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"... You're my husband?"
"Yes, Love. I just said that."
Keith understands his supposed husband just told him that. Once. Then twice. Then a thrid time because he was really struggling to comprehend how this literal angel is fucking husband.
They're in some form of massive pavillion- crowds are being hoarded back by people who seem to be their friends- or they know the guy with blue eyes because they keep turning around to make sure everything is okay. They all seemed to be dressed similarly, only in different colors. One of them wearing an outfit in black and white that shows off his upper back muscles (really nicely) seems more worried than the others.
Swinging above their heads from use hangs a few separate strands of white silk fabrics, and behind Keith's back is a rather large cushion. What was... That was called something, wasn't it?
Whatever.
They aren't on earth apparently, so that means the really tall people with lilac skin tones and four eyes are all real, staring at him (and this blue-eyed godsend) are real and not costumes. Keith would have thought this was some form of elaborate Halloween party if not for the way the man in front of him is dressed in blue, white and black and rocking the exposed skin on his waist in a way that's making Keith think he might die in the next ten minutes if this guy doesn't move. It was hard to pick one separate thing to focus on his husband.
His husband.
"Helloooo- babe- can you stand? I'm gonna get you away from the Aerial silks." Ah, okay that's what those fabrics are called. He wondered if his husband knew how to do that. How those silks would look framing and cradling that caramel skin.
"You're my husband." Keith breathes out, and said husband throws his head back and howls with laughter. It choruses out above the hushed crowd and seems to ease some of the tension in the pavilion. Slowly, people begin to return to the party. Not that Keith is paying attention. No, he's much more interested in the column of his husband's throat.
Lance, his mind supplies.
How could he forget Lance?
"Oh my god- come on," Lance stands, and Keith is suddenly aware of the long tan legs that are now in his face. He is trying so unbelievably hard to focus right now. "Let me pick you up-"
"I can stand." He finds himself grunting defensively, and Lance just grins like a lion hadn't bared its teeth at him. He just smiles and offers a hand.
"There's my Keith- up you go."
His Keith.
He found he didn't mind that at all.
Keith hobbles himself to his feet, looking over his outfit to find it mirrors both Lance's and the other’s outfits; only he in red and Lance in a shade of blue that made Keith forget how to breathe. Wrapped around Keith's lower back and revealing a sliver of skin just above his hips was a fabric he didn’t recognize, but he was comfortable. Around his neck- a chain with a ring that didn't seem to be made of gold or silver. Silks covered his legs more than Lance's outfit did, however, it made him feel more secure. But judging by the way Lance takes his hand and strides Keith proudly to a bench- he seemed confident with flaunting his body.
Keith didn't know whether he liked that or whether he wanted Lance covered and away from peering eyes that weren't his.
Lance sits Keith down on a bench and sits beside him with a dramatic sigh. He crosses those long legs and Keith has to force himself to rake his eyes back up as his husband begins talking. "We leave the math to Pidge, and the aerial dancing to me, okay?" he chuckles softly. He didn't seem mad at all, just relieved. "I thought you hurt yourself, baby."
That makes Keith die for a moment, holy fuck.
"I, uh-" He says dumbly, and it makes Lance smile. Scanning over his husband again, he spots the ring on his finger as he waves his hand, beginning to talk again. It's gold. Gold and Lance mix wonderfully.
"Yeah, I know- I'm everything you could've asked for in commitment. I'm the love of your life and you're thrilled to learn that I'm your-"
"You're really fucking pretty."
Keith watches with growing satisfaction as Lance goes rigid for a moment, before the blue 'v'-like marks below those beautiful blue eyes begin to glow.. And as the cherry on top, his cheeks color a wonderful shade of rose gold. Keith finds himself smiling, knowing that he put that growing shy smile on those lovely lips.
"How did we get married?"
Keith watches the way Lance smooths his palms across his thighs (they have freckles on them; he wants to kiss them all) and takes a deep breath. "We actually tried proposing at the same time." he chuckles softly.
"Yeah?" Keith asks, curiously.
"Yeah." He chuckles, blue eyes shining with a newfound admiration, meeting Keith's gaze and melting into something fond and sweet. "I planned to go to your favorite fancy restaurant to propose to you. You hate fancy places, but you really like the food there. Anyways- you apparently thought that romantic fancy dates popped out of the blue."
Blue. That's all Keith can focus on. Blue and the smooth voice speaking with such raw affection.
"And you popped the question before dessert. Who even does that?"
"I do." Keith finds himself grinning.
"Yeah," Lance sighs, slinking long fingers between Keith’s. His nails are painted blue. "You do."
A beat of comfortable silence falls between them, and Keith notices the party has resumed, music thrumming people's bodies to life as they dance around one another. There's a dancer in the aerial silks now, and Keith can see their friends chatting nearby, occasionally peeking over. Keith watches the way Lance attempts to discreetly dismiss them back to the party with a wave of his hand.
"How did i- uh, forget everything?"
Lance chuckles. "Well- i was doing aerial, and you said you wanted to try. You were up there for maybe five seconds before you fell off and landed on the mat, and then you rolled off and your head hit the ground."
"... The mat isn't that big. There’s no way i could have gotten a concussion from that."
Lance laughs, and Keith decides it's his favorite sound. "No, the stone of the pavilion can cause minor memory issues if it comes in contact with the head, no matter how light. They used to use it to ease people with trauma." he smiles sweetly, and Keith feels his heart lodge in his throat. "The queens said that you'll remember everything by the end of the night."
Keith feels himself sigh. He was glad. He wanted every memory back. To know who their friends were. To remember every single moment he was lucky enough to hold Lance in his arms. He wanted to remember their vows and every word he promised Lance. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait to remember how they got together- no matter how awkward or lovey-dovey. Keith had the feeling he was never one for love (or affection in general) but with Lance, it just came easy. As naturally as breathing.
He could tell everything they were doing in that small moment had been done before millions of times. The way their hands slot together and the way Keith can feel his palms grow clammy beneath his fingerless gloves; but not once did Lance pull away. He sat close to Keith, head tipped in so they could talk above the crowd, where no one could hear them. The way their knees knock together and how their eyes always find eachother- and when they meet they just smile at each other. Just because they can.
What the hell did Keith do to get this man?
“Shit, i nearly forgot,” Lance laughs softly, uncrossing those legs (for the love of whatever god in space) but not standing. “I was gonna ask you if you needed anything? Water? Food? You did bonk your head on some stone- are you sure you’re okay?” Despite the small smile, Keith can see the curtained worry in those stormy eyes, and he brings himself to smile back gently.
“I’m okay.” Keith’s body nearly moves on its own, bringing their hands up and apart just enough to where Keith can press a kiss to where Lance’s hand meets his wrist. It’s like his body knows just as much as his brain should, and it leaves him a little confused, even as he mumbles, “Promise.” Against that tan skin.
Lance positively melts, those markings lighting up and eyes dashing back towards the crowd in a way Keith knew meant ‘gooooooooooooooooooood’ in Lance, and in a very positive way too. Lance shuffles closer enough to gently knock his head against Keith’s shoulder- and now both of their faces are gaining that red hue.
“I have no clue what I'm gonna do with you.” Lance complains, but there’s a small laugh hanging on the edge of those words and Keith can’t get enough. It’s like this boy was full of joy; hardly containing it like a ray of sunshine in a jar. Keith was just lucky enough to have caught it.
“You could kiss me.”
Lance lolls his head back, smiling at Keith and he finds himself returning it, leaning back into that sunny warmth. It rolled off him in waves, along with the light scent of sea salt (which Keith knows should be impossible; they hadn’t seen earth in years now, let alone a beach). The man revels in the way Lance drapes a long leg across his lap and Keith is really trying to not pass out.
And judging by that dumb grin on his husband's face, it looks like he knows exactly what he is doing.
“It seems like you’re the one who wants to kiss me.” Lance whispers, and he’s shocked to find how close they’ve gotten now, foreheads basically touching and noses brushing together. Keith can smell something fruit-like on Lance’s breath, and he idly wonders if it’s alcohol as he gathers the strength to put a hand on that thigh. Lance returns this gesture by cupping the base of Keith’s neck over to press their lips together sweetly.
It’s by no means desperate or fast or hot. It’s chaste, closed-mouthed and gentle. Chins tipping to kiss softly, pulling back to meet the corner of lips and smiles building between them. Keith can’t find himself to be upset about it as Lance hooks his arm around Keith’s waist and tugs him closer, kissing along his cheek. Keith feels a laugh bubble in his chest and it feels foreign in all of the best ways, and it isn’t long before Lance is echoing it back. It’s so sweet and soft that Keith buries his nose into Lance’s neck and sighs contentedly when Lance’s hands continue to comb through his hair.
“God, even without memories you’re still an amazing husband.” Keith feels the words rumble in Lance’s chest, and he grunts in reply, shifting closer. He wonders how long this party is, and how much longer it’s going to be before they can leave and hide in what he hopes is their room. He feels Lance press a small kiss to his scalp. “Grump.”
“M’ ready to leave.” Keith huffs, begrudgingly pulling his head back. “It’s loud.”
Keith watches the way Lance’s face softens around the edges, leaning forward to kiss his forehead and takes Keith’s hand, starting to stand. “Baby, you should’ve told me you were getting overstimulated- come on. I think we still have some leftovers in our fridge, mi rojo.”
“Mm.” Keith finds himself humming, instantly finding he loves the sound of that.
Ours.
-
That next morning, Keith Kogane would find he didn’t remember anything from the night before. But feeling around the large bed, he would feel his husband hardly an arms length away, curled up facing him, eyes soft as he rests away. His makeup is smudged, and feeling along his cheek Keith can definitely feel faint traces of lipstick.
On their night stand are open alien take out boxes of what looks like yellow steak and purple noodles with some sort of glowing fruit, some pouches of water on the side.
Reaching over to get a drink, he feels a long arm pull him back against a warm chest, a yawn just behind his ear. Then he feels lips against his nape, sticky and sweet, and the way a palm settles over his heartbeat. The warm sigh of breath that leaves goosebumps, and the way Lance settles behind hip, hips pressed flush against Keith’s own.
And a small, muttered, ”m’ lob you..”
Yeah, he decides the water can wait.