Chapter Text
Number two was always the worst number. Not as in height differences since Coran was just kinda weird, but Lance didn’t mind.
There was no argument against it. Being last place sucked, yeah, but it’s okay, it’s really okay when you have your team to support you.
Nobody in Voltron would shame you for being last place, just help you become better. Second place? Not so much. And who’s the expert on being is second place? Lance.
He had always been second place to Keith, since Shiro trained in his own time. Or…really anybody else he knew. Never last, always second. And that absolutely destroyed him.
Second meant you were good, like really fucking good, so close to being on top. But that’s as also the worst part about it, you’re so close to being first, yet with second, you never quite make it.
And in Lance’s situation, he never ever moved from second place. It was a good thing, but also possibly the worst thing in the galaxy for him- maybe besides having to switch lions for a bit- Red was nice, but could be nicer.
The only time he ever got first, was when they did shooting practice. But then again, they rarely ever did that, because apparently the only thing he was good at-long range-wasn’t good enough, because he always found himself and allthe other paladins doing hands on, or fighting while all up in each others faces. He really hated that.
So when he looked up onto the ranks, he wasn’t happy to find himself in second place again. again.
“Second place?” He murmured to himself, grabbing a water packet.
Shiro glanced at him and started towards him. He knew better than to whine like that, or else he’d get an earful about trying harder to be better while also getting a motivational pep talk from Shiro. So he took the obvious answer and sprinted out of the room leaving Shiro looking bewildered, his hand hovering right where Lance’s shoulder had been a minute ago.
Lance heard Shiro yelling at him, and it didn’t sound too friendly. Wow, Shiro hadn’t really been nice recently. Fuck, nobody had been. He’d been thinking about it, how Shiro had been…not shiro? He didn’t really know how to put it.
Everyone had probably felt it when they formed Voltron. Something was definitely off. Pidge had been complaining about it the other day, about how Shiro was being a dick and Hunk told them to shut up because everyone was too sissy to say anything.
It wasn’t only Shiro who was affecting forming Voltron for sure. Allura knew that. Ever since she had been piloting the blue lion (Lance was bitter about the lion switch but dealt with it nonetheless) she had immediately realised they had not been living up to their full potential.
Though she had never piloted a lion before that, she had her ‘smarts’ to guide her. It was quickly apparent to her that the Paladins had been ignoring- or rather not noticed the weight of the Lions. It was not supposed to feel like that, it was supposed to feel like heaven, like freedom. Not hauling their mechanical parts around.
She was yet to discover who was weighing them down the most, she knew everyone had taken part in it, so she definitely had to fix that. But one person in particular was being a burden. Lance happens to be that person, and damn good at hiding it. He’s scared. Their all scared.
But he’s scared that if Allura finds out he’s that person, she’ll get scared and kick him off the team. Okay- maybe he’s exaggerating, they can’t kick him off the ship, or the team, but they can sure strip his paladin-ness and sit him down to work with Coran all day.
Lance liked Coran, he liked his stories about Altea, his unfamiliar tunes, and the way his footsteps have a skip to them as if he were to start dancing any moment. But he really didn’t wanna stay on ship all day, he’s the pilot of the Blue-…Red Lion. Right, but that’s just temporary…? He’s just a place holder for Keith! Right! And then when Keith comes back-Lance is convinced he will-He can go back to his perfect girl, Blue.
He liked Red a lot, but he always felt like a place holder. And Red wasn’t really up to bonding with him that much, she liked him, but her personality was Keith’s, but more intense and pushy.
Pushy as in she ejected Lance when he started blabbering while taking her for a joy ride and left him there only for Blue to fly out by herself-impressive-to come save her damsel in distress. That was fun.
As he’s lost in thought, he feels a harsh jab in his shoulder. He whips around and points his sniper at the person's chest in front of him. Keith. Of course it was stupid Keith! Gosh-
“Lance…?” Keith finally spoke, lowering Lance's weapon from his chest.
Well, what a pleasant greeting. Lance wasn’t usually-wait, KEITH?!
“Mullet?! Oh my quiznack!” Lance screamed, almost hugging Keith before he caught himself. He shouldn’t be doing that. Keith doesn’t like him like that. But before he could back off Keith’s was the one hugging him.
The embrace was…warm. He had never been hugged by Keith before, and oddly it was kinda nice.
When Keith pulled back he just looked concerned and maybe even worried? Awe shit, had he worried Keith? The only time he had seen Keith worried was when Shiro was missing.
“You’re….still not using that word correctly.” Was all Keith Said.
Lance glanced at the Bayard on the floor and was glad Keith was so calm about the situation. Why was he so calm? Maybe he had matured. That would explain why he looked…bigger.
Not like, obese. God no. He looked quite fit and Lance’s stomach was doing somer salts over it.
“Damn, someone’s face got chiseled.” Lance snorts, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
But Keith just smiles. And Lance heart fucking melts. Keith reaches down. YES, HE REACHES DOWN. To cup lances face.
“And your face is soft as ever. I guess the skin care is working.” Keith grins wider, and Lance thinks this is the most he’s ever seen Keith smile. And it’s because of him.
“You’re shorter than me now.” He says. And Lance is about to bite back when his breath hitches. The way he said it. He sounded…sad. Fond? Remorseful? Regretful? He sounded like…like he might actually have been hurt by Lance's words before he left and felt awful for what he did knowing he had to do it anyway and missed them dearly.
But that was just an idea. A wild thought. A silly one.
“I…guess so.”
“It’s been six years.” Keith scoffs, in disbelief. “And you haven’t grown.”
“What? It’s been months."
“Time.” Keith murmurs. “Works different where I was.”
So Keith is older than him. No wonder he looked like the most handsome mature looking guy Lance has ever seen.
Lance has always been attracted to men. And women. That was just a fact. Fun fact, his first hard on was to his bully.
Yeah, he swung that way. And his bully was a guy. Yes, he also swung that way. Long story short, Lance has been bisexual for a long time. Long story short, Lance has had a crush on Keith ever since he laid eyes on the mullet.
God, the mullet was longer now. And hotter. Is a mullet kink a thing? Because Lance is pretty sure he has one.
He just made fun of Keith’s hair to distract from the fact he was staring at it all the time. That haircut looked so fucking good on him.
Lance’s eyes snapped up, only slightly-Keith wasn’t that much taller, just a good three inches or so-only to lock eyes with Keith. Purple. Purple eyes. He was sure Keith hadn’t always had those; he had spent far too long staring at the guy.
He didn’t want to point them out, not in case it was a touchy subject. He settled for,
“You look nice, well groomed for once,” He reached out to straighten Keith’s collar, sweeping bangs from eyes, tidying him up, brushing dust from his shoulders.
This was an act his mother would do for him often, a show of affection and care, a subtle way to say, you mean the world.
The best part about saying it this way was that Lance never caught on until it was too late. And Keith won't either.
“There you go buddy. Now, go say hi to the others.”
Keith blinked before shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want to come with?”
“Nah,” Lance smiled, tight and unnatural “They’d get jealous if they knew I saw you first.”
“Oh. Okay then, I’ll see you at dinner?”
Lance didn’t bother mentioning he doesn’t go to dinner anymore, but he just nods and waves, before turning and walking to his room.
He could make it to dinner, for Keith.
Lance’s eyes kept drifting to the clock, each second agonizing. Fifteen minutes until dinner started. Normally he would be napping, but ever since he had non committal-y told Keith he would see him at dinner he could not stop counting the seconds.
Should he be getting ready? Well dinner wasn’t anything fancy, but yes, he should.
By getting ready he means brushing his teeth for the first time today and changing clothes. He doesn’t do that very often. He’s sure Keith could smell the rot on him but Keith’s nose didn’t even crinkle.
He had that stupid look in his eyes though, like he cared, and it pissed Lance the hell off. Lance dragged himself out of bed, up wrapping his body from the blankets he had piled on himself.
He staggered to the bathroom, clutching the sink, skin over knuckles straining from his grip. He raised his head to look at himself, for the first time in weeks, and he looked like shit.
He understood why Hunk would sit a foot away from him on the couch now. His hair is overgrown and matted, and his shoulders sag. His collarbone juts out more than he’d like it to, and the red under his eyes would not rub off no matter how hard he scrubbed.
He stood up, straightening his posture, before hesitantly looking at the walk in shower. A shower couldn’t hurt. It would be doing everyone a favor, plus, he could at least smell nice if he goes to dinner.
He was eight minutes late. He was debating on whether to go or not now.
He did take a shower, but he took longer than he expected, and now if he walked into dinner he might draw attention to himself.
He already would be drawing attention to himself by just showing up, but showing up late? Now that was a set up for a shit show.
Was he overthinking it? Yeah, but doesn’t matter, he was still panicking.
He continued pacing, before stopping to smooth his hair out in the mirror, before tossing it all over again. He had worn something simple.
T shirt, jeans, and that stupidly disgusting smelling jacket he hadn’t taken off in ages. He just covered the stench up with a mixture of cologne, perfume, and the dish soap he had snuck from the kitchen. His face crinkled, as he thought back on his habits of late.
Rubbing dish soap on his jacket and dabbing it in with his hands and a towel that also hadn’t been washed in god knows how long? Jesus, he needed to get a hold of himself.