’ll see you around,” Lance says, offering a friendly smile.

“I am looking forward to becoming friends,” Heik walks backwards away from Lance with a pleasant smile before turning and speaking with other blades.

Lance, still vaguely confused, pushes the encounter to the back of his mind. He’ll have to ask Keith about Heik later. In the meantime… Lance scans the small group of marmorites, eyes finally finding Krolia. He bounds over, waving, “hey, Krolia.”

Krolia looks up, giving Lance a funny look - confusion? Endearment? Lance doesn’t think too hard on it - before approaching him. “Lance,” she says, “that is your name, correct?”

Lance nods, “yep, that’s me.” He’s had very few interactions with Keith’s mother; often, she’s standoffish and focuses on the task at hand, rather than keep up appearances and make friendships. Lance has only seen her smile when she’s alone with Keith, and even then the gesture is sparse. “Keith told me to come see you to get a uniform.”

Krolia nods, turning, “follow me.”

She guides Lance through a few rows of supplies, feet silent as she glides across the floor. “I must say,” she starts, “you bring out a side to Keith that I don’t otherwise see often.”

Lance’s brows draw together thoughtfully, “what do you mean?”

“He’s… brighter. You make him happy.”

Lance nearly trips over his own feet in surprise. “What- what do you mean?” he asks, fighting hard against his instinctive sputter to maintain composure.

“I mean,” Krolia comes to a stop and picks up a folded uniform, seemingly exasperated with Lance already, “you provide a friendship without strings or a familial bond. You’re not like a father or sibling, but a best friend. And sometimes,” Krolia turns, intense gaze softened, “you need a best friend instead of a brother.”

She hands Lance the uniform, and he brings it to his chest instinctively. “Well, he’s a good person. I consider myself lucky to be his friend.”

Krolia gives a real, genuine smile, hand meeting Lance’s shoulder. Lance goes rigid beneath the warm grasp, surprised. “Thank you for being there for my son,” Krolia says.

She’s brushing past Lance before he can formulate a response, mouth opening and closing like his sobrina’s pet goldfish.

“Hey,” Lance says, perched behind Keith at the pilot seat once again, “how do I look?”

Keith glances at Lance, a small smile playing across his lips as he turns back, “good. It suits you.”

“I look better than you ever did in it,” Lance teases, “admit it.”

“Keep pushing and I’ll leave you on the first planet I see,” Keith threatens, but he’s still smiling.

The jibe earns a laugh from Lance, who comes to stand at Keith’s side, leaning against the chair’s backrest. “I met someone,” he says, thoughtful.

“Oh, really?” Keith’s gaze crosses Lance before returning to the navigation and punching a few things in, autopilot engaged, “who?”

“Heik,” Lance says, and Keith scrunches his face up, sort of cringing.

“Of course. What did she say?”

“First she asked if I was your boyfriend,” Lance leans closer to Keith, mirth playing in his eyes, “and then she told me that Zethrid and Ezor tease you about me.”

Keith flushes and drops his face into his hands, grumbling.

Lance feels his brows draw together. What does that response mean?

Could it be that…

No, surely Keith isn’t interested in Lance that way. They’re just friends, like Lance had told Heik. Nothing more, nothing less.

But Keith’s reaction… it makes Lance wonder. Is Keith into Lance?

Is his response just run-of-the-mill “I’m not in love with my best friend but everyone thinks I am”? Or, rather impossibly, “I’m in love with my best friend and the only ones who don’t see it is us”? What if Lance has a thing for Keith? Is he over Allura? Is he just using her as an excuse to avoid getting hurt again? Or what if-

“Anything else?” Lance snaps back into reality.

“Oh- um. She said that I’m attractive.” Lance stands to his full height again, thinking.

“She’s a lesbian,” Keith deadpans, looking up at Lance again, “haven’t you heard Pidge say “Keith and his pack of lesbians”? This is what she was referring to.”

“I know but- wait,” Lance says, “there are more lesbians?”

“Zethrid and Ezor? They’re literally married,” Keith says, unimpressed, “and Acxa is hitting on Veronica every chance she gets.”

“Whoa.” Lance holds up a hand, “stop right there, sir.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. He’s about to ask if Lance really had no idea, but Lance is talking before Keith can get a word in edgewise.

“What nerve. Acxa dare flirt with my sister? And I haven’t been informed?” Lance feigns betrayal, dramatically splaying a hand on his chest.

“Veronica’s as dense as you when it comes to romance. Or, at least according to Acxa she is.” Keith explains.

“Hey!” Lance interrupts, “I’m not dense!”

“Lance, you’re sort of dense,” Keith smirks despite himself, turning back to the holograms in front of him, eyes scanning over readings and navigational instructions.

Lance crosses his arms and drops down on the floor with a, “humph.”

“But anyways,” Keith continues, “I think there are a few more. And that’s just in this squadron alone.”

“How would you know?” Lance mumbles, still pouting.

“What? This is my squadron, I’m supposed to-”

“No, not that. How dense I am. Romantically.” Lance meets Keith’s gaze head-on.

Keith opens his mouth to answer, but a warning flashing on the screen saves him from having to.

“What is it?” Lance asks, getting to his feet again as Keith puts his hands on the controls, turning autopilot off and pulling back on the thrusters to slow down a little bit.

“Asteroid field,” Keith replies, eyes flitting from asteroid to asteroid, mapping out a path.

“Is there anything I should do? Alert the others?” Lance asks, gripping the back of Keith’s chair tightly.

“Nah,” Keith dismisses, completely undisturbed, “they’ll know from the ship’s system.”

“Okay,” Lance says.

Keith is at ease as he navigates the ship through the field, locating their destination. Lance had forgotten how good a pilot Keith is - how he always manages to adapt and make good decisions under pressure. It’s nothing short of impressive. A younger Lance would’ve fumed with jealousy.

They land smoothly moments later, Lance following Keith from the cockpit and out of the ship. They’ve landed just on the outskirts of a little city, and a small procession comes to meet them.

“Who are you?” demands a small alien, only as tall as Lance’s hips and round like an egg. He’s got legs that remind Lance of a lizard, and stubby, thin arms like a t-rex.

“I’m Keith. I’m from the Blade of Marmora. Your people sent out a distress signal, so we came to offer assistance. We have supplies, and manpower if you need it,” Keith doesn’t bend to the alien’s level, but tips his head respectfully.

Lance is amazed. He still clearly remembers Keith pulling a sword on Lubos and threatening death being Keith’s finest diplomatic moment. And now… Just how much had happened on that space whale? Where did this maturity come from? Maybe Lance is just stuck in the past and convinced that Keith is forever doomed to be an absolutely terrible peacemaker.

“I am Gyzup,” the alien introduces, “the most esteemed warrior of the Fargodian people. We thank you for offering your aid.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Keith says, offering a smile.

“Quite the diplomat,” Lance, at Keith’s shoulder, whispers. He’s filled with satisfaction when Keith’s smile grows the slightest bit with the compliment.

“Zethrid,” Keith turns, ignoring Lance for the time being, “take your squadron into the city and help with repairs and start building a shelter. We’ll unload supplies here and then Lance and I’ll take them to the city center. After that everyone will come help finish the shelter.”

Lance raises his eyebrows, proud of Keith. He was right; Keith really has done the most since the war’s end. He’s grown into himself and then something more.

Heik smiles and waves at Lance as she passes with Zethrid’s squadron, headed to the city with Gyzup. A few other fargodians remain with the Blades, but otherwise they’re left to their own devices.

“Keith,” Krolia places a hand on Keith’s shoulder and hands him a tablet, “here’s our inventory for this trip. The civilization is relatively small so we should be able to keep about half our supply.”

“Sounds good,” Keith’s eyes scan the inventory list before he passes the tablet back to Krolia, “Lance, c’mon.”

Lance follows Keith back into the ship, and they start to push boxes to the now-open bay doors. The work is tedious but not difficult, and Lance sort of enjoys the feeling. It reminds him of being on his farm, and it calms his nerves about whether or not he really fits in, really belongs among the Blades, even temporarily. He’s useful, and his strength is coming in handy - at least for now.

“Hey,” Keith says, just as Lance pushes his last designated box to the doors, “did you bring your bayard?”

“No,” Lance wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand, “Coran wouldn’t let me take it without the suit. Said I’d lose it, and when Voltron is inevitably needed again the next Blue Paladin will want it.”

“Well that…” Keith glances across the cargo hold, “that sounds like Coran. But still, you’re going to need a weapon.”

“I am?” Lance asks, vaguely panicked, “I thought you guys were a relief organization!”

“We are,” Keith shoots Lance an unimpressed look before making his way across the floor, “but that doesn’t mean the universe is entirely peaceful.”

“I thought this was going to be a strictly no-danger gig,” Lance mumbles.

“Like you’ve got anything to worry about,” Keith says, rolling his eyes, “you’re one of the best soldiers alive.”

“Don’t be nice to me, it makes me less conflicted about this whole arrangement,” Lance sulks, coming to a stop next to Keith.

Keith is stopped in front of a wall, guns lined up on it from floor to ceiling. Lance’s jaw drops open in awe, wanting to test out each weapon to find the one that fits best. “Gun or sword?” Keith asks, then shakes his head, “my mistake, you only used guns.”

“I had an altean broadsword,” Lance murmurs, eyes taking in the different weaponry stocked against the wall. His fingers itch, oddly, to pull a trigger again.

“You did?” Keith asks, turning to Lance with surprise.

“Yeah. Got it a few months after you left for the Blade. I used it against Alfor when-... In our final battle.” Lance bites the inside of his cheek, swallowing the sudden nostalgic and sad lump in his throat. Swords remind him too much of Allura, of Alfor and everything Voltron has ever meant to anyone. Lance can’t handle that sort of pressure anymore. He can’t.

“But anyways, a gun is fine.”

“Huh,” Keith says thoughtfully, regarding Lance momentarily before turning back to the wall.

“This one should do for now,” Keith says, reaching up to pull a rifle from the shelf. “What do you think?”

The blaster is passed into Lance’s hands, and he tests the weight out, bringing the butt to his shoulder and scope to his eyes. Turning, Lance scans the area. A holographic display shows the general trajectory and direction of a potential blast, but the aim guides aren’t too many, and the size is just right. “I like it,” Lance says finally, satisfied.

Keith brushes past, “you probably won’t need it, so just hang on to it for now. In the meantime, let’s get these boxes onto some hoverpads and then take them into town.”

Lance pulls the strap across his chest, the gun settling comfortably on his back as he follows Keith. It takes two sets of hands per bin, but the boxes are eventually lined up on a hoverpad. Keith climbs onto one of the boxes at the back before helping Lance onto it. The hovering train moves of his own accord, sensing it’s been loaded to its full capacity. A predetermined route takes them to the city center, wind whipping Lance’s bangs into his eyes. Keith reaches up to tighten his ponytail a few times before Lance gets annoyed and has to redo the ponytail himself. Keith just laughs, the train of supplies pulling into the square in front of a single-story building that stands on the taller side.

“Please,” Gyzup approaches Lance, who’s trying to tug Keith off a box by the ankle, “we’d like to bring the supplies into the building.”

“You got it, Gyzup,” Lance grins, Keith shaking Lance off.

Gyzup thanks them, summoning a few other fargodians to assist.

“So,” Keith smiles sort of slyly, hoisting a box with Lance.

“What?” Lance asks, unable to help his own smile.

“How is it?”

“How’s what?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow at Keith over the box.

“Working with us! Being back in the field?” Keith’s excited, an expression Lance hasn’t seen on his friend in a long time.

“It’s good,” Lance admits, “it’s nice to help people again.”

“Yeah?” Keith grins, pleased with himself.

“Yeah,” Lance comes to a stop, setting the box down.

They make their way out of the centre side by side, Keith clearly still itching to ask something.

“Spit it out, Keith,” Lance laughs, “what is it?”

“I was just… I was wondering if you’d be interested in staying. With the Blade. I know it’s still early and we’re only halfway through your first mission, but… do you think you might want to stay? For a little while?”

Lance frowns, trying not to show his disdain on his face. “I don’t… I have to get back to the farm, Keith. I spent so many years without my family and… I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my grandparents.” Together, they lift another box, Lance’s eyes downcast. “Plus, I don’t even fit in with you guys. I’m not part galra. The other’s probably think you just dragged your pet along.”

“They don’t think of you as a pet.” Keith protests. “And you don’t have to worry about fitting in. If I think you fit with us, then they know you do. And besides, I think they’re all pretty happy to be working with not one, but two paladins.”

“I don’t know, Keith.” Lance mumbles, “the farm?”

“We both know that’s an excuse,” Keith says, somehow gentle with the harsh words.

They set the box down, once more heading back to the hover pads, “it’s a comfort thing for you, and I’m glad you’ve got it. But we both know that your family is more than capable of taking care of it.”

Lance is quiet, instead lifting the next box with Keith. “I’m not asking you to make a decision. I shouldn’t have put that on you in the first place. You haven’t even been here a day. What I should’ve said, and what I meant to say is, you have a place here, if you want it. You’ve proved your worth, and I’m more than happy to have you with us, if you want to be.”

Lance finally looks up, smiling as best he can. “Thanks, Keith,” he says, face suddenly older, tired, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

Keith smiles back, brow furrowed, “okay.”