Archive of Our Own

Lance tiptoed down the hall towards the elevators, even though it was the middle of the night and there was a slim to no chance he'd run into anyone else on the castle-ship. He didn't want to deal with the reprimand, or really any reaction he'd get from one of his friends if they found out he wasn't getting those trusty seven hours of sleep. Things have been getting worse in their war against Zarkon, to the point where even Pidge was no longer ignoring their body's exhaustion. Lance would know, seeing as he hadn't bumped into them, or anyone else, in weeks. 

Because Lance's mind doesn't like him enough to quiet down in conjunction with his circadian rhythms, and the paranoia never truly goes away no matter what he forces his mind to think about. 

Lance stepped into the elevator and pressed the button that looked like it had a few jagged squiggles on it. The past few months—or has it been over a year now—of living in space on the castle-ship has given him the most rudimentary understanding of the Altean language. Two sets of characters, one that worked like latin and another that worked like mandarin. A combination of characters and pictograms, though that's as far as Lance understood. How one would construct a coherent sentence with the two was beyond him, but maybe he'd take up learning Altean instead of walking around the empty halls at what Coran calibrated as past-midnight for the ship. 

There was a soft whoosh as the elevator doors opened to the pool. Lance hadn't been here since the time he and Keith got stuck during the power outage and had to climb out of the elevator shaft together. 

Keith . Yeah, Lance had enough reasons that kept him from coming down here.

But his brain was buzzing too loud and the headphones Pidge lent him couldn't block out the white noise of his mind, the continous wails to come home, come home, go home. 

So the best Lance could do, and what he did as soon as his feet hit the ledge of the deep end, was close his eyes and dive into the Altean pool. He stayed underwater, rejoicing in the familiar burn of his lungs as his muscle memory kept the air in and the water out. Even submerged completely he found it too quiet, still too loud in his brain, but it was easier to imagine he wasn't a million and more miles away from the sunny Varadero beach behind his grandmother's backyard. 

He could pretend the methodical beeping from the water filtration system was an errant seagull stealing Marco's fries. The whoosh of the air vents a wave that Veronica was surfing, taller than Lance could ever imagine himself attempting. He gasped as he broke the surface, moving to float on his back. If he squinted just enough, he could pretend the blue lights casting a haze over the ceiling were the rich blue skies he'd find himself staring up at back on Earth. The blue was a little too harsh to accurately mimic Earth's, but after seeing skies of all the other hues, he would take any familiarity he could.

Lance was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of the elevator doors opening. He looked over, spotting bright red swim trunks and a mullet he'd recognize anywhere.

Keith spotted Lance, pausing. "Oh. I didn't realize anyone else would be in here."

He made to leave, but Lance interrupted with a, “Wait!”

Keith paused, turning back around. He didn’t even say anything, just quirked a brow in question. A few months ago he might’ve asked Lance what he wanted, mouth slanted in the least threatening glare he could’ve managed. A couple weeks ago he might’ve stayed, asked Lance if everything was alright, might’ve freely divulged why he was also awake at two o’castle-clock a.m. Maybe there was even a moment in their friendship when Lance’s presence would’ve been the invitation Keith needed to stay. 

But this was Keith back from the Blades, who spoke as if each word would cost him something and he ran out of things to give ten sentences ago. Keith who apparently is figuring out who he is and where he came from, as if being the Black Paladin of Voltron—the head but also, and Lance would never admit this to anyone outside himself, the heart—wasn’t identity enough. Lance could never and would never fault him for it, though. He thinks about his family nearly every day, the only thing keeping him going being the fact that he was keeping them safer here than he would be back home. 

Lance’s brain buzzed all the time, and sometimes it would wonder if Keith would’ve stayed if he kept all that seventh wheel bullshit to himself. And then he laughs at himself for even thinking that, because that would mean Lance would have to mean something to the legendary Keith Kogane, that he apparently took up some space in that dumb, impulsive brain of his. 

Pssh, yeah right.

“I wouldn’t,” Lance paused, because he lost his tolerance to Keith’s unwavering gaze, in the two months he’s been gone, “mind if you stayed. If you don’t, that is.”

Keith tilted his head, and he suddenly looked like Lance’s Keith. Not whatever the Blade chewed and spit back out at them.

“If I don’t what?” he asked. 

“Mind. Mind me being here, too,” Lance corrected. He forgets that everyone’s brain doesn’t jump three steps ahead in a conversation. 

“Oh.” Lance went back to floating, but he heard the soft footfalls of Keith’s bare feet slapping against the tile getting louder instead of fainter. His eyes were already closed by the time Keith slipped his feet into the water, but Lance felt the faint ripples hit his side. He didn’t hear him get in or make any noise after that, so he opened his eyes again.

“Not coming in?” he asked, turning slightly.

Keith shook his head, seemingly content with lightly kicking his feet in the water. He was looking idly at the far wall, but Lance kept staring until he narrowed his eyes on him.

“What?” Keith said, face unamused.

Lance moved to tread water, to be able to look at Keith properly. “Why’re you here?”

Keith unexpectedly scowled at that. “I thought you guys wanted me to come visit. Geez, sorry for coming home, I guess.”

Lance ignored the little flutter in his stomach at Keith calling them home . “No, dumbass, I mean the pool. At two in the morning.”

“Oh,” Keith said, scowl dropping. He exhaled, the tension loosening from his shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “No, duh. I meant do you wanna talk about it, mullet-head?”

Keith scoffed at the old nickname. “There’s nothing to talk about, cargo pilot.”

A Lance from a few months ago would’ve bristled at that, whereas a Lance from a few weeks ago would’ve replied just as snarkily, a wide smile on his face. Lance now doesn’t know how to feel about the teasing, hasn’t even spoken to Keith enough in the last few weeks to know if he should feel offended or not. 

When had they become strangers?

Keith coughed lightly, looking away. “I didn’t mean…it’s nothing, Lance.”

Lance swam to the edge, pushing himself up out of the water a little bit away from Keith. He plopped himself on the edge, a respectable distance between former-friend-current…whatever they were.

“Cut the bullshit, dude,” he retorted, swaying to a random tune in his head. “What’s up?”

Lance expected him to leave, or yell at him, or deflect, or deny—but Keith just sighed, laying back. 

“I’m too wired to go to bed,” Keith admitted. He was staring listlessly at the ceiling, ignoring Lance’s gaze. “I’m not used to getting this much time to sleep. Feels like I need to be doing something more.”

Lance frowned at that. “We barely get seven hours as it is, dude. How long do the Blades give you?”

The other boy shrugged, interlacing his fingers over his chest. “Four hours? I don’t know, never counted. Always felt like we’d be going straight from our beds to training, or a mission, depending on the day. Don’t get me wrong, y’all do a bunch with Voltron, too…” Keith sighed, turning to look at Lance. “But there’s enough time to chill, between the training and the missions and the obligations. And I think my body’s become more Galra, or something, ‘cause I haven’t been able to sleep more than six hours at night.”

“That sucks, dude,” Lance said a little lamely. Keith rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Lance took it as a win and an invitation.

“Wanna race to the other side and back?” he asked, leaning over to poke the other boy in the cheek. “I promise I’ll go easy on you, desert boy.”

Keith hesitated, sitting up. “What about you?” he asked instead, ignoring Lance’s request completely. “What’s your excuse for being up this late?”

Lance wanted to deflect, raise his shields back up and tell Keith he wasn’t privy to Lance’s thoughts and issues anymore. But looking at him now, after weeks of turning to an empty space at his side where Keith used to be, Lance couldn’t find the strength in himself to be stubborn.

“Missing Earth,” he confessed simply. “And my brain is too loud. The water helps with both, sometimes.”

“Oh.” Keith really seemed to like the word. Lance might’ve teased him about it, if he didn’t feel like just existing in the same space as Keith Kogane left him raw like an open wound.

“I think I miss Earth, too. Sometimes, at least,” he admitted, tapping his fingers in the little pools of water around them. “Nights in the desert were pretty. I liked sitting on the edge of this one cliff, with a thermos and a blanket, just watching the stars move across the sky.”

“Adrenaline junky,” he teased. “But that sounds nice. The stars were pretty from Varadero, too. Mama wouldn’t let us swim out that late, but Luis—my eldest brother—he’d sometimes take me out on a boat, with a flask once I turned sixteen. And when I got older, I’d go on my own, too. Felt nice, watching them on my own.”

Keith hummed. “They’re good company, yeah.”

Lance nodded, knocking his foot against Keith’s in the water. He kicked back, gently, and Lance’s heart soothed at the touch. He forgot how comfortable silence could feel, especially with Keith. He was so used to filling it up, worried that letting it drag would make things awkward. But Keith was never awkward with Lance, and so Lance could be quiet and it didn’t feel wrong. He liked not feeling wrong.

“I like sitting on this edge near the deep end,” Keith said, staring at his slow-kicking feet in the water. “Reminds me of the cliff.”

Lance hummed, leaning back. “All that’s missing is your blanket, the stars, and the overwhelming sense of fear.”

Keith chuckled, nudging Lance. “I mean, I have a towel, and there are technically stars all around us, outside the ship. And, well, I’m not scared of the water, really, but I guess it’s still kinda like the cliff—at least on this end.”

It took Lance a few seconds to understand what he meant.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing Keith’s arm (force of habit, but Keith didn’t seem to mind). “You mean you don’t know how to swim?”

Keith shrugged, looking unconcerned. If anything he seemed amused by Lance’s widening eyes.

“Dude!” Lance exclaimed, jumping up. “What the fuck, man?!”

“Lance, I grew up an orphan in the desert. Where the fuck would I learn how to swim?”

“Why didn’t you tell us—tell me?!” he retorted, dragging the other boy up too. “What if you got stranded on a water planet and drowned, Keith? Or a Blade mission has you sent to retrieve some magic-techno device from the bottom of a lake, or something? Keith!”

Keith was full-on laughing, now. Lance began dragging him to the other side of the pool, where the water rose no more than about four human feet (like, measurement feet, which Lance had to learn when he was studying at the Garrison—stupid American imperial system).

“It’s not that big a deal, Lance,” Keith chuckled, ignoring Lance’s sputtering. “And, to be honest, I don’t think a lot of Galra know how to swim. Daibazal didn’t really have natural water bodies, and most of the Galra I met came from desert planet species. Also the cat ears and all?”

“Whatever,” Lance insisted, stopping them at the shallow end of the pool. “I don’t care if all the big, badass Galra at the Blade don’t care. I don’t care if you don’t care. Get in the pool.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me push you,” Lance threatened. “I’m gonna teach you how to swim. You can thank me when you don’t drown.”

Keith rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. “Lance—”

“Keith.”

“No, Lance, really! It’s fine, you don’t hav—”

Keith was cut off by the sudden (but forewarned, so Keith can’t really get mad at him) shove Lance gave him. He squawked, falling into the pool, quickly surfacing by simply standing up. Then it was Lance’s turn to laugh, pointing at Keith’s wet, mop-like hair hanging in his face. 

“Oh my god!” Lance gasped, sitting on the edge of the pool. “You look just like a nargle-whoin!”

“A what?” Keith sputtered, walking closer.

“A nargle-whoin,” Lance enunciated, chuckling. “Coran showed us some on this planet we stopped by a few weeks ago. It’s this yak-looking creature with a lot o—”

Keith grabbed him by the arm and yanked Lance into the pool. He yelped, bumping into Keith as he came down, accidentally getting some water in his nose. Lance stood up, coughing a little, glaring at Keith’s self-satisfied smirk. Lance splashed him, initiating the silliest water fight he’s ever had. 

But Keith was laughing, and smiling at Lance in a way he didn’t think was possible again. A smile he’s only seen a few times, when they were co-leaders, equals. Lance splashed him again, but Keith’s eyes widened and he yelped, jumping towards Lance. 

Oh yeah, pools get deeper.

“Still think you don’t need to learn how to swim?” Lance said snarkily, switching positions with the other boy so Keith was close to the shallow side. They were still closer to the shallow end of the pool than the deep, but closer to the center than the edge. The water came to about their shoulders, but a step backwards would have the water climbing to Lance’s neck.

“Shut up,” Keith muttered, but he wasn’t denying it anymore. “You’re not gonna be able to teach me how to swim in one night.”

“I have you for a few days, Kogane. You’re not leaving the castle-ship without at least knowing how to doggy-paddle.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but they ended up back on Lance and that was all he ever wanted. Keith was still smiling, too, but the apprehension in his eyes was visible.

“How about tonight we just,” Lance offered, wading closer to him, “learn how to float? If nothing else, you won’t drown if you know how to float on your back.”

Keith hesitated, but nodded. “Fine. But you’re in charge of me not drowning. Kolivan will kill you if he loses a Blade to water .”

“Because you’re the only one small enough to fit in vents?”

Keith made a face at him, but didn’t argue. Lance was benevolent enough to try and keep his amusement to himself (he only barely succeeded).

“Okay, what do I do?” Keith asked, looking down at the water.

Lance tilted his head, trying to remember his lifeguard training. He never really taught the kids at his community pool, but he’d watched the swim coaches, all at least a few years older than him. He put his hands on Keith’s shoulders, turning him around until he was facing his friend’s back.

“Trust me, okay?” he said, gently pulling on Keith’s shoulders to tilt him back.

“Always,” Keith replied, shivering at the sudden touch. Lance leaned close, resting Keith’s head on his shoulder, making sure his arms and hands were bracing Keith’s back. Gently, he continued tilting the other boy back, until his feet were no longer touching the ground.

“Breathe,” Lance reminded softly, pressing his palm more firmly against Keith’s back. “Your lungs need the air to float.”

At that, Keith violently inhaled, holding his breath. Lance laughed, tapping the side of his head with his free hand. 

“Dude, just breathe. Holding your breath’s for when you’re underwater.” Keith exhaled, slowly, his body naturally curling, sinking a bit. Before he could panic—Lance could literally feel his muscles tense—Lance locked his arms in place, holding Keith up.

“I got you,” he said, lips brushing the top of his ear accidentally. “Just focus on breathing and calming down. The more your body tenses, the less easy you float.”

“Excuse me for being stressed about drowning. In my defense, I wasn’t even worried about it until you forced me to do this shit,” Keith snapped, wincing. “Sorry.”

Lance hummed, shaking his head. “No worries, man. Just breathe. Patience yields focus, and all that.”

Keith snorted at that, and Lance felt his shoulders unbunch a little. “Shiro got to you too?”

Lance smirked, glancing back to Keith’s face. “Not yet, but you’ve complained about it enough that I feel like he has.”

Keith smiled, slowing his breathing. “He’s been telling me that shit since I was a kid. I bet he’d even get a little wood carving for his future place, ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ style.”

That made Lance laugh, jostling Keith where he was situated against his shoulder.

“Nah, we’ve all been way too wound tight for any inspirational speeches. We’re lucky if we can debrief before we collapse.”

Keith hummed, blinking slower. “Never stopped Shiro before, must be bad.”

“Yeah,” Lance murmured, practically whispering directly into Keith’s ear. “To be honest, I think something’s up with him.” Keith’s eyes opened, but Lance pressed his hand into Keith’s back again, grounding him before he tensed again. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too bad. He’s probably just dealing with the PTSD of being kidnapped and shit. He’s been different ever since you rescued him, but it’s not unexpected…”

Keith was frowning, looking at Lance with his characteristically intense eyes. “Still? I knew he was recovering when I left and all, but I thought he’d be back to normal by now.”

“He’s just a little more tired than usual, dude. Nothing to worry about! Just a little less patient and focused, ironically enough…”

“Lance,” Keith said, reaching awkwardly to poke him while not sinking (Lance braced him, trying not to smile at the cute furrow between his brows). “If you think something’s up, something’s up. Trust your gut. Now what’s wrong with Shiro?”

What’s wrong with Shiro? Oh, nothing! Except he keeps yelling at Lance over the most inconsequential things; and he’s caught the older man multiple times after everyone should be asleep, messing with random system settings for the castle; and he could’ve sworn he left his room arranged one way, only to find some of his stuff missing and/or misplaced. Small things that could be unrelated, unimportant. But if Lance was to trust Keith, who apparently trusts Lance’s gut, then there might be something seriously wrong with their teammate.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Lance acquiesces. “I wanna talk to you about it with a clear head. Not at, like, three in the morning when we’re both supposed to be asleep.”

“If you’re tired we can continue this tomorrow too, Lance.”

Lance looked down at Keith, noting his slow blinking. He was looking right at Lance, though. Unwavering.

“What about you? Do you want to call it a night?”

It barely took him a moment to respond with a soft, “No.”

And the soft silence stretched, Lance looking down at Keith and Keith blinking up at him slowly. It should’ve felt heavy, or awkward, or charged with some kind of feeling. You don’t just stare at a person and feel nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing, was it? It was a careful caress of a fondness that had been buried away under days and weeks of resentment and pain. It was opening a door to a house and hearing all the right creaks, in harmony, as you wiped your shoes on the mat. It was a familiar indigo that Lance first saw in the night sky, and then his textbooks, and then in the furious glare of a boy who forgot him. 

“I’m going to step back, now,” Lance warned, keeping his hands on Keith’s back. “I’ll still be holding you here, but your head’s gonna touch the water, okay?”

Keith hummed, nodding in visual confirmation. He wasn’t looking away.

“Keep breathing, stay relaxed,” he murmured, pulling away. Lance could feel the other tense up as the cool water replaced the warm contact of his chest, but Keith continued to breathe, steadying it with each exhale. 

“You’re doing great, man,” Lance encouraged, holding him up only at his back. “Arch your back a little more—yeah, like that. The more you curl in on yourself, the more you’ll sink. Good.”

Keith was stiff, but breathing steadily, staring at the ceiling now.

“How do you know all this?” he asked, eyes shifting between Lance and the ceiling. “Like, how to teach and everything.”

“I was a lifeguard at my community pool a few summers ago.” Lance moved a little closer, drawing Keith’s attention now that he was better in his eyesight. “Had a front row seat to the beginners class in the mornings.”

Keith hummed, loosening up. His arms were clenched at his sides, but he was slowly unfurling them, letting them float out a bit. 

“So you’re certified in case I drown in the space-pool?”

Lance laughed, happy that his habit of adding “space-” as a prefix to random things had caught onto their former leader. “Yes, mullet. I am trained in the art of mouth-to-mouth.”

Keith snorted at that, devolving into actual laughter. Lance held him up, though he wasn’t sinking despite his concentration being broken.

“Of course you’d say it like that,” he chuckled, looking back at Lance. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Lance smiled back, ruefully. “You have, though.” Keith raised a brow, and Lance imagined the consecutive head tilt he’d normally give him, had they been upright on land. 

“You’re…” Lance hesitated, “quieter. And broodier than I last left you, which I take personal offense to, by the way. It took me ages to get you to get that stick out of your ass, only for Kolivan to—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Keith interrupted, lightly slapping Lance’s chest. “The Blades are…they’re different from you guys. I just, I guess I adapted to the Blade life, didn’t think twice I seemed different.”

“Well you are, and I miss when you were my Keith.”

Keith froze and Lance tensed. Whoops, brain to mouth filter where did you fucking go?!

“Um,” Lance backtracked, hoping he could steamroll past whatever that was . “I think you’re ready for me to let go.”

“Wait, Lance—”

“You trust me, right?” Lance looked at him earnestly, silently begging Keith to not bring it up. “Yeah?”

Keith furrowed his brows, frowning at Lance’s horrible attempt at deflection. “Yeah,” he finally whispered. “Always.”

And so Lance nodded, not breaking eye contact even though he really fucking wanted to, and slowly let go of Keith’s back. He was floating, stiff-limbed and mostly even breathing aside. It wasn’t perfect, but Lance smiled, clapping only half sarcastically at Keith’s floating form. 

“Congratulations, you can technically float!” Lance cheered, slowly making his way towards the closest edge of the pool. “I’m really tired now, gonna hit the hay. This was fun, though! Same time tomorrow?”

He vaulted himself out of the pool before he could even hear Keith’s response, grabbing a towel from the towel dispenser and booking it for the elevator.

“Lance!” he heard Keith call from behind. “Wait a second!”

Lance jammed the button, praying to any and all Altean gods that the elevator would appear now .

“Lance,” he heard, and it sounded like Keith was getting closer. The elevator doors opened with a soft whoosh, and Lance ducked inside immediately.

“Oh, sorry, we’re full!” Lance exclaimed, jamming the ‘close doors’ button. But Keith sprinted the last few feet, slipping into the elevator just as the doors closed, accidentally falling into Lance. 

The two tripped, crashing into the side of the elevator, the water from the pool making them slip even further to the ground. Keith groaned, holding himself up on his arms, hovering over Lance.

“And that’s why,” Lance groaned, “you should never fucking run at the pool, kids.”

“I don’t think you should be using that language around kids.”

“Fuck you,” Lance retorted, making to get up. Keith shoved him back down again, though, now straddling him.

“No, you’re staying there. You’re a runner.” He reached up, hitting a bunch of random buttons, ensuring that Lance was stuck here with him for a while before their floor came.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Lance snapped, glaring. 

“Excuse me?” Keith’s anger had always been heady, even for those around him, but it was downright palpable this close. 

“You left us, Keith.” Lance pushed himself up to an uncomfortable sitting position, so he could at least seethe at Keith from eye level. “You left me . And now everything feels wrong, and everything’s going wrong, and you’re not here to help me fix it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit Lance hadn’t seen in ages, since before they got Shiro back. “You don’t need me, Lance. There’s enough paladins, now, and I was always too impulsive to be the leader—”

“Not with me as you right hand! We were doing fine, Keith. You were a good leader, and we were a good team. We made a good team. ”

“I’m more useful as a Blade!” he argued, and Lance wanted to punch him in the mouth to shut him up. “As a paladin I just mess things up for you guys. Like threatening Lubos, or almost killing Klaizap because I’m too paranoid—”

“And without you we’re fucking up just as much, except nobody else will listen to me when I tell them I think something’s wrong!” Lance exclaimed, poking Keith hard in his chest. “Except you! Because you trust me, and we make a good fucking team.”

Keith sighed, the anger melting a bit to make room for pain. “Lance—”

“No,” Lance cut him off. “You say you left to find yourself, or your family, or where you’re from, or whatever. But you left me behind. Us. You left a family and a home behind in search of some grand cosmic answer to your past. And it’s been how many months ? With nothing to show for—”

“Fuck you,” Keith choked out. They were both red in the face, breathing heavily, intermingling in their exhales and frustration. Keith’s hair was dripping wet, drops of water spilling over his face and shoulders, but Lance knew the difference between that and the single tear escaping the corner of Keith’s eye. And he wanted to punch himself in the mouth now, because he just made Keith Kogane fucking cry.

The elevator had been stopping at every floor, opening and closing the doors as they argued without a care for the time. The doors opened again, and Keith exited, Lance scrambling behind him despite it not being their floor.

“Keith—”

His voice was steady, steely. “Shut up, Lance. And go away.”

“Keith, I’m so—”

“Go away, Lance!”

Lance did not, however, go away. Because he knew what happens when he lets Keith get away from him. Two months is more than enough to teach him to hold onto the other boy instead of letting him go.

He followed him all the way to a random observation deck, where Keith was curled up on one of the couch cushions, shivering from the cold and soaking the seat. His eyes were watery, but he seemed to resolutely refuse to shed another tear; whether it be because he wasn’t alone or wouldn’t allow himself, Lance didn’t know. He offered Keith his towel, taking a seat beside him while the other begrudgingly took it and dried himself off.

“You’re an asshole,” was the first thing Keith said.

“I know. I’m sorry, Keith.” There was a long silence that followed, Lance feeling shittier the more it lapsed.

“I don’t know how to stay,” was the next thing he admitted, much quieter, ignoring Lance’s sharp gaze on his face. “And I’m an asshole too, so don’t apologize.”

Lance inhaled deep, watching Keith’s hands twist in his lap, squeezing and writhing in a continuous loop. He reached out, holding one of Keith’s hands between his own. He intertwined their fingers, watching the way they curled against each other, folded into place. He held their interlocked hands between them, shifting his gaze to the midnight dark eyes on the other side. 

“What would you do if I asked you to stay?” Lance said, watching Keith’s eyes churn like they were magic eight balls, the answer written clear in the way they tightened.

“Lance, you know I—”

“What if I told you,” he rephrased, “that I wanted you to stay. That I think you’re better off with us, and that you belong with…me.”

Keith didn’t say anything, but his mouth twitched. His eyes may have been unreadable a few months ago, but this was a Keith Kogane that laid himself bare to him, over endlessly long nights of co-leading Voltron. He may have forgotten how to talk to him in the last few months when they were away from one another, but Keith Kogane was the easiest language he’d learned.

“We can find your mom on our own,” Lance begged, “I’ll even talk to Kolivan myself—”

“Not letting you do that,” he whispered, but the corner of his mouth was twitching familiarly, lightening the weight in Lance’s chest.

“—Then we’ll talk to him together, and he can’t say no to the leader of Voltron and his right-hand man.”

“What about Shiro? You said it yourself, extra paladin and all.” He wasn’t arguing with Lance, so much as asking him to say the right words. Asking him to keep Keith here.

“Coran’s gonna need help with the ship, now that Allura’s bonded with Blue. And I don’t think he’s ready yet to be out in the field, if his PTSD is still flaring up. And besides, you don’t think it’s his pride and joy to see you succeed and outshine him? The guy’s one step away from asking Kolivan to print you out a space-diploma to put on the space-fridge.”

Keith laughed at that, something soft and breathy. He leaned in closer, pressing his forehead to Lance’s, his lips just brushing against Lance’s hand.

“And you? You’re not worried this,” he gestured between them, “is a bad idea?”

Lance pressed his lips against Keith’s hand, gentle but solid.

“I think,” he started, looking at Keith with the unabashed adoration he thinks he hasn’t been able to ever truly hide, “that we’re the best team there ever was. And I think we’ll figure it out, whatever this needs to be. I…we deserve to try, right?”

Keith had always been a guy of fewer words, and Lance was never as thankful as he was then, when the other boy responded by cupping his cheek with his free hand—soft and uncalloused, thanks to those god-awful fingerless gloves—and slotting their lips together.

It wasn’t chaste, but it wasn’t the horn-fest that Lance had sometimes pictured, in his wildest dreams on his boringest nights. It was exactly how Keith Kogane would kiss—slow, firm, and all consuming. Lance pressed forward, shivering. 

They were cold, dripping pool water, and dead on their feet, but for the first time in the longest time, Lance felt right.