Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s so hot Jonathan thinks his face will melt off.

“Bobby!” he whines, leaning forward in his seat. “Have you even put on the AC?”

Bobby sighs but keeps his eyes on the road when he addresses him. “I did, but I don’t think it’s working properly!”

Jonathan heaves a very heavy sigh and lets himself fall back into his seat. Antoni is sitting next to him, squished between Jonathan and Tan. He gives Jonathan a pointed look.

“I’m just not made for this heat,” Jonathan moans and thrusts out his lower lip in a pout.

“None of us are,” Tan grumbles.

Karamo, who took shot-gun (that lucky bastard), turns in his seat to flash his teeth at his disgruntled colleagues. “Guys, we’re not that far away from Plaht City, so relax!” Ever the eternal optimist. Jonathan doesn’t consider himself a pessimist – hell, he is downright positive most of the time – but the sand and the heat and the desolation around them just reminds him of times he’d rather forget about. He probably isn’t the only one, judging from Tan’s solemn face and Antoni’s silence. Jonathan just wonders how Karamo’s able to stay so cheerful.

Jonathan sticks his hand into his bag, searching for something to fan himself with. And, sure enough, he comes across a delicate blue fan. With a squeak of joy he unfolds it and starts fanning himself. Antoni eyes the fan longingly and moves closer to Jonathan. The increased proximity isn’t making things better, but Jonathan would never deny his precious Antoni-baby anything. He increases his fanning motion and leans a bit more on Antoni.

Antoni smiles a little and sighs contentedly. It is still hot af, but the fan makes it a little more bearable.

“Oh my, were did you get this?” Tan asks, indicating the fan. “It’s gorgeous!”

“I got it from this alien lady after I did her hair?” Jonathan says, scrunching up his nose in thought. “I was eyeing it the whole time and after I finished doing her hair she just gave it to me.”

“What alien?” Antoni asks.

“I don’t remember...she had these pointy ears and these, like, blue triangles on her face?”

“An Altean!” Bobby exclaims. “You did an Altean lady’s hair?”

“Yeah, she was so gorge,” Jonathan says, remembering the day like it was yesterday. It had actually been over a year; it had been the first time Jonathan had met an alien race that did not want to enslave him.

“I think it’s go-time,” Karamo says, pulling out the tablet.

Immediately, Antoni and Tan sit up straight. Jonathan combs his fingers through his hair, hoping that he doesn’t look a mess. In front of him, Bobby adjusts the rear-view mirror.

The cameras are rolling (have been for the whole journey, actually), but they all know that only the essential few minutes before they reach their destination will be put into the show.

And now it is show time.

“Oh my gosh, look at all that sand,” Jonathan says, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. “Bobbers, where did you take us?”

“We’re just outside Plaht City, home to the world famous Galaxy Garrison!” Bobby says. They all gasp in mock-surprise.

“I can see the Garrison from here!” Tan exclaims and points out the window.

“It’s huge!” Antoni says and all three men in the back-seat lean forward to get a better look. The production team will probably add a shot of the Garrison at this point. Jonathan had only ever heard of it, but never seen it in person. He isn’t all too sure whether he wants to see it or not.

“So who’s our next hero?” Jonathan asks, tapping Karamo on the shoulder with his fan. “Tell us, tell us, tell us!” They actually all already know, but they need to play it up for the cameras.

Karamo laughs and looks down at his tablet. “Alright, so, I think you will love our next hero.”

Jonathan leans back in his seat, opening his fan. In their short career on Queer Eye they had a lot of great heroes; from men to women to trans-people to a Balmeran lady. Jonathan has loved all of them. He is definitely excited for this hero, and it will be an honor to help him be the best version of himself – but at the same time Jonathan is also scared. He just isn’t sure what of.

Karamo turns around in his seat and smiles at the men behind him. “His name is Lance McClain, and he is a Paladin of Voltron!”

*~*

“You did what?”

Lance is staring at Hunk in disbelief. Hunk has the decency to look ashamed. Next to him, though, Pidge gives Lance a Look.

“This is in your best interest,” she says, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Even Shiro thinks it’ll be good for you, don’t you, Shiro?”

Next to Lance, Shiro flinches and chokes on his coffee.

“What?” Lance squeaks.

Pidge rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like this is the end of the world.”

Lance gapes at her. She can’t be serious. “Who’s idea was this?”

“It wasn’t mine!” Hunk says, ducking his head.

Shiro holds up his hands in a placating gesture and Pidge pointedly looks at the tiny cup in front of her.

When Pidge asked Lance to meet her at the Garrison, to catch up over a cup of mediocre coffee, Lance hadn’t been suspicious. Granted, it had been a while since he’d seen Pidge (was it at her birthday? It definitely had been a few months in any case) and it wasn’t like her to ask him - or anyone, for that matter - to meet up with her; which is probably why he said yes in the first place.

The Garrison also made sense, given that Pidge rarely left her lab. Lance had felt a bit nostalgic recently anyway, so he didn’t mind the drive over. The canteen was still as horrible as it had been before they found the Blue Lion, but Lance didn’t mind too much. It brought back some good memories, from the before-times.

He did not, however, expect to walk into a full-blown intervention, with everyone from Team Voltron present. Their matching serious faces were both hilarious and frightening, and Lance had considered turning around and walking right back out of the building.

Lance looks between Hunk, Pidge and Keith, who had remained silent throughout the whole argument.

“Well?” Lance prods. “Who decided it would be a good idea to nominate me for - what’s it again?”

“Queer Eye,” Shiro supplies.

Pidge gives Lance a side-eyed look. “I can’t believe you don’t know this show.”

Keith puts down his cup with a clatter. “It was me.”

Lance’s jaw just decides to stop working. He turns to gape at Keith, his mouth trying to form words but failing miserably. What the hell, Lance thinks. What the actual hell.

Keith coughs, bringing his hands down to grip his empty cup. He avoids Lance’s eyes and doesn’t elaborate. Lance looks around the table, but everyone keeps looking at the other, seemingly waiting for someone else to talk. Lance groans and throws his hands up in the air. “What. The. Hell?!”

“Lance,” Shiro says and puts a hand on his shoulder. “We think you could really benefit from this.”

“From a makeover show?”

“It’s not just a ‘makeover show’,”Keith says. He sounds genuinely affronted by Lance’s derogatory tone. “It’s more than a makeover!”

“I don’t think quoting the tagline is going to help,” Pidge mumbles.

“The Fab Five help with style, yes, but that’s only part of it. They re-do your house and cook with you and everything!” Hunk’s eyes start to shine when he comes to the food part. Lance just raises an eyebrow. It still sounds kinda wacky.

In theory, Lance knows about Queer Eye. Veronica and Rachel are obsessed with it, and even though Marco would never admit it, Lance has caught him crying into a box of tissues watching it. They all tried to talk him into it, but Lance just isn’t the type for makeover shows, especially since he has better things to do.

He looks from Hunk, to Keith, to Pidge, to Shiro, and back to Keith. Out of all people, Lance would have never guessed that Keith would be the one with a crazy idea like this.

When he meets Lance’s gaze, Keith sighs and sags back into his chair. “Look, Lance, we’re not doing this to irritate you. We’ve seen you struggle to get back on your feet since-” he stops, mid-sentence, but they all know what he means. How could they not, with the day coming up so soon. Lance bristles. Keith clears his throat. “But we all think that lately you’ve been doing…worse. You don’t seem…happy.”

“I am happy!” Lance protests, automatically, putting his hand down on the desk, maybe a bit too hard. The cups clatter on their saucers.

Pidge looks up at him and raises and eyebrow. “Are you, though?” she asks, her tone no-nonesense.

Lance goes still, his next remark dying in his throat. Pidge may try to give him an exasperated look, but Lance has known her for long enough to know when she’s sad; and right now, this sadness is clearly etched into the frown on her forehead. Hunk looks up, too, and he looks so worried. And having this worry directed at him makes Lance a bit queasy.

“I –”, Lance starts, but Shiro interrupts him.

“Lance, be honest.” His voice is soft and his eyes are imploring.

Lance opens his mouth, but he can’t reply. He is physically unable to.

Lance doesn’t need his friends to tell him that something is up. He’s been feeling it for a while. Something that he’s buried deep, ignored for the longest time, is trying to burst free and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

The year Allura…the year she left, was a long one. While earth scrambled to rebuilt itself, Lance fell into a deep pit of despair. He knows he wasn’t the only one. He was, however, determined to keep going, to honor Allura’s memory, to do everything to not forget her. But somewhere along the way, he lost himself.

Lance looks at his friends, his team, and it becomes glaringly obvious how far removed he is from all of them. It’s like they all kept walking, while he stood still, unsure of where to go, of what to do, or say. For a moment, Lance feels like the room around him warps and he is suddenly much smaller than everyone around him. His mind scrambles to come back to reality, but as much as he tries, his friends remain remote and above him.

Somewhere along the line, Lance forgot himself. Somewhere along the line, his friends noticed. Judging from their faces, they knew for a long time. Maybe as long as he did.

He suddenly remembers Hunk’s and Pidge’s texts, one every day, for the last few months. He remembers Shiro ordering flowers at least once a week from his farm, the invitation to dinner or coffee that Lance declined every time; Keith being at Shiro’s place, more often than Lance would have expected, regarding Lance with an unreadable expression.

Lance’s shoulders sag and he slumps back in his chair. He stares at the empty cup in front of him.

He is not okay. And they know it.

Shiro squeezes his shoulder. Pidge reaches across the table, her hand closing over his.

“We just want to help,” Hunk says in a low voice.

Lance doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at Keith, who looks up from his cup and straight into Lance’s eyes. His gaze is unreadable, but for a moment, Lance is certain that there is something else, something he cannot put a finger on. It makes the pit of his stomach jolt. Lance quickly looks away.

Why does it suddenly feel like his Altean markings are burning?

“Look,” Keith says, and he is all business now, Lance can tell from the way his voice suddenly grows more stern. “We all tried to get you out of your shell for a while now, but you just don’t listen to us. So I thought that maybe the best thing we can do for you is get some strangers to help you out of this funk.”

That hurt. That really hurt. Lance looks down at his hands. It’s just like back when they were Voltron. He’s just a burden to all of them. Always. Some things never change.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says, not looking up from his hands.

“No no no, you’re not allowed to be sorry,” Hunk says, and his voice grows more confident, too. Pidge squeezes his hand as if in agreement.

“All we’re asking is that you give it a try,” Shiro says.

“We won’t force you to do it,” Keith adds. His eyes are trained on Lance. They are all looking at him expectantly, giving him an out.

He could say no. He could just get up and leave. He could pretend this never happened, that everything is fine.

His face starts to heat up. He brings his hand up to his markings, the ones Allura left him, burned into him before she left. He doesn’t think that they are glowing; he is almost certain they don’t. It feels different. It feels like a call.

He could say no. But something is preventing him from doing so.

He looks at his friend’s expectant faces, at the hope behind Hunk’s eyes. And Lance decides.

He shakes off the thoughts and fears and puts on a smile. “Alright, alright, I’ll do it.”

“Yeah man!” Hunk says and he and Pidge high-five. “This is gonna be awesome! You won’t regret it, promise!”

“And don’t you think we’ll just leave you in the mercy of the Fab Five,” Pidge says with a wide grin. “This’ll be a collab. We talked it through already.”

Lance has absolutely no idea what that means, and when he looks at Shiro, his former leader just winks at him.

Keith doesn’t say anything. There is, however, a small smile on his lips, and Lance has the distinct feeling that he lost some tension he was holding in his shoulders.

“So,” Lance says, leaning forward, placing his elbows on the table and smirking at Keith. “You are watching Queer Eye?”

Keith flinches, his cheeks going red. “Yeah.”

Lance smirk grows wider. “I thought you don’t have time for anything besides Blades-business?”

“There is always time to take care of yourself,” Keith counters, and grows even redder in the face when Hunk, Shiro and Pidge start laughing.

“Classic Jonathan,” Pidge says.

“Wait, you’re watching it, too?” Lance gapes at her.

“We all are,” Hunks says. “Shiro kinda talked us into it.”

“I never thought Shiro was such a trashbag,” Lance says.

Shiro pouts at him. “That wasn’t nice.”

They all laugh, even Keith. Lance still thinks it’s kind of a miracle every time Keith laughs. He’s seeing it so rarely on him it feels like a revelation every time it happens.

Lance waits until they all calm down before he says,“I think you need to tell me more about this show. And who the heck are the Fab Five?”

*~*

Bobby can’t help but feel a little bit more excited about his new project as they approach the farm.

Like everyone else of the Fab Five he had been briefed on their new hero prior to meeting him; Bobby knows about Lance having been part of Voltron, about his life as a farmer, and - most importantly - about the little house he owns. Bobby has one or two ideas what he wants to do in there, but it’ll become clearer after he meets Lance (and actually sees the house from the inside). He’s a bit concerned because his assistant had come back from taking measurements around the house with a somewhat haunted expression. She didn’t reply when Bobby prodded her, but then again she probably didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Bobby is certain it’s going to be fine.

Of course, he is also looking forward to actually meeting Lance. That is something the production team is adamant about; they want the first encounter between the Fab Five and the hero to be as authentic as possible. Sometimes Bobby thinks that this is a bit over the top, but in the end, he actually enjoys meeting their new hero without a filter (and he guesses that the audience feels that authenticity, too).

While Jonathan gets a little too excited over the fields and fields of flowers surrounding the little house, Bobby spots the van of the camera team that has arrived before them. Its parked right next to the porch where Bobby can make out a tall, lanky figure. That must be Lance.

“Oh my GOSH can you smell that?” Jonathan gushes.

“That’s the flowers!” Antoni says; Bobby can see him in the rear-view mirror, nose pressed up against the window and smushing Tan into his seat. Tan does not look happy about that.

“Here we go!” Bobby says and pulls up to the house. He hasn’t even properly turned off the engine when there is a flurry of limbs and chatter and the back doors are thrown open.

Bobby shakes his head with a fond smile. He follows suit and jumps out of the car. He is not surprised when he is hit with a wave of heat, the early noon sun beating down on him.

He ignores the cameras floating around them – like always – and follows the others to the porch. Antoni has jumped onto Tan’s back and Jonathan is waving excitedly with his fan.

“Hey gorgeous!” Jonathan shouts. The others immediately follow suit and shout their respective greetings.

Lance, who swats away one of the more eager cameras bumping into his head, gives them an awkward smile. “Hey guys, I’m so happy that – Ooof!” Lance is interrupted by a very loud Jonathan jumping up the stairs and enveloping Lance in a bone-crushing hug. Bobby bursts out laughing when he sees Lance’s bewildered face.

“Oh my gawd, look at this gorge man!” Jonathan exclaims, holding Lance at arms length.

It’s obvious that Lance feels very uncomfortable, but before Bobby can say or do anything Karamo steps up and gently pries Jonathan from poor Lance. “Sorry, Jonathan is naturally like this. Hi, I’m Karamo!” He offers Lance a hug, which Lance, after thinking for a second, accepts (it’s a lot less bone-crushing, though).

Antoni hops off Tan’s back and they both introduce themselves. When Bobby approaches he notices that Lance looks a lot more put together, but there is still a bit of terror in his eyes. Well, it isn’t every day that you get gushed over by a bunch of gay guys.

“Hi Lance, I’m Bobby”, he says. He considers extending his hand but opts to hug Lance instead. It’s just what they do on the show - and anyway, Lance kinda looks like the guy who desperately needs more hugs.

“Hey,” Lance mumbles. From everything that Bobby has heard about Lance and Voltron he would never have thought that Lance is so…timid? Bobby remembers some interviews he and the others had watched and Lance had always seemed like the more gregarious of the Voltron bunch. Maybe the floating cameras make him a bit queasy (it had been for Bobby when he was first introduced to the small devices that made big camera teams redundant). Or maybe something changed - maybe that’s why they’re here.

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?” Jonathan says, bating his eyelashes, door handle already in one hand.

“Of course, yes.” Lance motions for Jonathan to enter who doesn’t miss a beat.

They all pile into the little house with a lot of happy chatter, but as soon as they lay eyes on their surroundings, everyone falls silent. Behind him, Bobby can feel Lance shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Bobby has seen many houses. He has been in the business before the Galra invasion after all. Most houses back then, and even today, are cluttered with all sorts of knick-knacks. Bobby has to concede that these days, though, most people clutter their living spaces with junk that they cannot bear to part with. Bobby understands; when everything is ripped from you you tend to hoard as much as possible, even if it’s junk. Any possession is essential, it seems.

Lance’s house, however cute it looks from the outside, is a complete cry-fest on the inside. There is just...nothing? Okay, maybe not nothing, but gosh, what the hell is that?

“Is that your living room?” Bobby wants to whack Tan for sounding so scandalized, but he has to admit that they probably were all thinking that exact same thing anyway.

Lance closes the door behind him. “Er, yes? And my dining room?”

Tan and Jonathan approach the sofa in the middle of the room. Bobby follows close behind. If he weren’t so dumbstruck himself he would laugh at Tan’s and Jonathan’s tentative steps and codfish expressions. One of the cameras that has been put inside prior to their arrival whirs around Bobby’s head and hovers over to the sofa, filming it from various angles.

Bobby let’s his gaze wander around the room. He counts a total of five items: an old gray sofa, a small table with a chair that looks a bit wobbly, and a television with a gaming console (Bobby suspects that the latter two were a gift from the Garrison, as they look more futuristic than anything he has seen in a while). To his right, a small archway leads into the kitchen. According to Gabby’s schematics, the stairs at the back of the room lead up to a bed-, guest- and bathroom. Bobby had known that the house isn’t big - a challenge all in itself which he is eager to take on - but the bare room seems too big and lonely, even with a total of six people awkwardly standing around.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Karamo blurts out. He is standing in front of the television, his eyes wandering around the bare room. Jonathan lets himself fall on the sofa. Bobby prods at a hole in the armrest. Tan looks somewhat offended by the general existence of it.

“It’s...comfy,” Jonathan says and bounces a bit.

Bobby decides to test the waters and sits down as well. “It is!” He is genuinely surprised. Maybe everything isn’t beyond all hope.

“Thanks,” Lance says, ambling over to them. “It belonged to my older brother.”

Normally the Fab Five would poke into every corner, make jokes and lighten the mood, but there is simply nothing in this room to talk about. Bobby feels a bit lost. Judging from Karamo’s face he isn’t the only one.

In one swift motion Jonathan stands up. “Where is your bathroom, henny?”

Lance blinks at the sudden change of pace. “Upstairs.”

Jonathan bustles past Lance and climbs the stairs at the back of the room. Tan follows him, probably to find the bedroom. Bobby can hear Antoni clattering around the kitchen.

Karamo looks from Lance to Bobby. He raises a questioning eyebrow. Bobby nods, and Karamo follows Antoni into the kitchen.

Bobby looks over at Lance. He looks so lost, standing there with his hands in his pockets and looking everywhere but at Bobby.

He pats the empty space next to him. “Join me on the couch?”

Lance hesitates, then gingerly sits down as well. Bobby gives Lance a warm smile to ease the tension. Lance tentatively smiles back, his eyes flitting to the camera hovering above them. Bobby is so used to them that he barely notices the cameras anymore, but he understands that a lot of their heroes seem a bit thrown off course by them.

“Tell me about this couch,” Bobby says and pats the armrest. “You said you got it from your brother?”

Lance looks back at him and smiles. “Yes, Luis. He’s the oldest one. He gave it to me when I moved in here. I think it belonged to my grandfather before him.”

So it is one of the old ones. Good to know. “This is an heirloom?”

Lance scratches his head. “I guess so.”

“You know, I don’t want to be rude, but it is really battered.”

Lance’s eyes go wide, but then he smirks. “She may be battered, but ol’ Lizzy here has a story to tell.”

Bobby is momentarily thrown off course at Lance’s joke. He’s glad that Lance seems to finally come into himself. He snorts. “Lizzy? Is that what you call your couch?”

Lance folds his arms in front of his chest and raises a challenging eyebrow. “We’ve been through a lot. Of course she’s got a name.”

Bobby laughs. Lance is finally loosening up. He looks a lot more like the myriad of pictures one can find on the internet with that raised eyebrow of his. That look of amused challenge kinda suits him.

“So this,” Bobby indicates the hole in the armrest, “has a story?”

Lance glances at it and goes a bit pink around the ears. “That was when Luis talked me into trying a cigarette. I hated it and almost choked and dropped it. I don’t know why we did it in here, where my grandmother could catch us any moment, but it seemed like a very good idea at the time.” Lance smiles at the memory. “We got so scared when the sofa suddenly began to smoke and Luis beat it out like a madman. There was still this black hole, so we went and cut it out and blamed it all on the dog.”

Bobby laughs. “You do love your family?” Bobby says, and he already knows the answer before he sees Lance’s warm smile.

“Yes. A lot.”

“You’re working on the farm together?”

“Not all of us. My sister Veronica works and lives at the Garrison, and Rachel and Marco are at college. My parents and grandparents live in the big farmhouse. Luis and his family live in the city.”

Bobby angles himself towards Lance and rests an arm on the backrest.“And you live in this house all on your own?”

Lance hesitates. “I didn’t want to leave my parents again. They insisted on me having my own place, though, so I got this.” Lance waves his hand, indicating the house. “I think it was originally intended for Luis but it’s too small for him and his family.” His face darkens. “We’re lucky our farm was mostly unharmed by the Galra invasion.”

Bobby leans back on the sofa and folds his arms in front of his chest. “Okay, I think you know what comes next. Why is there no furniture?”

The sides of Lance’s mouth quirk up. “I don’t know what you mean. I have Lizzy.” He pats the armrest like the neck of an old horse.

Bobby shakes his head with a snort. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

Lance’s lips press into thin line. He looks down at his hands. “I don’t need that much.”

“I didn’t say that. But, like, where do you let your guests sit if you have more than one person over?”

Lance’s face closes off. Ah.

Bobby leans forward and puts a comforting hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance looks up at him, his eyes unreadable.

“You can be honest with me,” Bobby says and smiles at him. “No shame here.”

For a moment, Lance doesn’t say anything, but Bobby can see the emotions washing over his face, the thoughts behind his eyes tumbling over each other. Bobby keeps his face as warm and open as possible. Not that it takes any effort; he genuinely wants to know what’s going on in Lance’s head. He already feels like this project will be different from all the other ones.

“I gave everything I got to my family,” Lance blurts out. “They need it so much more than me. After all that happened...” Lance doesn’t elaborate, but Bobby knows what he means. Everyone knows exactly what he means.

It’s a noble thing to do, Bobby can’t deny that. He hasn’t seen the parents’s house or that of Lance’s siblings, though, so he can’t judge how they are faring compared to Lance. In any case, Earth managed to recuperate quite well after the invasion; with the help of many other alien’s from outer space humanity has managed to get back on its feet. Sustainability is the word, yes, but there is simply no need to lead a spartan life anymore.

Bobby has to try a different approach. He clears his throat. “What do your parents say when they come over?”

Lance tenses. “They...don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“They say it’s sad.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Bobby leans forward a bit, looking at Lance imploringly. “Don’t you think you deserve to have a nice home?”

Lance blinks at him. “I don’t need much. I like it simple.”

“You tell that to your parents?”

“Yes.” Lance hesitates before he continues, “They tried to give me some more chairs, actually. But I really don’t need them.”

Bobby sighs. “Okay, Lance, I’ll be honest with you. I admire that you care for your family so much you give up basically everything, but I think your family doesn’t want you to put yourself down all the time.” He looks around the room. “I mean, simple is fine, I like simple, but this is not a place you can live in or invite people over.” He looks back at Lance who is picking at a loose thread of his shirt. “I know we are all struggling, but this is why I’m here. This is why we are here.”

Lance looks up at Bobby. He looks like he is about to say something, but no words come.

“Allura Day is coming up soon?” Bobby asks.

Lance’s whole body goes rigid. “Yes.”

“That’s why we are here. Your friends informed us that this year the celebration is going to be held at your house.”

“Which I refused, but Coran can be so fucking stubborn sometimes,” Lance mutters.

“Lance, I promise you that I will turn this into the simple, friendly house that you will be happy to invite your friends – and maybe special friend? – over to.” Bobby waggles his eyebrows at Lance.

Lance, however, doesn’t really react to it. He looks more scared than anything. Way to go back to the beginning, Bobby.

Bobby claps him on the shoulder companionably. “No need to be afraid! I promise that Lizzy will have a special place in your new reformed house,” Lance looks marginally more relaxed by that information. “How about we go and have a look at what Antoni and Karamo are concocting in the kitchen?”

*~*

Lance’s kitchen is a sad desolate place wrapped into the exterior of an old lady’s kitchen. Antoni wants to cry when he sticks his head into the fridge and only discovers a half-empty bottle of milk and a few chocolate bars.

“There is nothing to work with! Literally!” he grumbles and reaches for the milk. Behind him Karamo is opening and closing cabinets at random. Antoni opens the bottle and takes a sniff, bracing for the worst, but it actually smells fine – more than fine. It smells fresh milk. Do Lance’s parents have cows?

“I found chips!” Karamo exclaims. Antoni turns around to see Karamo reach into a cabinet and pull out two packets of chips.

Antoni puts the milk back in the fridge. “Did you find anything else?”

Karamo looks at the packets in his hands, contemplating and visibly struggling not to open and devour them then and there. “Besides these and a few plates and cups? Nothing.”

Antoni sighs and leans back against the counter. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Karamo stuffs the chips back into the cabinet and closes it with a bit more force than necessary. “How does he feed himself?”

“I guess he’s eating at his parent’s house,” Antoni says and points out of the window. It’s barely visibly, but there is another house that he guesses belongs to Lance’s parents. They have only been briefed on his circumstances, but some of his friends had offered a bit more information on the farm itself.

Antoni can hear Bobby and Lance talking in the sad excuse of a living room, so there is still more time for him to explore. He takes his time to look through every cabinet once more, but he cannot will something into existence by sheer force of will (sadly enough). The kitchen isn’t that big but there is more than enough space to prepare a decent meal. There is even a small corner that would be perfect for a breakfast bar or a small table – he should mention that to Bobby. The furniture, however, looks like it is about a hundred years old; not because it is worn or damaged or anything, but because it is hideous. Antoni normally doesn’t care where he cooks if the place is tidy – and this kitchen is tidy, though criminally underused – but this is not a kitchen a young man in his twenties should own.

He lets his hand trace the wood of the countertop. It is made of solid wood. Antoni can appreciate it for what it is. There isn’t a lot of proper woodwork around these days, and while he still dislikes the color of it he is sure Bobby will turn it into something more modern. Bobby has a knack for upcycling.

Kitchen aside, Antoni can’t find any utensils. There are a grand total of two plates and glasses, one spoon, one (blunt) knife, and one fork. No pots or pans, spatulas, ladles - nothing. Not even one decent knife! How can Lance live like this?

Antoni closes the cabinet he’s been staring into for at least ten minutes and turns with another heavy sigh. “This is sad.”

Karamo looks at him from the fridge. Antoni can’t shake the feeling that Karamo was really hoping to sneak some snacks, but given that there is nothing to sneak he pouts at the mostly empty fridge.

“Tell me about it,” Karamo says and closes the fridge.

One of the cameras whirs around Antoni’s head and he has to bat it away. It wavers in the air, then settles a bit further away from Antoni. “I mean, I wouldn’t have that much in my kitchen if I was always eating at my parent’s house. But I have a feeling that sad scene in the living room is just going to repeat itself in the rest of the house.”

Karamo walks over to Antoni and leans against the counter next to him. “Me too. I don’t even feel like it’s appropriate to poke a little fun at him about that.”

Antoni shakes his head. “Tan didn’t even say anything, think about that!”

Nick always used to say that what you make of your home reflects your soul. Antoni used to roll his eyes at that, but he secretly thought that Nick was right. Nick had always been fuzzy about his apartment. He had been fuzzy about most things. That’s what Antoni had loved about him.

Antoni shakes himself. There are other times for remembering.

“I think there is a lot going on with Lance,” Karamo muses. “This is going to hurt.”

“I guess.” Antoni suddenly feels a bit hollow.

Karamo shoots Antoni a concerned look. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Antoni says and pushes himself away from the counter. Before Karamo can challenge him on that Antonin spots someone ambling towards them. “Look who comes here!”

Lance wanders into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. Bobby has his hand on his back, pushing him gently forward. As soon as Lance enters the kitchen, Bobby turns and leaves, probably to find the others.

Antoni grins widely at Lance. “Lance, man, I hope Bobby didn’t talk off your ear!” Lance chuckles and shakes his head. Antoni takes a step forward and indicates the kitchen behind him. “Can you tell me what this is?”

Lance looks at him, puzzled, until Antoni waves his arms around to get his meaning across.

Lance raises an eyebrow. “A kitchen?”

“Yeah I get that, thanks Captain Obvious. No, I mean, what is this?” Antoni walks over to one of the cabinets and throws it open. “It’s completely empty!”

He walks over to another cabinet, opens it, then pulls out some of the drawers. “It’s all empty! How do you even survive in here?”

“Do you survive on chips?” Karamo says with a smirk and pulls the packets out of the cabinet again.

Lance scratches the back of his head. “I usually eat at my parent’s place.”

“All the time?” Antoni asks.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you, like, eat breakfast or something in here sometimes?”

“I don’t eat breakfast, I just drink milk.”

“Milk!” At last, something Antoni can talk about. He walks over to the fridge to pull out the bottle. “Is that fresh milk?”

Lance’s face lights up. “That’s from my girl Kaltenecker!”

Antoni and Karamo look at each other and then burst into laughter. “That is a strange name for a cow,” Karamo says.

Lance bats the eager camera away and crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t name her. I got her when me and my friend Pidge bought that gaming console at the space mall. One free Kaltenecker with every game!”

Karamo laughs some more. Antoni feels a bit concerned by the idea that there are aliens who give cows away as some kind of shopping goodies. “Do I even want to know how an alien got hold of a cow?”

Lance pulls a face. “You know, I asked that myself, too, but I didn’t dare to ask.” He walks over to the cabinet with the dishes, pulls out a glass and thrusts it into Antoni’s hands. “Go on, try it! It’s the best milk you’ve ever tried, I promise!”

Antoni pours himself some milk and takes a tentative sip. When it hits the inside of his mouth he is overcome by its rich and sweet flavor. It tastes like childhood and safety and home. He takes another sip and decides that yes, Lance is absolutely right. This is the best milk Antoni’s ever tasted.

Only when Antoni remembers that Lance is awaiting his verdict with eager eyes he remembers to swallow. “It’s delicious,” Antoni hums. He takes another sip before handing the glass over to Karamo.

Karamo’s eyes go wide and he only manages an appreciative hum before he just goes and downs the rest of the milk.

“Do you want more? I can go and get some more of you want,” Lance says and is already half-way out the kitchen.

Antoni quickly grabs Lance by his sleeve. “I think we’ll be fine for now, thanks!” Lance looks a bit disappointed, but he turns back to Antoni and Karamo. “I’d much rather talk to you about cooking,” Antoni says.

Lance reluctantly stands next to Antoni, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Okay.” Karamo quietly puts the glass on the counter and walks out of the room.

Antoni folds his arms over his chest. “Have you ever tried cooking?”

Lance scrunches up his nose in thought. “Not really. We had the canteen at the Garrison and in space it was either food goo or Hunk pulled something out of his sleeve.” He pulls a face. “Don’t ask about the food goo.”

Antoni laughs. “I wasn’t going to, but now you’ve got me curious!”

Lance shakes his head vehemently and Antoni laughs a bit more. He’s curious as hell, but he probably really doesn’t want to know.

“I make milkshakes!” Lance says, brightening a bit. “I really enjoy that.”

“Milkshakes? Tell me more.”

Lance’s gaze goes a bit distant at the thought. “I made some right after Kaltenecker joined our team. I mean, her milk is the best, and we’d had food goo for so long we all needed a change in diet.” He laughs. It’s a sad one, though. “Allura and Coran were shocked when they found out where milk is coming from.”

“They didn’t know?”

Lance smirks at Antoni. “I guess they don’t have farm animals on Altea.”

Antoni suddenly remembers where he’s heard that one name Lance mentioned before. “You mean Allura as in, Princess Allura?”

The smile falls from Lance’s face. He looks down at the floor. “Yeah.”

“And she really liked the milkshake?” Antoni’s voice is soft; he can see that this is a difficult topic for Lance.

Lance gives a humorless laugh. “She loved them until she found out how I make them.”

Antoni needs to change course, and fast. “What about your other friends?”

Lance snorts. “They liked it, but I guess you’ll like anything when it’s not food goo.”

Antoni has to contemplate that. Lance is not malnourished, given that he eats at his parent’s house (and as far as Antoni knows parents they look to it that their children are more than well fed). Apart from making those milkshakes he doesn’t seem that interested in food. Antoni needs a different approach.

“So,” he says, clapping his hands together, “I heard that you will host a little celebration at the end of this week?”

Lance winces. “Yes.”

Antoni raises an eyebrow at Lance’s reaction but chooses to ignore it for the moment. “Don’t you think it would be a wonderful thing for you to cook something with your friends?”

Lance looks down at the floor. “But Hunk is so much better at cooking than me.”

“It’s not about who is better, it’s about doing something together,” Antoni says, nodding sagely. “See, I think food is a great opportunity to bring people together.”

“That’s what Hunk always says.” Lance raises his head to look at Antoni, a small smile spreading on his face.

“Do your parents farm any specific foods?”

“Mostly corn, but my mother has a little patch in her garden where she grows all sorts of things.”

Antoni becomes a lot more excited by the prospect of fresh ingredients. “Do you think she could spare some?”

Lance shrugs. “She won’t mind.”

Antoni can’t help but pump his fist in the air. “Great! Lance, I promise that by the end of the week you will be able to cook something simple but delicious with your friends!”

Lance doesn’t look all too sure, but he seems to at least consider the idea. “If you say so.”

Antoni grabs Lance by the shoulders with possibly a bit too much enthusiasm. “Lance! This is going to be great! You’ll see, just trust me.”

Antoni gives Lance a huge smile, hoping that it convinces Lance. He smiles back, but there is something else underneath; something that Antoni has seen the moment he first laid eyes on Lance. It’s scarily familiar. Antoni feels like he should get to the bottom of this, but his immediate reaction is to withdraw.

“Alright!” Antoni says and propels Lance out of the kitchen. “Let’s go and see if Tan has already raided your closet.”

*~*

Lance’s closet is not beyond all hope. Tan really wants to believe that.

It isn’t as dismal as the situation down in the living room – or any other room in this house for that matter. Tan had a sneak peak into the bathroom and guest bedroom with Jonathan; they are just as thinly furnished. The bedroom only holds a small twin bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and that’s it. The closet is the only part of the house that is filled with something.

Said something is a bunch of clothes that are not unfashionable per se, but Tan has seen that particular Metallica shirt on thirteen-year-olds and he simply won’t let Lance wear that now as a bloody hero of the universe. Okay, if he is adamant to keep it, Tan won’t throw it away. He is tempted to do it anyway.

One of the cameras has followed him and Jonathan upstairs. It hovers over Tan’s right shoulder, buzzing into his ear and annoying the heck out of him. Tan still has a hard time getting used to being alone with a flying camera (it’s weird), but he has to concede it’s better than having some cameraman breath done your neck.

“It’s not beyond all hope, Lance definitely has a style going on here,” Tan says and picks up one of the bandshirts. “But this is the closet of a fifteen-year old, not a man in his twenties.”

He waves the t-shirt into the camera and shouts in the direction of the bathroom, “Jonathan, you have to see this!”

Within seconds Jonathan waltzes into the room, swaying his hips in his most catwalk-like manner. Every time Tan sees that he wishes he were more confident wearing heels.

“Oh. My. G! What is this?” Jonathan swipes the t-shirt from Tan’s fingers and throws it on. “Do I look like a goth now?”

Tan rolls his eyes, but he laughs. “You look ready to go to a metal concert.”

“That’s the kind of concert for which I have the perfect hair for!”

Jonathan bends over and throws his hair this way and that way in a manner that looks like he wants to sweep the floor. Tan laughs even more and starts headbanging himself.

When his head starts to spin Tan stops immediately. “Oh gosh, I can’t do this. I’m too old for this,” he says, swaying a bit from side to side. Everything is spinning. This was not a good idea.

“Careful sweety.” Jonathan grips Tan by the shoulder and steadies him.

“Don’t you feel dizzy?” Tan asks and lets Jonathan steer him over to the bed and sits.

“We young ones still have it in us,” Jonathan says and winks at him.

Tan glowers at him. “Thanks for that.”

Jonathan lets himself fall on the bed beside Tan. “So, how’s baby-Lance’s wardrobe looking?”

“Not too bad,” Tan says, “but it definitely needs some fixing.”

“At least it’s not beyond – AAARGH”

Tan jumps when Jonathan screams and jumps off the bed, grabbing Tan by the arm and hauling him off and away from the bed. Tan sometimes forgets how strong he is.

“What is it?” Tan tries to ask but Jonathan is still screeching.

“Mice!” Jonathan squeaks, waving a hand at the bed. “Mice everywhere!”

“Are you okay?” Bobby storms into the bedroom and straight over to them. “I heard you scream! What’s wrong?”

“Mice!” Jonathan squeaks again and shoves Tan in front of him.

“Well thanks for using me as a human shield!” Tan says, reaches around Jonathan and gives him a clap on the bum. Tan isn’t scared of mice, but he isn’t particularly fond of them.

Bobby’s eyes go wide and he and Tan look over at the bed - and sure enough there are four tiny mice sitting on the cushions. Two of them are looking back at them, one of which has its head inclined ever so slightly. The third and fourth one are, and Tan can’t think of a better word, lounging without giving them a second thought. It’s weird, because Tan is certain mice don’t lounge like that. But he is also sure that mice are usually not as multicolored as this bunch are.

Suddenly, Antoni, Karamo and Lance pile into the room.

“Guys, are you okay?” Lance says, his eyes flitting from Tan to Jonathan and Bobby.

Jonathan has been reduced to a pile of incoherent squeaks, trying to hide behind the much smaller frame of Tan, and Bobby seems to be speechless.

“I think you have a mice-problem,” Tan speaks up for all of them and points at the bed.

Antoni and Karamo back away and out of the door again. Lance, however, relaxes and starts laughing. “Aw, man, those are my roommates!”

“Excuse me,” Jonathan gasps behind Tan.

Lance walks over to the bed and scoops up the mice. Tan just gapes at him.

“They are really friendly, and clean,” Lance adds when he sees Antoni’s face. “No need to worry.”

The camera that has been following Tan swoops down and films the mice jumping up and down on Lance’s hands and arms. No one else dares to move.

Lance turns around to the Fab Five, smiling from ear to ear. “Don’t tell me that you are all afraid of mice?”

Tan gazes over at Bobby, then Karamo and Antoni. None of them look particularly keen on approaching Lance. Antoni looks downright affronted. Tan looks back at Lance, who gives him such a hopeful puppy-dog-look that he simply cannot resist.

Prying Jonathan away from him, Tan takes a step towards Lance and looks at the mice more closely. Just as he noticed when he saw them first, they are all different shapes and colors. The mice stop their jumping and running and sit back on their hindlegs, looking up at him curiously. The largest one, with yellow and green fur, makes a tiny squeaking sound and – did it just wave a paw at him?

“They are saying hello,” Lance says.

“Er, hello, you,” Tan says. He feels a bit baffled when the other three mice squeak something in unison. “Nice to meet you.”

The little pink mouse shuffles towards the edge of Lance’s hands and peers up at Tan, scrunching up its nose. It waves its little paws around. Those mice are really weird. And they certainly don’t act like normal mice.

“She likes your hair,” Lance says with a laugh. “She says you look handsome.”

Tan giggles, because Lance obviously made that up to make Tan feel more comfortable around his pets. “Aw thank you, you little sweetheart,” Tan says and runs his hand through his hair. “I think your fur is lovely, too.”

Tan knows that mice don’t blush. They don’t, he is certain of it. This little pink one doesn’t, either, but she makes a bashful sound and hides her little face behind her paws as if she were embarrassed.

“These are not normal earth mice, are they?” Tan whips his head around when Karamo speaks up. He apparently had approached Lance and Tan and is now gazing at the mice over Tan’s shoulder in awe.

“No, they are from Altea,” Lance explains. “They were in the cryo-pod with Allura and have been with us ever since.” Lance’s smile turns a little sad. “I adopted them when Allura went.”

The tiniest mouse looks up at Lance and pats his thumb. The others look up at him solemnly. The tiny one squeaks.

“It’s okay,” Lance says to it. “I’m fine, really.”

“Don’t tell me,” Antoni says, approaching the trio, too, “that you can understand what they are saying?”

“Can you?” Bobby chimes in and walks up as well.

“Well, yeah,” Lance says. The mice have decided to resume their game, flitting up and down Lance’s arm. The smallest one, however, crawls up his sleeve and sits on his shoulder. “They changed during their cryo-sleep and connected to Allura. She could understand them. When she left, she gave me these,” he points at the blue marks on his face, “and since then I have been able to understand them. Not all of it, but most of it.”

“That is insane,” Antoni says in awe. He extends a finger and the oddly long mouse stops in its tracks and sniffs at it. Antoni jumps and immediately retracts his hand.

“They don’t bite,” Lance laughs. “I promise they don’t.”

“Can I hold one?” Tan asks, and he is surprised by his own question. He can feel Jonathan’s judgemental eyes boring into the back of his head.

Lance smiles broadly. “Sure.”

Tan tentatively cups his hands and brings them up to Lance’s, and immediately the little pink mouse jumps into his hands. She is so tiny and light, it feels like Tan is cupping a feather in his hands. She looks up at him, emitting a tiny, happy-sounding squeak. Tan could swear she even smiles up at him. Tan is so endeared that he cannot help himself but extend one finger and pat her on the head. She looks extremely pleased.

“Oh my god, she is so cute!” Tan exclaims, and instantly the others are pressing up to look at the little mouse and all Tan can hear is cooing and baby-talk.

“Look, Jonathan, they are adorable!” Bobby says, patting the big yellow mouse in his hand. “Just look at it!”

“No thank you,” Jonathan says tightly. All the playfulness has left his voice. Tan knows that this is something they are not to push him on. Tan understands that, but he still thinks that Jonathan is missing out here. When do you actually have the opportunity to see such well-behaved space mice? (It’s possible Tan is biased because they like his hair, but there’s no doubt that they are a cute bunch of space mice.)

“I hate to be the party-pooper, but I think Tan has to have a little talk with Lance here,” Karamo says eventually. The mice all jump back into Lance’s hands and he deposits them back on the bed; except the tiny blue one, which refuses to leave its place on Lance’s shoulder.

Jonathan had already left the bedroom when everyone was busy with the mice. The others file out, too, leaving Tan and Lance alone (and the three cameras, but they don’t count).

“So,” Tan says and turns to Lance. “I had a look at your closet.”

They walk over to it and Tan pulls one of the shirts out. “While you have a few good pieces in here I think most of the others are not appropriate for a man in his twenties.”

Lance grabs another shirt - a Slipknot shirt, Tan realizes with an internal sigh - and holds it out to inspect. “But they are all good, why shouldn’t I wear them?”

Tan raises an eyebrow. “That’s is an exaggeration.” He pokes a finger through a hole in the shoulder. “Look at this. And let me guess –” Tan takes the shirt from Lance’s hands and holds it against him. “Yes, it’s way too short for you.”

Tan puts the shirt back and looks at the others. “It looks like most of your clothes are just a bit too short for you.”

He turns to look at Lance. “The first thing I noticed about you – besides your gorgeous face and smile – is that your shirt is too short. And the jeans you are wearing – I mean, they could be cropped, but that is obviously unintentional.”

Lance grins an rubs the back of his head self-consciously. “I know nothing really fits me anymore, but most of it is fine and I don’t need to wear the best clothes when I work on the fields.”

Tan crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying you have to wear a suit when you go out to work. What I’m trying to say is that you are worth wearing something that actually fits you.”

Lance cocks his head to the side. “But the flowers don’t care. And Kaltenecker loves me anyway.”

“And what about when you go out? What do you wear when you go out?”

Tan shuffles through the clothes on the rack, searching for something that seems at least mildly like something that Lance could wear for a night out.

“I don’t really go out,” Lance mumbles. Tan doesn’t hear it because he has found something very interesting.

“What is this?” Tan can’t believe his eyes. He pulls out a short, flowy white dress with a small belt attached to it. Tan holds the dress in front of himself and winks up at Lance. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Tan doesn’t mean to hurt Lance. He doesn’t mean to make fun of him. He really likes the dress; it’s simple and timeless, and with a few accessories perfect for a date with a special someone. But Lance’s face falls. All the playfulness that he had managed to gain during their play with the mice vanishes. The blood drains out of his face and his eyes narrow in anger.

“Don’t touch that!” Lance wrenches the dress out of Tan’s hands and cradles it to his chest.

Tan’s startled by the sudden force and holds up his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, Lance, I didn’t mean to hurt you, we can just edit it out-”

Just as suddenly as the anger came it drains from Lance and he looks horrified. “No, no, Tan, I’m sorry.” There is something broken in his voice. He falls silent and looks down at the dress in his hands, his fingers stroking the smooth texture.

“This was Allura’s,” Lance says eventually.

Tan furrows his eyebrows. “You kept her dress?”

“She wore it on our first date.”

Oh. Oh.

Tan places a hand on Lance’s arm and gently steers him towards the bed.

Lance flops down on it, his gaze fixed on the dress clutched in his hands. His shoulders are hunched over and he looks so completely lost it breaks Tan’s heart. Tan had presumed that, as a Paladin of Voltron herself, Allura had surely been a dear friend to Lance, and losing a friend is bad enough. The fact that they both had dated is explaining a lot.

“You were dating?” Tan asks.

Lance nods. “Yes. Not for long, though.”

Tan doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. “Did you love her?”

Lance doesn’t answer. His eyes fill with tears but he quickly runs his hand over his face to hide them. He nods again.

“I’m so sorry, Lance.” Tan places his hand on Lance’s back and rubs it. It’s all the comfort he can offer. It’s not enough, he knows. Losing someone is always hard. They all lost so much during the invasion. Tan had only been one of the few lucky ones. He knows for a fact that most of the Fab Five haven’t been as lucky.

“I still love her,” Lance speaks up, his voice thick with emotion. “I always will. I decided to farm the juniberry flowers in her honor. They were her favorite.”

Lance’s looks up and over to the window. Tan follows his gaze; he can see the rolling field of pink flowers outside. They reach far beyond the horizon. Tan had wondered what that pleasant smell was that permeates the entire house, and he wants to slap himself for not thinking about the flowers Jonathan had spotted when they first arrived.

Lance farms Allura’s favorite flowers. He keeps the dress she wore and takes care of her pet mice. Lance doesn’t seem to take the amount of care of himself that he used to according to his friends, and his house is a wasteland.

This is going to be harder than they had anticipated.

But that is what the Fab Five are here for. That is what Tan dedicated himself to. To help pick up the pieces of what the Galra left, put it back together and let it shine in a new light.

Lance is a bright young man. Tan can see that, everyone can see that; but the shards of him lie there on the ground, and someone has to help him pick them up. Tan hopes that he and the others will be able to do that.

He reaches out and envelopes Lance in a hug. Lance buries his face in Tan’s shoulder, shaking from head to toe. He doesn’t cry, but Tan knows that the heart doesn’t need to produce physical tears to be crying in pain. He’s seen that way too often with Antoni - but this isn’t his place to tell that story.

When Tan lets go of Lance he looks intently at him. “What do you want from this, Lance?”

Lance gives him a confused look. “You mean, from this makeover?”

“I don’t mean the fashion makeover, or the interior makeover. Or whatever Antoni’s going to make you do. I mean, what do you want to change in here,” Tan reaches out and taps a finger against Lance’s chest. “What do you want to change in your life?”

Lance blinks at him.

“Say the first thing that comes to your mind.”

For a moment, Lance looks like he is about to wave Tan off, but then he takes a deep breath and blurts out, “I want to be happy again.” Lance gasps, shocked by his own confession. “I want to be happy,” he repeats.

Tan nods and gives him a reassuring smile. “Then that’s what we’re going to help you with.”

*~*

Jonathan stands in the bathroom, opening the small cabinet above the sink for the one hundred-millionth-time (he counted, it’s been at least that often), and still there only is a toothbrush, an almost empty tube of toothpaste, and soap. There is also floss, so that’s something.

The bathroom itself is absolutely gorgeous; big and bright, with the windows letting in the natural light and treating one to the absolutely fantastic view of the flower field behind the house. There is a bathtub and a shower and enough space to put in all sorts of cabinets. Lance seems to only use the shower; there is a single bottle of shower gel on its shelf. The bathtub doesn’t even look like it’s ever been used. Jonathan is trying not to freak out over the fact that Lance is using shower gel for his body and hair.

From what Jonathan can tell Lance doesn’t need a ton of product, neither for his hair nor for his skin; he’s still upset that he can’t find a decent hand lotion. Or sunscreen. He works on the field, he needs at both of them, doesn’t he?!

Jonathan looks around the bare room around him and sighs. This is sad. The whole house is sad. Jonathan is sad just standing here, waiting for Tan to be finished with his fashion talk. Jonathan would have stayed with Tan and Lance if it hadn’t been for the mice. He doesn’t care how cute they are, he is and will always be terrified of mice. He doesn’t care how silly that is. Phobias are rarely making sense. He’s glad that he doesn’t have to be around the house as much as Bobby has to in the next few days.

One would think that Jonathan is used to mice and muck and everything; he had been in a Galra work camp for a good amount of time after all, and they had not been clean (which is putting it nicely).

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about it. He had promised himself to forget about it. There is no use in pondering what had happened. Thinking about the people lost. Wondering if it could have been prevented.

Jonathan turns on the tap and splashes cold water into his face. He needs a clear head, Lance will be in here any minute. He quickly dries his face on one of the towels and sure enough when he turns around Tan is dragging Lance into the bathroom.

“Hey henny!” Jonathan says, putting on his brightest smile. “Has Tan already made you do a french tuck?”

“Haha,” Tan says mirthlessly, folding his arms in front of his chest and looking offended. “I can do more than that, you know.”

“Of course, sweety,” Jonathan says and winks at Tan.

Lance blinks down at Tan. “What’s a ‘french tuck’?”

“That’s when you put the front hem of your shirt into your trousers,” Tan explains. “And I was going to comment that you are already doing it but it’s not really effective with a shirt that’s too short for you.”

Lance rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “At least I got something right.”

“Always thinking positive, I like!” Jonathan says and throws his arms around Lance. “Let’s discuss this!” He motions a hand in front of Lance’s face and Lance shrinks back a bit.

From the corner his eyes, Jonathan can see Tan disappear down the stairs. Lance must have noticed, too, because he looks a tad more anxious. Jonathan lets go of him. Some people just can’t handle his hugger-nature, but that’s okay.

“I’ve been told that you used to take, like, really good care of yourself, even when you where in outer space,” Jonathan begins and opens the cabinet, now for the one hundred million and first time. “But this is telling a different story.”

Lance shrugs. “I guess I stopped caring at some point.”

“Please don’t tell me you stopped caring so much you use shower gel as a shampoo!”

“But it gets the job done...”

“Henny, no!” Jonathan throws his hands up in despair.

Something about that makes Lance laugh. Jonathan doesn’t know whether to feel insulted or proud. Maybe proud, because it’s the first time Jonathan can see Lance’s teeth.

“Oh my gosh, you have such a beautiful smile!” Jonathan steps back into Lance’s personal space, smiling brightly at him. “You point that at anyone and they are gone, let me tell you!”

Lance’s ears turn pink and he looks away from Jonathan. “Thanks.”

“Now, I think we definitely need to up your bathroom routine game. I’m not saying you need to do much because your skin is divine and holy moley I’m so well jel right now, but we definitely need to introduce shampoo.”

Jonathan stands close enough to Lance to make an honest judgment. Lance’s skin really is beautiful, and he’ll probably just need something to give it a bit of a glow. Lance’s hair is naturally messy and reaches beyond his ears. It looks really soft, but Jonathan has to be absolutely sure before he can get to work. “Can I touch your hair?”

Lance looks startled by the question, but nods. Jonathan reaches out and, unsurprisingly, Lance’s hair is as soft as silk. It’s got a lovely natural brown color. It could use some shine, though. Lance could, overall, use some shine to him. He is a hero for crying out loud, he should shine like the sun!

“Do you want your hair to be that long? Because, if I’m being honest, I kinda see you with a shorter style.”

Lance touches the tips of his hair and brushes the strands behind his ears. “I never really noticed it growing so long.”

Jonathan steps behind Lance and gently pushes him towards the mirror. “Tell me about your routine,” Jonathan says and puts his hands on his hips.

For a moment, Lance stares at Jonathan’s face in the mirror before he clears his throat and says, “I wash my face with water and soap in the morning, and the evening.” Jonathan has trouble keeping the gasp threatening to escape his mouth inside at the admission. Soap for his face. “And I floss and brush my teeth.”

Jonathan stares at Lance’s face through the mirror in disbelief. “That’s it, hun?” Lance nods. Why is Jonathan even surprised? He’s seen the state of this bathroom (and the rest of the house; he should have known the moment he stepped over the threshold).

“Okay,” Jonathan says slowly. He searches Lance’s face, then gives him a decisive nod and an encouraging smile. “We definitely need to get you something for your skin, like, a really nice face wash and some light face creme. Don’t you worry, your face is so lovely you don’t need that much.” Jonathan pats Lance’s cheek. “Tell me, are you using any sunscreen?”

Lance avoids Jonathan’s gaze. “Er...”

Jonathan gasps with outrage. “Henny, you work in the sun, you need sunscreen!”

“I do use it! I just ran out of it!”

Jonathan purses his lips and gives Lance a reproachful look. “You know we need you to be honest with us so we can help you!”

Lance looks down into the sink sheepishly. “Okay okay, it ran out like two weeks ago, but I’ve got some from my parents now and then.”

He huffs a laugh and looks at Jonathan apologetically. Jonathan can’t be cross with those doe-eyes for too long, so he grips Lance’s shoulders and gives them a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you all the sunscreen you need. But you have to promise to use it every day to keep that gorgeous skin of yours shiny!”

Lance smiles. “I promise.”

“Good!” Jonathan lets go of Lance’s shoulders and moves to stand beside him. “Now can you do me a favor and look into the mirror?”

Lance frowns. “I am looking?”

“No, I mean, really look at yourself.”

Lance squints his eyes a bit and moves closer to the mirror. “Okay?”

Jonathan watches Lance closely. “What do you see?”

“Myself, obviously?”

Jonathan clicks his tongue. “No, henny, what do you see?”

Lance stares into the mirror. The frown leaves his face, and it darkens. “I don’t see anything. Just me.”

Jonathan takes a step closer to Lance. His voice is soft when he says, “When I look at you, I see a gorgeous, generous, kind, funny guy who kinda forgot who he is.”

Lance turns to look at Jonathan, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t you think you’re confusing your reflection with mine?”

That startles a genuine laugh from Jonathan. “Oh, henny, stop flirting with me! My knees are already weak!” Jonathan throws his arms around Lance and leads him out of the bathroom. He really is no Karamo, but he does know that this man needs some serious help, both with his skincare routine and his confidence. And Jonathan will help this gorgeous man - this hero of Voltron, for crying out loud- to get back to be the shiny diamond that Jonathan can see beneath all that doubt and fears. For now, though, there is somebody else Lance has to talk to, and Jonathan is sure he buggered off to somewhere behind the house.

“Let’s go and talk to Karamo!”

*~*

Karamo thinks that while the house is the saddest thing he’s seen in a while, the view from the patio is absolutely breathtaking.

He sat down in one of the chairs – the furniture out here is a lot nicer than Karamo would have expected – and just enjoys the view. He sits before a field of juniberry flowers, reaching far beyond the horizon, farther than his eyes can see. The sun is reaching its zenith, and with the scorching light the pink flowers blaze in the sunlight. It almost looks as if the world is on fire. On the far right there is a tree with a small patch of grass beneath it. It looks like the perfect spot for a romantic picnic. Karamo wonders whether Lance has someone to have a romantic picnic with (they haven’t been told anything about Lance’s love life in their preliminary preparations). He doesn’t like to make presumptions, but he does not think that Lance does.

Karamo breathes in the smell of the flowers. The scent is not overwhelming, and still he feels like they surround him. When he closes his eyes, he imagines the air around him is made of nothing but juniberry flowers. It’s a pleasant thought.

Opening his eyes again he scans his surroundings. Karamo guesses that Lance spends a lot of his free time on the patio. There are two chairs, a small table, and even a deckchair, all of nice quality. He picks up the book that is lying on the table, The House in the Cerulean Sea. The perfect read for a place that feels just a little bit magical.

He puts it back and allows himself to just lean back in the chair and close his eyes for a moment. They will find him when they need him. He just feels so tired after another bad night’s sleep…

“Moo!”

Karamo jumps out of his skin, his heart leaping into his throat (he also might have squeaked a little). He whips his head around and finds himself almost face to face with a cow. A cow. Where the heck did she come from?!

Karamo stares at her. She stares back at him with big, round eyes. She licks her nose and moos again.

“Er, hi,” Karamo says cautiously, not daring to move an inch. “How do you do?”

This must be Kaltenecker, Karamo thinks. He’s sure that she doesn’t mean any harm, but she is so big and so close to his face that he doesn’t really know what to do.

“Are you okay?”

Karamo slowly turns his head to see Lance standing in the door. His eyes dart between Karamo and Kaltenecker. “Are you afraid of cows?”

“Not really,” Karamo says but still doesn’t move. “I’ve just never been this up close with a cow.”

Lance smiles, then walks over to Kaltenecker and places a hand on her head. “Hey girl, you miss me already?” The cow moos and licks his hand. Lance laughs. He pats her on the head, then gently guides her away from the patio. “Come on, don’t scare off Karamo and be a nice girl. I’ll visit you later, okay?”

Lance walks her over to the tree where she immediately starts grazing. Lance jogs back to the patio. It’s only then that Karamo realizes that there is a small path leading from the house to the tree. It’s so overgrown with flowers that it’s difficult to see. Karamo relaxes in his chair and motions for Lance to sit next to him when he reaches the patio.

“Sorry for that,” Lance says. He looks over at the cow with a fond smile on his face. “She can be a bit clingy.”

For a moment, Karamo wonders whether Lance has those romantic picnics with Kaltenecker, and he finds that thought both hilarious and oddly sweet. “Don’t worry, she is really cute.”

Lance’s smile brightens. “I know!”

Karamo can’t help but smile back when he sees Lance’s genuine happiness. It’s contagious, and Karamo instantly feels a little bit calmer. He mentally notes that little information about Lance down to come back to later.

“You’ve got one awesome view here, don’t you?” Karamo says and nods in the direction of the flower field. “You farm those professionally?”

“Yeah. I’m currently the only one on earth farming them.” Something in Lance’s face shifts. It’s barely perceptible, but to Karamo it’s like someone turned off the lights.

He leans a bit closer to Lance and focuses all his attention on him. “Can you tell me more about them?”

Lance shifts in his seat, looking at the flowers before him. “They normally don’t grow on earth, but they were genetically modified to adapt to our climate. They now basically bloom all year round. Plus, they were created before Altea came back, so they are a bit different from the juniberries you’ll find on Altea.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The ones on Altea have a different smell.” Lance cocks his head to the side. “I can’t really tell you what the difference is exactly. Everyone always tells me they smell the same, but I think there is a difference.”

Karamo files that little information away for later. There are other things he needs to talk about with Lance.

“You spend a lot of time out here, don’t you?” Karamo motions to the patio. “I mean, this is the nicest furniture in all your house. And it isn’t even in your house!”

They both laugh. Lance scratches the back of his head, as if Karamo had caught him doing something naughty. “I know it sounds weird, but I just like being around those flowers. Even after I spend my day looking after them, I feel like I want to see them off to sleep.”

Karamo watches Lance’s face carefully. Lance is avoiding his gaze, looking at the juniberries instead. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Karamo folds his hands in his lap and gives Lance a calculating look. “You love them a lot, don’t you?”

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes.”

“Why?”

There is a moment where Lance looks conflicted, like he is debating with himself whether to be honest with Karamo or not. All sorts of feelings flit across his face, but it happens in a heartbeat, and before Karamo can say anything else, Lance let’s out a sigh, and his face is set with resolve. “I guess there is no point in hiding it, as I told Tan already, and I guess he would tell you later anyway.”

“We’re here to help you, remember?” Karamo says. He really hopes Lance knows that. It’s difficult sometimes to believe it himself; after all, they are on a show, and everything they drag to the surface, however ugly it may be, will be seen by millions of viewers. Karamo knows that the show wasn’t commissioned for the reasons they had been told (“Help earth get back on its feet!” and “This will help boost morality!” and similar platitudes were thrown around a lot). Of course the network wants to make money (and they do, holy hell they do). Karamo auditioned because he believes that this show can genuinely help other people, their heroes and their audience. He auditioned because the original Queer Eye had been so important to him. He wants to carry the love he received from back then to the present day, hoping with all his heart that he’ll succeed at making someone’s life just a little bit better. He (and the others, of course) wants to built up his planet to be the best it can be, to be better and stronger after this terrible war. And he will gladly visit each and every human being on this planet if that’s what it takes. He never wants to see what he has seen at the work camps ever again.

Lance looks over at him. A small smile tugs at his lips, and Karamo hopes that it means that he trusts him.

“Why are they important to you?” Karamo asks.

Lance looks back at the juniberries. His gaze becomes distant when he begins, “They were Princess Allura’s favorite flowers. We initially farmed them to give her a little piece of Altea, after she lost her planet at the start of the war. Then, after she,” Lance’s breath hitches with the next word, “died...well, I wanted to keep her memory alive.” He audibly swallows. “I loved her. I still do. When I see the flowers, when I touch them, when I smell them, it’s almost like she’s here with me.”

Lance fists his right hand in the fabric of his trousers. His eyes fill with tears, and the markings under his eyes start to glow. Something in his demeanor changes, and the words spill out, like they were trapped in him for too long, the damn breaking and the emotions flooding the sweet scented space between them.

“Our time together was so short, but I can’t forget it. She went and sacrificed herself for the universe. Sometimes I can’t forgive her for that. Sometimes I wish we’d had more time. Sometimes I wish I’d never asked her out. I want to forget everything, but I don’t want to forget her. I feel unable to move on.”

The tears spill over, and Lance finally looks over at Karamo. The tears gleam with the blue light of the markings, giving Lance an almost alien appearance. The sadness, however, is so heartbreakingly human. “She gave me those markings, you know? And now I can’t get rid of her. I don’t want to, but I’m not alive. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to ask for help.” Lance buries his face in his hands. “All I’m thinking is that how selfish I am for feeling like this, while she went out there and fucking sacrificed herself to give me the reality and life I have now.”

Lance sobs. Karamo stands and envelopes Lance in a tight hug.

“I want to be happy,” Lance says into Karamo’s shoulder. “I don’t want this anymore.”

“I promise you, we’ll help you,” Karamo says, his voice just a bit broken. He holds onto Lance tightly while he cries. Karamo swears that he will do everything to make Lance better.

“You are not alone, Lance. Not now, and not in the future. You’re not alone.”

*~*

As soon as they enter their pad, Jonathan stalks over to the sofa and flops down on it. He is fanning himself with both his fancy fan and his hand. “It’s too hot!” he whines. “Why is it so hot?!”

“Because it’s summer?” Antoni deadpans. He sits next to Jonathan and Tan flops down next to them. Karamo and Bobby sit on the other side of Jonathan. While Jonathan usually loves being the juicy center of the Fab Five sandwich, he could really do without the gorgeous but too warm bodies of his colleagues right now.

Jonathan pouts at Antoni, but then he remembers the sweet, sweet, cold margaritas Antoni makes that are simply divine, and he quickly shoots Antoni his most dashing smile and bats his eyelashes at him.

“Antoni, baby, aren’t you thirsty? Like, thirsty for something sweet and cold?”

Antoni blinks at him. “I have Tan next to me, so I think I’m good.”

Tan, who is scrolling through his phone, whips his head around and shoots Antoni a glare. “Excuse me?”

Antoni cackles while Tan slaps his shoulder. Jonathan rolls his eyes. So much for the margaritas.

“Can we focus for a moment?” Karamo butts in. He is scribbling something down in his notebook, the one he seems to carry around everywhere. To this day Jonathan has not managed to sneak a peak – Karamo is very particular about his stuff, and his notebook is his most precious item, which makes Jonathan only more curious. He knows that Karamo takes notes on all of their heroes, but he believes that there is much more to this notebook. (He is hoping for some juicy fanfiction.)

Jonathan, Antoni and Tan turn to face Karamo. His face is somber; Jonathan notes that Tan seems equally serious.

“Care to share what you found out?” Bobby asks with a concerned frown.

Karamo looks from his notebook up at Bobby and hesitates. “Maybe you’d like to share some of your impressions first?”

When he is met with silence and an inquisitive eyebrow-raise from Antoni, Jonathan sits up straight and says what they all think. “Just say it, we should all be on the same page.” He braces himself for impact, just in case.

Karamo sighs. He catches Tan’s knowing look, then says, “Lance lost someone in his life. He lost his girlfriend during the war. It was Princess Allura.”

For a moment, Jonathan forgets how to breath. And then realization hits him, and somehow everything makes sense.

“That explains so much,” Bobby says, and the others nod in agreement. Antoni has gone pale, his eyes fixed on some point on the carpet. Tan grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers, while Jonathan takes his other hand and squeezes.

Antoni looks up and at his hands, then shoots a quick grateful smile at his friends. Jonathan smiles back and rubs his thumb across the back of Antoni’s hand.

“So we’re basically dealing with someone who can’t get over his dead girlfriend?” Antoni says in an unnervingly even tone. “I think we can handle that.”

“But can you?” Tan’s question is quiet, as if speaking too loudly will unravel Antoni and the hurt he’s been carrying around for so long. Jonathan thinks it’s silly; they all carry their own package, and no matter how much they don’t talk about it, the hurt is always there, just beneath the skin.

“Of course,” Antoni says brightly. His voice is a bit too cheerful if Jonathan’s being honest. He gives Antoni’s hand another squeeze.

“Okay,” Karamo says, eyeing Antoni suspiciously. “I know this is hard on all of us, given that Lance is a war hero, but I want to make sure –“

“Don’t say it,” Tan sighs, bringing a hand up to his temples. “We’ve been through this more than once before we agreed to help Lance.”

“Tanny is right,” Jonathan pipes up. “Let’s just focus on our gorgeous hero and help him get out of his funk.”

Karamo twists his lips unhappily and eyes each of them carefully. Jonathan usually thinks it’s really cute when Karamo plays Daddy to all of them, but, honestly, they’ve been through this conversation a hundred times and it’s kinda annoying now. Besides, they are in the middle of recording, so there is no going back anyway.

“Alright. If you say so,” Karamo says. He looks down at his notebook. “I think this is Lance’s biggest problem, but maybe someone else has anything to add?”

“I think he does not believe in his abilities at all,” Antoni says. “I mean, we only talked about cooking, but I get the feeling that this is something that spreads to all areas of his life.”

“Yes, Keith said something like this when Karamo and I talked to him,” Bobby adds.

Karamo flips through his notebook, stopping at a page and tapping it with his pen. “Keith said that he feels like Lance has stopped caring for anything apart from his flowers since the war. And he believes that, even though he is a hero and helped saving the universe, he still sees himself as below everyone else, and that all his friends are at a loss for what to do to help him see his worth.”

“I wonder why Keith didn’t mention Allura,” Jonathan thinks out loud. “I mean, it’s crucial information.”

Tan shrugs. “Maybe he thought that this is something that he’s not allowed to share on Lance’s behalf?”

Karamo snaps his notebook shut. “In any case, we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Everyone sits up straighter. Jonathan’s mind is already reeling with ideas before Karamo speaks again. “So what’s the plan of action?”

*~*

The sun is setting, bathing the juniberry field in an orange light. The whole world is on fire, the pink petals glistening like the tongues of flames. The wind softly rustles them; the movement intensifies the effect.

Everything is burning. The valley of juniberries is burning. The world is burning.

Lance is burning. Deep inside, he is burning.

He is sitting in his favorite chair, a glass of milk beside him. It’s half empty. Today, Lance doesn’t feel like reading. He hasn’t felt like reading for a long time, but has carried on doing so anyway. Some habits die hard.

But today, he can’t read. The words swim in front of his eyes and make him dizzy. What he needs is quiet.

He cannot remember the last time there were so many people in his house. If he’s being honest, he’d never had so many strangers – or friends – in his house. He doesn’t even like his parents coming over, opting for visiting them instead. He knows he’s living in a bare house. He’d always known, deep down, that this is no way to live; but seeing the horrified faces of the Fab Five shook him. Is it really that bad?

Lance has never before contemplated the state of his house. He has never contemplated the state of his wardrobe, or his skincare routine. The later still sounds like blasphemy, given that earth is still recuperating from the war.

Lance knows, however, that he can’t go on like this.

For the second time he realized how unhappy he is, how unhappy he has been for a long time, when he broke down in front of Karamo. He ignored it resolutely, going about his daily business like everything was fine; ignoring the pain by inflicting more pain on his body and mind was going to snap him at some point. And today has been that day.

The wind wafts the scent of the juniberries over to the patio. Lance holds his breath. Sometimes, it makes him sick. It makes him so sick he wants to drown everything in gasoline and burn it down. He wants to trample through the field and scream. He imagines himself, brandishing a scythe, running like a madman through the flowers, their petals clinging to his trousers and hands like the blood of a slain enemy.

It all plays out in front of his eyes in a heartbeat, and in the next he feels sick with himself, and penance demands him to bid Allura for forgiveness.

Lance touches the markings on his face. They are not glowing now, but he can feel the heat of them against his fingertips. Even after all those years, they feel alien to him. He rarely looks into the mirror these days, and having Jonathan place him in front of it and make him look at himself both angered and shocked Lance. When had his hair grown so long? When did his skin become so pale? When did his eyes set in a look of perpetual sadness?

Lance didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. Who was he beside the husk of a former bright-eyed teenager?

The sun dips below the horizon, plunging the world in the soft-dark blue of an early night. The fire has ceased, the flowers are dipping their heads to prepare for sleep. Lance can still make them out. They are still visible. They will be there when the blackness of the night engulfs them. The rustling of the petals will still be audible, their scent hanging in the air, imbuing every fiber of Lance’s being.

All the world are juniberry flowers, and all the world is pressing down on Lance, demanding his attention. But how can he be present, when all they remind him of is a past he’d rather forget, and a future that doesn’t seem to exist?

Lance abruptly stands. He walks down the stairs and to the flowers. He kneels down and picks one.

When he stands, he holds it in front of him. The petals have almost closed for the night, revealing the rosy underside. Lance curves a finger around one silky petal. He can already feel its decay.

“How can I let go of you?” Lance’s voice is only a whisper to the wind. “How can I let myself let go?”

The wind picks up and in a moment blows so strong that Lance looses his grip on the flower. It sails high above him into the air, higher and higher until he cannot see it anymore.

Would the wind be so kind and disperse every flower if Lance went and picked up another, one by one?

“Not today,” Lance says and turns to walk back into the house.