Work Text:
Lance drops to his plated knees, hitting the solid, magenta ground.
Just seconds ago, he watched Keith dive in front of him before being shot in the side, where he then proceeded to become one with the earth beneath him. That is to say, he dropped dead.
Well— Lance hopes he isn’t dead. Maybe he only faceplanted. Maybe.
Hopefully.
Lance knows that he screamed when it happened, his throat growing raw from the very fear in his voice. He's unsure if he’s ever been so afraid in his entire life, the pain of not knowing, not doing, burning in his lungs.
He stares on in anticipation, just wishing Keith would get up.
When he doesn’t, Lance panics.
“Keith! Keith, please,” he spits out, crawling over to Keith in a frenzy.
The red paladin is curled up, laying on his side. Lance rolls him over onto his back like some animal, patting down his chest. He turns Keith’s head to face him, hands placed on either side of his jaw. Lance notices his red helmet, only a few feet away from its paladin. Keith’s bayard is about the same distance away, only being closer to his feet.
Lance shakes Keith by the shoulders, muttering to himself, “Please, please, please be alive.” He presses two fingers to Keith’s neck, checking for any signs of life.
He almost cheers when he feels Keith’s pulse.
“Oh, thank God.”
Keith lets out a strained cough, startling Lance. He blinks his eyes open, squinting from the harsh sun.
“L…Lance?” he chokes out.
Lance watches those deep, dark eyes. “Yeah, man. It’s me. Thanks for staying alive.”
“Do I have— coff—a choice?”
“Not really!”
Keith grunts, clearly trying to bite back the pain— oh, right. Keith’s wounded.
Keith is wounded.
Lance tries not to panic. In doing so, he panics. Would be a lot more pleasant if he were at a disco.
His hands slide down to Keith’s left side, searching for any blood or openings. Lance finds both.
“Lance, wha- ow.”
Lance stumbles over his words, “S-sorry, sorry. I just- you took that shot for me and I’m super worried. Mega worried, if that’s possible.”
His gloved hand is streaked with red, most likely from Keith’s open wound. Lance clicks the side of his paladin belt, revealing his emergency first aid kit. He removes the kit, opening it quickly and retrieving a roll of gauze. He holds it with one hand, the other pulling back Keith’s flight suit where the red paladin had been shot.
The wound is bubbling with blood, the flesh around it seared and boiling. Keith winces as Lance drips saline solution onto his wound, hissing in pain. Lance then dresses the wound in gauze.
The blue paladin sits back on his heels, sighing, “That was…kinda stupid, y’know? Brave, but stupid.”
“Whatever, Lance,” Keith groans.
Ah. There’s the Keith that he loves. Lance thinks he missed this. Fuck, he missed this.
Lance notices as Keith’s hand brushes against his arm, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. The other young man looks up at him, his gaze soft and sober. Keith reaches for Lance’s helmet, fingers grazing the faceshield. Lance freezes under Keith’s gentle touch. Holy mother, he thinks.
Keith breathes, “Are your comms on?”
Lance blinks. “Oh, uh- I don’t know, let me try. Shiro? Can you hear me?”
Keith appears to perk up at Lance’s mention of Shiro, like he has some hope that he’ll come to rescue them. To rescue him.
“Lanc- Are you th- Comms are-”
Lance huffs in frustration, “Well, shit. The fumes from this planet must be messing with my connection. Blue’s not too far, though. I can carry you there and we can try to contact the team.”
“Uh…you need to carry me?”
Carrying an injured Keith is one of the most irritating things Lance has ever done, beaten only by—
1. Being forced to do the dishes in his siblings' place.
2. Constantly having to look out for himself and his team because, hello, he's literally at the forefront of an intergalactic war.
And 3. Suffering in silence as he watches the love of his life be the most stubborn piece of shit in the universe.
At first, Keith complained about being scooped up in Lance's arms, saying something about being in a “princess carry.” Lance was having none of it, and ultimately decided to gently sling Keith over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, trying not to harm the red paladin further.
Keith has been pretty quiet since they started the trek back to the blue lion. Lance worries about him. He worries about him all the time. Day and night, 24/7.
Because he cares.
He cares too much, and it's only caused him trouble.
“Still there, buddy?” Lance says.
Keith responds with a grumble, signaling that he is, in fact, still there.
Lance continues, “Cool, cool. We're almost at Blue's location.”
He approaches Blue's head, shoulders slumped from Keith's weight. The lion's eyes gleam in the light of the sun as her jaw opens for Lance to enter. The blue paladin steps inside, sighing with relief. Once inside, he pats the wall with a free hand.
“Thanks, girl.”
Lance sets Keith down beside his seat in the cockpit, attempting to be careful with his wound. The blue paladin takes a deep breath, exhaling sharply through his lips.
Keith speaks up, his voice strained, “Lance,— coff—contact someone. Anyone.”
“You got it, Samurai.”
Lance plops down in the seat before his command center, booting up his comms and hoping for the best. His next breath is shaky.
“Guys, can you hear me? This is Lance, coming in.”
“Lance! Oh my God, it's you. Shiro thought something had happened after he lost connection with you.”
“Pidge! Thank fuck. Tell Coran to prepare a healing pod- Keith's hurt. Bad.”
Pidge's voice wavers, “Wha- Keith? How the hell did he get hurt?”
Lance sighs, “It's a long story.”
He listens as Pidge huffs a laugh over the comms. Shiro scolds her (most likely for cursing), and Lance is soon bombarded with relieved sighs and cheers. Allura tells him and the team to return to the Castle of Lions, adding that the red lion would be retrieved and brought with them.
A hand grasps the back of Lance's chair— it's Keith, of course. There's a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips as he leans in to hear the ruckus coming from Lance's helmet. Heat creeps up the latter's ears. He can feel Keith's breath hot on his neck.
“T-they're asking about you, Mullet. Pick up your helmet and tune in! Tell em' that you're gonna be fine,” Lance says.
Keith hugs the back of the chair, groaning, “No. Let's...just get out of here. My side is-”
He breaks into a short-lived coughing fit, seemingly caused by the smoky atmosphere of the planet, before continuing.
“-killing me. It- it stings.”
Lance gives him a weak smile. “You'll live, Keith. Try to rest, I'm gonna fly us back.”
The red paladin sighs, clutching his chest and placing himself by the wall. He slides down, causing his armor to produce a light clang.
Lance feels the harsh tug on his heart, pulling down, down, down. His chest is heavy, so heavy, in fact, that he thinks it might collapse on itself. Lance doesn't know a lot of things, but if there's something that he does know—
His heart hurts.
Keith's ragged breathing remains the only sound in the cockpit aside from the soft, bitter thump of Lance's heartbeat.
Lance flies Blue through clusters of stars in search of the gleaming white Castleship. He spots the tail of the yellow lion and pumps his fist.
“Tried to leave without me, huh?”
“Oh- hey, Lance!”
Lance lets out a joyful whoop! into the closed space of Blue's cockpit, followed by the bit-crushed sounds of Pidge and Hunk shouting in unison. Keith curls in on himself, pulling his knees as close to his chest as possible. Lance looks back at him in sympathy.
Allura's voice rises over the comms, “Coran informed me that a healing pod should be prepared by the time Lance and Keith arrive. The doors to the medbay have been unlocked, as well.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Lance says, relieved. “We're coming in....now!”
Blue soars into the hangar with a roar. Lance powers her down, leaning back into his chair.
He swivels his head towards Keith's position on the floor one last time, taking note of the paladin's sour expression, twisted in pain.
Everything hurts.
“Lance.”
The blue paladin bounces his leg, too nervous to hear anyone out.
“Lance.”
Shiro is standing before him, looking down from his higher vantage point. Lance fears meeting his gaze, refusing to look up.
The older man sighs, “Look, we're all worried about Keith, but that's not an excuse for you to stay at his bedside for hours. He'll wake up when he's fully recovered— whenever that is.”
“So...you don't know when he'll recover? If he recovers?” Lance grumbles.
“Oh, he will recover. It's Keith, after all. Just don't worry yourself to death, okay? I know he'll be happy to see you.”
Why would Keith be happy to see me? Lance thinks. While their rivalry may have been one-sided, it had always been the two of them— just Lance and Keith, neck-and-neck. It seemed like things were going well for them, what with Keith being a lot...nicer? Friendlier?
Lance isn't sure. He knows that what he feels for Keith is beyond that stupid rivalry, beyond their newborn friendship. Being around Keith is the closest feeling Lance has to being back home.
His presence is warm, like his mamá's tight embrace, and just as welcome.
Whenever Keith is around, Lance's heart skips a beat. Everything about Keith is perfect in every sense of the word. His smile, the deep, almost black hue of his eyes that Lance swears looks purple under certain lighting— the way he assesses situations and always knows just what to do. That stupid mullet that Lance desperately wants to run his fingers through, curling around every lock of black hair.
Not that it matters or anything, but—
Keith is pretty. And way out of Lance's league.
Keith is the most stubborn, hot-headed man Lance has ever met, and not even death (rather, the risk of it) can stop him. Maybe Shiro is right.
“I guess,” Lance sighs.
Shiro eyes him warily, affirming, “Lance, I can't begin to imagine how you're feeling right now, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. We all are. If you ever want to talk about your feelings or what's going on, I'm willing to listen.”
Lance's following smile is vulnerable. On one hand, he so deeply wants to spill his guts to someone, telling them everything he thinks, everything he feels, everything he wants. On the other hand, there's this tiny voice in his head that keeps him from letting himself be vulnerable with anyone.
On the third, likely alien hand, Lance wants to tell Keith every secret he's ever kept.
“Shiro,” Lance stands, meeting Shiro's gaze. “I- I don't really want to talk about it.”
The black paladin sighs, “That's fine. It's your choice.”
Lance smiles weakly, exhaling and turning to look at Keith's frozen state inside the healing pod.
“And Lance—”
He turns.
“Take care of yourself, alright?”
“I will. Thanks.”
Shiro reciprocates a smile before turning and leaving through the medbay doors. For some odd reason, Lance suddenly feels hollow. His chest is a chasm, growing deeper and darker the longer you stare at it. Or at Lance.
The blue paladin doesn't like to feel weak. He wants everyone to think he's the cool ninja sharpshooter that he paints himself to be, but—
Sometimes it's the most difficult for him to believe.
He looks back at Keith, the red paladin's face a blank slate. He's been put in the same suit that Lance has worn plenty times before. Unlike Lance, however, it looks good on him. The suit brings out the structure of his torso, as well as the smooth ripple of his muscles, the ones Lance too often catches himself staring at. He does the same now, unconsciously scanning Keith up and down.
Despite the other young man's sleeping state, Lance's face flushes, and he snaps his head away from the pod.
Embarrassed, Lance sighs and approaches Keith's pod, pressing a hand to the glass.
As soon as he does, the door lunges forward, a cloud of vapor filtering out of the pod's corners. Lance jumps back, realizing that Keith is about to fall flat on his face if he doesn't catch him.
He braces himself by raising his arms, but Keith doesn't fall.
Rather, the red paladin stumbles out, wobbling slightly before planting a foot on the floor to catch himself. Keith fully steps out with all the agility and grace of a deer. Lance is almost jealous, having fallen practically every time he's been released from a healing pod. Ugh.
I guess Keith is just a pro at everything. Figures.
Despite this, Lance has the instinct to catch Keith, who promptly topples over into his arms.
Lance freezes, but his skin burns.
It feels right.
As soon as Lance had helped Keith steady himself, the red paladin disappeared. He'd slipped out of the medbay, presumably with the intent of finding his room.
Lance felt betrayed.
He thinks to himself now, pacing back and forth in the lounge. He needs to find Keith.
What if he's not fully healed?
What if he has a sick scar now?
...What if Lance wants to see it? Or run his fingers over it?
Ughhhh. No, that's— that's so weird. Get it together, Lance.
Lance finds Keith in his head once more. He closes his eyes and allows himself to indulge in the image of a smiling Keith, his eyes low and lidded. The blue paladin hyperfocuses on the way light reflects off of the inky pools of Keith's irises, his eyes appearing to sparkle. Daydream Keith leans into his hand, propped against his cheek. He watches Lance curiously, as if awaiting his next move.
Lance's next move would likely be to tuck Keith's hair behind his ear— if he wasn't daydreaming, that is.
When he opens his eyes, Lance has sat down. He drags his hands down his face with a groan, a furious blush creeping across his face.
He slides down on the now-weirdly-comfortable couch, overcome by a sudden tiredness.
Things are going great.
“What are you staring at?” Keith mutters.
The air feels heavy, the silence practically oozing tension. Lance bats his eyes at the red paladin, totally gone for the other young man.
He sighs dreamily, “You.”
Keith smiles at him. It makes Lance's stomach twist in the best way.
“As you should be,” he says. He places a finger beneath Lance's chin, tilting it upwards. “Don't make that face.”
Lance looks up at him. “What face? I'm not making a face.”
But he is making a face. A face so stupidly in love with Keith that it's gross. He smiles drunkenly. His liquor, his poison of choice— old-fashioned love and desire. Endearment so strong, it's intoxicating. The adrenaline makes him ill. If Lance is the artist, Keith is the muse.
He's a damn good model, that's for sure.
Said model sits on his knees, becoming eye-level with Lance.
Their faces are close. Far too close for comfort. For a brief pause, they share a glance. Lance breathes hard as Keith leans in—
Lance slowly blinks his eyes open.
Have the lights in his room always been this...bright?
A long-haired shadow looms over him, obscuring the blinding rays of the ceiling lights. Lance attempts to focus on the dark silhouette's face, recognizing a familar glare, brows knitted in confusion. A pair of piercing eyes scan his face. Lance blushes.
“Why are you so sweaty?”
Keith leans over the blue paladin, hands propped on his hips. He's notably missing his cropped jacket.
Lance feels the sweat clinging to his back, sitting up so fast he nearly collides with Keith, who reels back just as quickly.
Lance stutters, “Wha- huh- sweaty? Me?”
“...Yeah?” Keith darts his eyes from side to side.
So. He fell asleep in the lounge. Without his headphones, his sleeping mask, or his skincare routine. Oh, he's going to break out for sure.
Lance exhales deeply. “My back is so going to hurt tomorrow.”
Keith hums, “Better head to the training deck then. You could use some sparring.”
Lance grumbles. Of course Keith suggests training. He's always in the training deck, sparring with bots and such. It's why his muscles are so defined— not that Lance minds.
“Mmm...nah, I don't think so,” Lance says. “So, why'd you even wake me up? Aren't you happier when I'm asleep and not wasting your time?”
Keith raises his eyebrows ever-so-slightly, but brushes off the comment. “We need to talk.”
“About?”
The red paladin pauses.
“You'll find out,” he says, clearing his throat.
Weird. Keith is usually straight to the point. Whatever he wants to discuss has to be something really personal to him, though he's never been all that great at feelings. Lance wants to hear about Keith's feelings. He wants the other young man to trust him, to hold him close and heartfully whisper sweet nothings into his ear. He desires the simple, yet bittersweet intimacy of loving someone.
It's painful.
Lance muses, “Yeah, that's not ominous at all.”
“Look, there's just...there's something I should tell you. If you care to hear it, you can come with me,” Keith sighs.
If Lance's intuition is correct, he almost sounds disappointed.
“Alright, I'll bite.”
Keith struggles to keep a straight face. Lance notices the way the corners of his lips twitch, as if being forced to maintain a thin line.
He almost made Keith smile, if only for a second.
Small victories.
Keith nods. “Thanks. I'd prefer we take care of this in my room.”
“Yeah, of course, man. It's whatever you want,” Lance agrees. He peels himself off of the couch, standing up and stretching. As the blue paladin raises his arms over his head, his back produces an audible crack.
He doubles over and runs a hand down his back, wincing.
By the time Lance looks up, Keith has already started walking through the lounge's sliding doors. He scrambles to catch up to the red paladin, nearly tripping over his own feet. Out of breath, he bumps into Keith.
“So, uh- what did you wanna tell me?”
Lance is tense.
He's never been this nervous when alone with Keith before, but now that this feels like a confrontation, he can't help but feel super anxious.
Especially when Keith is brandishing a knife mere feet away from him.
“What's the knife for?”
A pair of dark eyes peek through Keith's bangs.
“Brandishing,” he says, looking back at the knife in question.
Lance blinks at him. He doesn't understand why the knife has to be brandished right now, when Keith wants to have such a serious conversation with him about...something. Whatever it is.
The blue paladin whistles, “Right, right.”
Keith, seemingly aware of Lance's unease, wraps his knife, tucking it away under his pillow. This only makes Lance more uneasy because— well, who sleeps with a knife under their pillow? Does Keith think the Knife Fairy will visit him in the night, bringing him a ton of money?
Lance clears his throat.
Keith turns his attention back to the other young man, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It's no big deal. Just glad we're not arguing for once,” Lance says.
He glances at Keith, noticing the slight shift in his expression. Shit, did I hit a sore spot? Lance thinks. He doesn't take his eyes off of the red paladin.
Keith sighs, “Yeah. Me too.”
Lance gives him a small smile. He's making progress.
“So.”
Lance perks up.
“There's something I've been meaning to tell you. For a while now.”
Keith takes a shaky breath. Lance has never seen him be so vulnerable before.
He continues, “You are a valued member of the team. I don't know where I, or Voltron, would be without you. You're more than just our sharpshooter— you bring something to the table that no other paladin does. I'm glad to have you on the team, no matter how much you get on my nerves, and I think we've managed to learn and grow together. I don't know if you've noticed, but something about our dynamic has changed.”
“Changed how?” Lance asks.
Keith looks away. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but Lance swears there's a dusting of red on his cheeks. He doesn't answer.
Is Keith into me? I mean, he can't be talking about anything else, right?
The blue paladin takes Keith's silence as a means for him to speak up. “I guess it's my turn to tell you something, huh?”
“Sure,” Keith says, looking up.
“Alright,” Lance pauses to crack his knuckles. “That stunt you pulled earlier, taking that shot for me? Stupid as hell. If I hadn't been there, you could've died, and that would be bad all around. We can't lose you just because you wanna be the hero, Keith. I get hurt all the time. If you hadn't jumped in front of me, it wouldn't have been that big of a deal. Just another instance of me being an idiot-”
“It was the same shot, Lance. If you'd been hit instead of me, you would've had the same injury.”
“But you guys wouldn't worry as much, right? Because 'it's just Lance, he'll be fine!' I'm just the goofy sharpshooter, you're Voltron's right hand-man— literally.”
Keith stares at Lance, and he stares hard.
“Why,” he begs, “would you say that?”
Lance's shoulders drop. “Well-”
“If anyone deserved to die out there, it was me. If I die, the team can move on without me. You, on the other hand, are totally irreplacable. There's hundreds of people like me, Lance, but there's only one you. That's why we can't afford to lose you. Ever.”
Lance feels himself start to choke. “Y-you're my confidence, Keith. You and the rest of the team— you're the closest thing I have to a family out here. My mom, my sisters, my brothers- they're all waiting for me on Earth. They're probably worried sick about me, or maybe they think I'm already dead. Who knows? What I'm trying to say is that I just- I can't lose you, Keith. If you died or went missing...I don't know what I'd do with myself.”
He tries not to let himself loose, sniffling and holding back the waterworks like a weak, barely-functioning dam.
The dam breaks.
Lance's vision is blurry. He chokes out a series of ugly sobs, his shoulders hunched.
His mamá always said he was a crier.
Keith, unsure of what to do, gets up from his position on the bed. He stands before Lance with awkward posture, arms hesitantly open, as if he doesn't know whether to offer comfort or not.
Lance pulls him in anyway.
His eyes sting as he buries his face in Keith's chest, hooking his arms around the other young man's shoulders.
“There, there...?” Keith mutters, patting Lance's back.
The blue paladin pulls away, letting out a small hiccup. His cheeks are damp.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
Sniffling, Lance looks up at Keith, his eyes red. “Uh. Thanks for being my tissue, man.”
“Yeah,” the red paladin says, looking away. Now that Lance can see him up close, his face is definitely a little flushed.
“I think this is the first time we've hugged.”
“Lance.”
“I'm never letting you live this down, just so you know-”
“Lance.”
Lance steps back, a smirk plastered across his tear-stained face. Yeah, he could get used to this.
Keith watches Lance closely, never breaking eye contact. If you ask Lance, It's a little frightening. The red paladin's eyes flick to Lance's lips and back up. The blue paladin swears he can sense the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach, but it feels good.
Lance holds his breath as Keith reaches up and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. He cups Lance's face with his hands. His touch is gentle, something Keith has clearly been holding back.
He smiles. At Lance.
“Forgive me for what I'm about to do.”
Lance chuckles, “I'd forgive you for anything.”
Keith closes the space between them, pressing his lips to Lance's. It's all Lance has ever wanted, yet he doesn't know how to act.
His hands scramble to find their place, gripping the back of Keith's shirt and pulling him closer. Keith keeps a hand cupped over Lance's jaw, his other hand reaching for the back of Lance's head. The air between them is warm. Keith's lips taste like sweat. It's not the most pleasant taste in the world, but it's just so...Keith.
The red paladin pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cheeks are faintly red as he pants. Lance does the same, attempting to catch his breath.
“How long had you been waiting to do that?” he asks between gasps.
Keith sighs into Lance's general vicinity. It makes the latter's skin crawl. “Since the Garrison, I think.”
“You remember that? After you were expelled, I thought you'd forgotten all about me.”
Keith huffs a laugh, “How could I forget a face like yours?”
Lance stares into the deep pools of Keith's eyes. They focus on him, enamored with the sight of Lance's blue irises. Lance's heart thumps rhythmically in his ribcage.
He crashes his lips into Keith's once more, clawing at the red paladin so tightly, he nearly pulls the both of them down.
The kiss is rushed, but not as desperate. They settle into a soft, tender embrace, slowly becoming more comfortable in each other's touch. Lance traces Keith's face, memorizing the shape of his jaw. In response, the other young man tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
Keith cranes an arm around Lance's waist as they break apart for the second time.
He leans down, smiling into the blue paladin's neck.
Lance runs a hand down Keith's back. “How're you holding up?”
“I feel fine. Thanks for catching me earlier,” the red paladin says, muffled.
“No problem. You really fell for me back there.”
Keith playfully knees Lance in the thigh, causing the blue paladin's knees to buckle. The red paladin catches him in time, and they both end up laughing. Lance has really missed this, the two of them having fun. Keith holds his hand, allowing him to stand up straight. He nods towards the bed.
Lance asks, “Tired?”
“Exhausted.”
The red and blue paladins sit beside each other.
Keith sits on Lance's lap, leaning into his fellow paladin's chest with a sigh. Lance feels his heart rate increase. He wraps his arms around Keith's middle.
“Comfy?” Lance muses.
Keith tilts his head back to look at him, eyes half-lidded. He mumbles, “Mhm.”
Cute, Lance thinks to himself.
It's not long before Keith is out like a light, asleep and breathing softly in the blue paladin's arms.
He's as beautiful as ever, his face held still in a way that makes Lance feel warm and fuzzy inside. He never wants to let go of this— to let go of Keith. Let it be known that if anything were to happen to him, Lance would scream his name until his throat grew raw.
The world around them is tainted, but in this moment, just this once-
They know peace.