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Keith exits the bustling home into the warm summer night, porch floorboards creaking under his boots. The voices of his friends waft through the door, loud and boisterous. It’s a rare occasion when their schedules line up to be able to converge in one place, but this time it’s not by chance. It’s become a tradition in the last couple of years for Lance’s family to host a get-together the week of Allura Day. Over time, it’s morphed from a dedicated time to grieve her loss, to a celebration of life and everything she gave up hers for. So, every year, they take a week off to just be with each other. They have dinner at Allura’s statue, then spend the rest of the week at Lance’s house.
Keith breathes in deeply through his nose to appreciate the reprieve from the hot humidity that settles during the day. He isn’t here to enjoy the tranquil atmosphere, though, he has a mission. Lance’s mother had asked him to find her son, who had slipped away from the group an hour ago. Thankfully, Keith knows him and knows exactly where he’ll be.
He walks the five minutes to the beach, preparing himself to deliver a classic Shiro-esque pep talk. When he arrives, he toes off his shoes and socks and sets them next to the blue Converse in the sand. He spots Lance sitting by the water, just outside of the waves’ reach. His knees are drawn to his chest as he stares into the horizon, and he doesn’t react when Keith plops down next to him.
Neither speak for a while, Lance looking deep in thought and Keith waiting for the other to make the first move. The aura that settles over them is melancholic and rings out of tune for Keith. He knows how Lance gets this time of year, but something about this feels different. There’s a disappointment to his features that brings an unsettling feeling to Keith’s stomach. They’re on the verge of something, and he isn’t sure he’s ready to find out what it is.
“I never saw a future with her, you know,” Lance speaks into the chill air. Cicadas chirp behind them in a shrill symphony, and the ocean breeze ruffles his hair into loose curls around his face.
“Hm?” Keith turns toward the man, trying to quell his more obvious shock.
“Allura,” Lance stares wistfully into the crashing waves, moonlight illuminating his features in a pale glow. “I did love her, but…I knew it wasn’t real.”
This brings a tinge of curiosity to Keith’s emotional palette, teetering on the edge of hopeful. He really needs to internally slap himself to hold back the unbidden excitement coiling in his gut. Just because Lance was questioning his feelings for Allura, doesn’t mean he suddenly has feelings for Keith.
“What do you mean?” He clears his throat, shifting, so the cold granules of sand dig into his hands as he stares at the side of Lance’s troubled expression.
Lance sighs with furrowed brows. “I don’t think either of us was really into it. We did all the things two dating people are meant to do, but I could tell it wasn’t real. She made me nervous. I was walking on eggshells around her. I’m not the stoic, serious guy I tried to be around her. I’m a jokester! I act silly and weird and make people laugh,” he catches Keith’s sceptical gaze, “Shut up. I just– I pretended to be someone I wasn’t, scared she would realise she made a mistake. Turns out,” Lance lets out a wry chuckle, “we both made a mistake.”
He takes a moment to look at Keith. His blue eyes sparkle and hold such deep regret. It mesmerised Keith.
“Why do you think you made a mistake?” he asks tentatively. He keeps his tone carefully gentle, not wanting to push away Lance’s rare show of honesty when it came to Allura. Ever since her death, he’s been pretty closed off on the topic of their relationship, even snapping at times when it was brought up. Over time, his friends and family learned to avoid the subject altogether.
“I should have been her friend. I should have been there for her after Lotor betrayed us, and, instead, I was her…rebound,” Lance frowns.
Lowering his gaze, he begins tracing patterns into the sand, digging his fingers into it and letting it trickle between them. Keith had to clench his fists to physically stop himself from capturing his hand to halt the movement.
Lance looked…not sad, exactly, but pensive, like he’s been sitting on this for a long time.
“I could never picture us long-term, you know. I said I loved her, but I couldn’t see myself marrying her or having kids or joking around with my siblings together.” His ears flushed with colour, obvious even in the dim moonlight. “We never– I never even wanted to be with her like that.” He stops to look at a wide-eyed Keith, who wore a similar blush on his face, and holds up his palms to backtrack. “Not–not that that’s important! But I–I never even felt the urge to kiss her! That’s not what love looks like to me,” he finishes softly with a quiet, aching look.
“Well,” Keith clears his throat awkwardly, “what does love look like to you?” The question bursts out of him unbiddenly, something inside his chest needing to know the answer. Something that wanted to say I could be that for you.
A frustrated sound leaves Lance as he struggles to find the answer. “I don’t know! I just know that wasn’t it! Why don’t you tell me, Mullet?” he shoots back, turning away and certainly not looking like he expected a response.
A beat of silence passes before Keith hums in thought, drawing a surprised glance from the other man. He allows the familiar, all-encompassing warmth settle his heart, years of yearning forming his words without hesitation.
“I think love is seeing the ugly sides of a person and sticking by them regardless. It’s a partnership, someone who will support you and accept you for who you are, even if it annoys you sometimes,” he lets the last part slip, sneaking a look back, but he can’t bring himself to stop. “Someone who will balance out your weaknesses and make you stronger together.” He pauses briefly before murmuring, “Love is sacrificing your own desires so they wouldn’t have to give up their position on the team.”
It takes a moment for Lance to process the words. Keith can tell the moment realisation hits. He turns around slowly to stare at Keith in disbelief, mouth gaping, but remains quiet. Despite his momentary confidence, Keith suddenly dreads Lance’s response, so he takes the chance to keep babbling, filling the charged silence.
“Love is watching them be with someone else, knowing they’ll never love you back, and being okay with it because you just want to see them happy,” he finishes, making meaningful eye contact and hoping the message came across. His heart pounds as he waits for Lance’s reaction. Even the cicadas seemed to have quieted down, intently eavesdropping with bated breath.
Lance’s features soften, and his eyelashes flutter when he takes a deep breath, pink dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He’s unusually still, body poised in the way you would act around a scared animal. Keith knows he’s expecting him to run again, but what he doesn’t understand yet is that Keith is tired of running. He can’t keep running away from every difficult conversation.
When Lance speaks again, he does so with a measured ease, choosing his words carefully before speaking them aloud.
“Maybe love to me is being able to recognise them from a mile away, just by the back of their head. Maybe it’s supporting their decision to leave, even when it breaks your heart.” Keith’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t dare make any desperate conclusions yet. “Love is pushing your ego aside to be their right hand and holding them together when they break. It’s seeking out their assurance before your date with another person and being late to said date so you can watch the sunset together,” he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “It’s someone who likes the annoying, stupid, Earth version of you.”
A tan hand has sneaked its way onto Keith’s and intertwines their fingers, resting their joint palms on his thigh. Lance not-so-subtly scootches closer, to which Keith instinctually leans closer. His eyes glow in the light of the moon and exude such a pure fondness, that Keith has no choice but to believe his words. For the first time, he can’t help but hope.
“Do you mean that?” he murmurs breathlessly and grips Lance’s hand tighter.
Lance never once takes his eyes off him. “I do,” he says. “I think I love you, Keith.”
And it’s as though the waves crashing down in front of them suddenly still, like a crescendo cutting off into silence. Everything was calm in his mind for once. He can finally look at Lance and not worry about revealing his true emotions. He can quell his need to touch him, feel his presence under his fingertips. He can reach up to move that one stubborn strand of hair out of his face. So, he does.
When Keith grazes his fingers over Lance’s cheek, he lingers, tracing the Altean mark marring it pensively before raising his eyes again. “I really want you to mean that, Lance.” He jerks slightly when insistent palms grab his face, his mouth falling open in a soft gasp as a nose nearly bumps into his.
“I mean it,” Lance stresses. “I know I just went on that whole rant about Allura, but my feelings towards you don’t even compare to that. You make me feel so insane, Keith.”
Keith huffs in astonishment. “In a good way, I hope.”
“In the worst way possible,” a cocky smirk stretches his lips. “You never leave my mind,” he murmurs before pressing that smile against Keith’s mouth, chuckling at his breathlessness when he pulls away a second later. “It’s incredibly annoying.”
Keith playfully pushes against his chest, and Lance easily collapses into the sand, rolling around as laughter shakes his body, acting way too delighted for Keith’s liking. When Lance starts clutching his stomach, erupting in giggles at every stolen glance at his frowning face, Keith slaps his hands over his mouth and utters, “You’re a dick,” before kissing him again.
Lance’s warm hands settle on his hips, pulling Keith flush on top of him as they explore each other’s mouths. Every teasing nip on his lips makes Keith’s toes tingle and his body burn. As one of Lance’s palms creeps lower down his back and moves past his belt loops, Keith lets out a muffled yelp against his lips, but Lance just snickers and presses back more firmly.
Soon, his grin makes it impossible for them to continue, and he leans back, chuckling from seeing Keith’s brows drawn together. Keith might be trying to look menacing, but the violent blush on his face makes it difficult to take him seriously.
“Get your hand off my ass, Lance,” he grumbles, clutching Lance’s shoulders.
That annoying smirk refuses to leave Lance’s face. “I have no idea what you mean,” he teases before biting his lip and squeezing.
“Lance!” Keith squeals, feeling himself flush even harder as he hits his shoulder in indignation, getting ready to roll off him. Before he’s able to, though, Lance’s gaze softens, and he finally moves his hand, wrapping his arms fully around his waist to keep him close.
“Alright, alright, relax,” his eyes are amused but his cheeks are just as ruddy, revealing just how affected he is by their little exchange. “You’re cute.”
“I hate you so much,” Keith grumbles.
Lance leans upward, twirling a finger around a strand of hair on his nape as he whispers into the space where their breaths mingle, “I hate you too, baby.” He slides their lips together again, and they sigh in unison, melding into one.
When they return to the house later, long into the quiet night, Keith can still feel the sand grains that somehow invaded his jeans. Oh, who’s he kidding? He knows exactly how they got in there.
The house was still, everyone having gone to bed at that point, save for Lance’s father and Shiro, who were cradling matching beers, faces lit up by the TV in the dim living room. They turn around at Lance and Keith’s entrance. Shiro smiles when he spots their intertwined hands and sends Keith a (very lame and uncool) thumbs up. Keith rolls his eyes but tightens his hand around Lance’s anyway. Lance exchanges a few words in Spanish with his dad, whose eyes, though glazed over by the alcohol and late hour, remain gentle and understanding. Keith nods to the man when he glances at him, and the group exchange ‘goodnight’s, Keith and Lance heading to Lance’s room upstairs.
Wrapped up in Lance’s arms, in his small, full-size bed, which surely wasn’t made for two grown men, Keith feels something in his chest clicking into place. As he drifts off, his…friend’s? boyfriend’s? his…Lance’s breath exhaling warm puffs against the back of his neck, he knows this is it for him. This is what he wants his life to be.