Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This is excessive,” Allura says, staring in awe at the array of objects stacked high on the table.

Lance has to agree, marvelling at the vast number of gifts which have been delivered to the castleship, where it had been stationed just outside the latest planet they’ve rescued. He can see with just one glance clothing, jewelry, food, machinery, and other items which he has no word for stacked in a never-ending system.

“It’s so kind of them, but they really don’t need to do this. Some of these planets have almost nothing,” Hunk says, looking down sadly at a platter of small fruits.

Lance nods to himself. This week marks ten months since Voltron began its mission, which seems to mean more in space than it would on Earth. To mark this time, they’ve settled in Juardon, recently freed from Galra control, which is the final planet in the solar system. They insisted on the Paladins staying to mark not only the end of this struggle, but the auspicious date.

With the anniversary, planets far and wide have been sending celebratory gifts addressed to them, an amazingly kind gesture, but one that, much as Hunk says, leaves him feeling uneasy.

For some planets, they’d been able to rebuild swiftly — but others were still finding it hard to stand on their own; either through the devastation the Galra had caused or through the cascade of events in their leaving: such as civil war, military action, and natural disasters. Gifts from planets with precious few resources didn’t sit well with Lance.

Pidge steps up to the table, peering down until her nose almost touches the nearest baskets and boxes. Her hair is growing faster than Lance could believe, as she swipes at it in vain when strands try to interrupt her scrutiny.

It’s strange still for him, how time passes without his notice, how time has flown to a point where they are now set in their roles as protectors of the universe.

“Let’s check who it’s all from. We’ll need to thank them all anyway. We can tell — oh hey, look at this beauty, how are you put together…”

“Aaaaand, we’ve lost her,” Lance says, nudging Hunk, who laughs as Pidge dissolves into pleased noises as she studies what looks to be a bright red, diamond-shaped stone with flecks of gold floating through.

“Pidge, you shouldn’t touch things before knowing what they are,” Shiro says and the look Pidge sends him in return has Lance smiling, reminding him of the Garrison commanders who would dare challenge her math back home.

It feels normal, good. Which is a reassuring sensation since things have hardly felt settled of late with Keith discovering he’s part Galra and taking the Blade of Marmora trial. It’s nice that they have this week to just reflect on what they have achieved, rather than what they’re lacking.

As if left to that train of thought, the spiral is deep and seems infinite, and Lance would like keep himself together right now.

Speaking of Keith…

Lance turns to where he stands slightly away from the group, arms crossed and glaring holes into the gifts — his usual version of Resting Keith Face. Lance has barely seen him these past few days. Allura is obviously still uncomfortable in his presence, although it’s not quite the obvious avoidance after the first announcement. Keith, in turn, is avoiding most of them, although his mission with Hunk seems to have alleviated some of the problems. Hunk is great like that, the best positive reinforcement a person could wish for.

Lance thinks that, aside from Allura, much of it is a projection of Keith’s own feelings on the matter. He’s already the ‘lone wolf’ of the group, but discovering that you’re not only part alien, but the alien race that’s their enemy? That’s hardly going to boost your confidence in socialising. Add that to the whole defenders of the universe pressure, and Lance is surprised all they’ve had so far is Keith being far more aloof than normal and spending way too much time training.

He’d refused a healing pod after the Blade of Marmora incident, and had been pretty cagey on what happened. Mentioned some manner of trial, which has hardly endeared the Blade to them in Lance’s mind. If he looks carefully, he can still see faint blue shadows of bruising on Keith’s skin, stark and deep against the paleness. It makes Lance ache just to see it.

Which it shouldn’t do as Keith is his rival, and annoys the hell out of him most of the time.

It’s just that the other times, the feelings associated with Keith have a way of shifting and morphing into something uncannily familiar, and that in itself makes it terrifying. He knows what is it, what to name and categorise it, but will only hinder their interactions further. Therefore, Lance tries to focus on the annoying parts, the logical parts.

Yet, he can’t help being deeply affected by the memories of battle littered on Keith’s skin.

It does him no favours though, for Keith catches him staring and turns the full force of his Resting Keith Face on him.

“What?” he mouths and Lance is so on the spot at being caught basically scanning Keith for injuries, he simply raise his eyebrows and gives Keith a pointed look.

Of what, he isn’t sure. But it does the trick in making Keith huff and turn away, although the stance of his shoulders locking out makes Lance’s mood drop instantly.

He really needs to learn to deal with this better.

Lance forces himself away from Keith and back into the conversation. Pidge has managed to draw Hunk into her analysis of the diamond object, both of them rattling off words and phrases Lance doesn’t understand, nor is he really that interested in. Shiro, Allura and Coran are debating how they want to proceed with the celebrations and Keith has now, of course, managed to find a wicked looking serrated knife among the artifacts.

Which leaves Lance rather at a loss. Again.

However, he pushes down that tensing of his heart, that malicious little creeping voice which whispers unworthy in his ears. He’s proven his place in the team; he’s their sharpshooter, a position none of the others can fill. He just needs to keep reminding himself of such.

So he walks up to the table himself, between Pidge and Coran. Running his eyes over the goods, he sees a rather spectacular looking cloak haphazardly piled between a vase that looks so delicate, he dares not touch it, and a box of blue-toned dried leaves which might be tea. He’s about to call dibs on the cloak when a hand claps him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and yelp.

He turns to see Allura and Shiro both looking at him with twin expressions of alarm while Coran laughs, as if scaring Lance is the highlight of his day.

“Lance, my boy, we’ve been assigned tracking duty! We should get started on taking note of where each of these gifts come from,” he says, smiling all the while as he pulls out his holoscreen.

Lance’s heart plummets. Admin duty. A step up from cleaning, he supposes, but still, is there nothing else can do but menial tasks? However, before he can protest, Pidge practically bounces up to Coran.

“Me, too! I want to see what tech we’re dealing with, some of this stuff is more advanced than I expected,” she says, arms flying around and almost smacking Lance in the chest.

“Can’t help to have more hands, I suppose,” Shiro agrees, although Lance can see a wariness there. Pidge is hardly known for helping in the correct manner where her technological interests are involved.

“We have a meeting with the planet’s elders in a few moments, anyway. It appears they still have Galra weapons on the East side of the planet, so we may need to help out later today,” Allura says, and Lance nods in tandem with the others, all instantly on alert as Paladins.

Hunk doesn’t need much persuading to join them, intrigued by Pidge’s own theories and aided, Lance likes to think, by his own imploring gaze. Coran begins listing various methods of categorisation they could try from different eras, which Lance half listens to and half lets wash over him, knowing they’ll end up doing this how Pidge wants.

Despite his earlier concerns, he’s now excited for the task ahead. With Coran setting himself up for a long reminiscence, Lance knows this will mainly be down to the three of them. Which suits him well, it’s not often nowadays they actually get to work together like this, more often than not split into different groups. It reminds him of home, of the three of them struggling their way through the Garrison classes, all hopes and dreams of even getting to scrape the edge of what they now experience on a daily basis.

He turns to Pidge and Hunk, grinning, hands on his hips. They both smile back, and he thinks they, too, are excited for the prospect.

“Alrighty, where do we begin!” Lance calls, looking to Pidge.

Pidge casts her eyes across the sprawling mass on the table.

“Let’s split them into tech, weapons, material goods, flora and fauna, and edibles. That’s what I can see so far, anyway. If we find anything else, it can go into miscellaneous for now,” they say.

Lance nods, grabbing his tablet and opening up a new page.

“Okay, I’ll make a sheet with those, and we can list a short description and the name of the planet it’s from. How about that?” he says, the other two nodding in rapid agreement. Lance always was the one who colour-coded his notes in meticulous order. That need to coordinate and plan comes in handy at times.

As Lance adds the finishing touches to his document, he feels Hunk’s stare. He looks up, about to ask if everything is okay, when he realises Hunk is actually looking past him. Lance turns and sees Keith, standing awkwardly by the door, eyes flickering back between them and where Shiro and Allura are preparing to leave. Coran has mysteriously vanished. Typical.

“Keith, buddy, you wanna help out?” Hunk calls, voice all light and friendly.

Keith jerks as if not expecting the summons. He takes one step forward, looks back towards Shiro and Allura, then hesitates. He shakes his head.

“No, I think I’ll go train for a while,” he says, eyes not meeting theirs.

“Okay, well, when you’re done, we’ll probably still be working on this, so feel free to join us!” Hunk says, making an obvious effort to keep his tone the same, even though Lance can see him deflating.

Keith nods, then turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. Hunk sighs. Lance leans over and clasps him on the shoulder.

“You can’t make him join us, man. It was nice to ask,” Lance says, before moving back to the table. Hunk follows with a grumble.

“I know, but I just… wanna make sure he knows he can,” Hunk says, looking back at the door.

Lance understands that, for as annoying as Keith is, it’s clear he’s finding it hard to know where his place is right now. And if anyone can relate to that, it’s Lance. But they can’t force Keith to do anything; he has to come willingly.

“I’m sure he does. Plus, if training makes him less of an asshole when he does join us, all the better,” Lance says, for Keith is most definitely still an asshole, even if he’s an asshole that needs support right now.

“You’re not fooling anyone, Lance,” Pidge states as she arrives next to him, holoscreen in hand.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lance says, a flush creeping up his neck that he wishes could be better hidden by his casual clothing.

Pidge, however, just rolls her eyes and gestures to the table.

“Let’s get going. I want to see what we’ve got here!”

And with that, Lance pushes all thoughts of Keith out of his mind, focusing on the task at hand.

When Keith does reappear over an hour later, Shiro and Allura are still not back, Coran is as missing as ever, and Lance can say they have made… some progress.

It’s hard to stay on track when there are so many incredible artifacts. A sword of obsidian with a pearl encrusted guard, which somehow still feels comfortable to the touch. A series of wires connect to a thin sheet of what appears to be glass — but after tests, is certainly not — has Pidge fascinated for twenty minutes. There’s a miniature working rocket with a fuel Hunk can’t identify, which, of course, bothers him immensely. And many types of clothing and jewelry, all of different styles and extravagance.

So perhaps they warrant the judgmental glare Keith bestows upon them when he enters to find Pidge draped in a sea of gold chains, Hunk wearing a silk flower encrusted top hat, and Lance in the cape.

“Really?” he says and Lance dramatically flips his cape over his body at Keith’s entrance.

“Should have known you’d never appreciate style, Mullet,” Lance says with a huff and Keith wrinkles his nose in response.

“Hey, man, wanna work on the flora? There’s a lot of plant life we haven’t started on yet,” Hunk says in greeting, pointing to where Lance has been sorting through a box of silverware that’s more opalescent than anything else.

Keith nods at Hunk, and ignores Lance as he makes his way over to the aforementioned area. Lance makes a face at his back as Keith appraises the plant life, and Lance cannot help but notice his hair is slightly damp, hanging heavy and clumped as it dries. He watches, half hypnotised, as a bead of water collects at the end of one particular strand near the base of his neck. Lance waits almost on edge for it’s inevitable progress, watches the water collate, expand, and finally-

Drop.

Hits just below where his black t-shirt begins, coating the pale skin of his neck in moisture.

Lance licks his lips.

Then, with an almighty slam of reality, Lance realises what he’s doing.

There’s not even a shadow of a doubt of how much Lance was just checking Keith out. He winces, tearing his eyes away from Keith’s slightly hunched frame in case his eyes wander and thoughts fly to any further unexpected places.

Okay. So. Calm down. Lance inhales and exhales, focuses his eyes on the box of cutlery before him. It’s not the first time he’s found himself enticed by his teammate, not the first time he’s been unable to help notice just how attractive Keith is. It’s just becoming more frequent and harder to ignore, what with his close proximity and perchance for doing things that keep Lance’s focus on him so exclusively.

Amazing reflexes. Pure, cool control in the flying of his lion. Sweeping his hair dramatically out of his face. Pouting when Shiro makes them run drills late into the evening. Eating food goo and the way his nose crinkles as he tries to keep a straight face. Pretty much just exist-

“Arrgggg,” Lance cries before he can stop himself, having to vocalise his need for his mind to stop.

Keith spins around with potted plant in his hand, eyes wide and peering at Lance.

“What’s wrong?” he says, voice all Red Paladin, ready for action.

Lance opens his mouth and closes it in a gaping motion, for he has no idea how to cover up his thoughts. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t need to, for he is suddenly startled by what’s before him.

“Whoa, giant bug!” Lance yells, pointing to where said creature is hanging off the plant in Keith’s hands.

“Bug!” Hunk and Pidge cry in unison, one in fascination, one in slight disgust. Funnily enough, it’s Pidge whose voice is of the squeamish tone; she is far more comfortable with machines than crawling beasties.

Lance stands as Hunk comes over, and Keith turns the plant to face him. It has wide, midnight blue leaves and tiny pink flowers that remind Lance of snapdragons. And off one leaf hangs a thin torso of a cream-coloured insect with four spindly legs that seem to somehow be able to keep it upright. It has an almost square head with no obvious eyes or mouth, which makes Lance wary. He’s pretty neutral about bugs, doesn’t shy away, but isn’t eager for a closer look.

So he cannot help but yell when the thing launches itself onto Keith.

Hunk is obviously not expecting it either, for he joins in Lance’s cry, jumping backwards. Keith, however, freezes, eyes going wide as the thing lands on his bare arm. That is, for only a second before he, too, yells and drops the plant, the pot which was holding it smashing on impact with the castle floor.

Lance doesn’t hesitate; he runs over to where Keith is now hunched over, grabbing onto his arm. There’s no question of what just occurred, so Lance situates himself firmly in front of him and grips onto his elbows, providing support and anchoring.

“Keith? Buddy, did it sting? Bite? You okay?” Lance says, keeping his voice steady, years of helping out with younger nieces and nephews getting bitten by bugs of all varieties making this almost routine.

“Bitten. Shit, that hurt, I don’t know where it we-”

Keith looks up and just stops. That’s all Lance can describe it as. His mouth ceases forming words, his eyes lock onto Lance’s and his body freezes. Lance is caught in his stare, and for a moment, he thinks he sees Keith’s eyes change colour; just a film of something light sweeping across, making the violet almost dark magenta in Lance’s vision.

Keith blinks, though, and it’s gone —a nd with it, Keith straightens and shakes his head. Lance lets go of his elbows slowly, still not sure what he’s just seen.

“There you are, you little bastard!”

Lance spins to see Pidge holding a glass tube at arm’s length, scowling deeply at the cream-coloured bug encased within, it’s legs moving up and down the glass.

“Where did it get you?” Hunk says cautiously, moving to stand next to Keith. Lance flinches when he sees the bite on Keith’s arm, a dark raised mark already appearing, much like a mosquito bite.

“We should see if Coran has some age old cure for this. Not like we have Tiger Balm in space,” Lance says, before moving towards the door.

“Wait, no, don’t go!”

All three of them slowly shift to look at Keith, matching expressions of confusion on their faces. For Keith’s cry is almost scared, if that’s the right sentiment, something in the tone and swiftness of delivery that speaks of urgency.

An urgency to keep Lance in the room.

“You okay, buddy?” Lance says carefully as he steps back, Hunk looking equally as perplexed on Keith’s other side.

Keith blinks, then looks away, running a hand through his hair.

“Y-yeah. Sorry. I just don’t think it’s worth it. It’s just a bug bite,” he says with a shrug.

“Just an alien bug bite,” Pidge says with emphasis, glaring again at the captured creature. Lance had forgotten just how much she disliked insects, having hardly seen any since they traveled to space.

“Let’s just clean this up before we do. I’m sure it will go down in no time. I’m fine, seriously,” Keith says, before dropping to the floor and starting to collect up the pieces of shattered plant pot.

Lance looks between his friends who send him similar shrugs in response. They all know there is not much which can be done when Keith decides on something, so while Pidge stows the bug away, Hunk and Lance help Keith clear up the mess, and find something to replant it in. Hunk checks it carefully and declares there are no more creatures living in it, much to their collective relief.

However, any further plans are halted when Shiro and Allura return.

“Paladins, we have a task!” Allura calls as she enters, and immediately they are focused on their roles, moving into a circle around her.

“It appears that the Galra were testing mines in the East of the planet. Although it originally seemed as if they’d cleared the area on hearing of our arrival, a patrol stumbled upon an unexploded one two days ago. I’ve offered out assistance, since we should be able to find and disable them with our equipment,” she explains.

Pidge nods. “I have something that Green can use to scan the area. I can get it up and running pretty quickly,” she says, and Allura smiles.

“Keith, your lion is the most agile, so it will be the best suited for the conditions,” Shiro says, and Keith stands straighter in acknowledgement of his role.

Shiro smiles, then begins again. “With the two of you covering this, we should be fine. Once Pidge-”

“Lance is the sharpshooter. He’ll be able to set them off best at a distance. He should come, too,” Keith says, causing the entire room to go silent.

Initially, Lance’s mind can’t comprehend what’s happened. For Keith is not only asking for Lance to be part of the mission, but interrupted Shiro to do so. The entire room is now staring between the two of them, but Keith still looks resolute in his decisions, so Lance has no choice but to step up, despite the strangeness.

“Ahh, yeah! Sharpshooter, here! All set and ready to go,” he says, winking in Allura’s direction as he does.

It seems to diffuse the tension as she sighs at that before nodding.

“Okay, the three of you should head out as soon as Pidge is ready.”

With that, they are dismissed, and Lance tries to steer himself to focus on the mission, and not on whatever is going on with Keith.

“I’m just saying, it’s weird,” Pidge says over their comms channel as they watch Keith fly through the dense forest area, maneuvering carefully and clearing a path for them as he does.

Turns out that, thankfully, there are only three mines left. They’ve made quick work of the first two, with Pidge tracking the location, Keith clearing the area, and Lance setting them off in a controlled blast zone created by Pidge, similar to their shielding technology. The final one is in the deepest section of the forest, so it’s taking Keith a while to reach it.

Which has left Pidge with time to start thinking. Never a good sign when Lance’s life is her focus. 

“Weird that I am literally the only one whose a sniper and he suggests I come on a mission where you need a sniper,” Lance says into the comms as they follow Red through the cleared area.

“No, but the way he said it. And when he freaked out at you leaving the room. I think the bug did something,” Pidge says.

Honestly, Lance is thinking the same, but it’s hard to correlate exactly what that something is and how a bug could be the cause. Sure, they’ve seen some strange and, quite frankly, disturbing things since appearing in space, but being bitten by a bug causing Keith to…

To what? Value Lance’s presence?

The thought makes his stomach dip and something hollow out within. A bug that makes Keith finally appreciate his existence, when Lance can barely stop thinking about him? A horrible twist of fate. And also terribly unlikely, for how can that even occur?

There must be something else happening, or even nothing at all.

“We should tell the others when we get back, though. I’m not saying I agree with you, but Keith still got bitten by an alien bug,” Lance says into the comms.

“Okay, last one is ready.”

Keith’s voice in the joint channel has him jolting in his seat. Green flies forward as Lance slows Blue, and he watches as the controlled zone is lowered to where the mine sits.

“All yours, Sharpshooter,” Pidge calls, and Lance rolls his eyes as he stands, moving his way through his lion and into Blue’s mouth.

His bayard at the ready, Lance exhales once before setting up. He widens his eyes, takes in the area and just allows the moment to catch him. No panicking, no disturbances, nothing but the target. His breathing seems to slow, times seems under his control, and all in the world feels balanced. And with that, he pulls the trigger.

The explosion is immense.

Lance is flung from his lion with the reverberations, his comms going haywire with both Pidge and Keith’s voices ringing in his ears. It’s hot, that first step out of the doorway in the height of summer, humidity and pure heat encompassing him. And joining this, the impact of the fall, his head rattling inside his helmet as he hits the ground, teeth biting into his lip and mouth pooling with blood. Lance feels his knee and arm in particular throb with muted pain, and he groans.

“Lance? Damn it, I’m coming!”

“Urg, Keith, I’m okay,” Lance says into the comms as he opens his eyes.

His vision swims for a moment, but soon enough, the world comes into focus. Lance winces and carefully pulls himself into a seated position, taking in the destruction. All around are fallen branches, charred earth and pieces of brush still smoking.

“Pidge?” he says, voice hoarse and breaking, a cough escaping.

“Lance, don’t move, I’m coming!” Keith’s voice is his answer, frantic and high, much like it had been back when he’d asked Lance not to leave.

“That mine was different from the others, it ripped through the barrier. Lance I’m so so-”

But Pidge’s apology is lost on Lance as a family figure in red and white suddenly lands onto the ground before him and grabs at the release on his helmet, effectively cutting off the comms connection.

The harsh light of the afternoon hits his eyes and Lance winces again as Keith pulls off his helmet. They fill with moisture and Lance has to blink himself free of tears as the world blurs and clears. But even through the haze, he is still hyper aware when Keith carefully cups his face between his gloved hands.

Lance’s whole world skids to a halt. For Keith is so close to him, his own helmet apparently discarded somewhere, his eyes scanning across Lance’s face before meeting his stare directly, blinking and puzzled.

And Lance notices his eyes are magenta once more, flashing in the sunlight, leaning more towards pink than purple.

“You’re hurt,” Keith says, his hand curving around and downwards slightly so his thumb gentle rubs near Lance’s split lip. Lance hisses, trying to pull away from the contact as, even though barely a press to his skin, the touch sends a searing burn through the wound.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Keith says, hand withdrawing back to higher on his cheek and eyes falling as he feels the pain Lance is in.

“Okay,” Lance says with a vibrating breath, as his body and mind seem to now be able to catch up with the fact he’s just been in a mild explosion.

Keith’s smile dampers, though, the shockwaves coursing, the upturn of Keith’s mouth such a rare thing that it has Lance wanting to copy the motion, even if it pulls at his wound. The smile makes Keith’s entire face change, lifts some of the near constant shadows and creases that seem to make their home there.

Slowly, Keith removes one hand and carefully pulls Lance forward, the other still resting on his cheek and moving closer to his neck. Before Lance can really take stock of what’s happening, he’s brought forward fully into Keith’s arms.

Keith is hugging him. Hugging. Him. And not just a quick circling of arms, but a full embrace, tipping his head to one side to repeat his previous words directly into Lance’s ear.

“I’ve got you.”

Lance freezes in complete incomprehension. Keith, however, doesn’t seem to mind, the thumb on his neck making comforting circles against his skin. Lance swallows, then looks up to see Pidge, out of her Lion and staring at them.

Her eyes meet Lance’s and her face moves into a wry grin. She tosses her head once before mouthing one single word.

“Bug.”

It looks as if Lance was wrong. There is most definitely something strange going on.

Chapter Text

Keith is unduly concerned for his welfare, as it takes a few minutes of persuading to convince him to let go of Lance and allow him to fly his lion unassisted. Keith is at Lance’s side, Pidge across from both of them, causing the lack of space between them to seem even more obvious.

“Keith, seriously, I can fly. It’s not far, I don’t need you to baby me,” Lance says, losing his temper slightly.

Keith blinks, then moves closer to touch Lance’s arm, cupping his bicep. Lance feels the heat of the touch spread up his arm, even through his Paladin suit.

“I’m not. I know you’re perfectly capable. We just need to make sure you’re okay,” he says, and for some reason, this is even weirder than the hugging.

So he pulls back, making sure to release his arm from Keith’s grasp as he turns and stomps back to his lion. He ignores the sound of protest that comes from Keith at the action.

“I’m fine, let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder, and hears the familiar sound of boots on the ground as the others follow.

He’s half expecting Keith to hold him up before he can even make it to Blue, but there’s no cry to halt or pull from behind. So they leave the planet without further delay, Keith steaming ahead in Red and Pidge relaying their experiences over the comms.

Lance sags in his chair, head pounding and ears ringing still from the explosion. He’s quite banged up, more so than he wants to admit on the surface. He knows Pidge feels bad, blames herself for his pains, when they truly hadn’t known what would happen. And Keith’s worrying is distracting as hell.

Pidge is right; it has to be the bug.

He’ll admit, it’s strange; but it fits with all the bizarre things they’ve seen so far in their time as Paladins, so why not?

Keith isn’t acting like himself, that’s for sure. As much as it pains him to admit it, as much as his mind has occasionally drifted into an alternate reality where Keith is concerned for his welfare in more than a general teammate sense, the real Keith isn’t like that, and voluntarily initiating contact proves this with even more clarity.

There’s the flash of colour in his eyes, too, that magenta hue which seems to appear each time he acts out of character. It all began with bug, so that must be their next step in figuring out the change, as well as how to fix it. At least then, things will make sense once more, and his heart and mind will stop leaning towards hopeful daydreams that will never be.

The three make it back to the castle with no problems, and Lance is greeted by the rest of the team as he steps carefully from his lion.

“Lance, Pidge told us what happened. Are you okay?” Shiro asks as he removes his helmet. Their team leader’s eyes fixate on his busted lip and rapidly bruising face.

“I’m okay, a bit banged up, but all good,” he says, smiling at Shiro, then wincing as it pulls at the cut on his lip.

There’s a scoff and Lance internally braces himself and sees Pidge’s eyes narrow into analysis mode as Keith moves forward.

“You’re not, I can see the bruises on your head, and you fell pretty hard. He needs a healing pod,” Keith says, and once again his arm is placed on Lance’s bicep, this time in an attempt to pull him along.

As much as this irritates him, Lance doesn’t want to make a scene, not in front of everyone and also as Keith looks… unhappy. Or at least somewhat off kilter, eyes drawn tight and face a little paler than usual. Had he looked unwell on the planet? Lance doesn’t recall, too caught up by the events.

So Lance laughs, although it’s a little high and strained, but this time does not break free of Keith’s grip.

“I’m not that bad, buddy. But, how about a sit down? I could use that,” Lance says, giving Pidge a meaningful glance as he does, and she nods resolutely in reply.

Keith though takes Lance’s words to heart, and begins leading him out of the room, keeping up a fearsome pace, but never truly tightening his grip on Lance’s arm. It’s more of a strong guide than the forceful drag Lance was expecting from Keith. He also seems calmer now than he was a moment ago, some of the drawn look already seeping away. There’s no hint of the pinkish tinge to his eyes either, so Lance wonders again if it is real, if he’s not just imagining these strange symptoms on Keith.

But as they make it to the kitchen, the group trailing behind, Lance is once again reminded of why this is all so abnormal. For Keith does let go as they arrive, once Lance has reached his customary chair, but only to fetch him a water pouch and one of the closest things to energy bars they’ve found in space, on a planet they visited almost two months back.

He’s given him the red one. His favourite flavour.

Lance swallows hard, not really noticing how the rest of the team file in until they are all seated, and Keith is pushing the water closer to him, encouraging him to drink. It must have been a lucky guess with the bar, but Lance feels strangely touched. He jumps as there’s a scraping sound, Keith pulling his chair closer to Lance, eyeing him expectantly. Lance rolls his eyes and opens the water, trying not to notice that with Keith’s new proximity, their arms brush as he lifts it to his mouth.

“There’s something up with Keith, and it’s all thanks to this bastard,” Pidge says with zero preamble and slamming the encased bug into the centre of the table.

Lance chokes on his water at the abruptness, and Keith immediately clutches at him, patting his back heartily but keeping one arm around him. Allura peers at the bug curiously, watching it twitch a little where it’s been rattled by Pidge. Hunk makes a cooing sound at it, which even Lance finds disturbing, while Shiro tilts ever so slightly backwards and Coran forward.

“What? Pidge, there’s nothing wrong with me?" Keith says in annoyance.

“Then why are you hugging Lance like that?” she replies without missing a beat.

Keith seems to freeze as she speaks, his arm tightening over Lance as all eyes focus on them. Lance isn’t exactly pleased with the scrutiny, so he waves his hand with a smile to undermine any of the attention. As he does, Keith slowly pulls away, hand sliding down his back before it falls to his side.

“Just making sure he’s okay since he was blown up less than half an hour ago,” Keith says through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Pidge, however, completely ignores the warning. “What, by cuddling him?”

“Alright!” Shiro says, stepping in before anything else can be exchanged, knowing by now that when Pidge and Keith took on those roles, they were seconds away from a full blown argument.

“What does a bug have to do with any of this?” he asks, looking around the room.

“Keith was bitten by one earlier. It was on the plant we received from Lymediam,” Hunk says, Lance unsurprised his best friend is the one to crack.

Shiro turns abruptly to look at Keith in a mixture of surprise and concern, while Allura stands, eyes serious. Lance winces for he knows even before she speaks what she’ll say.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Her voice cuts like frost in the dawn, crisp and biting. Pidge winces and Shiro turns as if to say something when Keith stands, too. He pulls off his armor piece by piece in the silence that follows, and then rolls up his sleeve to his elbow.

“Because it’s just a bug bite. See?” he says, as they all crane forward to catch site of his arm. For he is correct, the mark is now barely visible, far less angry than before.

Keith pulls his sleeve back down and turns to survey each one of them.

“And none of you seem to be listening to me when I say Lance is hurt and needs a healing pod. Why are you so obsessed with a bug bite when one of us got caught in an explosion?”

The whole room is silent, their faces a mixture between abashed, stricken, and thoughtful. Lance feels his face colour, halfway through eating his energy bar as Keith once again focuses on him.

“Really, I am okay, and Keith got bitten by a weird alien bug so-”

“Keith’s right.”

Allura’s voice cuts through Lance’s ramblings, and everyone starts at the declaration. For it’s one of the few times of late in which The Princess has acknowledged the Red Paladin, let alone agreed with him. Allura takes in their expressions and sighs.

“Lance, let’s get you into a pod. And then we will look into this bug as who knows what could be happening to you,” she adds, much to Keith’s obvious chagrin.

But the signal is all Keith needs to hoist Lance up, and drag him towards the pods, Coran leading the way. Lance splutters and protests halfheartedly, but more out of duty than of real aggravation. His headache is building, his limbs feel heavy, and the idea of just getting these random aches and pains removed is one he’s all for.

Keith sighs as they walk down the corridor, and wraps an arm around Lance, who stumbles over his own feet as they continue their pace.

“I can see you feeling worse, why didn’t you just say?” Keith mutters crossly almost into his hair as he leads around a curve and towards the doors. Lance tries not to shiver at the feel of Keith talking softly in such close proximity, even if the tone is one of annoyance.

“How do you even know?” Lance says in a tone that is not a whine, no matter what it may sound like.

They reach the doors and there’s a break as Keith lets go of Lance so he can take off his armor and change into the usual white suit. Lance finds himself breathing heavily as he does, finally noticing an array of angry scalding burns dotted down his right arm, as well as bruising forming on his side. He’s certainly more injured than he feels, and knows it’s only a matter of time before it crashes down on him. He’s used to his own adrenaline cycle now.

Coran makes his way over to a pod, Keith standing as a sentry beside it.  The familiar whir of the start up echoes around them, Lance bracing himself for the frozen isolation that is the healing pod. It works, and the results are definitely worth the effort but…

Being encased in a cold, small space for an unknown amount of time is unpleasant, to say the least, fires up some part of his flight or flight senses that warns him he’ll be trapped, it will malfunction, he’ll drown in the cold that seeps through his lungs and bones seconds before he loses consciousness.

“Because you always hold yourself hunched when you’re hurt, and you tap your fingers on your left hand to distract yourself,” Keith says, as Coran moves aside and Lance steps up to the pod.

Lance’s body continues moving automatically, walking inside and turning so he’s facing outward. His mind, however, is hazy, that feel of awakening in the middle of the night, disassociated with reality and slowed to the barest of sensation.

As if a continuation of a dream, Keith reaches out and gently cups Lance’s face, a soft touch of his bare hand warm against his skin. Then, he steps back and the door of the pod slides shut with a click. Lance’s heart rockets into action, his breath choking him at the suddenness of it, how unprepared he is to be so fiercely contained. Without thinking, he reaches forward, his palm thudding against the glass as the temperature begins to drop.

His mind starts to fade as the healing cycle begins, but the last thing he sees as his eyes flicker shut is a hand reaching out on the other side, touching palm to palm through the glass.

His senses kick in as he falls, the swoop of his stomach and the spike of muted terror as gravity unabashedly makes itself known. However, like all the times so far Lance has exited a healing pod, there’s someone there to catch him.

He privately fears the day only the ground is there to meet him, when they forget his existence for something far more important.

He’s enveloped in warmth that he cannot help but sigh into, needing the heat after the frigid tube, and the person seems happy to oblige. In the shadows of waking, he’s half dragged somewhere, his body eventually being laid horizontal. The warmth does not vanish though, which his fuzzy mind supplies means he’s either been caught by Hunk or Allura, as his best friend tended to worry constantly and stay with him, while Allura is convinced their fragile human bodies must be on the verge of collapse every time they exit a healing pod. Apparently, Alteans are more than capable of stepping out as if nothing is amiss, so she panics whenever she’s on pod duty.

That time she effortlessly carried Shiro to his room, remarking on just how flimsy humans were, was one he will always remember.

Hands start stroking through his hair, and he knows then it must be Hunk for them to be taking this much care. Lance stretches, eyes still closed, wanting more than anything to give into the comfort rather than wake up like he knows he must.

Well… he can wake up slowly, anyway. His best friend won’t begrudge him if he naps for a little while longer.

It’s a series of hazy, half recollections after that, muffled voices and the ever present warmth for the time as he knows it. But eventually, his body and mind restart fully, and Lance knows he’s been indulged for far too long.

“How long was I out?” he mutters, voice sandpaper rough as he stretches his legs and feels the burn of his muscles as they engage.

“Nearly five hours. You had a bad concussion and the beginnings of internal bleeding. So, I was right.”

Lance’s whole body goes rigid at the sound of that voice, the lilt and timbre unexpected, the ending sentence just on the edge of smug. For it is most certainly not the person he imagined it to be.

Cautiously, as if by being on guard he can change the outcome, Lance opens his eyes. His vision swims for a moment, but clears to see Keith’s face, peering down at him with the smirk he’s familiar with, but an unexpected edge of care to his face. Lance’s eyes follow, body still frozen, as his hand reaches down and smooths at his hair, thumb caressing the skin next to his ear as he does.

Lance’s eyes flutter as the touch sends a soothing flood of relaxing warmth through him. But he snaps them open with force once again, needing his traitorous mind and body to focus on what’s happening.

“And… you’ve been here,” Lance says, tripping over each word.

Keith frowns, a fleeting look of hurt crossing his face.

“Of course, I needed to make sure you were healed,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Yet it is not, for Keith never really sticks around when one of the team is hurt, and is quick to dismiss them when it’s him suffering from injury. He hovers awkwardly in the background, or stumbles to his room after Shiro’s determined he is genuinely on the mend.  So to see him here, with Lance, keeping him-

Lance’s brain completely gives up as he realises from their positions that he must have his head in Keith’s lap. He’s lying in Keith’s lap .

This can’t be real.

“Did you know your drool in your sleep?” Keith says suddenly, peering down at Lance, eyes light with that magenta tone seeping through.

Lance’s mouth drops open and he sits up swiftly, Keith just about moving out of the way to avoid their heads slamming together.

“I do not, Mullet, stop trying to besmirch my good name!” Lance says indignantly, swiping at Keith’s shoulder.

Keith laughs, bold and full before smirking at him. The reaction has Lance’s insides twisting and swooping in a freefall, eyes widening as Keith leans in so their foreheads are not quite touching, but personal space is no longer valid.

“What good name? You’ve been drooling on my leg for the past 30 minutes,” Keith says tilting his head to one side as he stares back at Lance with his half smile growing with each word.

Lance’s voice fails him and a series of clicking sounds erupt from his mouth as his face begins to heat. For Keith is teasing, and it’s setting him so off kilter he may as well be falling flat on his face.

It’s… well it’s flirting, there’s no other term. And Keith is good at this, for Lance is left with no comeback or retaliation, just an empty mind and eyes focused on that smile. Keith shakes his head though, breaking the spell somewhat.

“I’m joking, Lance. You’re fine. You have been pretty drowsy though,” Keith says, dialing down the provocation, which Lance is a little disappointed at, but also grateful for. He’s not sure what he’d prefer more.

Keith sighs once, smile falling, and before Lance can catch up, he’s being pulled into a hug. It’s only for a moment though, one tight squeeze around his shoulders before Keith pulls back again, keeping his hands attached to look at Lance as he does.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Lance,” he says, all sincerity and hopefulness.

Lance feels himself starting to flush once again; this sweet Keith is almost as powerful as flirty Keith, not to mention the hugs are beginning to grow on him. He can probably count the physical affection he’s received from Keith on one hand, and until now, none of them were hugs.

It’s apparent, though, that Keith is good at hugs. Not on Hunk’s level of expertise, but he’s definitely high on Lance’s list of memorable hugs, with the way he always pulls Lance in, as if he cannot wait to give the embrace and receive one in return. His arms are hesitant around Lance each time, but more as if he’s not sure he’s doing it right, testing it out before he commits to the press. Which, when he does, is always the right pressure, making Lance feel held, strong, and secure, a comfort however fleeting.

Or it may just be that he’s so gone for Keith that any scrap of affection is hyper analysed by his mind. But Lance tries to push that thought away for now.

“I’m good, buddy. Just tired,” he says, glad his voice is stable despite how shaky he feels.

Keith nods, then suddenly stands from the sofa.

“You should eat. Pidge said we should join them all on the bridge when we’re ready,” he says, looking towards the door.

Lance vaguely recalls the voices and groans, head falling into his hands at Keith’s words.

“Pidge… saw,” he utters, knowing he’ll never hear the end of this.

There’s a warm touch to his shoulder, and he drops his hands to see Keith looking down at him.

“She was worried, she’s still blaming herself for what happened,” he explains and Lance feels his heart drop a little. Pidge is quickly becoming like a younger sister to him, and he knows how much all the team mean to her, even if she isn’t great at expressing it.

“Better go show them I’m back to my fabulous self, then,” he says, unable to stop himself from winking at Keith as he does.

Keith rolls his eyes, but the hand on his shoulder departs, only for it to be offered before him. Lance looks between Keith and his outstretched hand twice before taking it and standing, not really needing the extra leverage, but enjoying the contact all the same.

Keith tugs on his hand and offers him a smile as they walk to the door, hands only dropping as they enter the corridor. Lance flicks his eyes to him, taking in his stance as they make their way to the bridge.

He’s acting weird. Lance is loath to admit it, having indulged in these passing moments together, but this isn’t Keith. Or at least, not a Keith he’s seen anyway. There are some parts, though, that seem familiar; the twist of his smile even if now it’s a little brighter, the small hesitation before touching even if now he follows through, and the teasing yet caring tone in his voice is exactly the same, just more obvious and frequent.

So, not entirely a stranger, but different enough to cause him pause.

As Lance enters the bridge, a chorus of shouts reach his ears. He grins as the team approach, Pidge the fastest of all. Lance braces himself as she dives forward and brings them into a hug.

“Sorry. I really didn’t know that mine would be any different, and I didn’t realise how hurt you were,” she says, voice muffled into Lance’s chest.

He chuckles. “All good, Pidgey, I’m right as rain now. All the better after my beauty rest,” he says, lifting his head and grinning at the rest of the team as he speaks.

“Beauty rest or Keith rest,” Pidge says, and Lance immediately jams his fingers into her ribs as a tickle attack, even if the words were too quiet for anyone else to hear. Pidge moves away with a yelp, but her scheming means she’s feeling reassured, so he’ll take it for now.

Hunk sweeps him into a hug next, confirming that, while Keith is trying his best, Hunk is still the master of hugs. Shiro sends him a warming smile, and Allura appears before him with a holoscreen, going through her list of ‘are the breakable humans okay’ before she, too, gives him a quick hug.

“Now that we’re happy Lance is back to normal, let’s talk about Keith,” Pidge says, cutting swiftly to the chase.

Keith starts, eyes darting around. Lance slides to stand next to him, almost wanting to put a calming hand on his back in reassurance, but refrains.

“I told you all, I’m fine,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“But, you’re not,” Pidge challenges, then turns and starts up the holoscreens on the deck, obviously having planned this in advance.

“I sent a message to Lymediam with an image of the bug. They won’t be here for a few days, but apologised profusely for the problem, and sent me their archives on the insect. It’s a common pest on their world, and the side effects of the bite are well known. I ran their documents through our translator so we have a complete picture of what we’re dealing with,” she says, lines of unidentified symbols of what must be the alien language appearing on screen.

“Which is?” Shiro says, his tone a little impatient. Pidge sends him an apologetic look before turning back to Keith and, strangely, Lance as well. Her expression morphs into one of glee, which has Lance bracing himself as she speaks.

“The bite injects a venom, which mingles with chemicals in the body. It… alters them, at least that seems to be the translation, it’s having trouble with human biology. Anyway, this changes the chemical makeup in the body and essentially seems to mimic dopamine and serotonin. So, it creates feelings like love for first person the bitten sees. Which was Lance,” she says, her smile growing as she speaks.

Even though Lance is ready, he is still by no means ready for this.

It seems no one is as the whole room bursts into chatter at Pidge’s revelation. Within the chaos, Lance finds himself staring at Keith, whose hands are now clenched into fists by his sides, pale face turned flushed.

“That is not what’s happening!” he says finally, body shaking with an emotion that could be something between anger and embarrassment, but Lance isn’t entirely sure.

“It explains why you two are so… cuddly. It’s the love bug,” Hunk says, trailing off into a quiet mutter of the final sentence when Lance sends him a sharp glare. He can see Keith becoming more and more uncomfortable as the conversation continues, and honestly, Lance is feeling similarly.

He knows Keith has been acting strangely, admitted as much to Pidge, but it’s still a punch in the gut to hear for certain that this is all the cause of an alien toxin running through Keith’s system. Once again, the universe toying with him, bringing him his long term crush’s affection and care when he’s been poisoned.

He’s shaken from his stupor when Keith touches his arm, just a brush of fingers sweeping downwards. He meets the fuschia-tinged eyes and feels his heart sink even further, even as Keith begins to speak.

“Lance, it’s not a bug bite making me… I know this seems strange b-”

And Lance has to cut him off. Has to, for he can feel Keith’s words spinning in a lie created by venom and cream-coloured bugs; and while he can sympathise, he is the one with his feelings being toyed with, even if it isn’t Keith fault.

So he steps out of his grasp, backing away.

“Look, man, I saw you get bitten and you’ve been acting weird. It’s okay, Keith, don’t pretend it’s anything else. You don’t really wanna be hugging me, buddy,” he says trying to turn it into a laugh, only just succeeding.

Keith’s eyes flash red. It’s only for a second, and Lance almost thinks he imagines it, the brilliant brightness bleeding into his irises, only to dilute a second later and return to the usual purple-grey. His posture, though, is still, arms coming back to fold over himself, closing himself off from the rest of them.

“Fine. If you don’t want that, I won’t come near you,” he says through gritted teeth, marching away and out of the room before any of them have a chance to stop him.

There’s silence in the wake of his departure and Lance closes his eyes in frustration, hands coming to scrunch at his hair as he turns on his feet in a circle, just to find comfort in motion.

“I’ll give him a few minutes, then go try to talk to him,” Shiro decides, and Lance sends him a grateful look, which he returns with a fond smile.

“Don’t worry, Lance, it isn’t your fault. He’s clearly not himself. Pidge, do you have more information?”

She shakes her head, brow furrowed in obvious concern as she scans through the screens.

“I’m still waiting for it to translate the full list of symptoms and experiences others have, but there isn’t a cure. It just wears off after a couple of days, so he’ll be fine. We just need to keep an eye on him. The program should be finished with the files in the next few ho- vargas,” she says.

Hunk claps Lance on the back before leading him slowly towards the exit.

“I saved you some lunch, buddy, since you must be hungry,” he says, obviously as both a distraction and a comfort.

And Lance will take it, so he nods and goes along. Anything to ease the burning bile of guilt and concern for Keith.

However, despite Shiro’s aims, once enough time has passed for Keith to, in theory, have cooled off, he is nowhere to be found. Not in his room, not training, not eating or in the common area.

“If I can’t find him, he doesn’t want to be found. Just give him time,” Shiro assures when Hunk asks where they should look next.

Lance feels awful as they sit down to dinner minus one key member of the team. They’ve all missed meals before for various reasons, but the events of the past day mean the empty chair has its own spotlight. Lance pushes food around his plate, even though he knows he’s starving, the healing pod taking its toll.

He just doesn’t feel right eating without Keith there.

But through his own hunger and the team’s glares and pointed words, he makes it through the meal, and soon after that, finds himself wrapped up in his bed, mind spinning rapidly on its way to powering down. Although he rested earlier, his body still needs time, and he can feel sleep pushing down on his limbs.

Unwarranted, memories of his nap this afternoon flood back.

Lance groans and turns over, jamming his head into the pillow. This is not going to help him sleep, but he cannot get it out of his mind just how comfortable he’d been resting on Keith. And just how comfortable Keith seemed with him being there.

This was all apparently down to an alien bug, which is why Lance should not be focussing on these memories and should be trying to sleep. Keith will ride out the effects and everything will go back to normal. No more naps on Keith’s lap, no more Keith’s hand in his hair, no more impromptu hugs…

None of this is helping as it’s just making Lance more miserable. He’s had barely a few hours glimpsing what it’s like to have Keith close to him in this way, to create their own space and see him enjoying contact. Keith is like a testy cat usually, one touch, maybe two, and then he’s hissing and spitting away. But Keith now welcomes Lance in, prefers being together over being apart.

And the fact that it’s so artificial and Lance is longing for it, makes him feel even worse. Like he’s taking advantage, for he knows the real Keith doesn’t want this, could never want this. But he cannot stop himself, can’t bring his mind not to play on repeat the smiles and the feel of Keith's hands in his hair.

So Lance turns up the music in his headphones and forces his mind to run away with the beat until he’s finally able to flow away into slumber.

Keith is not at breakfast and that has Lance worried. The others also seem to be, for their chatter is muted, sentences few and far between. Pidge is also absent, but Allura states she is working, so at least everyone knows where she is. Keith, however, is a mystery, and by Shiro’s glances to the door every few minutes, they are all hoping he finds them rather than forcing him out of hiding.

When the door slides open, Lance jumps and Shiro is on his feet, only for both of them to settle as a harassed and obviously sleep deprived Pidge walks through the door. She glares at both Shiro and Lance.

“Well, thanks. Good morning to you, too,” she says, stomping to her customary seat, only to pause when she notices the other missing person.

“Where’s Keith?”

“We haven’t seen him,” Allura answers, with what Lance can tell is a purposeful attempt to keep her voice neutral. Even though the two aren’t on the best of terms right now, she obviously still cares.

Pidge freezes and, strangely, turns to Lance.

“All night?”

Lance looks around, convinced she must be looking at Shiro but no; all eyes are now on him, now, thanks to Pidge.

“No, I haven’t seen him since he stormed off,” Lance says, and Pidge groans.

“That… might not be good,” she says, trailing off to stare into nothing, which Lance knows means she is either massively sleep deprived and can no longer form words, or she’s sorting through a bank of data in her head. Or both.

“Might? What do you mean by ‘might’?” Hunk says so Lance doesn’t have to.

Pidge massages her temple. “I’ve been reading up on the bug bite, and while what I said yesterday is true, the range of the testimonials of those infected is so varied it’s hard to know where Keith may fall in the spectrum. The venom seem to affect people differently, or there are so many subspecies of this creature that it depends on which type of bug or… something, I don’t know. Medical texts are one of the worst to translate.”

They all wait, Lance’s leg starting to vibrate in anxiety as he waits for Pidge to calm.

“Some people just become a little more affectionate, or just generally nicer, almost no marked change. On the other end of the spectrum, whole wars have been started over these feelings the bug produces. It literally tore up an alliance marriage and started chaos in one era. Anyway, leaving him alone and away from Lance is definitely not going to help. The whole point is they care about the other person so much that it changes them, and separation is never good. And sometimes very bad.”

Lance stands, then, marching out of the room without a glance back. He hears the others calling for him, possibly to organise a more coordinated search, but the worry which has been rising like the tide in Lance all night has crested, and he no longer has any capacity left to be patient.

He has to find Keith, and he has to find him now.

Chapter Text

He tries Keith’s room and the training room first, in case he’s returned during the time they were eating. He then just starts wandering the corridors, bypassing the bridge and the common areas, checking in each and every room and storage cupboard on the off chance. And that’s how he continues, up and down and throughout for at least 40 minutes, looking in every room he can on his quest to find Keith.

They really shouldn’t have left him alone. Not with something happening like this, something none of them really understood. He curses himself as he moves, having no idea what Keith is feeling or how he’s doing right now. And if what Pidge says is correct, and he doesn’t doubt her knowledge, the results could be disastrous.

It’s as he reaches the upper levels of the castle, he sees it. He’s not been up here before, but he vaguely remembers Hunk mentioning that there were guest rooms here from eons ago. And as he turns his second corner, one door is ajar, propped open with a familiar looking boot.

“Keith?” he calls, and runs to the door, a spike in his energy as he finally has some sign of him, even though his nerves also flare up with what might be waiting for him.

Lance pushes open the door and enters a bedroom. It’s bigger than his own, furnished sparingly but with a larger bed, a desk, and a painting on the wall. It seems like this must be one of the more common rooms, as Hunk had mentioned there were some luxury suites hidden away as well.

However, there is no sign of Keith other than the discarded shoe. Lance frowns, carefully stepping in, noting what must be an en-suite to the left, and a weird set of wide doors which would normally lead to a balcony if they weren’t… well, in space.

“Keith? You in here, buddy?”

There is still silence, but Lance walks in, stepping carefully and noting the state of the room. The bed-sheets seem a little rumpled, but he’s unsure if that indicates Keith slept here or just that this place has not been used in some time.

However, once he gets to the other side of the bed, clear evidence is before him. In the gap between the wall and the bed is a familiar red and white jacket, along with the other shoe, an empty water packet, and a couple of rumbled energy bar wrappers (the yellow ones, Lance notes, and files away the fact that Keith is into citrus flavours for… later usage, somehow).

Keith wouldn’t have gone far without his jacket and shoes, so Lance turns and calls louder.

“Keith! Keith, where are you, man, are you okay? You’re starting to scare me here.”

With that shout, there’s a thump, which has Lance spinning towards the bathroom door. He almost flies over, stopping as he reaches it, before knocking twice.

“Keith? Are you okay?” he says, unsure if he’s just interrupted him getting out of the shower.

He tried exceptionally hard not to think about Keith in the shower.

There’s the sound of something tumbling, a curse in a familiar tongue, before Keith speaks.

“Lance?”

It’s said in a voice that Lance does not know from Keith; a question, almost a plea, but with an edge of almost a hiss to the tone. It’s said as if Keith needs him but doesn’t want to, wants to keep this door firmly fastened between them. Which, of course, has Lance’s fears running wild.

“Keith, dude, I’m not gonna barge in here if you don’t want me to, but you’ve got us all worried—me especially now. So, can you let me in? If you want me to leave after, I will, I promise, just… let me see that you’re okay.”

Lance feels the words run away from him as his concern overtakes him, but he lets them fly. He doesn’t care at this moment what he sounds like, for once not worried about having the perfect words for the situation. He just needs Keith to confirm that he’s okay.

There’s a shuffling sound that draws closer to the door, then the unmistakable click of a latch. Lance blinks, stepping away from the door in surprise, when Keith calls out.

“You can come in.”

His voice is flat, remarkably so, considering the previous utterance, but Lance wastes no time dwelling on it. Instead, he pushes open the door carefully, not sure how to prepare himself for what he may find.

It opens into a simple bathroom; again, much like their own, but more spacious. A sizable bathtub takes up most of the space in the centre of the room. And there, sitting on the edge of it, is Keith, hair falling in front of his face as he’s bent over, hand wrapped around his stomach; universal signal for pain.

Lance crosses the few paces between them to stand before him, Keith looking up as he does. His face is pale with a sheen of sweat on it, hair askew, and dark rings around his eyes. He’s obviously been feeling unwell for some time, but whether it’s a reaction to the bug or something else, Lance cannot be sure. So he stands as close as he dares without hopefully crossing any lines, arms fluttering forward a little uselessly as he’s not sure whether he should touch him or not.

“Buddy, how long have you been like this?” he asks quietly.

Keith exhales shakily, eyes darting to the side. Lance takes that as confirmation of ‘all night.’

“Okay, so stomach pains?” he tries and this time, Keith nods in confirmation, but swallows hard.

“You gonna be sick? It’s fine if you are, I’ve got a niece and a nephew, plus a billion other cousins. I’ve been thrown up on more times than I can count. Won’t bother me,” he says, before realising probably talking about vomit isn’t helping someone who feels unwell.

“I don’t think so, Lance, don’t worry,” Keith says and his mouth twitches twice in an attempt at a smile. Lance’s own spirit lifts at that, a miniature victory.

There’s a silence after that, one that falls just on the edge of uncomfortable, until Lance cannot stand it any longer.

“What can I do?” he asks, a slightly despairing edge to the words which has Keith’s gaze snapping to his.

Keith closes his eyes and swallows again, before he looks back at Lance.

“It’s been bad since I left, but it started before when…” he trails off and Lance waits as he tries to sort through whatever’s happening.

Then, without warning, Keith reaches up and grabs his wrist.

Lance is stunned at the abrupt action, but what’s even more surprising is the instant look of relief on Keith’s face. His eyes clear, he inhales steadily, deeply, and he’s able to sit up a bit further, no longer bent over in pain. Lance blinks, then twists Keith’s hands a little without even really thinking, so they’re holding hands rather than Keith just gripping onto him.

“You… you needed… me?” Lance says quietly, almost unbelieving, as every passing second, Keith seems to get brighter, heal with just the power of Lance’s hand in his.

His words though cause Keith to blush a little.

“It feels like something gets scooped out of me when you leave the room. I can still… feel you? Know where you are, but it’s almost as if I can do that because you’ve taken a piece of me with you and it will hurt until I put it back,” Keith says, not looking at Lance at all as he does.

The words circle, hover above to attack as a flock all at once, each syllable a direct strike through Lance. He makes a strange sound before he dips forward, releasing Keith’s hand only to sweep him into a hug. And Keith melts. Literally melts like ice to water, limbs giving way and folding into Lance as he’s gripped tightly.

“You should have said that, Keith!” Lance says into his neck, angry but only at himself, annoyed he didn’t work this out sooner.

That he’d just let Keith been in physical agony all night.

Keith does not respond, though, seems to be absorbed into the hug, sighing a little as he presses into Lance. So Lance lets him just feel it, hopes the touch will restore him once more, that the damage can be undone by something this simple.

Lance isn’t sure how long he gives them, hands running up and down Keith’s back in an effort to comfort and reassure. But his knees start to shake and his back start to protest at the angle, so slowly, he stands. He keeps his hands on Keith’s elbows though, and gives him a light smiles as he breaks away.

“Come on, Mullet, let’s get your stuff. You must be hungry. Then we need to talk,” he says, for they really do need to discuss how they get through this, and probably with the help and knowledge of the others.

Keith nods once, then stands, which takes a weird dance of adjustments until they’re back to holding hands, Keith leading them out of the bathroom and back around to where his belongings are. There’s a mad moment when Lance wonders if he’ll actually be able to let go enough to put on his shoes and jacket, but Keith does so without fanfare. However, the instant he’s dressed, his hand is Lance’s again, as if it never left.

“These rooms are cool, better than ours, anyway,” Lance says as they leave, determined to keep his mind away from the feel of Keith’s fingers in his.

“There’s loads more. I only stopped here as it’s one of the first I came to,” Keith says, and Lance makes a note in the back of his mind to explore and find these luxury suits as soon as… there are less pressing matters.

Which brings him to the moment. For they are simply walking steadily, hand in hand, Keith keeping fairly close in general as they make their way back to their more usual scenery.

Lance should bring this up, should find a way to segue into what’s happening and how they should approach this. For once they meet with the group, they’ll be under scrutiny, receive an onslaught of questions, and be monitored for however long it takes for the illness to wear off. He just needs to think of a way to broach the subject, be on the same level with Keith.

“So, the bug makes you want to be around me? And need physical contact?” Lance says, then instantly feel his face flame for the phrasing, feet tripping over themselves with the sudden need to retrace those steps and catch the statement to wind it back in.

Keith also pauses, his grip on Lance’s hand tightening once, then going loose once more. But he turns to Lance, facing the challenge head on as always, although his shoulders are tight.

“It’s not the bug, Lance. I always want to be around you,” he says, without a blink or a twitch, as if it’s a simple fact of life.

And Lance doesn’t know what he would have done if the statement wasn’t accompanied by a faint pink rim to Keith’s eyes, and the knowledge that Keith is entirely wrong. In reality, though, it’s a fracture. He feels something hairline break deep within, a tiny chip off the whole, and is aware that it’s a warning that he may not be able to take much more of this.

Keith, though, is oblivious to Lance’s inner breakdown, and continues on.

“The pain when we’re apart, though, isn’t normal. That might be the bug. This is… nice, though,” he says, offering a soft smile as he looks down at their joined hands.

Lance gulps, whole body heating up to record temperatures at the pleased look on Keith’s face. However, without warning, it drops, as does Keith’s grip, and Lance’s hand thuds to his side unexpectedly.

“Sorry, I know you said you didn’t want that,” Keith says, crossing his arms over himself and looking determinedly away as he does.

Lance opens and closes his mouth, lost in the sharp change of direction. He thinks back to the past few hours, trying to recall when he may have said anything-

His mind clicks in place, and Lance quickly closes his eyes, a defense against the realisation. He’d been the one to send Keith running by telling him his actions were strange. And they are, most certainly, and despite Keith’s protests, they are most certainly related to the bite. Yet because of Lance, he spent the whole night in pain rather than explain they needed to be near. And no matter how much this may ache later, or how clearly this has already started to crack within him, Lance cannot let Keith be in that much pain again.

Caring makes you do these things, after all; throwing caution to the wind and making inevitable future aches worth it.

“Keith, hey. Look, I’m sorry, I was just… I didn’t realise. This is good, man,” Lance says, reaching out and flicking the tips of Keith’s fingers with this own, lifting Keith’s hands until he can clasp them both together.

Keith watches the movement, eyes trained in the same way they are in battle, noticing every twist and turn so he can join the assault. And he does, of course, as bold and surefooted as ever, gripping back and almost swinging their hands a little as they simultaneously start to walk again.

Lance feels like he should say more, but he doesn’t have the energy; just contents himself in what is now a simple quiet between them, even if he feels apprehension and guilt with every step.

And of course the calm doesn’t last, for as soon as they find the group, there’s chaos. Lance is almost flung out of the way, having to drop Keith’s hand as Shiro is there, front and centre, Hunk by his side, both checking to make sure Keith is okay.

Lance smiles to himself a little wistfully as he watches Keith try and bat away Shiro’s concerned questioning, while Shiro perseveres with an iron will. He misses his siblings and their own weird ways of caring. Hunk, ever practical, brings over water and a bowl of goo, trying to persuade Keith to eat.

“You have to fight the infection, and you can’t do that on an empty stomach,” he insists as Keith wrinkles his nose at the green substance.

“I feel fine, don't worry,” he says, taking the water and the bowl, but Lance is sure he’ll eat none of it.

“It may be best if you stay here for the day, though. Pidge is learning more about the bug, as it will be another few days before we have any real answers. The rest of us are being called planet-side to aid in the restoration,” Allura says, looking up from her screen.

Keith frowns and Lance takes two steps towards him. “I said I’m fine, I’m able to help out,” he says, standing straighter and meeting Allura’s gaze.

She does not shy away, though, stare turning frosty as they challenge each other by stare. Lance can see the charge developing, so he steps up before either can say something they’ll regret.

“Princess, Keith does seem fine, and if they need our help, then we should give them all we can. Pidge, is there any reason Keith shouldn’t be helping?” Lance says, turning to his friend who he hopes will back him up on this.

She sits and blinks at Lance once, and he gets the feeling she’s trying to read him, see what his aim is. But after a moment, she just shrugs.

“I’m still translating the finer points, but, yeah. If Lance is with him, it should be fine. You seem better than I expected, seeing as you were separated all night,” Pidge adds, peering closer at Keith with her tired gaze.

“The result of my soothing presence,” Lance says, adding a flare of dramatics by posing with his hand under his chin, causing Pidge to roll her eyes and effectively drop the subject.

Which is exactly what he was aiming for, as he’s not keen on sharing that Keith was only in a fit state due to the power of hugs. Keith, though, chuckles at his antics and slides over until they are side by side, their pinky fingers almost linking. It’s weirdly intimate for Lance, more so than if Keith turned and kissed him in front of the entire group. The small, sweet things always did get to him.

It’s not real, though , he chastises himself, trying to mentally put some distance up, seeing as physical distance was impossible.

Allura relents then, as does Shiro, and they are soon suiting up and travelling back to the planet. They don’t need the lions this time, so they use one of the pods, as the day plans seem to be more of helping authorities clear up the few sites where conflict had broken out, and keeping the people content by simply existing.

Lance volunteers to help with setting up a temporary school, Keith joining him. It is actually nice to do something practical for once, that had an aim and clear finished product. He’s spent so much time with the never-ending and colossal aim of ‘save the universe’, that the simple pleasure of creation lights up pieces inside him he thought were well and truly dim.

Keith is, unsurprisingly, good at this work. He works at a pace Lance cannot match, without rest or the need to consult plans. Lance pauses to admire his focus for a moment as he slots pieces into place, eyes darting across each edge of the wood, gloved hands smoothing across and checking for uneven places. Lance cannot help but smile as he clocks the actions; the nod he gives himself when he’s satisfied, the way the middle finger of his left hand taps rhythmically as he memories the sketches, and the way his tongue occasionally flicks out in concentration.

It’s all adorable in Lance’s head, but he shouldn’t be cataloguing each one to memory, so, of course, he’s duly punished when Keith catches him staring with a raised eyebrow. Lance panics, feeling his limbs suddenly tremble with the need to run, when Keith smirks.

“Like what you see?” he asks, voice light as he leans over a banister to tilt his head closer to Lance.

Lance’s mouth goes dry and his words turn into sounds of protest as Keith continues to smirk and say nothing. Lance manages to swallow against the flirting, fight back enough to speak once more.

“You’re good at this,” he says, gesturing to what Keith’s made over the last few hours.

He’s expecting Keith to shrug and say little, what he usually does when there’s even a tiny prod against his past. So Lance is surprised when Keith surveys the work and begins to speak.

“My dad used to let me help him when I was little. I was obsessed with how you could just make things with your bare hands. Then, as a got older, it became more of a necessity,” he says, a small fond look on his face as he recalls the past.

Lance steps forward, meeting him on the ledge where he stands. He knows a little of Keith’s past, from the small divulgence he’d given on the wake of discovering his Galra heritage.

“How old were you when he died?” Lance asks gently, sliding into the atmosphere Keith’s created.

“Eight. Sometimes doesn’t feel like that, though, since my memories of him are so clear. Other times, it feels as if I’ve always been alone,” Keith says, looking upwards, and Lance feels the last phrase strike through his chest like a stab wound, acute and unyielding.

“Keith, no, you’re not alone! You have Shiro! He’s basically your brother, right?” Lance says, remember their interaction previously.

Keith still doesn’t look at Lance as he speaks. “Yeah… I hope so, anyway. I guess I can be a problem, or was when I was younger. Shiro was 21, barely older than us now, and had his own life when I dropped myself into his. Pretty heavy responsibility for someone you don’t know,” Keith says, his arms beginning to shake a little on where the grip the wood.

Lance doesn’t hesitate, just slides across and wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders, turning him to the side until they are facing each other. Keith goes willingly, so Lance wastes no time before wrapping him into a hug. Keith’s whole body sags into him, and Lance finds himself resting his head in the crook of his neck. It just flows that way, their bodies syncing and matching into the embrace.

“He doesn’t see you as a burden or a problem, Keith. We can all see that. And you are not alone, not at all. I’m here.”

What he meant to say is ‘we’re here’ but the privacy of the moment gave way to the first person. And perhaps that’s what Keith needs, for he clutches Lance back, hands fanning across his back so Lance can feel the press of each finger.

Slowly, though, the trickle of guilt starts to drip into Lance. For Keith would never usually be this open or share his worries so easily, nor would he seek and gain comfort from touches in the aftermath of such revelation. It’s yet another symptom of the infection, and Lance is forced to pull away when the knowledge becomes too much.

Keith doesn’t seem too bothered, though, despite the magenta tone his eyes seem to almost always have in Lance’s presence now. As they part, Keith looks towards Lance’s own work, a smirk forming as he does.

“What is that?” he says.

Lance huffs. “It’s a chair, Mullet, do you have hair in your eyes or something?”

Keith snorts and covers his hand with the movement. “Have you ever seen a chair, Lance?”

Lance’s mouth drops open in shock and Keith throws his head back and laughs at the reaction. Then, he pushes himself off the railing and moves past lance to inspect it closely.

“I think we can save it. Time to watch the master at work,” he says, raising his eyebrows at Lance as he does.

“‘Master’, pfft, exactly what makes you think you’re a master at making chairs?” Lance asks as he moves to stand beside him, trying to downplay the tremor in his limbs at the dip in Keith’s tone, the flicker of his expression that draws Lance like a moth to a flame.

Before he can register the change, Keith is beside him, smirking, closer than Lance is expecting, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

“Better watch closely, then,” Keith murmurs, close and quiet, their little secret.

Once Lance gets past the thundering of his heart, Keith does show him how to work the material. Although he’s not the best teacher to begin with, Lance guides him, coaxes him into patience and asks questions when he’s lost. And together, they learn and develop, match and counter, until they are almost seamless in how they manage the equipment and themselves.

Lance is proud when they finish, hands tingling with real achievement, smile full and careless. He surveys their work, and strangely doesn’t startle when Keith wraps an arm around his waist and curves into him, head against his temple.

“You did well,” he whispers, breath soft and brushing, an almost kiss to his hairline.

He only realises as they walk to their rooms, hands swinging and steps light. Lance has been so busy today, muscles sore in that used way, aching with the pleasure of hard work, brain calming down from fatigue, that he only recalls Keith’s issues with being apart. His trepidation grows worse as they reach their doors, finally pausing in front of Lance’s room.

“So… how does this work if it’s going to be painful for you?” Lance says, fingers gripping Keith’s a little more tightly on the word ‘painful.’

Keith offers a small smile back, but his cheeks slowly darken, almost to match the new colour of his eyes.

“I was going to ask if I could stay with you?”

Lance feels his own cheeks flush at that, having to swallow hard against any retort that may arise unbidden. For his mind is rushing too fast for him to pick out one idea among the rest, his chest constricting in a vice of his own imagination.

Keith. In his room. In his bed .

“We could go back to the room I was in? It’s bigger, more space for both of us,” Keith says, stuttering a little with the suggestion, which somewhat eases the constraints around Lance. It seems a little safer to have a neutral space, although in the back of his mind, there’s a tiny spark of disappointment, which he pushes far away before it can fully ignite.

“Yeah, man, that sounds better. Gotta warn you, I starfish,” he says, and Keith laughs, diffusing the awkwardness.

They both depart to get ready. Lance’s nightly regimen blinks by in a strange haze of muscle memory, and before he knows it, he’s back outside where Keith is waiting, surprisingly dressed in his set of red pajamas.

Seeing Lance’s expression, he smiles, shrugging.

“We match,” he says by way of explanation, before taking Lance’s hand and leading them in a now familiar direction. Lance just follows, almost slipping over his lion slippers as they walk.

Is it couple goals to have matching pajamas? Lance’s brain has now decided as such.

By the time he’s come back to himself, Keith has navigated them to the room and is pushing open the door. He stands to the side and allows Lance through first with a wave of his hand, letting go of Lance’s as he does. Lance cannot help but chuckle.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” he says before moving inside, Keith laughing softly as he does.

The bed is strangely intimidating; Lance feels as if it’s grown three sizes and suddenly takes all the attention of the room, the glaring truth of what they’re about to do framed in neon lights. Lance tries to shake himself out of it, though. He’s shared a bed with Hunk multiple times, there’s nothing different here.

Except everything is different, for this is Keith under an alien form of a love spell while Lance tries to hide his own overwhelming feelings.

“Do you have a side preference?” Keith asks from beside him, and it comes out so wonderfully shy and sweet that Lance’s face melts into a smile.

“I tend to sprawl in the middle. It’s not like I’m used to sharing,” he says, then slaps a hand over his mouth because that’s not really what he wants to admit.

Keith just shrugs, though. “Can I take the left, then?”

“S-sure, buddy,” Lance says, mentally berating himself for losing his composure so easily.

They both walk to their respective sides and pull back the covers, the shift and swish of the fabric in the air seeming like the prelude to a seismic event, Lance’s limbs locking and body braced as if for impact. But, of course, all that occurs is Keith climbing into bed in a perfectly normal manner before curling up on his side.

Lance pauses for a moment as he slips into the bed, staying seated. Keith looks… small. Strangely fragile in such a child-like pose, even though the muscles in his back shift with each breath and movement, a clear indication he is anything but. There is, he realises, a vulnerability in sleep, in letting your guard down around someone, for them to be with you while you tune out the rest of the world.

His heart stirs, and he once again tapers it down.

As he tips backwards and fluffs up the pillows behind him, he almost wonders if Keith is deliberately sequestering himself to the edge of the bed so he doesn’t take up space. He almost wants to tell Keith it’s okay to stretch a bit, for he knows as soon as he sleeps, his limbs will fly in all angles and he cannot be responsible if he unwillingly kicks Keith out of bed. But he doesn’t, words sticking to his tongue and fizzing away on impact like cotton candy.

“Goodnight, Keith,” he says into the silence instead, pulling his sleep mask down, a signal to himself that it’s time for sleep.

“Night, Lance,” is the muffled reply, and Lance inhales deeply, trying for the second night in a row to force himself into slumber.

He doesn’t expect to sleep at all, imagines he’ll be awake for hours with the flex and shift of the covers around him as Keith moves, his mind unused to an unfamiliar person in such close proximity. But he doesn’t recall any of that, only one single shift that wakes him, eyes fluttering behind the cool cushioning if his mask as his senses return slowly.

Lance can instantly tell his sleep has been deep and fulfilling by the slow fog his limbs crawl out of to twitch and stretch. He’s warm, perhaps slightly too warm, which is rare as he’s usually cold in all situations. He yawns widely, but scrunches up his nose when something tickles the edge of his mouth, skin instantly hyper aware of the odd sensation. And as he does, Lance feels something stir, the movement of a weight on top of his chest that he’s only just become aware of.

He freezes, mouth still half-open, eyes wide behind his mark, staring into dark fabric. His heart rate picks up as the shifting continues then stills, the weight on his chest growing slightly. Lance breathes in slowly, feeling his chest rise and then the… person on top of it follows. Carefully, he raises his right arm to his face, reaching for the strap of his mask in a practiced movement. He pauses before removing it though.

He gulps. He knows what he’s going to see when he takes off the mask, but his mind still can’t comprehend what’s actually occurring, that he’ll be witness to Keith cuddling up on his chest when he opens his eyes. So he prepares himself, savours the seconds he has before reality hits in, hopefully giving his abused heart enough time to cope. Then, he wraps shaking fingers around the strap and pulls.

He isn’t prepared. There’s not enough preparation in the world that could have readied him for the sight before him.

Keith is curled in on himself as he cuddles into Lance, one hand wrapped up in his pajama shirt, clutching it tightly even in sleep. The left side of his face is almost mashed into Lance, as if he’s trying to burrow as deeply as possible, cut out all space between them so not even air could get through. His hair is a disaster, tangled and sticking up in place, his mouth open as he wheezes, almost half snoring in his sleep. His right cheek has fine lines, from either Lance’s shirt or the pillow, that criss-cross his skin and discolour it slightly.

Keith has never looked more beautiful. And none of it is real.

Lance almost wants to cry at that moment at just how plainly unfair this all is. He’s only stopped by Keith letting out a half snort, half snore and waking himself up with it. Lance laughs, he can’t help it, it’s the most adorable thing he’s seen, and with it, Keith blinks sleepily up at him, pink eyes reminding Lance of exactly what’s happening.

“Morning,” he says, voice gravelly, and Lance cannot help but smooth out the matted nest of hair from his face as Keith looks up at him.

“Morning. Impressive bed head, there, Mullet,” Lance says, trying not to notice how much Keith leans into the touch.

Keith makes a face, then to Lance’s disappointment and slight relief, slowly gets up, patting down his hair. Lance sits up, too, leaning back against the pillows as Keith shakes his head, hand combing through it so harshly, Lance has to wince.

“At least wait and get a brush, Keith, you’ll ruin your hair.”

Keith turns, rolling his eyes at Lance, then smiles. “Maybe you can brush it for me later? Seeing as you’re so obsessed with it,” he says, winking as he stands and turns away.

Lance is left spluttering as Keith calls for him to hurry up and get up, heart beating in overdrive, face aflame when he’s only been awake for five minutes.

He doesn’t know how long he can do this for.

But he doesn’t want it to stop.

“Lance, buddy, why do you have a chair on your back?” Hunk says as he enters the bridge, Keith not far behind.

Lance grins and places it down gently before gesturing to it proudly with both hands.

“This is my finest creation! Made by my own two hands, and they let me keep it!” he says, genuinely excited.

The school is now complete, two days of work with the final outcome making Lance’s mood soar higher than the horizon. The celebrations begin tomorrow evening, and being able to fix something before other guests arrives makes him feel useful and accomplished. It’s beyond wonderful to feel these moments in the midst of war, to know that making chairs and buildings can mean so much to so many people.

“You mean they didn’t want it but were too nice to say so?” Pidge says with teasing grin and Lance sticks his tongue out at her.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have your own personal chair. In fact, I’m going to use it now,” he says, picking it up and hauling it over his back once more as he turns around with a dramatic flair.

As he does, Shiro stands with a smile.

“It’s probably best that you all relax for the evening. We’ll have a busy few days,” he says, and Pidge takes that as her cue to jump up and meet Lance.

“Round 16?” she asks, smirking.

Lance grins, already excited at the prospect of continuing their video game championship.

“Ready to lose?” he says, then pauses, turning back to look at Keith, who is just watching Lance with that fond look on his face, as if perfectly content to simply see him banter with Pidge.

Lance’s words stick in his throat at the expression, though, at the pleasantness, at the thought of anyone looking at him like that while he does something mundane and routine. At the knowledge of how it’s not really Keith who's looking.

“Wanna help me get snacks, dude?” Hunk says to Keith, thankfully breaking Lance’s cycle of rapidly spiraling thoughts.

Keith nods at Hunk then shifts his look back to Lance. “See you in a minute,” he says, before following Hunk out of the other set of doors.

Lance cannot help but watch him leave, so when he does focus back, Pidge is looking up at him warily.

“The Lymedians are coming tomorrow. They should be able to clarify what’s going on. I’ve asked them to meet us after,” she says, words soft and obviously meant to comfort him.

So Lance plasters on a smile and nods. “Good, I’m sure that will help. I’m just gonna shower, so I’ll see you in the games room,” he says, before quickly adjusting the chair and exiting the room.

He deposits the chair on his way, then tries hard not to think too much while showering. Think about how Keith had laughed freely while building all day. How he’d helped Lance with his tasks, now knowing exactly how to help and guide correctly. How he’d slept cuddled up into Lance, all tousled hair and quiet snores.

“It’s not real. Get a grip,” he hisses to himself in the mirror as he moisturises, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that, although these actions were somewhat like Keith, they still were not quite right, not exactly how he usually is.

He repeats it as a mantra while walking to the games room, only to have everything fly out of his head when he enters to find Keith sitting on his chair, book in hand.

“Keith! Get out of my chair!” he yells, stalking forward and stopping before him, hands on his hips.

Keith tilts his head upwards slowly, smirk in place as he addresses Lance.

“It’s my chair, too. We made it together,” he says, the tilt of his head and cadence of his words screaming ‘challenge’ without having to say a thing. Lance knows this dance well by now.

“Well, fine. Then it’s my turn in our chair since I carried it back here,” Lance says, ignoring the thundering in his chest at the word ‘ours.’

At this point, he’s falling harder by owning a misshapen chair with Keith. He tries not to think too hard on how utterly ridiculous he is.

“Are you guys honestly competing over a chair?” Pidge says suddenly from where she’s setting up the game, which startles Lance so hard that he actually jumps, being so absorbed in Keith that he hadn't noticed her.

“This chair is the result of my love and toil, it’s so—ACK!”

Lance is abruptly cut off from his rant to Pidge when Keith wraps an arm around him and pulls, making him flop straight into Keith’s lap. For what feels like the thousandth time over the last few days, his words are knocked out of him. He can only stare dumbly at Keith, who takes advantage of Lance’s stupor to rearrange them both so they’re sitting comfortably.

“Now, we’re sharing and you have a better view of the screen,” Keith says, giving Lance one last smirk before returning to his book as if nothing is amiss.

Lance gapes at him for a moment, and when Keith doesn’t say anything further, raises his head to look at Pidge. Pidge just shakes her head fondly, mouths the word ‘bug’ and fixes the final cables to the Altean version of a TV.

He can’t help but fidget a bit as he waits for her to be done. Keith’s warmth spreads through his lap, one arm looped across Lance’s back, the other one thumbing through the pages of his book. Keith is so ill at ease with this, although Lance is sure he can’t be as comfortable as he seems.

After a few minutes of cursing from Pidge and wiggling from Lance, Keith sighs heavily, book dropping from his hand. Lance feels a shiver pass through him as Keith cranes forward a little so he can speak almost into his ear.

“Are you uncomfortable? I’ll move,” he says, and Lance feels his muscles bunch as he begins.

“No!” Lance says, word coming before thought, one hand clamping down on Keith’s knee as he tries to. Keith pauses, and Lance twists a little to capture his gaze, those magenta eyes shining with perplexed wariness.

Let me have this. Just for one evening, let me have this , his mind called.

So with a deep sigh, Lance gives in. It’s terrible, unfair, and once Keith is cured, he’ll have months of apologising and awkwardness to suffer—but right now, he’s done. He’s done feeling the guilty twists, the knowledge of these fake feelings, and the ever-present loneliness of the situation that Keith is here but also not.

So Lance wants one evening to indulge in this contact and closeness, these soft smiles and fleeting touches, and the way Keith reaches for him in every second.

One night pretending that Keith wants him in the same way.

“Am I too heavy?” he says, and Keith scoffs, causing Lance to shove at his shoulder, which descended in a sort of wrestling match until Pidge breaks them up by handing him a controller.

And the evening passes in a blur. He swiftly gets used to being on Keith’s lap once he’s firmly shut the gates on any negative feelings. Keith reads his book for some time, then just sits with his arms around Lance’s middle and his head on his shoulder, whispering congratulations and occasionally backseat driving on the game, which earns him a swipe on the leg each time.

Hunk suggests they watch one of the strange Altean serials Coran is obsessed with, so they spend a few hours making up plots for the characters they don’t understand, dissolving into laughter at the ridiculous directions their imaginations take them in.

Lance is warm and content in spending the evening practically curled into Keith, who never once relents or lets him up, even though his legs must have gone numb well before they collectively decide to call it a night.

Lance ignores the concerned glances from Hunk, bids them all goodnight, and settles into his now nightly routine with Keith. There is no discussion this time, it simply occurs; they perform their own nightly ablutions, change, and then walk hand in hand to what Lance has dubbed as ‘their’ room.

Everything is familiar, and Lance is smiling to himself at how good it feels to know how they fit, what side they sleep on, and just slide into bed without comment, content in silence. This time, though, Keith curls up facing Lance. He waits until Lance has settled before reaching out and taking his hand, lacing their fingers together, a smile on his face as he does.

“Goodnight, Lance,” he whispers, the words wrapping around Lance more snug than any blanket.

“Goodnight, Keith,” he replies, squeezing his hand gently once before securing his mask with the other hand and allowing their twined breaths to serenade him to sleep.

When Lance wakes up alone the next day, he moves through stages. First, acceptance as Keith is probably in the bathroom. Then, confusion when, after waiting and checking, he discovers he’s not. Then, finally, panic when Lance realises the inevitable pain that Keith must be in.

As he restlessly stalks back towards the main areas, he wonders why Keith has disappeared when he knows what happens if they are separated. Perhaps he’s been called away by Shiro or Allura? Or maybe the symptoms have changed and he’s sick somewhere alone, unable to contact anyone?

It’s as the disastrous scenarios spiral increasingly into the bizarre and impossible that a door on his left opens and Keith steps out just ahead of him. Lance’s imagination dissolves abruptly and a grin splits across his face as he notices Keith looks fine, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, and bayard at his hip.

“Keith! There you are!” he calls, ready to rush up to his side when Keith visibly flinches at his voice.

Lance’s steps slow as Keith freezes, not looking in his direction. It’s then Lance realises where they are: the training room. Lance frowns, knowing Keith hasn’t trained over the past few days, taking it easy while the venom courses through his system.

His mind is putting the pieces together and he knows, deep down, what this means. But Keith is still not looking at him and Lance does not want for the inevitable to be true. So he crosses the last few steps and clears his throat.

“Are you… okay?” he says, keeping his voice as light and calm as he can. At the question, Keith huffs and turns his head, finally meeting Lance’s gaze.

Violet eyes. Angry, violet eyes. And that piece inside him, which is slowly cracking, splits hard and sharp, a vast crevice forming.

“Yes, Lance. I’m fine. Back to normal. I don’t need you hanging around anymore,” Keith says, crossing his arms and glaring, a look that suits him in it’s familiarity, but also does not for how it contrasts harshly with the Keith Lance has seen over the past few days.

“Oh, that’s um. Cool, man. Glad you’re back. I’ll let you train, then,” he says, even though they are both aware Keith was actually leaving.

Lance doesn’t give it time to be awkward. He spins on his heels and walks back the way he came, which is not the direction he needs to walk in, but Lance does not think any direction will take him to where he needs to be right now.

I don’t need you hanging around anymore .

The words ring in his mind on repeat, and Lance fractures when he stands, shattering horribly and messily inside as he truly comes to know what the term ‘heartbreak’ is, and why the literal description is so apt.

His only comfort is that at least Keith is not around to see it.

Chapter Text

He paces in circles; long winding journeys to nowhere, as with a ship this size, he can pace for hours to escape his roaring mind. But eventually, Lance just stops thinking. His mind bolts up the gates tight and fast against the full onslaught of hurt that’s about to torrent through him.

It does this now, since he’s seen too many ships full of bodies, killed Galra by the hundreds, been too late to rescue nations and planets from a centuries-old conflict. It hides away the pain until it leaks, drop by drop, into a puddle of more manageable size at times when Lance is alone and there are no distractions from his grief and fear.

It comes in handy in moments like this, he supposes, as a familiar numbness sets it, gluing together the shattered pieces inside him, holding him up at least for the time being. As his mind becomes vacant, his body kicks in, so he showers and changes on autopilot before making his way to the dining room.

Allura, Hunk, and Shiro are there, and Lance waves in greeting as he makes his way in. Hunk immediately passes him a bowl of what looks like fruit and yogurt, which even through his haze, surprises him.

“We’re using some of the gifts, those we know are from planets who can spare them. Looks like no more goo for a while!” Hunk says, the pure joy in his voice so clear and childlike, that it dredges up a smile from the depths of Lance’s brain.

He dutifully begins eating, although tasting seems to come in waves between nothingness. He knows it’s good since it renews him in ways which goo can never do, and his taste buds are practically rioting at the sweet and citrus flavours. But it's also being absorbed into the barrier his mind is shaking to hold onto while he’s not ready to deal with the aftermath of the past few days.

“Where’s Keith?” Shiro asks as he comes back to the table with what Lance assumes is his second helping.

“Training,” Lance says, voice clear and seeming to echo in his own mind.

Allura looks up from reading lines of a language Lance doesn’t recognise. “Is that wise? You mentioned it was important that the two of you stay together,” she says.

Lance’s hand shakes as he dips his spoon mechanically into the bowl. “He’s cured,” he says, and then completes the circuit of his arm by placing the spoon into his mouth.

The other three all stop mid motion and turn to stare at Lance. He notices, but his body continues on, chewing and swallowing. He tastes noting though; it could be ash or ambrosia for all he comprehends.

“You’re sure, Lance?” Shiro asks, all serious and commanding in tone, and Lance nods.

“Yes,” he says without expanding. It seems two words at a time are his limit for now.

Shiro exchanges a glance with Allura, who flicks her eyes over to him before returning to steadily peer at Lance, holoscreen now abandoned on the table. Shiro sends him a worried look before standing.

“I’ll go check on him,” he says, his second helping of breakfast abandoned as he exits the room.

Hunk slides into the seat beside him as Lance continues to routinely eat his breakfast while zoning out.

“Lance, are you okay?” he asks as Lance swallows his last mouthful.

“Yes,” Lance says, returning to monosyllabic replies, his hands trembling a little as he picks up his bowl and spoon and moves to the sink. Hunk follows.

“Are you sure? You really don’t look okay, dude. I’m worried,” he says, hands twisting into one another as he watches Lance’s every move.

Lance opens his mouth to tell Hunk he’s fine when the crackle of the castle comms comes to life.

“Hunk, I need you!” Pidge’s voice calls, with a slightly frantic air to it, followed by a crash and a yelp before her voice cuts off.

“You should probably find her,” Allura says from the table, standing and making her way over to the opposite side of the counter, where she fills her bowl with more fruit.

Hunk’s head flicks back and forth between the ceiling and Lance, before groaning and holding his head in his hands. Without warning, he drags Lance in for a hug, squeezing as tightly as he can, Lance’s breath forced out with a shock.

“I’ll be back as soon as I’ve made sure Pidge hasn’t buried herself in something. Again,” he says, giving Lance one more squeeze which seems to ricochet across his whole being, the comfort and concern from his best friend battering on his carefully glued up seams.

They loosen. Lance tugs them back. He cannot breakdown, will not give in.

Hunk departs with one final concerned look, door sliding shut and silence descending. Lance leans back on the counter, breathing deeply and steadying himself once again. He blinks, though, when his bowl suddenly appears under his nose, once again full of food.

“Here. Take this, and come with me,” Allura says, picking up her own with the other hand.

Lance takes it, confused as she smiles brightly and walks to the door.

“I’ve eaten already. Where are we going?” he asks as he follows her out of the room and to the left.

“I’m aware, but this creation is fantastic, and we have a long evening ahead of us. We should keep our strength up,” she says before winking over her shoulder.

She doesn’t answer his second question, though, and Lance feels his word pool has been exhausted for the day. However, it becomes clear after a few moments that they are walking towards Allura’s room, which has Lance confused even further.

“Do we have time for… whatever this is? Aren’t we meant to be preparing?” he asks.

“We have all day, and it’s early. The festivities will not start until this evening when the sun sets,” she explains as they make it to her door.

He’s been here a few times, they all have, but no one tends to spend any time in their rooms together, as the common spaces are far more equipped to deal with large numbers. So Lance is a little surprised when Allura unlocks the door and ushers him in.

Allura’s room is more of a suite, fitting for royalty, of course. She makes her way to the sitting room, placing her bowl down on a small table and gesturing to the couch, which Lance knows is far more comfortable than any of the ones in the common areas. There’s a holoscreen area before it, much like a TV and projector, which they’ve used a few times when they’ve watched Altean shows. They mostly stick to video games and the few Earth movies Pidge has on her laptop that they managed to transfer over.

“Take a seat, I’ll be back in a second,” she says, and Lance does what he’s told as she disappears deeper into her bedroom.

Lance listens to her scrambling around for a few moments, letting his mind stay blank as the sounds distract him. Thankfully, Allura appears only a few moments later, carrying a green box with a flat data chip on top of it.

“You must promise me you will not tell the others about this,” she says, indicating to the box which she places on the table.

Lance is even more confused, but just nods in agreement. Allura grins, then turns back to the holoscreens and sets them up, adding the data chip into the set up. Once she’s finished, she flops down beside him and pulls the box forward.

“I was given these on Nyxim Seven when we travelled there a few months ago. They are usually for children during the new year festival, but they were my favourite growing up and I managed to store a few boxes,” she explains, opening the lid carefully.

Lance stares at an array of small coloured cubes, all with different flowers on top of them. Some glittered, others a deeper colour with marble swirls flowing through. He looked up as she held them out towards him.

“Are these candy? Chocolate? Marzipan?” he questions, finding it easier to ask simple questions over treats.

“Maybe? We’ll have to try them! I have been asleep for ten thousand years, but my cure for heartbreak should still work,” she answers, setting the box down between them and turning her attention to the holoscreen.

Lance doesn’t really feel too shocked that she’s seen through him. Perhaps he would normally, but his energy is so focused on keeping himself upright, that he lets it sweep past.

“Are we watching a romcom?” he asks instead as the screen flickers to life.

Allura turns to him, looking scandalised. “No, of course not! Who wants to watch other people fall in love when your own romance isn’t working out?” she asks as the title credits begin.

Lance cannot help but agree with that, smile breaking through as he moves forward and collects his bowl of breakfast, deciding he should at least finish the healthy food before moving onto sweets.

“So, what are we watching?” he asks, something inside him starting to loosen now that they were in this relaxed atmosphere. They didn’t feel like paladins, like soldiers in arms—just friends. And friends were there when things like this happened, and slowly, Lance can feel the walls start to dismantle, rubble escaping as cement gave way.

“Horror,” Allura says with a gleeful grin, picking up her own bowl.

“Horror,” Lance repeats, in genuine surprise.

“Bad horror. So bad, you can’t look away,” she says, clearly excited.

Lance laughs at the expression on her face and settles back on the sofa; before long, he’s wrapped up in the weird and terrible plot. They both finish their breakfast and quickly move onto the treats, Lance finding they are quite like chocolate and sugar candies, all sweet and addictive.

Yet, it’s the relaxation that gets him. That has his throat clogging with more than just sweetness, has his chest aching with more than their laughter.

“They are so stupid, what the hell,” he says at the character who has run through the same door twice even though it’s a dead end.

“Uh huh,” Allura agrees, popping another candy in her mouth, eyes riveted.

The screen blurs in Lance’s vision, and he sniffles as quietly as possible. But Allura hears it, he can tell by the way she shifts closer ever so slightly.

“So stupid. Really stupid,” he says, voice choking and tears pouring.

“I know, I know, Lance. He’s really an idiot,” she says softly, and Lance breaks. He turns to the side and buries his face in her shoulder and just sobs. Allura immediately adjusts so she’s hugging him properly, hands smoothing down his back in circular motions.

“I’m sorry, Lance. It will be okay,” she says, and Lance just sobs harder, finally having the space for it all to wash over him.

“I always suspected you liked him, I could see how you always gravitate towards one another. That’s why I am surprised he dismissed you this morning. It’s clear to me he feels for you, too,” Allura murmurs as they sit, Lance’s head on her shoulder, watching the second of the amusing horror movies play out.

“Keith? Liking me? You can’t be serious,” he says with a scoff, but at least he can say it now. Crying felt good, even if it had been messy agony while it occured.

“I am, though, Lance. Your taunting is more flirting than any of the lines you say to me. Oh wait, watch, this is brilliant,” she says, gripping his hand and pointing to the screen.

They both burst into laughter as the alien on screen manages to trip and land straight into the arms of the killer.

“I can’t believe this got a second movie, what the hell,” Lance says, shaking his head.

“There’s four, actually,” Allura says, still laughing.

Before Lance has a chance to reply, Coran’s face appears over the horror movie. Both of them instantly scream and launch backwards.

“Hello, Princess! Ah, Lance, excellent.  Sorry to interrupt, but the Lymedians are here, and they are asking to speak to both of you,” he says, seemingly unperturbed by their reaction to his appearance.

“To me as well?” Lance says, leaning forward.

Coran nods. “Yes, they were quite insistent on that. Keith’s been helping on the planet for the past few hours, so he’s returning now. They are on the bridge with Pidge at the moment,” he says.

“We’re on our way,” Allura confirms, and with that, the call and the movie are over.

Lance puzzles over exactly why these people would want to speak to him as they walk. Keith he could understand, but him? He wasn’t affected by the bug, only happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They enter the bridge and Lance sees the Lymedians clustered around the holoscreens. He recalls their planet fondly, one in a Galra-controlled system but on the edge of the Empire, mostly forgotten. They are tall and humanoid in stature, but thin as reeds, skin a dark green with large, yellow and black eyes. They wear robes of various shades of blue which determine their clans, with flowing, almost translucent white hair that is customarily long. Three of them have arrived, all with sky-blue robes, and they turn to bow as Allura enters.

“Princess, we are honoured to see you once more, and deeply apologetic our gift has caused trouble,” one says, stepping forward.

Allura smiles and bows in return. “A pleasure to meet you again also. And please do not worry, these things happen,” she says.

The Lymedian nods, looking more relaxed at the pleasant response. Their eyes then turn to Lance.

“Coran informed us that the Red Paladin was the one bitten, and you, Blue Paladin, were the one whom they locked onto?” they say, asking for confirmation.

Lance nods, finding his words once again stoppering with the mention of the incident. As he does, one of the other Lymedians steps forward.

“May I speak to you for a moment? Alone,” they add, and Lance feels his confusion grow. He looks to Allura, who shrugs back but nods.

So Lance agrees, and leads them out of the bridge and into one of the closer common areas, gesturing for them to take a seat. In their hands is a translator, an invention of Pidge’s which enables more complex words and phrases to be translated to English.

“Thank you, Paladin Lance,” they say, smiling gratefully.

“Just Lance is fine. Why did you want to speak to me? I didn’t get infected,” he says, taking a seat opposite them.

“Lance, then, and you may call me Edrise. I am what you would call an… entomologist,” Edrise says, as their translator lights up in confirmation.

“So you study insects,” he says, ensuring they knew he was on the same page.

“I do, and I have studied the one which your comrade was bitten by, which is why I am here. You see, your Green Paladin informed us of the condition and their analysis of what occurred between you two, and well, there is a bit of a problem.”

“Problem?” Lance says, sitting straighter. Flashes of a million different scenarios flood through at this; Keith in pain as before but elevated, more bugs on their way to bite them all, that Keith will hate him for the rest of time for what happened.

However, Edrise begins speaking so he forces his mind to focus.

“Yes. Unfortunately, your ship’s translator is slightly out of date. Well, ten thousand years out of date precisely, and in that time, our language and understanding of this creature has changed greatly. So the information your friend translated and passed onto you is not correct. You see, the bug toxin doesn’t make chemicals. It enhances and increases ones already present in the body,” they say, leaning forward earnestly.

Lance’s mind screeches to a halt, taking in the statements slowly, but it still doesn’t truly connect.

“What?” he says, bewildered.

“The toxin mingles with your own chemistry. It causes reactions, but it can only work with the materials it’s given,” Edrise says slowly.

They sigh, then inhale once.

“Your Red Paladin… Keith? He already had the fundamentals of these reactions. The bite just increases them out of context. It also lowers inhibitions, and in many cases, brings out a sort of… determination in the bitten. They feel more able to express their desires and work to achieve them, rather than feeling the need to stifle them.”

Lance feels himself shaking, not sure when it started, only that it’s occurring now. He lifts a trembling hand to smooth through his hair, a wild laugh escaping as he does. Edrise looks on with obvious sympathy, but gives him the space to work through it.

“So… the hugging, and worrying about me, and the talking and the… wanting to be around me was… was-” he breaks off as Edrise moves forward to gently hold onto one shaking hand.

“Was all exactly how he was feeling. How he always feels for you. In life, we often do not express the depths and complexities of how we really feel, and what we need from those around us. It’s only as relationships grow with time that you are allowed into someone’s head more. The bug venom allows this to happen at a swift pace, lowering inhibitions and bypassing societal norms. We know this as there are cases where our people who have close relationships—best friends, family, bonded pairs—are bitten and their behaviour only changes minimally,” they explain slowly, voice calming and constant in it’s analysis.

Lance lets the words spin around him, his reality caving in under their weight. He swallows a build up of something hard and burning in his throat, clearing it as he does.

“Are you… sure?” he asks, tone almost pleading.

Edrise grips his hand once before letting go. “I am, but there is someone else who would be better placed to confirm it,” they say, standing.

Lance nods and stands as well, manners prompting him to action.

“Thank you for taking the time to tell me. And for doing it alone,” he adds, not knowing how he would have reacted if forced to learn of this in front of the group.

Edrise bows shallowly. “You are welcome, Lance. Please, I recall the way, so give yourself a moment.”

Lance is grateful for the reprieve of duties and as soon as they leave, collapses back on the chair, head falling into his hands. He’s giving himself whiplash today; from waking up expecting to be cuddled up with Keith, to his rejection and crying all over Allura, to the truth of the bug… his head is overloading.

It was all real. Well, ‘real’ is not the precise word, but it was all Keith’s wants and emotions focused to the surface, not a synthetic creation from chemicals as Lance had been assuming. Which would mean that Keith felt how he acted all along.

Lance sat up at that. All along. Including this morning, when he’d been rude and dismissive and just left Lance to wake up alone in a panic. In the swirling cluster of the tumultuous emotions inside his mind, one managed to gain a little more prevalence than the others at this fact.

Anger .

Keith felt this way and yet he still pushed Lance away and made him suffer without saying a thing? Literally running off the ship as soon as he could get a mission from Shiro, while Lance couldn’t help but feel as if he’d betrayed Keith’s trust and potentially ruined any semblance of a relationship they may have?

He’s stewing in his own frustration when there’s a chorus of shouting from the corridor and the sound of pounding shoes. Lance jumps to his feet, looking around instantly for a weapon when the door bursts open and Keith skids to a halt.

“Lance!” he pants, seeing him standing there in a fighting stance with his fists raised, assuming there was some sort of fight approaching from the noise.

Frankly, he’s concerned that this is his first reaction, but pushes that down as the fury of the last few minutes finds it’s target.

“Oh, now you appear and remember I exist. Now you want to talk to me!”

Keith obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction, and honestly, Lance isn’t expecting it from himself, but he’s so overtaken by his own emotions that he’s been valiantly trying to keep at bay for days, that he’s just pulled along with the tide.

“Lance… Lance, I’m sorr-” Keith begins, but now that Lance has begun, he cannot stop.

“Sorry? For completely brushing me off like I was nothing this morning when I thought you were hurting, or for letting me cry myself stupid on Allura, or for how you were never going to talk about any of this again?” he asks angrily, pacing up and down the room, drawing closer to Keith but still keeping a large distance between them.

“This morning, and—wait, you cried?” Keith says, taking two steps forward with wide eyes as he does. Lance scrubs at his head in frustration, not meaning to say that.

“Not the point, Keith,” he growls instead, and Keith just throws his hands in the air.

“Then what is the point, Lance? Because I can’t keep up right now,” Keith says, retracing his steps until his back hits the wall, crossing his arms in his usual stance.

The words seem to temper the storm inside, and Lance’s anger dies down to exhausted annoyance. He takes in Keith’s posture, the way his eyes no longer focus on Lance like they once did, the clenching of his fingers in his jacket as if trying to feel some kind of comfort from his own self.

Lance pauses, remembering the past two days were real in a sense, and what that means.  But this is hardly going to be easy, so Lance inhales and closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose as he circles once, then returns, eyes opening.

“Why did you come to find me?” he asks slowly to calm himself and the atmosphere between them.

Keith’s hands fall from his sides at the question, dropping like stones in gravity, head twisting to one side. Fighting again—always fighting—but this time, Lance isn’t sure what they’re fighting against.

“You know the truth about the bug bite,” Keith says, in a far softer tone than Lance has ever heard from him. It sends him so off kilter, all he can do is nod in agreement.

Keith pauses then, shoulders hunched, awkwardness permeating the space between them. Lance signs heavily and points towards the seats.

“Let’s sit down, okay?” he offers, then makes his way over, hoping Keith will follow. He does without pause, moving to sit opposite Lance, the small table between them a necessary barrier.

“We need to talk about this,” Lance states as the silence continues and Keith looks up, glaring.

“I know, Lance. Just give me a second,” he says, and Lance holds up his hands in surrender, instantly feeling guilty.

He knows this isn’t easy for Keith, knows it’s not ideal for either of them, and he probably feels backed into a corner when he isn’t ready. But all their cards are face up and shown, so there is little Lance can do but try and make it easy, and try to allow him to speak.

Keith exhales and Lance feels as if he’s bracing himself for battle. He can’t help but feel his heart drop inside his chest that Keith sees emotions as a confrontation. Perhaps I can change that , his mind whispers, but he swipes it away. Just because Keith has feelings for him, doesn’t mean he wants the same things Lance does.

“They told you what they told me, I guess. That the venom makes you express your… feelings,” Keith says, still not looking at Lance as he begins.

Lance nods, though, knowing with the darting of Keith’s eyes, he’ll catch the movement.

“Makes you express what you want and how you feel for the person you first lay eyes on,” Lance confirms, thinking it better to let Keith know exactly what he’s been told.

Keith nods, a jerking motion, then huffs out a breath once more. His fingers tighten and release in succession and he just looks so tense that Lance wants to reach out and hold him like he knows he likes. But he can’t.

“I like you, Lance. Which you already know, but I need to tell you. And this isn’t really the best circumstances for that, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with it and that you had no choice. I appreciate you not wanting me to be in pain and going with the whole thing, but I’m really, really sorry I forced you into that position,” he says finally meeting Lance’s eyes as he looks up, remorse clear in his expression.

Which leaves Lance stunned, quite frankly. He thinks he might be gaping at Keith in confused shock, for these is a huge, cataclysmic gap in their understanding.

For Keith has no idea he feels the same way.

Lance assumed it was obvious! What, with how he reciprocated, and with Keith leaving so abruptly and being so surly. But it adds a completely new dimension to the levels of misunderstanding if Keith actually believes he doesn’t return the feelings.

In Lance’s shell-shocked silence, Keith continues speaking.

“So, now you know why I left this morning. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I didn’t want to cause any more problems between us because of this. And you know how I feel and I guess what I secretly want from you so… now you know,” he finishes, obviously struggling to find a way to get through this.

Lance swallows, something hard that’s formed in his throat, and as it stings it’s way through his chest, he feels a spark of an idea, one that catches alight and burns, even as his hands shake and his palms start to sweat.

For Keith has been forced to confess more than one usually does in such early stages. And as his rival, Lance really should try to match him.

“I want someone to catch me from a healing pod,” Lance says.

Keith’s brow furrows in confusion and there’s a flicker of pain in his eyes, but Lance pushes forward. He’s going places with this.

“I hate them. I really hate them. It feels like I’ve fallen through a frozen pond and I’m drowning under the ice. I always think it’s going to malfunction and I’ll get stuck in it, but mostly, I’m scared one day I’ll wake up and no one will be there to catch me, as everyone’s forgotten I exist.”

He stands, then, because despite his plan, he’s still nervous as hell and pacing feels like the best way to disperse the overload of energy in his limbs.

“I want someone who I can talk to when my mind keeps blocking things out. Because I keep dissociating and locking away all the blood and death and the people we can’t save, and I think one day, those things won’t hold anymore and I don’t know what will happen when it fails,” he says, this time unable to look at Keith as the tremors in his hands cause him to wrap them under his armpits.

He inhales and keeps going.

“I want someone who can… care for me as I am now. For as much as I would jump at the chance to see my family right now if I could, I don’t know if they’d recognise or even like who I’ve become,” he says, feeling his chest ache with the familiar worry, but everything also seems lighter after finally saying it aloud.

This time, he does look at Keith. He’s staring up at Lance, the hurt from before vanished, replaced by awe and a little caution. But there is fondness there, and concern, too, which helps Lance fight against the small voice that tells him to flee, having revealed far too many of his weaknesses.

So Lance lets the feeling wash over, then steadies himself again. This time, he speaks to Keith.

“I want someone who sees me as valuable, who wants me around. Who actually sees me, knows me, not just who I pretend to be. Who wants to spend time with me even if we don’t have the same interests, and be comfortable doing our own thing in the same space. And who can share their own interests with me too,” he says, thinking of every moment from the last two days that has made him fall even harder for Keith when he was baring his deepest emotions.

Lance has stopped pacing while speaking, realising he’s now just standing in front of Keith, who looks up at him with the beginnings of a smile, eyes huge and a faint flush rising on his cheeks, which momentarily stuns Lance, it’s such a rarity to see.

But he takes a few steps forward and sits down on the sofa next to Keith, still keeping space between them, and Keith immediately turns so they are facing one another. It’s the most open he’s seen Keith all day, so Lance pushes through to the final moment.

“I want all that with you,” he says, simple words for something that is far from simple, so much that he feels as if he’s tilting on the edge of the abyss, almost certain to fall.

But Keith grabs his hand as soon as the words are said, pulling him from the edge so abruptly and promptly it punches the air from his lungs.

“You really mean that?” Keith says, eyes fierce and bright, and although it’s not the magenta hue from before, it does make them shine so much that Lance thinks that he can be on board with making Keith light up like that forever.

So Lance grips his hand and nods. “I do. You really think I would have held you all night if I didn’t care about you?” he says, shuffling forward and smirking because even though this is a huge step, he cannot help but tease a little.

Keith also scoots forward on the sofa so their knees almost touching. His face flames again, but he smirks dangerously, the expression increasing the thrumming in Lance’s veins.

“Even through alien poison, I’d have to like you a whole lot to let you drool on me,” he says, and Lance squawks, swiping at Keith with his free hand, who laughs.

“I did not drool!” he says indignantly as he sits back, but Keith pulls him back in again with a tug to their still intertwined hands.

“You definitely did,” he says, chuckling, but also slowly raising his free hand to rest on Lance’s hip.

Lance feels warmth seep in from the touch and the instant comfort is a delight. “You, mullet, like me hugging you,” he says, shifting himself so he can move forward.

Keith goes with him, although it’s a bit hesitant; however, as soon as he’s close enough, Lance wraps his arms around him, breaking any sort of question Keith may have of his intentions. For Lance will be clearer from now on, will make sure he speaks fully of what he wants and feels for him.

Keith sags into the hug and Lance smiles to himself as he rests his cheek on Keith’s shoulder. Keith really is good at hugs and Lance has never hugged anyone who so obviously enjoys the contact so much.

“And you like sitting in my lap. Or lying in it,” Keith counters, and Lance pulls back enough from the hug to wink, keeping his arms wrapped around Keith’s neck as he does.

Keith then realises what he’s alluded to and rolls his eyes at Lance, who laughs loudly as Keith turns red.

“You know what I mean,” he mutters, and Lance takes pity on him.

“I do. And yeah, I like being close to you,” Lance says, then realises just how close they are to one another, Keith’s arms around his waist now.

They both stay for just a moment, then Keith’s eyes dart downwards just once.

“I’d like to kiss you, if I can?” he says, voice soft and leaning infinitesimally closer as he does.

“You can. Yes,” Lance says rapidly and then cringes as Keith laughs a little, a puff of air on his mouth.

He’s still smiling as they kiss. And that’s nice, Lance thinks as his eyes slip closed slowly and he leans into the sensation. That their first kiss is full of smiles and relief, his arms drawing Keith as close as he can get. It’s a bright kiss, an exploration as they press and draw into one another, still chaste and learning, Keith seeming hesitant against him. But it still rushes and swims through his body, and Lance knows now that he’s kissed him once, it will never be enough.

They part and Lance doesn’t let Keith go too far, leaning his forehead against his, keeping no space between. And Keith just smiles, and that, Lance thinks, is the best part about all of this.

“I’m sorry.”

Lance turns to Pidge from where he sits at the table, their plates now empty. The celebrations for the first night included sitting through several long speeches and now what Allura has named a ‘small dinner and dance.’ Except, it’s grander than any wedding Lance has been to, which doesn’t bode well for how overwhelmed he’ll be when the ball occurs in two days time.

He and Pidge are the only ones still at their table as Shiro and Keith are in a heated discussion over hand-to-hand combat prowess with the Mayor of the Xendarians, Hunk is on the search for more of the cake-like things on behalf of all three of them, and Allura has been dancing with several dignitaries for the past half an hour.

“What for?” he days, turning to face her.

She twists her napkin awkwardly. “I’d seen you checking out Keith, but I didn’t know you liked him so much. I wouldn’t have mocked the whole thing so much if I had,” she says, looking up at him sincerely.

Lance chuckles and hugs her with one arm.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s all worked out for the best,” he says, eyes finding his… boyfriend across the room.

Boyfriend . Already, it’s beyond amazing.

“Urg, you are so gross. Go ask him to dance or something,” she says, pushing him away.

“That is actually a great idea!” he says, bouncing to his feet, about to step away when he turns back to her.

“Don’t you dare eat my cake,” he says, pointing to her threateningly.

“I make no promises,” she replies with a smirk, and Lance groans as he walks away. Hopefully, Hunk will be able to save one for him.

As he approaches, Keith’s eyes light up and he’s making his excuses before Lance even needs to ask. He smiles as they meet, Keith taking his hand instantly.

“Hey,” Keith says, squeezing his hand once.

“Hey, yourself. Can I steal you away for a dance… boyfriend?” Lance asks, unable to stop himself from using the new title.

“It’s not stealing if I go willingly, Lance,” Keith says with a raise of an eyebrow, but walks with him to the dancefloor.

“Don’t ruin the moment for me, Keithy,” he replies as they step amidst the couples, and he sweeps Keith around in a circle.

Keith is obviously not used to dancing, but they find a rhythm anyhow, both used to working with one another's movement by now. The music is something akin to strings and it’s soothing to Lance, who is already feeling the drain of the day despite it not actually being that late.

“You can talk to me, you know.”

Lance is flung from his musings with Keith’s soft words against his ear. When he meet his gaze, Keith continues.

“What you said before, about locking things up and dissociation. I get it, but I’m also worried about you. If you want to talk, I’m here. Just like you were for me,” he says, sincere and promising.

“I was?” Lance asks, not sure if he can recall much of a heart-to-heart passing between them before today.

“When I talked about my past. I know it was part of the toxin, but even then you encouraged more of it. Didn’t shut me down. And I guess, that’s something I want, too. To… talk about those things in the past. Especially now that I know more of who I am,” he explains.

And Lance leans in, kissing him once before turning them as they near the edge of the dance floor.

“You can always talk to me. And I’ll definitely talk about it. I want to, just not right now. It’s too much in one day, I think. I’m already tired.”

At this, Keith stops, drawing back a little with a smile.

“Let’s go back, then,” he says, before parting to take Lance’s hand and lead them off the dance floor. He’s about to protest, when Keith looks back over his shoulder.

“No one will mind. There are days of celebration ahead and we’ve done our part,” he says, tugging Lance along with a smile.

Turns out, Keith is correct as Shiro waves them on without much more than a goodnight. They manage to swipe a cake each before Pidge eats the rest, and hand in hand, they make their way back to the castleship.

“Soooo, sleeping,” Lance says as they enter. He’s not really sure what they should do now, seeing as they've technically slept in the same bed before, but now it’s with full awareness. And Lance would love to spend the night curled up with Keith without any guilt, but he’s aware it could be moving too quickly since they’ve only just defined who they are.

However, Keith pauses, turning around.

“Well, I did manage to find one of those suites you were talking about. It has a four poster bed. And a freestanding bathtub,” he says and Lance’s excitement bursts forth without him even realising.

“You are the best boyfriend ever! A bath and a luxury bed!” he yells, lifting Keith’s hand in celebration, who laughs along with him.

They split once again to prepare in their own rooms, which is now a comfortingly familiar routine, even if it is a little strange. Lance finishes cleaning his teeth and on impulse, grabs his morning serums, toothbrush, and toothpaste, and takes them with him in a bag. After all, no point in having an amazing bathroom if he doesn’t use it, right?

He collects clothing for the next day, then emerges, Keith waiting for him as always, with his own clothes in hand. Lance smiles and they walk side by side, shoulders brushing while their hands are occupied.

“So, pajamas? Been meaning to ask when you started wearing those,” Lance says as they walk past the room they’ve spent the last two nights in, bumping Keith’s arm as he does.

Keith’s cheeks darken a little. “You look comfy in them, so… well, the bug prompted me to try them,” he says, before suddenly pushing open an unremarkable door to the left.

Keith stands by the door, gesturing Lance to move forward first. He ducks inside, and it is truly all Keith promised and more. A light is flicked on and the room is illuminated in soft light, coming from lamps, one large on in the corner of the room, and another on a bedside table near the huge, cherry wood coloured four poster bed.

Part of him has the urge to run around in glee, explore every corner and marvel at the luxury, but the other, more pressing part is exhausted and has a boyfriend to cuddle.

That part is never going to get old.

He places his belongings down on top of a large chest of drawers, then makes his way over to Keith, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“And you like to be comfy,” he says, pulling Keith backwards with him as he walks towards the bed. Keith, of course, goes willingly, nodding in confirmation to Lance’s question.

They have to part to get into the bed, seeing as they had to practically climb into it, it’s raised fairly far off the floor. But as he does, Lance practically sinks into the mattress, and knows, without having to wonder, that this will be one of the best night's sleep he’ll have in months. Keith sits down on the bed and looks down at him, so Lance shuffles forward to capture him by the waist and encourage him down beside him.

Keith raises an eyebrow but follows until they’re laying side by side, Lance’s arm thrown around him, their legs tangling together.

“And you like to be held,” Lance murmurs, bringing back this conversation once again because it’s still such a joy to know, and edging closer to brush his nose against Keith’s.

Keith’s breath hitches and Lance grins to himself, but he’s taken aback when Keith presses a succession of soft kisses against his lips, each one a tiny brush of love and closeness. Keith breaks away after what feels like an infinite number, and Lance longs to pull him back, but the soft smile on Keith’s face as he leans away is the only thing that prevents him. So instead, Lance raises a hand to run through his hair, cupping his cheek delicately as he goes.

“Yeah, I do. It’s not something I’ve… had much of,” he confesses, and part of Lance knows that’s the reason, but hearing it aloud is another matter entirely.

“You can tell me about it, if you like,” he says, a repeat of his earlier offer.

And Keith nods against his hand. “I will. When it’s time,” he says, and Lance would never ask for more than that, for just that sentiment has him bursting with emotion he can barely identify, so vast and crucial his fingers seem to twitch.

In the silence, Keith draws him forward, a movement Lance isn’t expecting, but one he’s willing to go with. For immediately, he’s resting against Keith’s chest, sighing into him as Keith places a kiss to his hair, fingers combing through the short strands there.

“You are so important to me, Lance. Never forget that. And if you ever do, I’ll remind you,” he says, a whisper just for Lance that leaves tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

For as much as Keith likes to be held, Lance likes to know he matters, and Keith knows this as much as he knows Lance so completely. And because of that, Lance doesn’t bother to hide the stray tears that fall as he rears up and kisses Keith with all he has, who matches him just as fiercely. Then, it slows to just a press of mouths in newly explored contact, just touches of lips to one another, smiles sleepy and content as they revel in the newness of them.

And half an hour later, when he’s on the edge of sleep in the bed with so much space considering Keith is curled up practically on top of him, Lance wonders if he can officially claim this as ‘their room’ from now on. He’d certainly like to, but it’s a question in the morning, when Keith will awaken with his hair askew, hopefully still curled up, just like this on Lance.

He softly runs his hand down Keith’s back, smiling to himself as Keith snuggles closer under the touch.

Who could have guessed an alien bug would bring him a boyfriend?