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#57: Take a nap in my own bed. With my own blankets, my good eye mask and blackout curtains for at least 2 hours with no sirens, emergencies or Pidge-related robot spies waking me up!
(with Keith)
Lance isn’t in the Blade. Not really. He’s some sort of in between contractor who partners with them on missions requiring nutritional aid. Occasionally he attends a few clean up missions when they need extra hands. And there was that fundraiser last month...
Lance blinks as he realises he’s basically joined his boyfriend’s organisation, not actually sure when it happened or how he feels about it. The Blade of Mamora is an entirely different entity to what it was when they were Paladins, but even the name still strikes particular negative emotions within Lance: their secrecy, Keith leaving the team, their sacrificial nature that Keith embodied. Not pleasant memories.
Lance actually cannot place what he does now, since he is stretched thinly across many places; still helps on the farm, still liaises with the Blade, but also does more direct work with them. He also aids in supplying Hunk’s culinary planet with supplies when an Earth based banquet is due, and he’s given a few guest lectures at the Garrison.
Changes, but loud in their nature, filling his mind with actions and voice, disbursing the silence which has filled it for so long. There’s still the craving for excitement, for his hair to stand on end, for the thrill of the close call, the cry of take off. But he’s learning to go through that, to manage the war inside his mind while he lives peacetime
Keith helps. Keith, who sits beside him as they fly the last few miles towards Lance’s home, his head jerking upwards for possibly the fifth time in the last hour as he forces himself awake. Lance resists a laugh, barely. They’re both tired, it’s been a long week but Keith is suffering badly, his body shutting down. Lance has learned he’s like that, can as he claimed so long ago fall asleep on cue, and when that need surfaces there’s no fighting it.
“Almost home, babe,” Lance says, voice soothing as he takes one hand from the controls and rests it for a moment on Keith’s knee. His boyfriend starts and Lance winces, not meaning to have woken him so abruptly. But Keith just drifts back to slumber and Lance smiles to himself as he moves into land.
Vulnerability is not a thing either takes lightly. When you’ve been a soldier, allowing a person to see the underbelly of yourself is difficult beyond measure. So Keith falling asleep in Lance’s presence means more to him than any string of romantic poetry he’s ever heard. He lands as softly as possible, takes a moment to survey Keith napping, tiny snores wheezing from him as he’s sprawled in what must be an uncomfortable manner across the co-pilot seat.
It’s incredible, he thinks, how much Keith means to him, has always meant to him in one way or another. But how he’s carved out this place in Lance’s soul for him alone is a feat that still hits like a bolt in the dark, a shock in each moment it occurs. Lance shakes his head, fondness seeping and leans over to place a soft kiss against Keith’s cheek.
Predictably he stirs, sensation of skin on skin causing his eyes to flutter open, eyelashes buffering until he’s able to send a blurry just comprehending look in Lance’s direction.
“Come on samurai, let’s get inside. We can nap then,” Lance says softly.
Keith extracts himself with an unfair amount of grace considering he was snoring just moments earlier.
“You and your naps,” he grumbles as they leave and Lance rolls his eyes, slinging his arm around Keith’s shoulders in a practiced gesture.
Except instead of the times before when they’d been far younger and less aware, when Keith would shy away or tolerate the contact, he now moves closer; allowing Lance to direct them inside.
“You will come around to the way of naps in time, babe. Seeing as you were pretty much out-cold a few minutes ago.”
Keith continues to grumble as they move inside. As a rule he does not nap, claims it ruins proper sleep patterns and he gets antsy whenever Lance manages to get them to lie down together during the afternoons. Lance however adores naps. Was a master at them before they ended up in space and although he did still maintain the tradition when part of Voltron, it was never quite the same, never as restorative as before.
Now, sleep is its own type of battle for both himself and Keith. So naps take on a new priority in Lance’s agenda. They change quickly, Keith’s movement stilted and sluggish as sleep pulls on his every limb, lulling him to it.
“Ah, my bed. I have missed you. I’ll never leave you again, baby.”
“It’s been 3 days, Lance,” Keith mutters as he climbs into bed without ceremony, eyes half shut.
Lance watches him for just a moment before joining, reveling in the feel of crisp clean sheets, a mattress with the perfect amount of give and support, the coolness of silk pillowcases. Keith doesn’t appreciate any of this though, simply turns and immediately burrows into Lance’s side. It’s a different type of appreciation, one Lance cherishes in its entirety.
“I love my bed. Strange how I missed it so much when we were in space, I could never sleep properly. It’s why naps are on the list, years of bad sleep. Carries over whenever I’m away now, I guess.”
Keith just hums, not really listening and Lance lifts his hand to curl through dark locks, fingers snagging on small knots. He focuses on gently smoothing out the tangles until he hears those soft snores once again. Then, he leans back, closes his own eyes and wills his mind to rest.
Naps are a hundred times better in his own bed. But infinitely better with Keith.
#12 Stand outside in a storm. With Earth rain that I know will end, that’s the right smell, right taste, right colour. And doesn’t make your skin come out in green blotches for three days afterward.
(with Keith)
“You told me you loved me on the day of a storm.”
He almost has to shout to be heard. It’s a symphony a million of crashing raindrops, a rumble of thunder carved open by the ear splitting bang of lightning. It’s warm still, so warm Lance cannot tell of he’s sweating or drenched in a mild downpour, the sky so heavy even as it bursts open.
A summer storm, violent and fresh.
Keith just blinks at him, hair dripping and stuck to his face and takes one more step forward as Lance tips his head up to the sky. Lighting breaks and he feels Keith jump but he just laughs. Laughs and laughs into the eye of it, mouth filling with water and eyes streaming, and he might be crying now. He’s definitely shaking, but it’s not with cold.
It’s deafening. Every single hit of the rain on his skin is a new note, a rush and shiver, each splash of a puddle overflowing in the street is a song, and the thunderous sky is the scream that seems to want to escape from his chest tonight. A melody so breathtakingly boisterous; needing to be played over and over until no one can bear to listen any longer.
It’s loud, and he’s alive and it feels like he could run for miles. There’s nothing in his head but the smells and sounds of storm.
“Lance. Lance. It’s okay.”
Lance nods, because Keith is right, it really is. He tries to inhale but it comes out as a sob, and he isn’t sure why he’s crying in his favourite type of bad weather, being able to stand in a real home-brewed rainstorm for the first time in months.
Keith’s arms wrap around him. His jacket is drenched, the leather sliding against Lance’s bare arms as he clutches Keith’s middle, sinking into the feel of him as the rain hammers against his head.
“I missed the rain,” he says, and it comes out choked and blistered.
“I know. It’s okay, Lance. We’re home. This is our rain,” Keith says, his voice a lighthouse to aim for.
Lance swallows. It’s been years but this still occurs from time to time. When he wakes in the night to the sounds of rain and wishes it were his own, only to remember it is now. But tonight he misses Earth storms even as he stands in the midst of one, feels it batter the two of them with it’s best attempts, the full flurry of fury.
Together, they weather it.
#149 Dress up fancy for a date (with Keith). Like, full formal, meeting royalty style. If Pidge can figure out to recreate the working wings from the Thursitane ball last night, that would be a bonus
#112 Go dancing (with Keith)
Lance doesn’t think he’s ever seen a chandelier this big. The entire building is huge, but the ornament dripping with crystals and hanging somewhat precariously from the ceiling is another matter entirely. He cannot stop watching it catch the light, a myriad of rainbows flung across the room, scattered with sparkle.
“Okay, I’ve been staring at that thing for ten minutes and I can’t figure out how it’s connected to the ceiling. It’s terrifying me,” Hunks says from beside him.
Lance laughs, the spell broken as he turns to his friend’s drawn and worried expression.
“Let’s get a drink and pretend it’s not here,” he says as a comfort, the two moving away from the entrance and into the main ballroom. Lance whistles lowly as the full force of the celebration comes into play.
The whole room gives off an almost peach light, soft and golden, the dark formal clothing of those dancing and talking on the edges contrasting dramatically, giving an extra layer to the ambiance. Lance pulls at his formal dark blue suit unconsciously. He doesn’t remember the last time he was in formal wear, let alone at an event as fancy as this.
“The Sembalic people really like their balls, huh?” he says to Hunk who nods.
“Yeah, everything is very formal. But hey, you always do like an excuse to dress up,” he says, elbowing Lance good-naturedly.
Lance laughs and nods, because it is true. The whole affair of picking a suit for this particular diplomatic event had been fun in a way he hadn’t realised he’d missed. He’s chosen coat tails because for once it wouldn’t be too much, even though Keith had given him odd looks in the shop when he’d twirled around.
These remnants of things he’d loved before that spark up unexpectedly always give him that much more pleasure. Remind him that he is still Lance, the war has not removed every semblance of him completely.
From across the room a familiar burgundy suit catches his eye and he grins. Keith sees him at the same moment and his face morphs from stoic panic to relief, causing both Hunk and Lance to giggle as he walks rapidly towards them.
“He still hates formal events, huh?” Hunk says quietly.
“You wouldn’t believe how much of a fuss he made on the way,” Lance manages just as Keith reaches them.
“There you are,” Keith says with obvious gladness and Lance moves forward to kiss his cheek.
“Here I am indeed. How are you doing?” Lance asks, linking his arm with Keith’s causing Hunk to smile a little as they maneuver next to one another.
“Fine. Shiro and Curtis are over by the fountain. I lost Pidge.”
Lance is about to reply when music filters through, a soft start of something akin to a string quartet. He bounces once, turning to Keith whose eyes fill with terror.
“Lance, no I’m not-”
“Keith, you’re best man at your brother’s’ wedding in three months, think of this as a practice for that,” Lance says as he pulls Keith towards the dance floor.
Keith only protests slightly, the two moving just to where the dance floor starts before Keith robotically allows himself to be wound into Lance, arms bracketing him tentatively.
Lance smiles in what he hopes is an encouraging way, leading them with the beat so Keith only has to follow the rhythm and steps. It takes a few moments before he relaxes, and the transformation has Lance almost sighing. He’s so devastating tonight, hair pulled back with a ribbon and fixed more carefully than usual. He looks almost like a regency hero, which Lance will not dare tell him.
As the song switches they move deeper into the dance floor and Keith has lost his worry, spinning with Lance slowly, their eyes only for one another.
“You look good,” Keith says, moving closer so their foreheads are almost touching.
“Hmm, so do you. You clean up well,” Lance says, winking. Keith rolls his eyes but quickly returns to his previous tone.
“It’s more than the outfit though. You’re happy. You like doing this, like dressing up and going out. I know it’s on the list. We should...do it more often,” he says, with a hint of nerves, checking he’s on the right wavelength.
Which of course he is. Lance’s smile has its own will as it stretches out, his arms moving to rest on Keith’s shoulders as their faces draw ever more together.
“I do. I forget I like these type of events sometimes. Plus, I know they aren’t your thing,” he says lightly.
Keith moves then, places a single, fleeting kiss on his lips, chaste but full of meaning. His smile is in place when he pulls back, slight colour to his cheeks.
“They aren’t so bad with you.”
#231 Learn to make dulce de leche (for Keith)
The chicken-scratch notes on the faded stained paper seem to be mocking him.
“Why are there no actual numbers?!” he says in a hiss for the third time in the last hour.
He’s tried asking his mother, his sister and his brother but these notes are all they have of his grandmother’s recipe. On his phone is his mother’s approximation, but it doesn’t taste the same.
However, Lance is determined to make the best dulche de leche for Keith, seeing as he’s never tried it before, and the best by far is his grandmother’s. Unfortunately, she was extremely precious over the recipe and although she left them her notes, she didn’t write down actual quantities nor cooking times.
And thanks to the Galra, he’ll never get to ask.
Lance pauses, leaning against the counter heavily, closing his eyes against the swarming images: holding his bayard out, just him against a ship and the full complete acceptance he would die at that moment, die before he had a chance to see his parents, live into adulthood, do so many things…
He swallows, shaking. He opens his eyes: sunlight in the kitchen, strewn with messy pans and ingredients. Home, life, Earth. He moves slowly back to the recipe book, which is really a small compact binder filled with clippings and handwritten notes.
He can see a recollection from childhood in his mind’s eye; his grandmother glancing at him occasionally with indulgent smiles while he sat on the counter in her kitchen, Lance handing out spoons and eggs on command, getting to be the taste tester; one of the only perks of being the youngest.
Lance smiles, keeps that memory alive in him as he works, guesses and gives in to the internet and his mum’s research to produce something that smells right and looks right.
“I used to have dreams about this back in the castle,” he says, serving Keith his dessert with a flourish. Keith looks up and grins.
“Oh, I remember, you wouldn’t shut up about it for months,” Keith says in a teasing reply. Lance pauses as Keith surveys it, poking it with a spoon curiously.
“You remember?” he repeats.
Keith’s eyes meet his, and Lance’s heart jumps at the fondness there.
“Yes. It was important to you,” he says, all teasing gone.
He says it as if it’s simple, obvious but Lance is still stunned by the depths of Keith’s feelings for him, even if they’ve been pronounced many times. Their connection began long ago, longer than Lance even knows or could calculate, but the reminder of that from the otherside takes his breath away.
He waits, mirrors Keith’s actions as he loads his spoon and tastes.
It’s not right.
Lance feels his whole stomach revolt as he swallows and an anvil of pain hits in a rush. It doesn’t taste the same, it’s not his grandmother’s dish. And he tried, they’ve all tried in his family but they cannot replicate it; it’s lost, gone to somewhere he cannot reach and it hurts.
“Lance, this is incredible .”
He’s pulled back from the sour freeze of loss with Keith’s words. He feels himself staring as Keith takes another huge bite, eyes fluttering once then smiling widely.
“This is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten, seriously and...Lance, what’s wrong?”
He covers his mouth as a sob escapes, seeing Keith’s alarmed expression as he jumps up from his seat and is by Lance’s side in a second. The tears fall and he shakes his head, unable to explain in this moment just how elated and devastated he is.
The dish is not perfect, is not what he meant it to be. But perhaps it could be something new. And that is both worse and better in the same instant.
#203 Drive to nowhere (with Keith)
“Okay, so this one you will need to explain,” Keith says, just a flick of his eyes given at the close of the sentence.
Lance hums, shutting his eyes and just letting the fading heat wash over him as Keith drives. There’s nothing to see anyway, only the same repetition of wide, almost empty road, desert either side rolling on for miles. The occasional flora and fauna or wildlife investigating the sound of their car, but other than that it’s been the same for hours now.
Lance opens his eyes. Keith’s hair flares in the breeze of their motion, much longer now and let free of a braid or band. Out here close to his roots his past he seems freer, his accent even slipping slightly into a Texan drawl at the gas station, which Lance was so tempted to record.
“At some point it hit I’d never really been on a road trip. I mean flying through space is great, but actually just driving with your friends, or boyfriend is totally different. A right of passage or something. Anyway, I got really hooked on the idea for a while, even started planning routes in my head. Hence why it’s on the list,” Lance explains.
He shoots Keith a smile, who glances over and returns it before he focuses back on driving. Lance reaches out, puts his hand gently on Keith’s knee in a now familiar motion, who once again glances over, that happiness still in place.
“So it doesn’t matter that I’m driving?” Keith says.
Lance shrugs, but doesn’t remove his hand. “No. Plus you wanted to show me where you grew up, so I’m just happy to be here with you.”
He can see Keith blush and counts it as yet another victory. Time passes in waves; this is their first time off together in months, not since they took a vacation to move into their new place. And that had just been three full days of unpacking boxes and putting together furniture, rather than relaxing.
But now they have a week to spare between missions with the Blade they’ll both be on, and Lance’s next set of flying courses at the Garrison. Time for just them, away from responsibility and work, where moments can spread to hours with each other, no worrying about making every second count.
Lance looks out at the unchanging world, so uniform and expected. It’s nice, the predictability. He knows they will drive until they need to stop, park somewhere and watch the stars, remark on the ones which they’ve visited.
It’s a comfort, the new expected. Lance has never been a passenger on a real Earth road trip, but he knows where it goes. The divergence will never be something so foreign or dramatic to spike open his wounds or trigger his now dimming fight response. Time strives forward and as it does his hunger for the thrill and the fear abates. His head is no longer the front-lines but somewhere in the distance, still surveying the war but through a haze of smoke and barriers.
It is loud enough, but not deafening.
“Thank you,” he says suddenly, the words their own as they come alive.
“For what?” Keith says, a flick of his head in Lance’s direction, eyes firmly on the road.
“For doing this. For always coming with me on things like this.”
Lance inhales, eyes turning away from Keith to be calmed by predictability. Sure enough, the desert is still there, has not faded away to an astral universe.
“I know it’s a little stupid. We’re adults, and we have completely different lives now. We barely get time to ourselves as it is, and I keep wanting to complete things off a list I started when I was 17 of random, mostly boring activities. We should be travelling the world or going to fancy resorts and spa planets or-”
“Lance. Wait, let’s…”
The car slows and Lance is about to ask when Keith indicates and they veer off onto the side of the road. He parks, and Lance turns, only for Keith’s gloved hands to come to his face, the only warning he has before the kiss begins.
It’s deep, that slow melting feeling as he saturates himself into the kiss, opening his mouth slightly, the familiar tastes and sounds of their shared breath washing over him.
They break and Keith keeps them close, fingers stroking along Lance’s cheeks.
“Lance, it’s not stupid at all. We lost years of our lives being stranded and fighting. It’s okay to wish for the things we missed, to start doing them once we can. I love spending time with you, no matter what we do, but I love these things because they were and are still important to you,” Keith says, truth in each utterance.
Lance swallows, words sticking.
“But...it’s like living in the past. Shouldn’t we be forgetting them and doing new things?”
“We both know what happens when we try to just forget things in the past, Lance. It never works out well,” Keith answers.
Lance does know all too well, they are both guilty of hiding pain in different ways until there’s too much under the trap door and it explodes into the present. Keith lets him simmer on that thought for a moment before he continues:
“Because of your list, I’ve tried things I’d never have done without it. And it’s all things you still want to do now, right?”
Lance nods hesitantly, and Keith smiles, reaching out and kissing his nose.
“Then that’s what matters. We spend our time doing what we want. And I want to show you where we used to camp in summers when I was a kid, and you’ve always wanted to go on a road trip. Doesn’t matter when that want happened or why. We’re sharing in it together,” Keith says, so close and full of a smile.
Lance closes the small gap, kissing Keith in a way that’s probably too messy and too dramatic for the side of the road, but he doesn’t care.
It’s another moment shared together.
It’s cold when Lance awakens. It’s partly the time of year; although their flat is small, the heating takes too long to kick in during the morning, meaning early starts with frozen breath. And partly as he’s missing his human hot water bottle.
Keith being awake early is not usual, but Keith being awake early on a day off when they have no significant plans does make him want to pout slightly at the loss of morning cuddles. Lance sits up, yawning and stretching as he does, and it’s then he sees the small piece of paper left on Keith’s pillow. He blinks down at it, confused until the words form.
- Go to sleep and wake up
“Huh?” Lance mutters, picking it up and staring at it, turning it over as if it could lead to more information. It’s Keith writing but makes absolutely no sense. He keeps it in his hand though, unsure why it’s been placed here.
He stands, walks over to the dressing table as he does each morning, only to find another piece of paper tagged onto the side of the mirror. It’s balancing just over a photo from Keith’s birthday a month ago, one of the few times they’d managed to get almost all their loved ones together; the photo crowded by his siblings, Shirio, Curtis and Krolia towering over all of them, her arm slung over Lance’s mother’s shoulders.
- Share our families
“What?” Lance splutters, the noise coming out a little watery, hand clasping over his mouth. It always gets to him slightly when Keith called them family, knowing just how much he’d longed for that for so many years, and how deeply having Shiro and his mother, as well as Lance’s ever expanding pseudo family, means to him.
Okay, this was adorable. Lance picks up both notes, feeling a little choked up but smiling, continuing with the rest of his usual routine. The flat is strangely silent he notices now, padding his way out of their room and into the corridor. He passes by the coat hooks near the wall, grabbing his dressing gown and that’s where he sees the next note.
It’s taped to his keys, the huge jangling bundle that Keith continuously comments on for the amount of charms attached. His keys include the car, the lock to where his small craft is parked and his Garrison locker. This note reads:
- See the world (s)
Lance holds it for a second, his smile now so fixed it actually aches, a phenomenon he didn’t know could actually occur.
“Keith, did I miss something? What’s going on?” he says with a laugh, as he adds this note to the collection and walks into the kitchen.
But Keith is not there, the room is empty, the remnants of last night’s failed attempt at cooking dinner still soaking. Although Lance is a master at dulce de leche, their attempt at risotto had been a disaster when they got distracted and the rice burned.
Attached to the counter is another note:
- Face every challenge
Lance’s laugh echoes through the otherwise silent room and he adds the fourth note to his hand.
“These are too cute babe, I hope you’re not out?” he says, hoping to hear something as he moves from the kitchen into their small living room.
His eyes glance around quickly, and then are caught by another flash of paper on the table. Lance walks over, his smile wobbling a little. The note is laid on top of his notebook from space, containing the list of the things he’s wanted to do. It reads:
- Live out every dream
Lance’s eyes mist again, reaching out to trace the letters in the familiar neat script. He jumps though when he hears a voice.
“In case it isn’t obvious, this is my list of things. Some of the many things I want to do with you for the rest of our lives.”
Keith appears in Lance’s vision, closer than he expects as it’s been so silent all the while. He’s smiling, albeit with a tremor of nerves that Lance recognises despite it’s barely there tell, and in his hands is a box. That box that only ever means one thing, and Lance thinks his airways have given in, his mind lost to the ether when Keith clicks open the box and there it is.
A ring. Slim silver band, three red gems in the centre.
The atmosphere has most definitely lost oxygen as Lance can hear himself struggling to breath, throat clogging he clutches at his chest as if this will help. He’s crying, an unbelievable amount of tears, so much so he’s almost scared he can produce this amount, but he cannot stop. It might be okay though, as even through them he can see Keith’s crying too.
His limbs come online all at once and Lance practically pounces across the gap and throws himself into Keith’s arms. Keith lets of a huff of breath on impact and Lance sobs into his neck.
“I-it’s not even 9am and y-y-you’re PROPOSING and I’m in my pajamas, K-Keith!”
He pulls back, swiping at his leaking eyes as he goes because there is no language fully capable of articulating his swirling torrent of feelings.
Keith is staring at him, those nerves in place, the minimalist tears having stopped for a moment, nothing in comparison to Lance’s flood. Lance reaches up, rests a hand against his cheek and watches as he leans into it. This man, this beautiful soul who he loves beyond the realms of what he ever believed was possible, could ever have imagined would happen to him.
“Yes, Keith. You’re the one I want to experience everything with. Forever.”
And it’s difficult to kiss when you’re both crying so hard but they manage, because the always do. Together, they fight for and gain the impossible, the perfect team in the trivial and death defying, in this world and any other.
(#80 Get married, to the love of my life. To Keith)