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The second annual Blade of Marmora Affiliates Gala was flashier than he ever expected a Blade function to be but Lance was glad his tux fit the guests' dress code. If it hadn’t, he and Hunk could’ve commiserated but as it was, they fit in just as well as anyone else. This included Pidge, who was truly a belle of the ball, although when she started talking the illusion faded completely. When Lance said as much, she’d smacked him with her clutch.
“What’s in there?” he’d grumbled.
“That’s for me to know and Hunk to find out,” she’d replied cheekily. “Where’d he get to, anyway?”
At the same time, they said, “Kitchen,” and Pidge disappeared between the guests.
It had left Lance to his own devices until he found Keith—and the front row entertainment unraveling before him.
“I can’t believe people are fawning over him,” Lance chuckled. Watching Kolivan navigate a fan club was top tier entertainment. Not that he had a leg to stand on, because he was a one-man fan club for Keith.
“He’s doing… okay, I think?” Keith replied from beside him, watching Kolivan expertly pretend he was fine with all the attention. Kosmo huffed at his feet, his tongue lolling out in a doggy grin.
Lance’s heart thumped. Something about a boy with a cosmic space wolf was very cute.
For months, Lance found himself growing increasingly smitten with his old teammate. It started as a whisper of a thought, so inconsequential that he never noticed, but then a single, life-altering experience occurred. During last Allura Day, with a party just like this humming in the background, he told a stupid, silly joke, and Keith’s quiet, amused laughter had lit his veins on fire like a livewire. Its charge powered a million flickering signs in his brain, all of them flashing: “Hey, idiot, isn’t this familiar?”
Which, A. He wasn’t an idiot, and B. Terrifyingly, yes, he did remember what it felt like to be in love.
Still, Keith lived amongst the stars, always moving—thriving. Lance couldn’t dream of anchoring him to Earth. He’d keep all that affection locked up tight to spare them both the inevitable crash and burn.
"It’s almost time,” a smooth voice cut in to pull him from his thoughts. Krolia walked up beside them, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder.
Keith sighed, "I'm… a little nervous."
Lance stared at them in confusion. "Uh, about what?" he interjected.
Krolia smiled fondly, reaching out to pull Lance closer, forming a conspiratorial huddle. "Keith's accepted a promotion. He's going to lead his own team," she explained, voice brimming with pride.
Lance was surprised—kind of. Once, Keith had resisted leading Voltron with tooth and nail. When it had counted, though, he’d pulled through as an excellent Black Paladin. Now that the Lions were gone, it made sense his leadership capabilities would be noticed by the Blades.
His heart hurt, though. Keith's promotion felt like permanence, and it didn’t feel good to be proven right: space was where Keith belonged, no matter how much Lance wanted to wake up to him every morning, washed in the golden dawn.
It would be rude to ruin the mood, so he plastered on a bright smile and exclaimed, "Are you for real? Congrats, man!"
"Thanks," Keith murmured shyly. "I kinda… thought you'd be mad."
"Mad?"
"When I was supposed to lead Voltron… I wasn't good at accepting it and everything got all messed up. I thought maybe you'd take it personally, now that I've chosen to lead other people."
Yikes. Time to nip that unhappy thought in the bud. Lance was upset because of some star-crossed lovers bullshit, not because Keith’s life was going well.
"Nah, man," he assured. "I get it. I’m proud of you, y’know? Maybe not as proud as Mama here, but still!”
Keith stood a little straighter, more confident. "Thanks," he repeated.
“Unless you're about to tell me you're leading the ex-generals, it's all good."
Keith's ensuing silence was loud.
"Keith."
"They're not that bad!" Keith defended.
"My heart, it breaks," Lance bemoaned, leaning heavily onto Keith to force him to hold his weight. He grinned cheekily when Keith grumbled beneath him.
"Pick up the pieces of your broken heart," Krolia laughed, hauling Lance upright. "Kolivan's signaling us. We'll see you after, Lance."
Keith might've said something to Lance before he was shuffled off, but the world around him sounded like it was underwater. Echoing all around him were Krolia's words: Pick up the pieces of your broken heart.
She hadn't said anything wrong or hurtful but Lance felt combative as he watched her and Keith slide easily through the crowd. He wanted to scream, What do you think I've been doing? I'm in love with your son! The flash of anger didn’t last; it wasn’t her fault. Lance refused to say anything. Everyone thought he was still mourning, and they weren’t wrong, but there was no way for anyone to know the state of his heart’s slow mend.
Mic feedback blasted through high-mounted speakers before Kolivan's voice carried through, crisp and clear, "Esteemed friends and colleagues," he announced, doing his best impersonation of Lance's middle school principal, "if I may have your attention. It is my pleasure to introduce our newest general, although most of you are already familiar with him and his exploits. With honor, Keith, please step forward."
Stepping onto the dias, Keith was slammed by a roar of applause and cheers. Krolia followed behind him, a bulky bundle in her arms. He recognized the sharp angles of an officer's chest piece among folds of fabric. There was so much pride in the triumphant way Keith’s chin turned up.
Suddenly, more feedback grated through the speakers, drawing the celebration to a halt. The voice that crackled through was Pidge's, and before he could wonder when she'd left the party, he registered her frantic words, "Evacuate! There's a bomb!"
It was concerning how quickly the shift took over. The Blade of Marmora were supposed to be celebrating but now it was like they’d sprung back in time, to where they’d been forced into the shadows and acted with brutal efficiency. None were willing to risk Pidge’s warning being false, so the herding of the gala’s guests began.
She continued overhead, "I've encased it in a gel that should dampen its effects, but it won't stop the detonation. Get out!"
“That means you, too,” a voice came from behind him, their hand clapping down on his shoulder. Turning, Lance saw it was Shiro, his expression severe. A communicator was hooked over his ear and it was clear his attention was split between it and his surroundings.
“What about everyone else?”
“Hunk and Coran are evacuating with the kitchen staff,” Shiro said. He motioned to the communicator. “Pidge is going out through a window as we speak.”
“And what about Kei—”
“Keith?” Shiro guessed, face pinched with stress. “He’s with Kolivan and Krolia. I’m worried, too, but I trust them. I trust him. He trusts us to keep ourselves safe, so we have to get moving.” Lance hesitated, unsure if he liked that response; Keith would go to the ends of the universe to look for Shiro, so why did this feel like they were leaving him adrift?
Shiro stilled, listening to whatever information was being fed into his ear. The narrowing of his eyes and startled inhale couldn’t have been a good sign. “Lance, move!” he bellowed, lunging forward.
Before the command had the chance to sink in, the world was suddenly awash in blistering heat and tumultuous noise. It stopped only because Lance blacked out.
He came back to himself slowly, the rank odor of sulfur triggering him into full wakefulness. Shocked, Lance’s eyes flew open. He meant to suck in a large, stabilizing breath, but the smog and a heavy weight pressing down on his chest had it catching in his throat. Alarmed, he craned his neck to the side for a better look at what was crushing him and was startled to find it was Shiro, sprawled protectively over him.
“Shiro?” Lance croaked and received no answer. He fumbled for Shiro’s nearest wrist, realized it was the prosthetic, and then switched to Shiro’s neck to find his pulse. The steady beat of it thudded against his fingertips.
Carefully, Lance rolled Shiro off of him before searching for injuries. If there were any, he suspected they were centered on his back and ribs, but it was hard to tell in the dust cloud. He detached Shiro's communicator and set it on his own ear.
Praying that the device still worked, Lance rasped, “Hello?”
“Lance!” Pidge’s voice boomed in his ear. “Where’s Shiro?”
“With me. Alive, but down for the count,” he explained.
“Understood. What’s the situation?”
He pushed himself to his feet, squinting into the meeting hall. Visibility was low, but emergency lights pierced through the cloud, highlighting jagged stone and metal debris. Flames drowned in a fizzing, blue foam until they died out, leaving only a haze of smoke behind.
“Besides general destruction? Lotta dust. Some foam’s controlling the fire.”
“The foam’s my gel,” Pidge said. “I’m glad it worked. Its original purpose was for kitchen fires.”
“Mm,” Lance hummed just to show he was listening. Now that he was upright, he noticed just how silent the blast zone was—until it wasn't. The first cries of pain rose like the twisted ghosts of the Marmoran's cheers and Lance's stomach lurched.
So subtly that he almost missed it, another sound layered into the painful symphony: a pitiful whining, high and desperate.
"Kosmo…?" Lance murmured.
With a flash, the cosmic wolf teleported to his side, pressing his cool nose into Lance's hand. His ears were folded back and his tail was tucked between his trembling legs. They collapsed under his weight and Lance sucked in a breath when he saw their condition. The wounds were massive, the skin shredded like his hind legs had been dragged over broken glass. Fresh, red blood dripped from his dark fur onto the ground below.
“Oh, shit,” Lance cursed.
Whining anxiously, Kosmo looked toward the dias and the large concentration of debris that demolished it.
It was the last place he'd seen Keith.
"Were you looking for Keith?" He brushed dust from Kosmo’s head. "You’re hurt badly, bud. I'll find him for us, okay? But, can you help me with something first?"
Kosmo whined again.
“Shiro’s not doin’ so good,'' Lance began, “and neither are you. You can trust me with Keith, I promise, so can I trust you to take Shiro out of here and get some help? Keith cares about you both so much, it’ll kill him to see either of you hurt.”
Kosmo growled weakly, yellow eyes piercing straight through Lance as if to carve the promise into his soul, before rising tremulously from his sprawl. Slowly, he limped the small distance to Shiro, sinking his teeth into the man’s shirtsleeve and vanishing them both, leaving only red paw prints behind.
Pidge spoke up in his ear, “They’re out.”
“Good,” Lance said, steeling himself.
Time to find Keith.
"Don't let the building collapse on you now,” she stressed. “We've got enough going on: I sent the Blades the surviving security footage. It's only a matter of time before they find the creep responsible for all of this."
That was a relief, truth be told. If they were dealing with that, then Lance didn't have to.
"Roger," he said, walking into the corpse of the Affiliates Gala.
It was awful. Injured Blades were pulling themselves and others out of the rubble, and unmoving bodies were being placed reverently on cleared stretches of the floor.
He couldn’t let Keith be one of those bodies. Determination thrummed in his veins. He needed to find him—for everyone waiting, and for all the things left unsaid and held close to his chest.
As he was nearing the dias, he saw a large shape moving in the dust cloud. When Lance's brain caught up with his eyes, he recognized the shape as Kolivan, digging through a pile of debris with one hand, the other hanging limply at his side. The attached arm looked too long and was certainly dislocated. At his feet lay Krolia, unconscious, her shoulders rising and falling with haggard breath.
"She'll never forgive me if I leave him here," Kolivan rumbled when he noticed Lance.
There was no question as to what he meant.
Lance rushed over, digging his fingers into the pile. Debris bit painfully into his fingers, but he wasn’t going to give up—never.
They dug in desperate silence for an undetermined amount of time before Pidge’s voice pinged cautiously in his ear, "...Lance?"
"I’m here," he replied. When Kolivan glanced over, he gestured to the communicator.
"I’m really sorry," she murmured. "I should've known."
"Pidge?"
"It's only been two years since the war ended," she said. "I should've known that the gala could be targeted. I saw them, you know? Some weirdo making for the upper floors. I should’ve taken 'em down then, but I didn't. I had second thoughts, after— and we were lucky I had my gel in my bag. I only brought it to show Hunk. I should’ve known and I’m sorry."
"What've you got to be sorry for? You're not event security," Lance replied. "If anyone’s throwin' a pity party, it’s me.”
"Huh? Why?"
Time to pony up. Embarrassed, Lance peered at Kolivan, but it wasn’t the time to get flustered about an impromptu audience. He just needed to keep on digging. "Maybe because I've spent the last few months harboring cootie-type feelings for Keith, pretending I wasn't, and now I’m digging as fast as I can to find out if he’s even still alive.”
Pidge hissed out a breath. "Oh. That's…"
"Yeah," Lance sighed. It felt lame. It felt like not enough. "...Yeah."
"...He’s gotta be alive," Pidge said firmly. There was something about Holt-brand stubbornness that dredged up hope.
"Of course," he agreed. To think otherwise was unacceptable.
Kolivan grunted and Lance’s eyes flew to the opening cleared in the debris. Part of a Marmoran chest piece peered out, dusty and dull. They dug with greater fervor, dislodging enough rubble to reveal the broken form beneath it.
"I’d recognize that hair anywhere," Lance mumbled, the words scraped ragged by a sandpaper throat.
Keith was covered in layers of dust, dying him completely gray except for a pink line at the crack of his lips. It darkened until crimson blood trickled from his mouth in small, sick trails down his chin. He wheezed out a rattling breath— and it was ghastly, but he was breathing. Through holes torn in his uniform, they could see wet gashes and ominous bruises scattered across his shuddering torso. Quickly, Lance and Kolivan swept any remaining rubble from his body and carefully manipulated his legs, one with a knee so swollen it looked ready to pop, and the other with an ankle that seemed like it already had.
“Be careful of his spine,” Kolivan warned as they gently moved Keith out of the debris.
“Right.”
With Keith spread on the floor, Lance got down on aching knees to look closer at his ashen, blood-streaked face and fought down a sob. "You’re here," he sputtered, brushing his knuckles over his cheek. Leaning down, pressing his forehead against Keith's, he assured, “I’ve got you, Samurai.”
Kolivan shifted Krolia into a strange, one-armed hold. “Are you capable of carrying him? I cannot secure them both, and they must be moved now."
“Yeah, I've got him." Lance reached forward, more than ready to take Keith out of this hellhole and find help.
And then he heard it: a crack, a slide.
A rumble.
The skeleton of the meeting hall quaked. Lance yelled, ducking over Keith’s helpless form just before the ruined ceiling above them caved further in.
The last thought he had before the collapse swallowed them whole was that Lance wished he’d had another opportunity to make Keith laugh.
Oblivion devoured them.
Lance woke with a chill in his bones, blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Because of the chill, he concluded he was in one of the newer healing pods—a design built off the single remaining pod they’d brought from the Castle of Lions and improved upon by engineers studying the original schematics. Every hospital in the Coalition had at least one, along with all the major vessels. The horizontal design was to prevent patients from falling and re-injuring themselves upon waking, but it didn’t help them orient themselves in the slightest.
An arm reached into the pod to offer him a hand. Lance reached for it without hesitation, letting it haul him upright so he could see the room: smooth, gray walls stretched high, alcoves carved into them to tuck more healing pods inside. Groups of two or more surrounded almost every single pod, but Lance was more interested in the circle surrounding his own. His fellow paladins and Coran looked well—including Shiro, which was a huge relief.
Conspicuously, Keith was absent. The relief shriveled like a dying flower.
Lance launched himself from the pod to a chorus of shocked cries. Unfortunately, all the engineering breakthroughs in the universe couldn’t solve post-pod jelly legs, and he wobbled dangerously before catching himself.
“Lance! I already hauled you from the wreckage,” Hunk whined. “Please don’t make me haul you back into a pod!”
“You did? Thanks, big guy,” Lance acknowledged distractedly. “Where’d you haul Keith?”
Pidge gestured to another alcove. There, he met Krolia’s eyes from where she sat between two healing pods.
“After the building collapsed, you and Keith were both in really bad shape,” she explained. “I don’t condone your bullheadedness, but if you hadn’t taken the brunt of it, Keith probably would have died, so we’re all thanking your lucky stars.” Her expression softened. “His healing cycle will probably be done soon. You should talk to him when he wakes up. About… you know.”
And he did. "You… probably have a point."
"Should he eat first? It's been a while since… Hey!" Hunk exclaimed, but his voice seemed far away. "Wait! Lance!"
Stumbling like a newborn deer across the room, Lance ignored Hunk's concern. When he reached Krolia, she steadied him with a hand on his elbow.
"They're going to live," she declared, her voice rough.
Lance glanced into the pods. Fractals of frost crept along the edges, but the occupants' faces remained unobscured. Relaxed with sleep, they showed no sign of any prior injuries.
“You saved him,” she said. “I’m sorry you were harmed doing it, but I am grateful to you. Thank you.”
“You really don’t have to—”
"Keith will be out soon,” she interrupted.
The last thing Lance wanted to do was argue with Krolia, so instead of pursuing that thread of discussion he asked, "How long has it been?"
"A few quintants," she supplied. “Nearly a movement.”
He winced. “And you’ve been keeping watch this whole time?”
“Since I got out of my own pod. Don’t worry, I’ve had plenty of company. Everyone wants to check in on these two.”
“Hope you don’t mind that I’m the next in line.”
A tired grin pulled at her lips. “You’re always welcome with us, Lance.”
“Thanks,” he replied. The conversation lapsed, Krolia never one to waste breath on small talk and Lance’s motor mouth running on fumes. It was probably for the best; what was he supposed to say to a mother who almost lost her son? What was he supposed to say when her gratitude was so heartachingly sincere?
“It reminds me of one of your Earth fairy tales,” she mused, head cocked towards Keith’s pod. Lance hadn’t actually expected her to break the silence. “Sleeping Beauty? Keith is waiting for a prince to wake him up. How did it work again? It's been so long since I've heard the story...”
Lance palms grew sweaty. Was she implying something here? “Uh, true love’s kiss? Why?”
“Awfully romantic, isn’t it, Loverboy Lance?” asked Krolia with a tiny, secretive smile.
“You can’t mean—!” he screeched, astonished.
“Would you dislike it, being Prince Charming?”
“No! I—!”
Her eyes glimmered. “I suppose with the pod active it would be difficult to pull off. A shame.”
“Krolia. I’m dying. You’re killing me.”
“You remind me of his father. Wore every emotion on his sleeve. That’s good. Honesty is important.”
Lance sighed in defeat. “You’ve seen my stupid heart eyes from the start, haven’t you? Embarrassing.”
Krolia laughed goodnaturedly, but it was cut short when Keith’s pod began to depressurize. The frost retreated and they could see the warm, peachy color returning to his skin. She leaned over the pod as it hissed open and Keith began to stir.
“My star,” she cooed, reaching down to run a hand through his hair. Lance watched Keith’s eyes crack open, foggy with sleep.
Tongue heavy, Keith grunted, “...Mom? There was a bomb…?”
"Yes," Krolia confirmed. "You are safe. Your friends are safe."
"The Blades…?"
"...We can talk about them later. You have a visitor who has something he needs to discuss with you first."
"Huh? Buh?" Lance stammered eloquently. “Me?”
Krolia turned to him and said, "I'm going to get some water. I will keep the others away to afford you some privacy, but I will not deny my son his loved ones forever, Lance. I hope your discussion is fruitful."
As she walked away, it was clear that debate was not an option.
No pressure.
"Lance?"
He jumped, focusing on Keith, who was sitting up in his pod, blinking groggily at the overhead lights.
“What did you need to talk about?" he continued, sounding just like he had when Lance was unsure of his place on the team and had gone to him to assuage his fears. A wave of fondness crashed over him before doubt fizzled up like seafoam.
He left, then. He's going to leave again.
"That was… really close, huh?" he started.
"Was it? It's… kind of foggy, but I remember worrying about you before the detonation," Keith recalled with a frown. "Did you get out?"
"Nope!” Lance denied. “I'll tell you about that worrying series of events later, because right now, I’ve got stuff to say, okay?"
Ignoring him, Keith cut in, "You're in a cryosuit. You got hurt."
"Pot, kettle."
"Were you scared?"
Once, Lance would have been offended at the implication. He didn't get scared, he’d boast. There was something in Keith's expression that demanded vulnerability, however, and he was compelled to honesty.
"Yeah," he replied with a huff. "I was afraid. Don’t spread it around.”
"I was scared, too," Keith admitted. "We've been in a lot of dangerous situations, but there's usually something we can do to mitigate it. We got complacent and were so unprepared… None of the guests had armor. You didn't have armor."
"Lotta good your fancy Marmora suit did," Lance replied waspishly. "Finding you all busted up… The only reason I didn't think you were dead was because I could hear your messed up breathing!"
"You found me?" Keith asked incredulously.
"Yeah," said Lance. "I wasn't going to leave you there! Especially not when I have something to say."
"Right. Sorry."
Lance took a deep breath and reached into the expanse of his memory for the joke that started this whole damned thing. "'What kind of garden do you think Hunk would have?'"
Keith squinted suspiciously. "You've told me this one before. It was a pun, right? And not herbs and spices?"
"A flour garden."
Just like it had one entire year ago, the joke pulled a small, gentle laugh from Keith. Lance drank it up like water to a man in the desert.
"I remember," Keith murmured quietly, lips curved in the littlest smile. "Good one."
"I remember telling you that joke so clearly," Lance stated, "because it made me realize something so important. For a long, long time after Allura sacrificed herself, I convinced myself that was it. One and done, no second shots. Then, I told you that stupid joke and you laughed and it was like going to the stars for the first time all over again."
It was something Keith would understand; he would remember that first breathtaking flight and understand the gravity of those words.
"I love you, Keith,” he confessed, willing himself not to stumble on the L word. No more hiding, no more chances for regrets. He wondered what it would have been like to say it way back when he first noticed. What would the last year have been like? “It's not a joke. I’m not making fun of you. I’m serious.” His hands shook. He couldn’t look at him. "Better you find out from me than Pidge… or Kolivan… or your mom… Man, it's almost embarrassing how many people found out before you did."
"It's okay," Keith said hurriedly, voice high as a mouse's squeak, "because I know Shiro and my mom know about my feelings, too."
"Your what?" Lance exclaimed, leaning over the pod and into Keith’s personal bubble.
Keith's eyes were huge and his cheeks were so pink they could be fluorescent.
"For the first hour of the gala Shiro was making fun of me because I told him I thought you looked good in a tux," Keith admitted, the blush cascading down his neck.
Lance sputtered, "Really?!” He could hardly believe his ears!
"I think I've had some sort of feelings for you since the bonding moment that you forgot," he continued, spectacularly unimpressed, but Lance couldn’t be offended when Keith’s face was so red. "Who knew it'd take another explosion to bring us back whole circle?"
"That’s… Wow!" Speechlessness didn’t come naturally to Lance, but there weren’t any words he felt could express his delightful surprise. He felt like he could vibrate himself out of existence, but then he’d be leaving Keith behind and that was—Oh.
He’s going to leave.
Now there were no words he could find to describe his dread.
"You love me?" Keith asked like it was a challenge, startling Lance enough to reclaim his attention.
Lance had never backed down before. "Yes," he said, because it was the truth.
"You want to kiss me?"
"Maybe I do!"
Keith flopped backward into the pod and demanded, "Get in here and prove it."
Lance took about three seconds to consider the logistics of fitting two people in a healing pod before carefully sliding in, settling on top of Keith with their faces so close he could see the galaxies in his eyes.
"Well?" Keith prompted. His expression was defiant, but his voice shook—with nerves? Excitement?
“B-before I do… I don’t want to be your ball and chain, Keith,” Lance stated firmly. They could still pump the brakes before they crashed. “You’re going to be a super cool space general, and I’m… not. I’m not a kickass alien ninja. I’m just a farmer, remember? A florist, maybe?”
Keith’s brow furrowed. “You’re not just a farmer,” he said. “This feels like six paladins, five lions all over again. This time, leave the math to me. After what happened at the Affiliates Gala, it’s clear there’s still so much left to do in order to bring universal peace, but… I wouldn’t mind having a place to come home to for once, if you don’t mind late nights.”
Imagining Keith coming in through his front door in the dead of night, smiling like he was happy to finally be home, Lance asked, voice soft with disbelief, “You’d make that home with me?”
“Of course with you. Who else? Ezor?”
“No! ...Can I kiss you now?”
“I’m waiting.”
"Jeez, you must be feeling better if you’re this bossy," he replied. "Since you insist, pucker up, butterc—uh!"
A considerable weight crashed into Lance's back, forcing him down and knocking his mouth into Keith's, their teeth clacking painfully as they groaned in discomfort. He registered the distinct smell of dog breath wafting against the back of his neck.
"Glad you're doing well, Kosmo," he muttered. "Please get off of me."
A wet tongue brushed over his ear and Lance howled.
"I'm afraid I couldn't keep them away any longer," Krolia's amused voice carried down towards them.
Oh. That meant...
Above them, a ring of smiling faces peered down into the pod.
Before Lance could even begin to find the words to make them go away, can’t you see we’re busy, Keith tugged on his cryosuit and suggested, "Maybe we should try that again later…?"
"A do-over?"
"Yeah. Preferably with a little more privacy."
"It's a date, Samurai."
Above them, he could have sworn he heard the clap of a high five. It should have been annoying, but as it was…
Crushed under a wolf the size of a small horse, pressed up against the man he'd been hopelessly enamored with for the better part of year, and encircled by some of his favorite people in the universe, Lance felt lighter than air. He huffed out a laugh, dropping his head down to knock into Keith’s chin.
He felt the rumble of Keith’s voice in his chest when he said, “Can’t wait.”