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Lance McClain was not gay. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, his closest friends and family were pretty much an alphabet soup, but that just wasn’t him. He never had to think about his sexuality, for him it had always been girls. He was ladies man lance, hopeless romantic and tireless flirt numero uno, the token straight as he was lovingly referred to by Pidge, even though Hunk was straight too.
Secretly he was always proud of it, although he knew that it was wrong, and being gay wasn’t something to be ashamed of. While he was technically catholic, it was more of a cultural thing for him and his family and less of a faith thing. Figures, once you’ve spent your whole life dreaming of exploring the cosmos the idea of a god creating it all becomes boring after you’ve met aliens and fly a semi-magical space lion mecha for a living.
But still, the idea of being interested in anything other than girls…using the term ‘girls’ loosely as any female adjacent humanoid alien counted too, of course, even his team joked he would flirt with anything that had two legs and truly he did. Flirting with boys always caused a corrosive ball of acidic guilt to rise between his ribs and take up residence where his heart should be.
Even when it didn’t mean anything. And let’s be honest here, it never did mean anything. Because it was all talk, no show, for Lance. He found flirting lightened the mood, made the people around him happy, took the load of intergalactic war from their shoulders for a while, no matter if they were flattered or annoyed by his antics. Sometimes he would feel bad for leading the pretty alien girls on, but he didn’t know them, and he assumed they were in it for some light-hearted fun too whenever they flirted back. After the Nyma incident he knew he needed to be careful, god his friends had not let him live that one down. But he didn’t really care, it was part of his image, and he was proud of his people skills. If it never meant anything.
So, he spun his rivalry like the sly sucker he was. Using a thread crafted with only the pure, blinding love he held for his fellow paladin tuned leader turned, well, gone. Off on some super cool top secret galra fighting troupe. He wound that thread of competition around them, keeping them intertwined, sewn together, spurred on by the incessant need to out-do the other, spurred on by the desire to be close, and the deep denial that this was anything other than platonic.
And when the other half of his heart left, for the better, stealthier blade of Marmora no less, he was devastated. He did such a good job of hiding it though, he never talked about Keith. He didn’t want to, not after the last conversation they’d had. He tried to kid himself into believing that he never thought about him either, but his brain was a traitor. And so, he spent his lonely moments thinking about nothing else.
For outside appearances sake he spent much more effort fawning over Allura than he ever had. His friends thought he had fallen flat on his stupid, romantic face, gotten up and tripped down the stairs of love towards the gorgeous, sparkling way-out-of-his-league princess. When it was actually quite the opposite. He was overcompensating for another, corrosive, soul destroying love, the kind of love that starts slowly and quietly winds its way around your heart and anchors itself there forever. The kind of love you don’t realise you are drowning in until it’s too late. The kind of love you never quite recover from. And Lance was suffering.
“Come with me.” Keith had said, his best kitty eyes on display, perks of being half galra. He was practically begging, the knowledge that he had no right to ask that suspended silently between the two of them.
“You know I can’t do that, Keith.” Lance had responded in a whisper, too ashamed to look him in his pleading eyes.
And Keith knew. He had been the one to convince Lance that Voltron needed him in the first place, the person that assured him of his spot on the team, that he was valued and appreciated. Keith told him that, Keith made him believe that.
Yeah, he was finally finding his feet on the team, properly, as Keith’s right-hand man. He knew he could adapt to Shiro again, but he wanted Keith. He wanted him to stay and be the leader of Voltron. He wanted things to remain as they had been. He wanted to be selfish. “I want you to stay.” He had said, tenderly placing his hand on Keith’s jaw, thumb tenderly tracing his cheek, finally daring to look him in his eyes, grey but almost lilac in the dim light, tears brimming, threatening to spill over.
“Lance- “Keith started, voice gargling as he tried to retain the tears. His face gently leaning into his touch, “What are we?”, came out so faint it was barely audible. But Lance heard him, muscles stiffening at the question he refused to let himself think about. “You’re-, Keith. We’re…” he paused, pursing his lips. He wasn’t sure what to say, maybe deep down he knew what he wanted, but it was so buried, so hidden and twisted and pushed down that it couldn’t come out in time. He needed to process, his wants couldn’t reach his mouth, he was desperate, but he was scared.
His hand moved from Keith’s cheek down to the nape of his neck, long fingers tracing his face, tangled in his hair and pulled to angle his head upwards, bringing his own forehead down to rest on Keith’s. They were so close he could basically feel the heat of the blush that spread on both their faces, he could smell the faint scent of Keith’s aftershave and sweat, musky and deep with a faint hint of smoke, he heard Keith’s breath hitch as he closed his eyes.
Lance cradled the back of Keith’s neck, the fingers of his other hand digging into his shirt like it was his lifeline.
He breathed deeply, “Keith…you’re my best friend- “, Keith's eyes had snapped open at that, body going rigid when he had been soft and warm in Lance’s hands just a few seconds before, he tried to pull away, but Lance’s grip was fast on his shirt.
“Please, Keith, you’re- we’re a team.”
Lance couldn’t stop thinking about that night, about the look of hurt and betrayal in Keith’s eyes when he left the room, he had looked broken. He couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation, if he said something different, then maybe- he didn’t want to think about it.
Because he was straight. If Keith was a girl, well. It would have been different.
Granted, Lance hadn’t felt like that about a girl either, but he somehow knew that it would have been easier, if he was, maybe he would have been able to do things differently. He would have kissed him. If Keith had been a girl, Lance would have kissed him way before then. But Keith wasn’t a girl. And that’s what made it so goddamn hard. Lance wasn’t ashamed, he knew what this was, but he wouldn’t dare think, he couldn’t seem to grasp it. But oh, how desperately he wanted to have kissed Keith.
Stop it. He scolded himself, it wasn’t right, to think about Keith like that. But in his mind, he could feel the hot breath on his face, soft lips against his own, he could imagine losing himself into that kiss, being consumed by the feeling, smelling that familiar Keith smell, running his fingers through that stupid soft mullety hair. He could image belonging as he locked lips with his teammate, his rival. An immense flooding sensation of homesickness overtook him whenever he thought about what could have been, but of course something like that never could have been.
Lance wasn’t gay.
And yet his mind plagued him with Keith, Keith and more Keith. He missed him.
He missed joking around on missions, he missed blasting galra fleets to smithereens at his side, he missed teasing him, he missed team bonding activities, he missed the way he would grumble on early mornings with his fluffy bedhead and endless complaining about how much he wished coffee existed in space. He missed the not so pointed glares that ended with a shy smile, he missed sparring and swimming, he missed late night conversations while watching the stars on the main deck when neither of them could sleep. He missed how Keith just got him, had his back from day one, even when they supposedly hated each other. He missed how easy he was to talk to.
Silent moments between them that were only for them. A squeeze on a shoulder after a particularly hard mission, a nod of approval at a helpful suggestion, arms that were there to hold him as he cried once or twice.
Space was lonely, and Keith was a constant. A hard shell of a boy that took months to even slightly crack, but once Lance was in, he never wanted to leave. He had burrowed deep and made himself a home in Keith’s heart, just as Keith had in his.
Keith didn’t sparkle like the stars, he glowed softly, he ebbed and flowed like a river and Lance had learned to ride his currents as his right hand, anticipating his reactions and acting accordingly.
Lance saw Keith, in his quiet mystery.
He thought he might love him.
But by the time he realised it was too late, he wanted to call Keith back, pull on the invisible string he had woven between them and reel him in, back through whatever galaxies he had travelled through and home to Lance, who wanted nothing more than to hold him, to keep him, to make him his.
“Lance, Lance, buddy.” “HEY LANCE!” His head snapped upwards from where it was drooping into his alien goo trying to be cereal. “What.” He said, glaring vaguely in the direction of the yelling. He wasn’t sure who had said his name, he was too groggy. He heard a snort and a giggle, side-eyeing Pidge and Hunk, who had been the creators of the original ruckus.
“Do you think he’ll grow a mullet next?” Pidge said under her breath, barely able to contain another muffled laugh. Lance blinked slowly at her, and she lost it, doubling over and wheezing for extra effect. “What?” He said again, looking at Hunk this time, who punched pidge in the arm to try and get her to shut up, although according to the glint in his eye he was close to a similar state.
“You know dude, first it was the red lion, then the glaring, and now the whole act this morning-, you are totally turning into Keith and it’s-” He couldn’t finish his sentence gasping and wheezing even he said it and erupting into giggles alongside Pidge before he could get the rest of his words out, as if Keith was a joke. As if they both expected Lance to drop the act and expose a grand prank, as if they expected him to scoff and say something about how much he disliked him, to reinforce the rivalry. None of that happened.
Lance felt the thick spiky lump of emotion in the back of his throat slowly rising and rearing its evil head, he felt hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes, he felt his heart practically beating itself out of his chest.
He stared back at his friends, laughing themselves silly. He could see Shiro shaking his head in a tired big brother way at their early morning antics as he ate his own green sludge, he could see Coran and Allura having a pleasant conversation over at one of the counters, and he could see Keith’s empty seat next to him.
The first tear escaped at the same time as he stood up, pushing his chair back too forcefully with no regard as it toppled over and crashed to the floor. He was out of the room before anyone had the chance to react to his abrupt exit, left silently staring at his chair on the floor.
“I just wish he was here, Shiro” Lance sobbed into his shoulder, “It’s okay Lance, I miss him too.”, the older man tried to comfort him, “I didn’t tell him I love him, I- I didn’t realize.” Lance choked out, wiggling out of Shiro’s warm embrace and burying his head in his hands. Now he’d really gone and done it. He’d admitted it, out loud. He had been thinking for months now, ruminating in every spare second since Keith had left, he thought that maybe if he said it, he would understand it better, he was still so confused.
“He knows we all love him; he’ll be back soon; he only has one mission left.” Shiro tried to reassure him, misunderstanding the true meaning of Lance’s words.
“No Shiro, I love him.” He repeated and raised his eyes to meet the understanding gaze of his team leader who reached out to squeeze his hand. “But I’m not gay. I- I like girls…I don’t understand.” He stammered onwards, adverting his gaze from the intense eyes that stared at him, but still determined to finish what he had started. If anyone could help him, it would be Shiro.
“But you love Keith.” Shiro stated, matter-of-a-factly. The way he said it made it seem easy, as natural as breathing air, Lance loved Keith, and that was that.
“That doesn’t have to mean you’re gay, it isn’t an either-or deal, you’re just you, Lance. And if you love another boy then you do and it doesn’t make you any less of a person than anyone else, even if you’ve liked girls before too. People can be bisexual too, you know, but you don’t have to put a label on it if you don’t want to, it’s your sexuality. So, you decide, no one else.” Shiro squeezed his hand again, “And by the way, since it’s my brother you’re going for, I feel it’s my duty to say this, you’re a good kid Lance. But you better treat him well or I’ll kick your ass.”, he finished, a thin smile playing on his lips.
“Thank you.” Lance whispered, voice thick and full of emotion, as he squeezed his hand back.
Bisexual. In his two- and a-bit years of being a universe-saving Voltron paladin and all his years before that on Earth, how had Lance never realised that could be a thing?
He guessed he hadn’t cared enough to do his research which he scolded himself for, because maybe if he had, if he had known sooner, well then, he wouldn’t be in all this mess of feelings. He supposed this may have happened anyway, knowledge or not, but still…
Bisexual. The word felt weird on his tongue, like the first sip of a beer, bitter and foreign but alluring enough to finish the bottle. He played with the word in his mind, it felt weirdly right, strangely like a word he had been searching for, his feelings felt like they had found a home. He felt strangely giddy at the thought.
He was bisexual.
The Paladins were pulled from a game of cards by the blaring distress signal that appeared to be coming from a small galra escape pod not too far away, the kind of pod meant to house the high-ranking generals when the main ship became compromised. The kind of pod that didn’t have a proper comms system, the kind of pod that could either be a trap, or full of escaped prisoners.
It hadn’t been that long since Pidge had found Matt, and he, along with Shiro of course, being the resident experts on galra-escapees, voted highly in favour of checking it out.
They decided to answer the signal, in the case that it was a trap, well they had Voltron. And in the likely case of escaped prisoners, well they were just doing their jobs as paladins.
It wasn’t hard to find, floating aimlessly in the middle of an asteroid field, random chunks of space debris threatening to hit and seriously damage the tiny ship at any moment. The fuel had run out and it was stranded.
It was a strange predicament for the ship to be in, it had to have been on an incredibly specific course, or it never would have ended up where it was.
Pidge said someone must have tinkered with its tech to get the distress signal picked up by the castle, either the people in that pod were extremely lucky, or they had someone with intel on the inside.
Lance dared to hope, if only for a second. He knew how things ended with Keith last time, and if he was really on that pod, well…he could be seriously injured, for one. Who knows if he wasn’t genuinely trapped in a galra prison himself and not just there for liberation antics. He probably wanted nothing to do with Lance anyway.
He had taken too long. It wouldn’t be fair to have expected him to wait. What was he? Twelve? No, Keith was the type to disappear for five months on dangerous space missions, alone with a team that didn’t care about him, reckless and bold and self-sacrificing on a mission to forget. And he probably did succeed, he probably forgot all about Lance and whatever he supposedly meant to him.
It wouldn’t matter that he was his everything, that he took up his every moment, that he was almost suffocated at the thought of him. It wouldn’t matter that Lance needed him like he needed oxygen to breathe.
That he would do anything to see his smile, to hear his laugh, to feel his skin beneath his own, his rough calloused fingers with those stupid black fingerless gloves that probably stank to high heaven because he never took them off, slotting perfectly into his.
Weren’t they Lance and Keith, neck and neck? The greatest rivals the Galaxy Garrison had ever seen, the red and blue paladins, and later the black and red, wasn’t Lance his right hand man, weren’t they…a good team.
The pod docked in the castle’s hangar.
To everyone’s relief, it was indeed filled with prison escapees. They were all members of the blade that had been captured on a particularly risky mission gathering intel. Their precarious capture had led to even more precious information on the inner workings and imminent plans of the galra empire, so rescuing them had been of utmost importance. Something about a planetary system that they wanted to use as a string of weapons, something about tens of billions of civilians being at risk, something about, well he didn’t really know. Lance wasn’t paying attention to that. He was too busy staring at the soldier they had sent to retrieve them.
Who better to send on that mission than a stealthy loner, Keith had been the logical option really.
The stealthy loner in question was immediately enveloped in a massive hug from Shiro, as soon as the important talking had ceased. Besides giving quick ‘hellos’ to the rest of the group there seemed to be too much going on for a proper welcome as Coran and Allura were whisked away as soon as they possibly could to contact Kolivan and acquire coordinates for the galaxy-saving-galra-buttkicking extravaganza, which Voltron would naturally help with.
Pidge and Hunk dashed off to investigate the mechanics of the galra escape pod, you can trust engineers to be massive nerds about alien space technology. And Pidge had been going nuts about the specifics of the pod since before it had even docked, it was a new model, or something. Lance couldn’t care less.
Shiro hovered at his brother’s side for a little while longer before going to follow the group of important leader people, but not without giving Lance a not-so-subtle wink as he left. Really? Could he not see the way Keith was avoiding Lance’s wandering eyes, standing there as shut off and emo as ever.
That left Matt, who despite being almost as big of a nerd as his sister could sense some sort of uncomfortable tension in the room and scrambled into the pod after Pidge and Hunk.
“I need a shower” were the first words Keith spoke to Lance after not seeing him for five months, before promptly disappearing from the hangar.
Lance was over waiting. He knew it wasn’t fair at all, because it wasn’t even him who had been waiting.
It had dawned on him at some point after his realisation and before this moment that maybe Keith had been waiting this whole time. And if he couldn’t stand just a little while of fully realised waiting…well Keith must be a saint then.
He waited until dinner, hovering outside Keith’s door. Actually, he had been pacing the hallways furiously for hours. Interrupted only once by Shiro’s upturned eyebrow and silent chuckle as he shook his head and made his own way to the dining room. Lance didn’t think it was funny at all. His insides felt like jelly, if the jelly was on fire, and melting its way through his skin. Speaking of skin, he was itchy all over, almost worse than the time he accidentally took a nap in a fire-ant hill one summer. His skin was alive and hot with anticipation, and his insides resembled those of a volcano. Amazing. This is entirely the image he wanted to show Keith, he was absolutely not going for calm, collected and assertive. Anxious, emotional mess was clearly on purpose.
The slow hiss of the door opening called Lance out of his trance as he basically slid towards the room, legs pumping so furiously he slipped, coming face to face with the person he wanted to talk to most, in the entire universe.
Nose to nose, pointer finger to his chest, “I need to talk to you.” He said, pushing Keith back into his room, waiting for the door to slide closed again. Gulping as he took a quick step back, realising that maybe, this had not been the best course of action when he saw the surprised trying-to-look-grumpy scowl on his old leader’s face.
Because complete disregard for personal space and being withheld from dinner when you are probably very hungry and tired, by the man who egregiously friend zoned you the last time you spoke is what anyone would want post life threatening mission.
“I’m sorry.” He said. He knew that those two words were barely enough to encompass what he truly felt, he was more than sorry. He wanted that time back, he wanted Keith to know, to see, to feel what he did. “I wanted to, Keith- “He started, voice breaking as that name slipped from his lips, voice thick with emotion, forcing himself to finish his sentence, “I still want to.” He didn’t break eye contact as he uttered those words, he needed to see the look on his face, he needed him to know he meant it. Needed him to see how much he was trying to convey with those useless flimsy seeming words. Whoever invented the English language clearly didn’t do it with intense confessions of deep love in mind, and Lance wanted to shake them. Why couldn’t there be a word for…all this?
Keith’s eyes scanned his own, looking so intently at him that it took all his willpower not to turn away, to crumple under the weight of his stare. He held fast, reciprocating that look, stepping slowly towards him, not realising how quickly the gap between them closed until his hands were on Keith’s face again. Gently cupping his cheeks like his palms were built to hold them.
Lance knew words were useless, none could bear the weight of his feelings, but he still whispered, “Keith, I love you.”, before bowing his head and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. So fine and soft and delicate it was barely a whisper, an invitation lying in hopeful wait for more.
Keith returned his kiss with a fiery passion Lance wasn’t expecting, honestly he didn't know what he was expecting. He had been acting on pure instinct, his neurons fried beyond good useable quality since before Keith had even disembarked the pod.
Sill, the kiss was everything he had imagined, and more. It was deep and rough, soft lips pressed against chapped ones, a hand moving to grab at Keith's hair while his hands were firmly planted on Lance’s hips, fingers digging into his shirt, holding tight. It felt like he never wanted to let go, and Lance was content to let it be that way.
He smelled like Lance remembered, so familiar, comforting and five months melted away like nothing, this felt like home. Keith kissed him with the same desperate urgency that marked his life, he kissed him like he would never get the chance to ever again, he kissed him like he was going to die tomorrow, kissed him like he was the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. Keith was his home, like they were always meant to be like this, mouths pressed together, holding each other. And this was only the beginning.
“I’m sorry I made you wait” Lance said breathlessly as they dove up for air, foreheads pressed together, just as they had been that night, so long ago.
“Worth it” The other boy whispered with a smile, leaning back up to kiss him again.