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If there was one thing Keith knew Lance couldn’t resist, it was competition.
Keith could admit to his own tendency to rise to a challenge, though his position as Black Paladin had forced him to learn restraint. But Lance’s competitive energy was notoriously unmatched and infectious. All it took was one mention of a carnival with a traditional competition hosted by the aliens they were currently trying to tempt into the Voltron Alliance, and suddenly Lance was bouncing off the walls and egging Keith into participating.
Keith was embarrassed to say he was very easily egged.
When the Paladins, dressed in their color-coded Atlas uniforms, touched down on Galus, their hosts were delighted by the notion of two members of Voltron participating in their tradition. Their colorful, oddly shiny faces lit up at the suggestion, and they immediately began ushering the team toward the festival valley, through clamoring crowds and colorful tents and the scent of fried fair food, until they emerged into the central clearing.
Their Galusian escorts guided Keith and Lance to a large wooden stage, while the others found seats in the audience.
“Don’t kill each other,” Pidge said as they parted ways, earning her a middle finger and a stuck-out tongue from Lance as he climbed onto the platform.
Once they both were on stage with the other competitors, the Galusian coordinator—a short, portly person with bluish-green skin and large yellow eyes—waved their arms and shouted into a small speaker.
“Thank you all for coming!” they began with a sharp grin. “We are excited to announce that this decaphoeb, our celebration of G’hirak Usjung is honored with participation from the great Paladins of Voltron!”
Keith winced and lifted a hand to block out the spotlight that flared on him and Lance. The crowd roared, and he glanced at Lance, who waved both arms above his head, occasionally blowing kisses. A swell of affection threatened to overtake Keith’s chest. He quashed it.
“It goes without saying, but I must remind all contestants that honorable behavior is expected and required. No sabotaging other participants, no harassing the judges over your scores, and obviously, no leaving your partner behind!”
Partner? Keith exchanged a confused look with Lance.
“Each couple will receive a map of the festival grounds and a list of tasks,” the announcer said. A pair of Galusians emerged from the sides of the stage to distribute pieces of folded paper. “Do not open it until the whistle blows.”
Keith frowned at the word “couple” and adjusted the translator device in his ear. He chanced another look at Lance, who was trying to peek at the paper he had been given. Keith received nothing.
“The hell?” Keith muttered under his breath, swatting at Lance’s hands to keep him from prying the paper open.
“Each pair has until the end of the sixteenth varga to complete the tasks at every station. Judges at each location will give you a grade based upon how fluidly you and your partner work together.”
Lance let out a squawk. “Coran didn’t say this was a partner situation!” he hissed in Keith’s ear.
Keith side-eyed him and quirked a brow. “You scared?”
“No!” Lance shot back quickly, folding his arms across his chest and pouting. Cute. “I just was looking forward to kicking your butt,” he admitted after a moment, then immediately straightened his back and put his hands on his hips, the paper crumpling slightly in his grip. His expression shifted to one of determination. Hot. No, God, stop that. “But no use crying over it! We’re gonna win this thing, Kogane. We’re gonna win it so good.”
Keith felt his lips twist into a smirk. “Hell yeah, we are.”
♡ ♡ ♡
Alright, so Keith might’ve misjudged this one. He’d failed to consider just how weird these competition tasks would be. And by weird, he meant familiar. And by familiar, he meant—
Well, Keith was certainly no expert on the topic, but they felt like activities people would do … together. When they wanted to know each other intimately .
It started off relatively innocent. The first booth was run by a charming little Galusian with a wide-brimmed hat and an expressive set of limbs. He sat them down across from one another, then had them fill out a questionnaire of seemingly irrelevant minutiae: What’s your partner’s favorite food, and what’s yours? How would your partner spend an ideal date night, and how would you? What’s your partner’s favorite pet name for you, and your favorite for them?
Keith assumed it was a translation error, and that it simply meant “nickname.” He put down “Mullet” as Lance’s favorite.
(“That’s not a pet name, Mullet! It’s an insult!” Lance said later, when they revealed their answers and compared them for accuracy.
“Then why was it your answer, too?”
“Well—none of your business, that’s why!”
They scored flawlessly.)
The second task would have been calming under any other circumstances. They entered a colorful tent where a Galusian sat them in front of two easels situated a few feet apart from one another.
“You have thirty dobashes,” the Galusian said, handing Keith and Lance a set of drawing utensils. “Draw your partner. You will be judged on soul, not skill.”
(“What the hell! Keith, I never knew you were an artist!”
“Good thing that wasn’t on the questionnaire, then.”
“Aw, man, mine looks like crap compared to yours. So unfair.”
Keith didn’t think so. He snapped a photo when Lance wasn’t looking.)
This was, however, when Keith started to get suspicious that perhaps this competition wasn’t meant for the type of relationship he and Lance had. The following tasks included everything from dressing each other to carrying each other to—blowing bubbles with each other? He wasn’t sure about that one, actually. Probably some Galusian tradition.
Regardless, all of it was enough to have Keith blushing when, having been told that they must “feed each other,” Lance lifted a spoonful of alien food and smiled wide as he told Keith to “open up.”
God, Lance didn’t seem to be picking up on any of the signs. It was torture.
The last challenge had them return to the central clearing, where the seats had been repositioned to make plenty of space in the middle. A speaker crackled to life over the murmur of the crowd.
“Honored friends!” the Galusian coordinator from earlier spoke from the stage. “We have come to the final event of the evening. As the last of our competitors trickle in, we ask that they each take their partner and find a spot on the dance floor.”
Dance floor? Oh, God.
He shot a glance in Lance’s direction and saw, for the first time, a flash of that same suspicion that Keith had been feeling all afternoon. It was gone in an instant, though, and he turned to Keith with that bright smile of his once more.
“What are we waiting for?” Lance looped his arm through Keith’s and marched them in the direction of the “dance floor.” “It’s time to get your groove on, Keith.” When they reached the center of the clearing, he turned around and unlinked his arm from Keith’s, but kept his hand around Keith’s wrist.
“You gonna square dance for me, cowboy?” Lance asked. There was something in the tone of his voice, in the tease of his lidded eyes, that had Keith’s breath stuttering in his lungs.
“Um,” Keith replied eloquently, then quickly shook himself and scowled. “No! I’m not a—I don’t even know how—God, I never should’ve told you where I’m from.”
“Oh, don’t pout so much. You’ll put lemons out of business.” Lance pulled Keith’s right hand and placed it at his own hip, then rested an arm on Keith’s shoulder and linked their free hands together. “If you’re not gonna show me your country boy dance moves, then we’re doing it my way.”
“What the hell is your waAAY—” Keith barely contained a squeak when Lance pulled them flush against one another. “Oh. O-okay.”
“I’ve had my fair share of dances, Keith,” Lance said. His cheeks were tinted, but he gave a nonchalant shrug. “They’re not hard if you let yourself relax.” A slow melody began, and Lance gave Keith an appraising look. “Which, come to think of it, you’ve never been very good at.”
“I can relax!” Keith protested, shooting a self-conscious glance at the partners already twirling across the floor. He hunched his shoulders, then exhaled through his nose and forcibly relaxed, turning his attention back to Lance. “I can relax. Just, um. Show me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”
Lance’s expression melted into a gentle grin that Keith couldn’t decipher, and he nodded once. “Right. Well, it’s pretty simple. First, you’re going to move your foot like this …”
Dancing with Lance turned out to be, unexpectedly, the most pleasant task of the day. Keith couldn’t help but be hypnotized by Lance’s swaying. He knew he looked like a fool, staring so openly, but there was nothing to be done. Lance was so handsome like this, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back with the weight of his laughter. The sun had set by now, and his bronze features were lit by the soft glow of the fairy lights strung all around.
In the end, Keith failed to catch himself in time. When the music faded, and their movements slowed to a halt, and Lance met Keith’s gaze, Keith knew he was still watching with a stupid enamored look on his face. He knew it. But he couldn’t stop, especially when Lance’s expression softened into something similar, something tender.
“Attention, please!”
Keith could have cried when Lance’s eyes snapped toward the Galusian on the main stage. He tore his gaze from Lance’s profile to focus on the alien, though his heart still seared his ribcage.
“The scores have been tallied,” the Galusian said, “and we have a winner!” They read from a slip of parchment and called out:
“Would the Black and Red Paladins of Voltron please join me on stage!”
Keith didn’t register the words until he heard the shriek of victory from beside him, accompanied by a roar from the crowd. He was pretty sure he could hear Hunk’s “THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND!” somewhere in the din. A sharp tug on his arm, and Keith was staggering toward and onto the stage, his hand still linked with Lance’s.
“Congratulations!” the Galusian greeted, flashing a broad, pointy smile. “In the traditional spirit of G’hirak Usjung, we hereby present the Paladins with the Amulets of G’hira!” They beckoned to the side, and a pinkish-orange Galusian stepped forward with a box in hand.
“These amulets,” they continued, opening the box, “will connect your life forces together from anywhere in the universe.” Within, two necklaces sat, each with a small, unassuming pendant made from a quartz-like crystal. “Your partner’s heart will forever beat in tandem with your amulet, so that you may always know the other is safe, even when you are apart.”
Keith blushed violently. Oh, my God, he thought to himself. They’re like space wedding rings. Kill me now.
“As you all know,” the Galusian said, “the G’hirak Usjung is a true testament to the power and passion of a couple’s love.”
Lance’s hand twitched in Keith’s. Keith, once again, begged the cosmos for death.
“It heartens the people of Galus to know that two of Voltron’s champions share such a strong bond. May your love be everlasting.” The Galusian nodded to their assistant, who removed the necklaces from the box and slipped them, one by one, over both Paladins’ heads.
Both crystals came to life with a gentle glow—Keith’s blue, Lance’s red. God damn it, Keith thought. That’s so corny. That is so God damn corny. The lights flickered for a moment, then began pulsating along with their heartbeats.
“Thus concludes our celebration,” the Galusian announced to a cheering crowd. “Love and light unto G’hira!”
“Love and light!” the crowd answered, clapping and shouting as they dispersed. The coordinator waved enthusiastically as they meandered off stage.
Keith finally, finally , chanced a look in Lance’s direction, and what he saw made his heart leap into his throat.
Lance was staring back at him, face flushed red to the tips of his ears, mouth agape. He seemed entirely incapable of speech, perhaps even of thought, and the palm of his hand was sweaty in Keith’s. Lance had had his fair share of flustered moments, but Keith was certain this was the worst case he’d ever seen.
Keith eventually cleared his throat, unable to take the gawping any longer.
“So that was, um,” he said, licking his lips to buy himself some time. It didn’t do him any good. “That … was …”
“A date,” Lance blurted, then slapped his free hand over his mouth, as if he could stuff the words back inside. “Oh, my God,” he mumbled, “that was a date.”
Keith gave a choppy nod. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking. “Yeah, it was.”
“Oh, my God.” Lance let out a wheeze, which turned into a groan, which turned into a whine. His hand drifted from his mouth to his forehead. “I can’t believe we had our first date, and I didn’t even know it!”
“Yeah, well—” Keith paused. Blinked. “ That’s what you’re worried about?” he asked, then nearly choked. “Wait, first?”
If Lance’s face was on fire before, that fire was a conflagration now. He bit his lip and turned away, hand shifting to cover his eyes. His throat bobbed with a thick swallow.
“Any chance you can pretend you didn’t hear that?” Lance asked.
Keith stared, eyes wide. “No.”
At Keith’s blunt response, Lance peered through his fingers. “You’re awful. Do you know that? You should know that.”
Keith felt his lips twitch with a disbelieving smile. “So awful that you want to go on more dates with me, apparently,” Keith replied, taking a leap of faith and stepping closer.
Lance grimaced. For a second, Keith thought he’d misjudged, but then Lance turned to face Keith properly and squeezed their joined hands. “Against my better judgment,” he said, uncovering his face, “yes.”
Keith’s fledgling smile stretched into a grin. “Yeah?”
Lance nudged one shoulder playfully against Keith’s. “Yeah,” he said, his expression mirroring Keith’s. His face was close enough for Keith to make out the little freckles hidden on his cheeks.
Keith felt the sudden urge to touch them, and it wasn’t until a moment later that he realized he had reached out and laid his hand there, palm against jaw, thumb against cheekbone. He was about to pull away when Lance leaned into the touch, leaned into Keith.
“Can I—?” Lance asked, tipping forward, breath warm in the space between them.
“Yeah,” Keith whispered.
“Yeah,” Lance echoed immediately with a nod of his head, and the last thing Keith saw before he closed his eyes was the swift, erratic fluttering of red and blue light meeting in the middle.