Chapter Text
4 Months Post-War
The first time Keith comes back to Earth after the war has ended, after he has taken on the role of Blade of Marmora outreach officer, he’s not quite sure where to go. He’s come back to Earth only because his mission trajectory put him close enough in the solar system, and it feels like the right thing to do.
It doesn’t really make sense - he’d never missed Earth in all his time as a paladin of Voltron, but now that the war had rocked his past home, he felt reluctant to stray too far for too long. He’s trying to balance his Galra and human side, not let either overtake the other. When he told Krolia this, she had laughed. “I’ve never known you to be one for harmony.”
Now he’s here, and almost everyone he loves and cares about is off planet - Hunk is on his culinary journey throughout the galaxy, Pidge is hard at work engineering something or other at a far off outpost with Matt, and Shiro is acting as a diplomat, moving from planet to planet in the hopes to create an inter-galaxy peace treaty. So, almost everyone. But he’s scared the one person left will be the one least willing to see him. He doesn’t know what else to do, though, other than reach out to him. He considers, for less than half a second, going somewhere he never got to go to in childhood - Disneyland, or New York. Then he laughs at himself and shakes the thought away. Even in space, he was a horrible tourist, and he doesn’t see why that would change now.
Finally, he stops dragging his feet. He’s going to visit him. Now he has two options: is this a surprise, or does he send out a quick message? He decides a surprise would be best - they haven’t texted one-on-one in months, and he would hate to have physical evidence of his loss if he were turned away.
So, he takes his cruiser down to the surface, landing in a barren field a few blocks from where he needs to be. He appreciates the walk there, the moist heat of the air thick but not uncomfortable, the barest breezes applying balm to his exposed skin. He smells flowers on the wind and finds his eyes fixed on the deep, bright blue of the cloudless sky. It’s a beautiful day in an objectively beautiful place. He can understand why someone would stay here. Someone, definitely, just not -
He jolts, shaken from his thoughts when he realizes the farmhouse that had at first just been a speck on the horizon is now steps away from him. He hesitates before the steps up to the porch. This was the prime time to turn back and leave, dash to his ship and fly it the fuck out of Cuba and go offworld. He had only passingly remarked a stop at Earth to his Blade teammates, so there wouldn’t even be anyone to judge him too harshly for ditching out last minute. But he feels like making that choice, even if it was a choice no one was the wiser to, would be permanently severing a tie he didn’t want to break.
So he climbs the steps and knocks at the door, knuckles rapping a sharp pattern, like gunfire from a rifle. Keith hopes that he’s home - going directly against his last five anxious thoughts - that he won’t have to go searching the fields for him. Let’s just make this quick and easy, he thought.
Although, when were things ever easy between them?
After a minute of waiting, he hears shuffling inside, a door opening, footsteps on the floor, something crashing, and a sharp ow ! Keith tries desperately to school his expression into something his ex-teammate would want to see. How big of a smile was too big? And then: what if he’s too late, and 4 months is too big a gap in seeing each other? Will he be turned away? And can he even be mad if he is?
Just as he feels the urge to run resurge, the door swings open. There he is - long legs, tan skin, bedhead, light blue pajamas. He’s yawning, his eyes closed, the “what?” coming from his mouth warbled by sleep, even though it’s midday, sun high in the sky. Still, he’s exactly what Keith wants to see in that moment - in most moments.
“Lance,” he says, and Lance’s blue eyes shoot open, waking up fully, his back going ramrod straight. “Is now a good time?”
“Holy shit, man, Keith! Yes, of course. Come in, come in,” He tugs at Keith’s arm, a slightly anxious smile on his face. Keith lets himself be pulled inside and shuts the door behind him. “Is it an emergency? The universe is fine and all that, right? Because if it’s not an emergency, I just need to-” He cuts himself off. “Is it an emergency?”
“No…” Keith says slowly. Has he forgotten how much of a motormouth Lance was, or is this new? “It’s not an emergency. I was just nearworld and wanted to say hi.”
“Oh,” Lance speaks softly. His brows pinch. He releases Keith’s arm. “Oh, great. Can you stay here for just- just a sec? I just need to do something really quick, I’ll be right back.” He’s already starting to backtrack, gesticulating, voice getting higher.
“Oh, uh. Sure?”
“Great man, great. Be right back,” he disappears around the corner, leaving Keith there standing on his doormat, wondering what all that was about.
His first thought, one he would later look back on and feel bad about, is: Did Lance have a girl over? Was that what he was hiding? But no, Keith didn’t think even Lance was capable after that, so soon after-
After Allura.
So maybe he’s just frantically doing his skin care routine? He had always been obsessive about that in the castle, was always slightly upset when a mission called them from their beds with no forewarning, and his ten-step process was thrown aside for the betterment of the universe.
Keith hears clattering and rummaging, a sink running, doors being quickly opened and shut. So, probably not the skincare, which is odd in itself.
He can’t come up with any other options, so he takes an inconspicuous look at the hall he stands in. There are photographs on the walls – pictures of family, of home, pictures from his brother’s wedding; pictures of Voltron, all together and then in smaller groups and duos, all selfies taken by Lance.
One of them features Keith, with Lance’s arm slung around his shoulder, hand in a peace sign. Keith has an expression that makes it look like he’s battling between smiling and scowling. It makes him look oddly vulnerable. Lance is beaming at the camera. “The mullet himself” is written in red Sharpie next to Keith’s face, with an angry face emoji. He can vaguely remember when this photo was taken - it had to be about a year into space, a time when Lance’s exuberant hope and joy about being in space and Keith’s opening up enough to accept affection had converged, two ships in the night.
Keith smiles at the memories from then - this would’ve been right before he left for the Blades, when stress was relatively low for being in the middle of an eons-long space war. That time had kind of made him feel like a real, regular teenager – one thrown into a sci-fi novel, but still. More normal than he’d ever felt at the Garrison or before.
“Okay, okay,” Lance barges back into the hallway. His hair is messier, but his eyes are brighter. “Really sorry about that, dude, come in!”
Keith follows him around the corner into a large open room, which is a combo of kitchen/dining room/living room. His eyes scan the room, and he sees drawers and cabinets everywhere are slightly open, just enough that it’s noticeable they’re overstuffed with completely random junk. The garbage can in the corner is overflowing with trash, and the sink with dishes.
He raises his eyebrows, but Lance waves away his expression. “Really busy week. You know how it is. If you text me first next time, I promise it’ll be scott-free in here.” Lance plops down on the sofa, and Keith does too, leaning against the arm, his mind playing the words “next time” on loop.
“It’s fine,” Says Keith. “My room is just a bed, which I’m sure you would judge too.”
Lance raises his eyebrows. “So you’re admitting to judging?”
Keith blanches. “No, I-”
“I’m kidding!” Lance smiles, leaning back, bringing up his legs to sit cross-legged. “So…what’s up, man?”
“Well-” Keith starts, unsure how to continue. What is up? “I was just in this quadrant of the galaxy and thought it would be cool to see what you’re up to back here.”
“Ah. Well, sad to say, I’m not up to much. I…have a farm, which you saw.”
Keith nods. “It’s nice here… warm.” Lance laughs, a sound Keith has missed. “Does your family live nearby?”
“Yeah, they do. Mama and Rachel are a mile away, Luis, Lisa, and their kids are a few blocks past that. Then there’s Veronica and Marco at the Garrison which is… a bit further away.” Lance laughs again. “We do family dinner once a week. It’s nice to be back.”
“I remember you missing them a lot,” Says Keith, smiling softly.
“Yeah,” Lance cocks his head. “But, enough about me. What’s up for you? How’s being an official permanent Blade treating you?”
Keith groans. “It’s…fine. It’s different than I thought it would be. I’m happy we’re not in a war anymore, but I do miss all the fighting and action.”
Lance laughs at this, his eyes crinkling. His Altean marks gleam, not the color of the blue lion, but of the cold holograms of Altean tech, or the ocean off a clear coast. “Only Keith Kogane could say ‘I’m happy we’re not in a war, but’. You’re ridiculous, mullet.”
“Hey,” Keith scowls. “I know you miss it too.”
Lance glances away, his expression faltering for a second before he goes back to smiling. “Duh, but not the parts you miss.” He rolls his eyes sarcastically, and Keith scoffs. “But like, so what do you do now that the Blades aren’t using their blades ?”
Keith laughs. “It’s a lot of helping people. Humanitarian aid, that kind of thing. Rescuing war refugees, people in need. There are so many people in the universe, so many needs that have to be met, and we’re just trying to fill as many as possible.”
Lance hums, considering. “Sounds stressful.”
“It is. I don’t have a lot of free time- this is my first time back planet-side since I started- and there’s always so much to do. I don’t sleep great-”
“Did you ever?”
“Ha ha. My point is, on paper, it sucks. In reality, I feel like I’m doing something that’s needed. I feel…useful. It helps me stay tethered.” He glances up at Lance, who is staring at him intently, as if considering the weight of every word. Keith wonders if he feels the same, here on Earth, on a random farm. He thinks there's no way he does, but Lance’s expression keeps him from saying so.
“Plus,” He jokes. “I get to work with my mom.”
Lance smiles. “Two years on the space whale wasn’t enough?”
“Gotta make up for lost time.”
A silence covers them - not comfortable or uncomfortable, just present. Lance looks away, and Keith takes the chance to really look at his face, to confirm what he’d thought he saw earlier. He was right. Under his eyes lay dark circles, deep enough to rest a coin in, and on his cheeks and chin were flares of acne. Never, not once, had Keith ever seen Lance with more than a single pimple - and when there was one, it was all he would talk about until he could squash it. Lance’s expression is drawn, sad and contemplative as he gazes out the window to the field.
Keith is no psychologist, but he gets the distinct impression there’s something deeper than a messy living room and an unwashed face going on here. He just doesn’t know the words to say anything about it. He doesn’t want to break this fragile conversation they’d been having, Lance’s mention of ‘next time’.
Lance turns back to him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
“I mean, I did 10 hours ago but I’m not really-”
“Oh my god,” Lance leaps up from the couch, going immediately to the kitchen. “Please let me feed you before you keel over and die on my beautiful carpet.”
Keith assents, letting Lance make him an omelet and coffee, letting himself be distracted from his thoughts about how this Lance in front of him doesn’t seem quite the same as the Lance he knew just 4 months ago. This is Lance, yes, but Lance three inches to the left. Slightly changed, slightly altered. What had happened?
An hour later, the two of them are sitting on Lance’s porch swing, letting the breeze drift over their faces. Lance has changed out of his pajamas into a tee and some jeans. His classic hoodie is nowhere to be seen, although it’s probably too warm for that.
“So you’re saying Kolivan is…nice now?”
“I mean,” Keith starts. “He’s not exactly cheery, but I guess not being at war lifted the weight off the guys shoulders. I’ve actually seen him smile, at least twice.”
“No!” Lance shouts. “You’re joking! Wait, does he joke? Like, is there any sense of humor under that armor?”
“Um…” Keith pondered. “None that translates well into English. I think there have been a few puns that I haven’t really gotten the gist of, but the other Galra seem to think he’s funny.”
“Hm,” Lance quirked a cocky smile. “I mean, someone’s got to keep the laugh track going in space. God knows it could never be you, Red.”
Keith punches him lightly in the shoulder, both laughing. “See,” says Lance. “Proving my point! I bet none of you have so much as giggled in four months!”
He feels his brows draw together at that. “None of us?”
“Yeah?” Lance shrugs. “What are you asking?”
“Have…” Keith watches Lance glance away, a slight breeze lifting his hair, eyes growing distant again, shoulders tensing. “Has no one come to visit you?”
Lance sighs, a soft, small sound, like he’s trying to keep it to himself, and then smiles brightly - more of a mask than their helmets ever were. “Everyone’s really busy. It’s no big deal. Pidge and Hunk still text me a lot. You know, they love their GIFs. I’ve called Shiro and Coran once or twice to catch up. You…” Lance’s eyes dart to Keith and then away. “You’re especially busy! Still saving the world like the massive overachiever you are, and-”
“Are you lonely?” Keith’s words sound blunt, even to him, but he can’t really stand another second of hearing Lance excuse away his closest friends letting him down.
Lance just waves him off. “Man, I do miss Kaltenecker, ya know, these Earth cows just don’t measure up to her. Other than that, I’m fine. I mean-” He sweeps his arm out towards the fields with a gesture of overexaggerated pride. “I’m a landowner in my twenties! In this economy! I’m living it up down here.”
Down here . Keith can’t help but read into that - an admission that he’s been left behind. But he can’t- he can’t push this. So he gives off a fake, disjointed laugh.
“I mean, I’m sure you could visit New Altea and get some Kaltenecker time in. I doubt Coran minds his milk supplier going on a day trip with her favorite paladin, or whatever.”
Lance sucks in a breath at that. “Yeah, yeah. Sometime. Anyway, what’s your next mission? I want all the juicy details.” He shoots a cheeky smile Keith’s way. “Swear I won’t leak the info to Empire sympathizers.”
Again, Keith allows himself to be swayed away from the worry drawing him in to Lance. He leans back, and tells Lance everything, connecting the latest plans back to past missions, drawing in anecdotes of the other blades, sharing things he’s learned about his mom, talking about how shitty the Marmoran food is, regailing his continued training and new knowledge about the Galra, and strategy, and space. Lance listens, and reacts, and goads more and more out of him, like he’s pulling at the threads of Keith’s clothing, trying to unravel him until he’s bare. He continues to shut down any poking at his own life, instead cracking jokes and bringing up the bare bones knowledge he had of the Blades Keith mentioned by name.
By the time Keith finally shuts up, the sun is starting to set. Four months have been covered in just a few hours, and Keith already feels his throat growing scratchy from talking and laughing so much. But the look on Lance’s face is genuinely content, comfortable, complete. His posture is relaxed, arms slung over the back of the swings bench, hand just inches from Keith’s back. Keith thinks he could stay here forever, just right here in this moment, but the cicadas have started to chirp, and Lance is yawning again.
“I’m really happy you came today, Keith,” He says, a sappy grin on his face, stretching his arms over his head.
Keith smiles, a small, intimate thing. “Me too. I’ll-” He pauses. What can he promise here? “I plan on coming back soon. I… still need my right-hand man.”
“Hey!” Scolds Lance. “Right arm . I’m a lot more than just a hand, okay, fearless leader?”
He only chuckles in response, slowly standing. Lance follows him, until they’re both just standing there, eyes locked, unsure of what comes next.
“But- but yeah, I would like it if you came back. Whenever you can, of course. I know what you’re doing is really hard work, and you probably don’t want to spend every vacation day with little old me, right?” Lance laughs self-deprecatingly.
Keith shakes his head. “I meant what I said, Lance. I do miss you. And I will come back. Even better…” He pauses, considering his next words. It’s something he’s been thinking about for hours, ever since Lance’s admission of his fellow paladins not visiting him. “I’ll bring the gang, okay? I’ll text everyone, tonight. We’ll get something set up.”
Lance’s eyes shone a little bit in the automatic porch lights. He smiles genuinely. “I’d really like that. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s what friends do.” Keith says. Before he can think of what to say next, how to leave this moment perfectly, Lance wraps him up in a hug, tight and crushing. He’s warm and lean, the full body press of him something Keith had only felt a handful of times before, but remembers as though Lance’s shape was his own.
“Be safe out there, soldier,” Lance whispers to him.
They part, and Keith leaves, waving behind him, thinking how odd it is, to be going back to the proverbial frontlines while Lance stays behind tending to his empty house, like a-
Like a widow.
Keith banishes the thought, shaking his head as he treks back to his spacecraft. He gets out his data pad and shoots out a quick text to the group, asking when they’re free. He then messages Shiro individually: Something up with Lance. Call me when you can.