Chapter Text
As soon as they bumped a rock, Lance lept from the boat. He felt his boots fill with water as he stumbled up the breakwall, but he didn’t care. High-rise hotels glittered in the sunset. The old structures hiding behind them echoed a history not soon forgotten. People sat on benches near the wall, staring pointedly at this boy, this young man, sprinting ungracefully in a cloak that did little to hide his armor. The feel of Earth’s gravity was like his first breath. The salt in the air was new, having passed through thousands of miles of ocean to reach him, to welcome him back.
He almost broke down.
"Lance, wait!" Various voices called after him, but he didn't listen. He started running to the small building he knew, wedged among other houses and old Spanish facades, and he couldn't bring himself to stop. A tiny piece of home he had held so close to his heart throughout his time away. He didn't care about being seen by anyone. Any kind of protocol the Garrison set in place was now moot.
Lance saw a man open the door, key in hand. He looked worn down as he turned to set the key in the lock, and yelled as Lance almost tackled him, his momentum carrying him to the front stoop.
"Antón, please—,” Lance was in tears for more reasons than one, “it’s me, Antón. I'm home."
+++
"Well, after almost giving me a goddamn heart attack, the least you can do is tell me what's going on." Antón was wiping down a plate, his white shirt inexplicably spotless, the gold chain around his neck glinting in the light.
Lance laughed. "I swear it looked like you had seen a ghost," he said, settling on a stool near the counter.
“No, I just thought you were a tourist.” Antón cackled at his own joke. “Qué spooky, ¿no?”
Lance laughed out loud with him.
“Pero, dime, muchacho,” Antón said, “tell me how grateful you are to have caught me on my way out.”
“Pues…” Lance grinned, “how would we have gotten the pizza?"
"Oi, I'm giving you all the leftovers." Antón's voice was playful, but his eyes shone. He set a plate of garlic knots and marinara sauce on the counter between them. " And you made me cry in front of all these people. You know I have a reputation."
"Don’t worry, your secret's safe with us," Lance said, already stuffing his face. "Besides, I think the fact that you've given them the first Earth pizza they've had in a year makes up for that."
The rest of the paladins sat at the table near the counter. The two large pizzas that they were sharing were almost already gone, napkins littering the table. The light from the sporadic lamps shone over their faces, making up for the quickly fading light of the sun. Lance noticed that all of them looked happier than they had since they arrived at the Castle of Lions. They looked light, free.
"How's the food?" Antón called to them, walking from behind the counter. Various mumbles of appreciation and approval echoed from the table.
"Glad to hear it." Antón smiled and nodded his head in satisfaction. Lance smiled at his team and turned to face Antón, who had plopped down on a stool next to him.
"Alright, so what's the deal?" Antón whisper-yelled. “How did you even get here?”
“Do you really want to know?” Lance asked. He didn’t think he could launch a whole space adventure story right off the bat.
Antón scoffed. “Of course I do! There’s no way that Garrison you and your sister pledged your lives to let you come here.”
“Well…” Lance tilted his head back and forth, popping another garlic knot in his mouth, “not exactly here here, but they planned for me to come to Havana either way.”
“No jodas!” Antón exclaimed. “That is something I did not expect. And all of you too?”
“Us neither, but it worked out,” Lance smiled at a memory, “and Shiro pulled rank for us all to come with, even those of us that are…not from Earth.”
Antón choked on his drink, nearly spitting it out. “You have aliens?”
Lance nodded, grinning.
“Are they…?” Antón motioned toward the team at the table.
Lance laughed. “No, this is the human team. Everyone else stayed behind until we gave them the all-clear from land.”
Antón widened his eyes, and shook his head, thinking. “So, are they like the little green men?”
Lance cackled again, feeling light. “No, they look like us, but kind of elf-ish? And British, for some reason, but not all of them!” Lance paused, collecting his thoughts. “It’s so much, tío, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Antón pressed his lips together. “I bet, mi’jo.”
Lance brightened suddenly, remembering something. “The smaller guy with the black hair, though, he’s half-alien.”
Antón’s eyes widened. “No shit…”
Lance nodded enthusiastically. “His mom.”
Antón blew out a breath, running his hand over his hair. He looked far less enthused than Lance expected.
"All is just, crazy, it’s crazy," Antón murmured, looking up at Lance "How did you get into this mix, mi'jo?"
Lance averted his gaze. "I don't know." He felt Antón’s hand on his shoulder as tears blurred his vision.
"And what's with this clunky armor, huh?" Antón asked. He shook Lance's shoulder lightly, getting him to look up and smile.
"We didn't feel like changing," Lance said. “We were gonna change once we got to the house, but then I saw you as soon as I came down the street."
“Well, I’m happy to have you,” Antón replied, bowing his head, “but I think your family deserves to see you.”
Lance pressed his lips together. “Yeah, I know.” He played with the edge of the foil on the plate in front of him. "How…is my family?"
Antón tutted, raising his eyebrows. “I haven’t talked to them in a long time, mi’jo.”
Lance felt his body tense up. Shame and guilt began to rush through him like water.
“Tu papá, pues,” Antón continued, “he hasn’t been the same. Neither has your mom.”
Lance felt his head bob up and down of its own accord. He was somewhere else, somewhere deep inside himself, or maybe outside. He couldn’t really tell.
“Lo siento.” Lance coughed out. Suddenly, he realized he was crying. He watched his tears wet the gloved fingers that were curling up on his lap. Everyone had thought he was dead. He had left them without hope, and the guilt clawed at his chest, his heart, his lungs, threatening him against taking another breath. Your fault, your fault, your fault. “Lo siento…”
He felt arms wrap around him, heard murmuring from the rest of the team, whispering from Antón. “No disculpes.” His voice was comforting. Do not apologize. “No está tu culpa mi’jo. Mírame,” Lance raised his head, looking at Antón’s own tear-stained face, “está la culpa de este Garrison, el singao más grande, sabes.”
Lance let out a half-laugh, half-sob, before covering his face again.
“‘Tá bien, ‘tá bien,” Antón kept saying. He had stood up and wrapped his arms around Lance. Lance heard the scrape of chairs against the floor and footsteps toward him, felt arms and hands and voices around him.
“Are you okay?” Hunk asked quietly, after a moment. Lance looked up. The whole space team had gathered around the tiny counter. His old life and his new, melding together so naturally.
Lance hiccuped and wiped his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiled, and everyone smiled back. It wasn’t pity or sadness. In fact, Lance thought they looked more relieved and comfortable than they had in a long time. Lance’s heart felt whole; something that had been empty before was finally filled.
Shiro placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Are we ready to go?”
Lance hesitated. “To my house?” he asked.
Shiro nodded, smiling softly.
Lance took a shaky breath, staring at his lap. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay!” Antón sniffed and wiped his face. “Everyone, compose themselves! Let’s clean up!”
The group murmured in agreement, and, amid chuckles, moved back toward their table, collecting their leftovers and napkins. Antón waved his hands, gathering the trash from the counter, shooing them to the front door. “You all gotta go, you got a big family to meet and introduce.”
As the rest of the team stood outside the storefront, their armor hidden, Lance lagged back. He hopped from one foot to the other, playing with his hands, nervous ticks from his childhood that he has never really been able to get over. A million thoughts were running through his head, none of them calming his beating heart.
“Tío, what if they don’t forgive me for leaving?” Lance blurted out. Antón looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Or what if they’re mad at me? Or what if they forgot what I looked like? Or—?!”
“Lance.” Antón’s calming voice cut through the flurry that was coming out of Lance’s mouth. He watched as Antón locked the door, and the subtle familiarity of the motion calmed something in him. Lance’s thoughts slowed and became quieter. His finger fiddling became less worried.
He paused, then rushed into Antón, hugging him tightly. “Muchas gracias, Antón, por todo.”
“De nada, mi’jo.”
+++
Lance took a deep breath and knocked, then stepped back. His heart was down to his feet, and his stomach felt like a gaping hole, whatever blood he had rushing through his ears. He didn’t think he was ready for this, but then again, when would he ever be? He was back from the dead, apparently, and he’d have to look at his family not as a living being, but as a ghost, until reality actually set in. But what is perception if not reality? They thought he was dead, so he was. They mourned him, for God’s sake. How could he explain himself?
He looked back at the family he had made in his time in space, then back at the door that would contain his other family, the family that had raised him, that had sent him to school in the States, and that had ultimately led him to where he was today. He hoped that both would forgive him. He watched as Keith hovered behind him, ready to support him, and his hands trembled a little less. But he couldn't hold his hand through everything, and Lance wouldn’t let him. This was something he would have to face alone.
He heard casual commotion behind the door, then stark quiet. It slowly creaked open, the sound so familiar to Lance it hurt. It opened to reveal his father, and everything around them seemed to fall away. He thought he could hear murmurs behind him, coming from the house, from everywhere, but he couldn’t focus. All that mattered, then , was in front of him. His father. The man who had encouraged him, gave him unconditional love where he couldn’t find it to give to himself. The man who had known what it meant to raise not just a child, but to provide for a whole family, to keep giving when it seemed there was little left to give.
His black hair streaked with silver, his mustache almost fully gray, like always, but to Lance, he seemed older. For a man he had known as so big, Lance will always remember the moment, this moment, when he looked impossibly small. He was wearing a clean white button up and slacks, the uniform of self-respect he had donned since Lance was young. His arms were limp at his sides, and he looked nearly the same, but Lance could not quite face the look he had on his face, the fear and exhaustion that were etched around his eyes and mouth, all while hope seemed to flow out of his very being. Impossible, naive hope. His father had changed. Lance had changed. It seemed inconceivable that they could go back to the way they were. Lance didn’t know how they could.
“Mi corazón.” Even now, his father made everything so simple.
He raised his arms, opening up, and Lance was a scared little kid again, rushing to his dad because there was nothing else to do but be comforted. He curled his fingers in his dad’s shirt and felt his arms wrap around him, gently but firmly, and it was like no time had passed at all, like he had never let him go on that day when everything changed, when he left home. Lance was crying, and he couldn’t feel anything except his dad’s arms and his tears on the top of his head. He doesn’t know how long they stayed like that, only that when he came up, he felt like a huge weight he had been carrying around had crumbled away, and all that was left was pure relief.
Lance’s dad cupped his face, wiping a tear from his cheek. “You look tired, papi.”
“I am, papá,” Lance breathed out, turning his gaze downwards.
“And you got so tall,” he said, like he couldn’t believe it. “Must have been that lack of gravity.”
Lance half-laughed, half-sobbed, squeezing his dad into another hug, this time towering over him. He pulled back again, then turned towards the team. “This is my team, from space. They came with me.”
His dad looked past him, nodding once. “Hello, my name is Leonardo.”
The rest of the team waved and chorused “hello” back. Neither party was sure of what to do. They stood against something larger than themselves.
“Where is everyone?”
“They’re just waiting,” Leonardo responded, “con ‘bated breath’, ya sabes?”
Lance nodded.
“We just got the call from the Garrison about you and the other students,” Leonardo shook his head, his jaw clenching, “but we didn’t know what to believe. They’ve left us in the dark for most of this.”
Lance looked back at the team, hesitating. “Well they might not want to involve you quite yet, since there’s—”
“Aliens coming to Earth?” Leonardo cut him off. “Yeah, Veronica told us that one. We know that’s part of the reason you all came back, but it’s hard to believe.”
“I know.” Lance grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Leonardo said it like a statement. “Papa, you are not the aliens, and you’re not the reason they’re coming. In fact, from what it looks like, you’re the reason they haven’t made it here sooner.”
Lance swallowed thickly, feeling a little of the guilt start to ebb from his body. “Yeah, well…”
“The Garrison said you all are heroes, but I also know that pleasantries like that mean little in the face of a war.” Leonardo cocked his head, hesitating, thinking of what to say next. “I have no idea what you had to go through, mi’jo, but I’m so sorry that the burden was put on you, is still being put on you. On all of you.”
Lance covered his face with his hand, the other bracing against Leonardo. He shook his head, unable to get words out. Suddenly, he felt a crushing pressure, one that could squeeze the air out of his lungs if he allowed it.
“Oy, mírame,” Leonardo said suddenly. Lance didn’t look up, and Leonardo sighed. “I know it’s hard, but can I ask you all, for one night, to just be here. All the fighting, all the things the Garrison will make you do, that’s all over there. You deserve to rest, to have a good meal, and to spend time with the people you love. I know the situation isn’t the best, but it’s what we have.” Leonardo looked at the team, then back at Lance, angling his head down to try and catch his gaze. “Is that fine?”
Lance heard someone step behind him. “I think that sounds great.” It was Shiro, as solid as ever.
Lance wiped his eyes with his fingers, nodding, still silent. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he was fine, or if he’d ever be fine. He didn’t know how long he’d be here, home, or when they’d have to be sent out to save the rest of the world. He wanted to tell his father that he wanted to stay in Havana forever. He wanted to ask his parents to protect him, to hide him so that he wouldn’t have to fight in the war that he never wanted to be a part of in the first place. Of course, that was impossible, but he wanted it. All he could do now was spend the time with his birth family, to make up for all the time he had lost. It was a solace in an uncertain time, and he wanted to cherish every moment of it.
Leonardo ushered Lance and the team through the door, following behind them. His boots sounded heavy on the tile floor, and of all the things to be feeling when reuniting with one’s family, he felt self-conscious, like a child in a particularly elaborate costume. He didn’t want to face his family like this. He didn’t want them to see how much he had changed, who he had become, and how that person was not what anyone could have imagined him becoming. He couldn’t. Of course, it wasn’t up to him. It was either show them his scars, or never see them again, and he couldn’t go on with the latter option. So, he rounded the corner of his childhood, a simple doorway that he never remembered having to duck slightly under, and faced them.
The room was entirely silent. He had never seen his family look so somber. The room that was normally filled with movement and light was still in a way that made Lance shiver. His older brother and sister surrounded their mom, his brother’s wife sitting on an opposite chair. His niece and nephew, it seemed, were elsewhere. Lance breathed out, once, trying to still his heart. He knew he was expected, he just didn’t know how. Maybe, in the back of his egotistical mind, he expected everyone to jump to their feet, to have party poppers and a welcome sign at the ready; but what are people to do, when their hope had long fled?
“Hi, mamá.” Lance smiled weakly, trying to catch his mothers’ eye, but she couldn’t look. Both his siblings were staring at him, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed, the same look his dad had when he answered the door. He felt his dad move next to him, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.
“Celia.” A calm, firm call to his wife, to Lance’s mother. Her head jerked up, looking, again, like she was watching an apparition materialize in front of her. “Look.”
Almost immediately, the room erupted. Celia burst into tears. At a speed that seemed faster than what was humanly possible, Lance’s siblings were in front of him, then crushing him in the soggiest group hug he’d ever been a part of. Before he could stop it, he could feel his own tears start up again. He didn’t think he had anymore left. Luis, Rachel, and Marco were half-sobbing, half-chattering in his ear about anything and everything about love and disbelief and threats of violence if he ever disappeared off the face of the Earth again. He closed his eyes, letting himself be stifled by the pure energy that he had been missing since the day he left Havana.
When his siblings finally split from him, they, more characteristically, pinched and poked him and ruffled his hair, all while wiping their faces.
“How have you been Lolo?” Luis, asked, using a childhood name Lance came up with by himself.
Lance shrugged, grinning.
“Yeah, and what the fuck are you wearing?” Rachel chimed in, laughing and wrinkling her nose. “Un disfraz or what?”
Lance heard a loud exclamation behind them, and both his siblings froze, their shit-eating grins still plastered on their faces. They turned and faced Celia, who stood with her entire five-foot-two height to tell Rachel off for cursing, or making fun of Lance, or both. As soon as she saw Lance, though, her face relaxed into a smile, one so terribly mournful it made Lance’s chest hurt. Her face revealed doubt, but when Lance went to her, she didn’t hesitate. She enveloped him into an embrace, letting the tears fall.
“Mi hijo…” Celia murmured, petting his head.
“Hi, mami.” Lance felt silly repeating himself, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It didn’t seem like there was much else to say. There was only space to be, to embrace the familiarity of his home while he still could, before going to face his duty once more.
Lance didn’t think he could feel like the situation could be more surreal, until he heard calls from little voices and the running of feet against tile.
“Tío, tío!” Lance’s little niece and nephew, having been hidden away in another room, were now clinging to his legs. “I can’t believe you’re back!”
“Yeah, we thought you died,” his nephew, Sylvio, said frankly.
His sister, Nadia, hit him on the arm. “You can’t say that! He’s not dead anymore!”
Lance threw his head back, laughing, trying not to cry at the time that had passed, at everything his family went through. He squeezed his mom again, then reached down and lifted both his niece and nephew in one swipe. “Nope, just went on a little adventure.” He almost keeled over at how much the two of them had grown.
“An adventure?!” Nadia squealed.
Lance nodded emphatically. “I’ll tell you guys all about it, don’t worry.”
He kissed each of them on the forehead and set them down again, watching them running to their mother, Lisa, and waving. Lisa smiled, shooing the two into the kitchen, where he thought he could hear the voices of his grandparents. The room had blossomed with the energy of a renewal, and Lance thought it was impossible he was the only one that felt it.
“Lance.” Leonardo spoke up from behind him, and he turned to face the entirety of his team, standing rather awkwardly in the hallway. Hunk looked particularly cramped, and Lance started.
“Ah! I’m sorry, guys, sorry papá!” Lance grabbed his mother’s hand and led her to the other paladins. He introduced each of them by name to both his parents, and each of them were met with an immediate invitation into their home.
Lagging near the back was Keith. Lance felt his stomach flutter. Keith was hunched over slightly, looking back and forth between Lance and his parents.
“Mamá, papá,” Lance moved to stand beside him, instinctively placing a hand on the small of Keith's back, to which Keith looked at him quizzically, “this is Keith.”
Celia hesitated, a look crossing her face. Lance’s heart stuttered, but the look vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, and Celia smiled and pecked Keith on the cheek, squeezing his hand. “Bienvenido, Keith. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Keith nodded and gave a small smile. “Thank you.”
Leonardo shook Keith’s hand, and Lance watched as he slipped into the living room, talking to Shiro.
“I like him, he has a good handshake,” Leonardo commented.
“Me too.” Celia grabbed Lance by the arm, and Leonardo grabbed the collar of his armor.
“Pero, en serio, hijo, ¿qué diablos es esto?” Leonardo asked, a familiar cat-like smile crossing his face.
Celia tutted, shaking her head at her husband as she led them both through the doorway. As he passed through his home, he felt like he was walking on air. He felt like he had cried enough, and could see his dad wiping the last of his tears off of his face. He had only seen his father cry once, at Lance’s grandfather’s funeral. That day, he confessed to Lance what it meant to lose someone.
“Everytime you are reminded of them, you lose them all over again,” he had said. If that were true, Lance had lost his family hundreds of thousands of times while out in space, but he had no idea how many times his family had lost him. He tried not to think about it. What mattered was that they had finally found each other.
+++
Celia stood on a stool, stirring her pot.
Lance hovered over her shoulder, inhaling deeply. “Es fricasé de pollo?" he asked excitedly.
Celia turned and smiled. “Han comido, no?”
“Oy, si está la comida de casa, siempre tengo hambre, okay?” Lance replied. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken Spanish, but it flowed as easily as it did when he first left Havana.
“Ay, no me dice, ‘okay’ así, oh- kay ?” Celia waved her wooden spoon around tauntingly. Lance fake-dodged it, laughing. Celia chuckled, rolling her eyes.
It was mid-May and humid. The sun was finally setting, as languidly as it pleased, and the breeze from the ocean gave a relief to the mugginess. Even still, the stove was working overtime, and air never flowed particularly well through the house. It was too hot to not wear something breathable, and the paladin suits were anything but. They had taken their clothes from the Lions to change into, but most of them were dirty, rank, or both. Some didn’t even fit the paladins anymore, and Allura and Romelle didn’t really have “casual” clothes, so Celia put everything into the family’s laundry and gave out old shorts and t-shirts to any takers. Krolia and Coran passed, both still a bit uncomfortable with the Earthlings’ generous familiarity, but everyone under 200 years old had graciously accepted.
Lance was wearing an old baseball T-shirt, one he had got from a particularly famous Californian team on their tour through a newly opened Cuba. Lance had played and watched baseball for as long as he could remember, and the memory comforted him.
The rest of the team had settled, having overflowed to the house’s back courtyard. Shiro received the all-clear from Veronica to allow those not of Earth to join them a few hours prior, and, despite the growing pains of meeting non-humans, everyone seemed at ease. Allura, Pidge, and Romelle were wearing some of Rachel’s clothes, and Shiro and Hunk borrowed Tio Ivan’s old work things. Keith had borrowed a pair of sports shorts and one of Lance’s shirts, the one with Spiderman emblazoned across the front. It had always been too big for Lance; he had stolen it from a cousin in Florida and never gave it back. It fit Keith’s now-larger frame well.
He sat smiling next to Shiro and Krolia, both of whom looked overwhelmed at being surrounded by Lance’s niece and nephew, who looked like they were barraging them with questions, mostly in Spanish. Allura, Romelle, and Coran were talking with Lance’s abuelitos who looked completely calm in the face of three people with pointed ears. Apparently Alteans had a knack for learning new languages, so they had begun conversing with his grandparents almost instantly. Marco and Rachel were chatting with Hunk and Pidge, no doubt catching them up on what’s happening on Earth at the moment. Lance couldn’t believe that he felt the biggest relief at not having to play translator.
Luis stood by the stove, holding a handful of spoons. “Oye, Lance, por favór, ayudame?”
Lance hummed, nodding. He grabbed bowls and plates and placed them on the tables outside, and noticed Keith had begun to look around. Shiro had begun showing off his right arm to Lance’s niece and nephew, and Krolia was explaining in depth what exactly went into making such a thing, not knowing that neither of the human children would know or remember any of what she was saying. Lance could tell with his tapping and darting eyes, Keith didn’t really know what to do with himself.
Lance caught his eye and motioned with his head, beckoning him. Keith stood up immediately, awkwardly pushing his chair in and almost running over to Lance. Even with two extra years of living under his belt and experiences in space that other people only dream of, he was still as gawky and unsure as the day they landed in the Castle of Lions, and the shirt and basketball shorts made him look even more so. Lance knew he felt most comfortable around Shiro and his mom, but he wanted Keith to step out of his shell, to make him more comfortable, mostly so that he could show his family how cool and awesome Keith was, and so that they could see what Lance sees in him.
“Hi.” Lance smiled gently as Keith approached him.
“Hi.” Keith exhaled, puffing his cheeks out. He gave Lance a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Nice shirt.” Lance grinned widely, mischievously. “You like Spiderman or something?”
Keith’s smile loosened a little. “Yeah you know, he’s cool.” Keith faked a casual shrug, bouncing his shoulders up and down.
Lance laughed out loud. “Wow, was that a joke?”
Keith grinned some more. “Just trying to keep up. I heard Marco tell like three jokes consecutively and they were all hits.”
Lance nodded enthusiastically. “What did you expect? Have you met me?”
Keith laughed a little again before stopping abruptly as Celia breezed past, yelling something at Marco and Rachel. He looked at her, then looked down intensely at his shirt.
“Hey, I know you’re nervous and everything, and this is a lot of people to see at once.” Lance said, handing Keith a stack of plates and leaning in closer, “but just set these out on the tables and let them talk to you. My family can keep a conversation going like no one I’ve ever seen, I swear. They’ll love talking to you.”
“But what if I don’t answer right,” Keith said. “What if they say something and I don’t know how to respond, and I—“
Lance put his hand on Keith’s arm, tapping him lightly with his fingers. It seemed to ground Keith slightly. “It’ll be fine, I promise. Nothing that you could say or do could make them dislike you. Unless you were, like, a total dick or something.” Lance grinned, but Keith was still glancing around the room, avoiding eye contact. Lance knew he was thinking hard, accounting for everything in this given situation.
“I just…” Keith paused, his eyes trying to find a spot around Lance to look at, ”I just don’t want them to think anything of you because of me.”
“That won’t happen,” Lance said, this time trying to sound more sure than he felt. “I’m close with my family, and you saw with my mom and dad! They were super cool about it.” Lance wanted to kick himself immediately.
“Cool about what?” Keith looked at Lance, his eyebrows furrowing together.
“You know, me introducing you and everything.” Lance tried to breeze past his terrible Freudian slip. “I think it went great.”
“Yeah but that wasn't exactly a ‘meet the parents’ moment was it?” Keith responded. “I mean, all you did was introduce me. There was no explanation.”
“Yeah but… you know, they know…” Lance was at a loss for words, mostly because Keith was right. How could he know what his parents were thinking, what they thought was going on?
“They know what?” Keith asked. He didn’t seem angry, but he definitely wasn’t happy. “Lance, we barely know what we are, but there is something here. I think they should know that.”
Lance started, dropping his arm from Keith’s. “And how would you know what they need to know? They’re my family.” His words came out harsh, defensive.
Keith looked surprised, then his face twisted. “I know they’re your family, and you said it should be fine, so why don’t you just tell them?”
“You think it’s that easy?” Lance retorted, trying not to raise his voice. “This isn’t just some news, this is you .”
“ Me?” Keith asked incredulously. “What does that mean?”
Lance was now two for two in slip ups. “I mean, us , you know?”
“No, I actually don't know,” Keith snapped back, “but I don’t like having a secret, especially around your family, but I guess I didn’t think you’d actually be ashamed of me.”
Lance opened his mouth to defend himself, his blood rushing, but he stopped, feeling eyes on him. He glanced over to Luis and Lisa, both of whom quickly looked away. They looked like they were going back and forth rapidly, but, despite knowing them his whole life, he couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Keith followed his gaze.
Keith rolled his eyes and huffed. “Right.”
Lance’s anger suddenly released, leaving him feeling raw and exposed instead. He instantly wanted to apologize to Keith. He tried to find those consoling words as Keith walked away, but he was stuck, looking back and forth between Keith, his siblings, his parents, and his team.
“Is everything alright?”
Lance jumped and turned to face Allura, then doubled over, sighing hard with relief.
She laughed slightly. “Goodness, you’re jumpy.”
Lance smiled. “A little, I guess. Sorry.”
Allura shook her head. Her hair was up, and Sailor Moon characters were emblazoned across her torso, a gift from Rachel. “It’s alright. I’m just seeing if you need help with anything.”
Lance grimaced slightly, casting his eyes down. “You overheard me and Keith?”
“Well…” Allura shrugged, “I couldn’t help it. I hope I’m not overstepping.”
“No, never,” Lance responded. He paused, sighing. “I totally messed up.”
Allura nodded. “I heard.”
Lance rubbed his face with hands, the dishes long forgotten on the table. “It’s just so hard! I didn’t think this would be the hardest part about coming back to Earth.”
Allura nodded, thinking.
Lance felt silly ranting to her, considering their circumstances of mortal danger, but she was never one to shut someone down, especially him. They had grown close during their journey back to Earth, and she was the first to know about him and Keith. It was still astounding to Lance that she, the Princess of Altea, a ten-thousand year old teenager, could have used her pragmatic understanding of universal politics to navigate the politics of romance. She had made room for Lance's feelings, and knew that, for the better of the team, both him and Keith couldn’t continue sulking in repression.
It had started when Allura and Lance were discussing what had happened with Lotor, after their journey to Earth had begun.
“In just war, people didn’t fight for abstract ideas. They fight for the things they value, the things closest to them, tangible things,” she had said. “I don’t believe selfishness and justice can coexist. The one time I acted selfishly, it almost led to Voltron’s destruction.” She had paused then, thinking. “But I also believe that, despite my painful encounter with love, it is at the core of power and harmony. I saw it with my own parents, with Coran and his husband. I think it’s a universal truth. I just couldn’t figure it out.”
Lance had wanted to comfort her, to tell her otherwise, but in that moment, he knew it was enough just to be there for her, to support the process she took after suffering from such a lesson. It had fueled her decision to accompany the paladins back to Earth.
After receiving the distress call, after nearly losing Shiro again, they needed to get to facilities for healing faster than the two years it would take to get to the new Altea, and they needed Allura and the Castle of Lions to protect Earth. Allura knew this, and it was, ultimately, her call to join the humans rather than go to the Altean colony. Lance overheard the arguments between her and Coran. He had no stake in their fight; he could only be there for her to vent to about it. Finally, Coran, dutifully and with love, agreed with Allura’s decision.
They had made it halfway to Earth by then, and within a couple days, he and Keith would have confessed. It was like a storybook unfolding, and it wouldn’t have happened without Allura’s deep understanding and empathy, especially toward Lance. They believed it, at first, to be some kind of bond neither of them seemed ready for, but their extended connection and conversation unearthed something deeply hidden within Lance, revealing where his true feelings came from and where they lay. Allura saw this before Lance did, and, as gently as one could shift someone’s entire paradigm, she showed him. It rocked his world.
“I think, though, that love is selfish, and that these things get all mixed up and messy,” she continued, still discussing Lotor. “However, if you can navigate that mess with someone, it becomes a team effort, more than a self-serving pursuit. That’s what I thought I had with Lotor. A love that could balance the scales of universal justice, but it wasn't meant to be. Now the love I seek is something more grounded."
Lance hadn’t known where she was leading this conversation.
“The love that this team needs isn’t going to come from one person, it has to come with everyone being entirely faithful to themselves, so that they can better give to and love others. I don't think it has to change entire worlds, just one's own. The love I have for Coran, for you, they all have to become a part of our fight. We can't win unless we can truly love the way we were meant to.” This is where she had paused, and Lance will never forget the look Allura had on her face when she looked at him and said, “What I’m saying is, that the love you feel for Keith, and that he feels for you, as long as you both can face it, will push us through what we have coming for us. It will be the antidote you need to withstand the selfishness of this war.”
Lance had been concealing what Allura had laid out so plainly, and it was then that it had come bursting out in sharp breath and tears. It took him far longer to process it, but, afterwards, it was all he could think about. He remembered sulking through the hallways, in his room, in his lion after a battle. It followed him around like a dark cloud. Despair and regret, shame and desire, guilt and confusion. Allura hadn’t pressed the issue further after that conversation, but he hadn’t known it had been so obvious until she, instead of watching her friend fall deeper into doubt and fear, mostly at the hands of Keith’s continued avoidance, took matters into her own hands.