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Lance tugs on a pair of fluffy socks, applies a face mask, and finally flops back on the couch to relax.
It’s a late winter night, with snow piling up on the outside and frosting up his windows. Lance hasn’t been out of his apartment in a while since coming back from visiting his family, for the colder seasons have never been his strong suit. He likes the opportunity to relax, though, and he’ll gladly take any chance to after spending most of his past years fighting for his life in outer space.
Lance’s phone pings, and he makes a blind grab for it from the side table. It’s a photo from Hunk, dressed warmly for the weather and posing with Allura. They’re somewhere out in the snow, though certainly not Earth—the snow glistens with a pink hue, and Lance takes a moment to wonder where that is before liking the photo and shutting his phone again.
All of his friends, the ex-members of Team Voltron, have been doing great things with their lives. If they aren’t establishing huge agencies and creating high-tech brands like Pidge and Hunk are, they’re travelling the universe and expanding the coalition like Allura or Keith are. They all got back on their feet sooner than anyone expected. Bones of steel, truly, as expected of Paladins.
As for Lance, well…
He’s spending the holidays alone in his one-bedroom apartment that he affords by working at his family’s business. Great stuff.
Lance won’t lie and say he hasn’t been feeling left behind, but he could never fault his friends for wanting to make an impact on the universe. It’s not their fault he feels like this anyway—so utterly drained and tired that the idea of doing anything space-related makes him feel queasy.
Which sucks, because Lance loves space, adores flying and misses it greatly. So he’s probably just being lazy.
But, well, whatever. He shouldn’t think such negative thoughts. It’ll ruin his face mask.
A while later, just after Lance is peeling the mask off and tossing it in the trash, there’s a knocking sound from his door. He shuffles over, wondering who is coming to visit at this kind of hour, but when his hand lands on the knob, the knocking sound comes again.
Not from the door. From elsewhere in his apartment. The—
“The window?” he mutters, glancing over. The curtains are drawn, so he can’t see what it is. Maybe it’s a bird looking for some shelter? Impossible, though, for the knock felt too heavy for such a tiny creature.
When Lance pulls the curtains aside, he jumps, a scream lodging itself in his throat.
“Keith,” he gasps when he sees who’s outside his window, hanging from the ledge with a bag slung over his shoulder, a low ponytail swaying from the wind. And then, Lance truly registers who it is and where he is. “Keith?!”
He rushes to tug the window open, muttering curses under his breath. “Don’t scare me like that! My god, you climb in looking like you’re about to rob me—isn’t this the fifth floor?! This building has a perfectly good elevator you could’ve taken. And you could’ve just dropped a text!”
“Hi, Lance,” Keith greets, like he didn’t hear a word he just said. He’s still in his Marmora uniform, black armour hugged around his body, and his hair’s a bit of a mess. He must’ve just flown back from space. “Thanks for letting me in.”
“I should have let you freeze outside instead,” Lance gripes, shutting the windows to stop the outside’s air from coming in. He doesn’t need his toasty apartment ruined. “Go take a shower or something, you stink.”
Keith looks down at himself. “Do I really? I didn’t bring a spare set of clothes.”
“I’ll just lend you some,” Lance sighs with an eyeroll, pushing the other man in the direction of his bathroom. “Go, off you go!”
As Keith busies himself with that, Lance puts his hands on his hips, looking around. He didn’t expect to be housing a visitor today. It’s not like the others have never been to his apartment before, but they usually give a notice before dropping by. Lance just realised what he’s dressed like—a bathrobe, a headband to keep his hair out of his face, and fluffy slippers. Damn it.
Well, not like Keith hasn’t seen absolutely every version of him by now.
By the time Keith is done, Lance has changed into proper pyjamas and prepared two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows and whipped cream because he never got over the habit of making his drinks like a little kid.
“So,” Lance says when they’ve settled down on the couch, a respectable distance between them. Not that he’s noticing or anything. “What’s up?”
Keith shrugs, setting the mug down. He has a bit of whipped cream on his upper lip. Lance swallows down a laugh and refrains from pointing it out. “I just thought of visiting you. I didn’t want you to be alone for the holidays.”
Lance scoffs, avoiding his gaze. “Pfft, who says I’m alone? I visited my family just a week back.”
Keith eyes him, and Lance shudders under the heavy weight. Keith has always been oddly good at reading him. “Do you want me to leave?”
“…Not really.”
Damn it. Lance buries his attention into his drink so he can at least blame the red in his cheeks on the heat.
He hears Keith shuffling around, and curiousity killed the cat, so Lance looks. Keith reaches into his bag, pulling out a small box. It’s wrapped in blue and tied with a wonky silver ribbon, and Lance stares at it with something inexplicable rising up his throat.
“It’s for me?” he asks slowly, not trusting his voice to remain stable if he speaks any faster.
Keith gives him a duh look. “Obviously I came by with a purpose. Happy holidays, Lance.”
Lance takes the gift with trembling fingers, placing it in his lap.
He won’t admit it out loud—hasn’t even to himself, really, but he’s been feeling awfully lonely this holiday. He’s used to crowds, like his big family or rowdy team, and he’s never been great at being alone.
But with his friends all busy, especially with such important things Lance didn’t want to bother them with something as trivial as this. He knew one holiday alone wouldn’t kill him, even if it kind of sucks.
And yet, Keith is here. Keith brought him a present, even. All for… what?
“You’re stupid,” he mutters. “Even after all this time, you’re still so…”
Lance trails off. Before Keith can question what he meant, he hurriedly adds, “But I didn’t get you anything. Well, I did— I got the whole team gifts and I spacemailed them, but—”
“Just open it, Lance.”
“I-In front of you?!”
Keith shrugs. This time, he ducks his head, a bit of his bangs falling over his eyes. If Lance didn’t know better, he’d say Keith looks almost… shy.
But that’s totally impossible. Keith may have changed and matured a lot in the time they spent together, but there’s no way he’s suddenly all bashful like this. It must be just Lance’s imagination.
“I spent a lot of time picking it out,” Keith replies, scratching the couch absentmindedly. “I want to know if you like it.”
“No pressure,” Lance jokes back, and Keith cracks a smile that makes his heart thump a beat harder.
Holding back an excited giggle, Lance unwraps the present, carefully pulling off the window and peeling off the wrapping fold by fold. He was never gentle with presents as a kid, but he wants to appreciate Keith’s work. And now that he’s looking at it, he can see that the wrapping really wasn’t too well done. But the fact that it’s from Keith, and the fact that Lance can just imagine him doing his best, makes all the imperfections perfect.
When Lance finally opens up the box, he has to hold back a gasp.
A blue and white-themed bracelet rests in the box, decorated with various stones and seashells, and tied off securely with a thick brown band. When Lance flips the bracelet around, he can see an engraving on the inside of the band, his name written in capital letters.
“I collected the stones on my visits to different planets,” Keith explains, pointing to an ivory-coloured one with a subtle purple shimmer. “Then I got them fixed into a bracelet. Oh, and you can open that seashell—it’s sort of like a locket. I filled it up with this sand that looks like stardust, but you can store your own things inside if you’d like—”
“Keith,” he interrupts, peeking inside the seashell and indeed seeing something magical shimmering inside. “How long did you spend collecting these?”
“Um, I’m not sure… But this blue one was the first I picked up. It just made me think of you, and I started collecting more after. Maybe a few months?”
Lance’s heart squeezes. Stupid, stupid, stupid Keith, with his stupidly sweet and genuine actions that make Lance want to spill out all the affection he’s kept secretly buried for so long. He’s infuriating.
…He’s everything.
“I love it,” Lance declares, sliding the bracelet around his wrist. Despite its bulky look, it’s not heavy in the slightest, and Lance fiddles with it for a while, unable to help the soft smile on his face. “Thank you. Really.”
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever thanked me.”
“Oh, shut up! It is not! I’ve always been polite and well-mannered!” Lance grabs a couch pillow, hitting Keith lightly, and Keith finally cracks up, shoulders shaking with laughter. His eyes curve beautifully and the sound rings like a melody in Lance’s ears, and Lance really, really, wants to kiss him.
So he reaches for the front of Keith’s shirt—technically his own shirt, but semantics—and tugs him forward, letting their noses brush.
And Keith, always on the same page, grins and meets him in the middle.
The kiss feels like a fireplace on a snowy winter day, like hot chocolate on a shared couch, like a fuzzy sweater and socks. Lance melts into it instantly, cupping Keith’s face and feeling blood rush to his cheeks.
It’s warm, and it’s like coming home.
When they pull apart, Keith grabs onto Lance’s hand, like he can’t bear to let go just yet. And he asks, with wide, earnest eyes, “Since when did you like me like that?”
“Since when—” Lance repeats, aghast. “Since when?! Since forev— nope, never mind, I’m not answering that. It’s embarrassing. You’ll just have to wonder.”
“You never gave any signs!”
“I totally did! You’re just the most oblivious, thickheaded block—” Lance yelps as he’s met with another kiss, this time a little firmer, more confidence behind the action. “Mmph— hey, I’m still talking!”
“Sorry.” Keith’s grin spells out the opposite of apologetic, but Lance just grumbles and tugs him forward again.
In the end, after kissing and cuddling for way too long, Keith spends the night, curled up on the same bed as Lance. Before they go to sleep, Lance decides at the last minute to take a selfie, sending into Voltron’s team group chat with some holiday wishes, and shuts his phone off before he can receive any notifications. All in favour of clinging to Keith like a koala bear for the rest of the night, of course.