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Lance McClain was fine. Totally, absolutely, completely fine. He wasn’t having a crisis, he wasn’t pining after Keith Kogane, and he definitely wasn’t experiencing some kind of belated sexuality revelation where suddenly Keith’s stupid mullet (gone, now, but deeply ingrained in his brain) was the hottest thing he could think about.
And yet.
Here he was, sweating through his tank top in the humid Cuban heat, watching Keith shake dust out of his jacket like he hadn’t just spent an entire week voluntarily doing hard labor around the McClain farm.
“You know,” Lance said, pointedly not staring at the way Keith’s tank top clung to his chest, “I thought the whole point of the Blades was to do super cool secret spy work, not help my abuela fix the fence.”
Keith shrugged. “She asked.”
Lance groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Of course she did.”
This was not how he thought life would go after saving the universe. Sure, he’d dreamed of coming home, spending time with his family, not being shot at on a daily basis—but he hadn’t accounted for Keith still being around. He hadn’t accounted for how the guy had apparently grown into his face while Lance was busy figuring out how to be a human person again.
Or, you know, how Keith showing up out of nowhere had become a normal part of his life.
It had started small: a few check-ins, occasional updates from Shiro that Keith was “nearby” (which, apparently, now meant “literally standing in Lance’s kitchen drinking his coffee”). And then, somehow, Keith had ended up at the farm, and Lance still wasn’t sure how or why but he also… wasn’t mad about it.
What was mad about it, however, was his traitorous heart, which kept doing dumb things like fluttering every time Keith so much as breathed in his general direction.
And the worst part? Keith was oblivious. Not just normal oblivious—Keith oblivious. The kind that made Lance want to shake him and yell HEY, I THINK I LIKE YOU AND IT’S YOUR FAULT, FIX IT, but also made him want to crawl into a hole because oh my god, what if he does find out?
So, naturally, the universe decided that now was a great time to send them both right back into intergalactic politics.
They were barely a week into their unexpected vacation when an urgent message arrived: a new alliance between Galra and Earth officials needed mediators. Of course, Keith and Lance were the obvious choices—Keith, because he was Keith, and Lance, because apparently he had a reputation for being “charming” (a fact he held onto like a lifeline, lest he spiral about how that used to mean flirting with princesses, but now meant trying not to stare at Keith’s hands too long).
So off they went. Off to space, to politics, to dealing with aliens who still saw them as war heroes (or problems, depending on the faction). Off to pretend like nothing was different, even though Lance was definitely, 100% not the same person he was before.
It was fine.
Until Keith, in his usual, unintentional way, made it not fine.
“I don’t get why you’re so weird about this,” Keith said one night, frowning at Lance over their diplomatic reports.
“Weird about what?” Lance deflected, because that was absolutely the correct response in any situation where Keith might be on the verge of understanding things.
Keith huffed. “I dunno. Me? Us?” He squinted, brow furrowing in concentration. “You’ve been weird ever since—” He gestured vaguely. “Ever since we got here, I guess. Is it because of Allura?”
Lance’s heart clenched, but not for the reason Keith probably thought. He sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s not because of Allura.”
Keith stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Good,” he said simply, like that was that. Like he wasn’t currently rearranging Lance’s entire sense of reality with one stupid word.
Lance’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “You can’t just say that.”
Keith tilted his head. “Why not?”
Because it makes my brain short-circuit. Because it makes my stomach do stupid things. Because it makes me want to pull you closer and oh, wow, that’s new, but also not surprising at all, is it?
Lance groaned, flopping dramatically onto the table. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Keith said, sounding stupidly sure of it.
And just like that, Lance realized he was doomed.
Absolutely, totally, completely doomed.
(And Keith? Keith just smiled, like he knew it, too.)