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There is a voice, low and soft, that keeps whispering his name.
Lance
Over and over again, as if it’s trying to coax him.
Lance, Lance, Lance…
It’s low and it’s rough, yet so gentle and familiar that Lance can’t help but chase the sound of it, drawing closer, closer, closer—
He wakes to the sun against his eyelids, Keith nuzzling their foreheads together and whispering his name again and again against his skin.
As he slowly blinks his eyes open, he’s greeted to the sight of his boyfriend smiling next to him, hard edges softened by the pale morning light.
“Good morning,” Keith breathes between them, and Lance smiles into the sheets.
“Mmm,” he hums, eyelids still heavy with the weight of sleep. He lets them slide shut, smile still toying at the edge of his lips.
Keith huffs, shifting his weight. Then, deft fingers are combing their way through the hair at Lance’s nape. The way Keith’s nails scratch lightly against the base of his scalp, fingers curling soft through his hair, has Lance all but melting at his touch.
“No falling back asleep,” Keith sighs, a soft command. Lance hums again, cracking open an eye to see Keith slightly above him, chin now propped against the palm of his hand. He scrunches his face as a beam of light from above Keith’s shoulder hits his eye, and Keith’s answering laugh, breathy and fond, sends a shiver down his spine.
In response, Lance reaches up, gently weaving his fingers through Keith’s hair. His fingers travel up, up, until they reach the back of his neck, and then, they’re pulling him down. Down and down until their lips meet, and Lance can finally taste the smile that’s been playing sweet against his lips.
“I love you,” Lance whispers as they part, thumb gliding down the smooth edge of Keith’s jawline as he pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes.
Through the haze of sleep, Lance has trouble processing Keith’s reaction. How his body stiffens, breath catching in his throat as his eyes blink wide in surprise. When the realization finally hits him, he freezes, a hot blush rushing up his neck, to his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears.
Lance grapples in the silence, mouth opening and closing around the ghost of an explanation that he can’t quite muster. He’s rarely left speechless, but nothing comes as Keith simply stares down at him, gaze even and expression unreadable.
“Really?” Keith finally speaks, and his voice is so quiet that Lance can hardly hear him. He whispers the word in awe, eyes wide and searching, and his expression melts into something so earnest and hopeful and hesitant that it has Lance holding his breath.
Keith’s long hair frames his face in messy strands as he looks down at him, and stubble peppers his jaw after a long night’s rest. His features are war ridden and hard, and the scar across his cheek still mars his pale skin in an angry, uneven line. Yet, as his face lights up, he looks just as innocent and genuine as a child on Christmas morning. Distantly, he wonders if Keith will ever stop taking his breath away.
“Yes,” he breaths, and it’s all he can manage before Keith is practically beaming, sliding a hand against his cheek and slotting their lips together. It’s sudden and hard and unpredictable, and the heat of it sets his heart on fire. Keith kisses him like it’s the first time, drinks him in as though Lance were a fresh spring amidst a scorching desert.
Keith draws back, eyes bright and longing, lips red and wide as he breaks into another smile. He doesn’t have to answer, doesn’t have to say anything that Lance can’t already feel tingling against his lips. But he does anyway.
“I love you, too.”
Lance’s laugh bubbles from his throat and his head spins with a giddiness he hasn’t felt since before the war ended as he slings his arms around Keith’s neck and draws him back down.