Archive of Our Own

“I can’t see shit!” Pidge yells directly into the microphone in their helmet, grating at Keith’s ears.

“Just hold on, Pidge, I’m getting you guys out of there.” Hopefully. He squints into the darkness.

The mission should have been simple. A lone emergency beacon on a near cluster of moons pinged the castle early in the morning. Allura hadn’t even bothered bringing the castle into the solar system, since they would only need two lions to scout. Lance and Pidge had gone down in Blue to search the craterous moon, but the moment they stepped out of Blue, a thick, fathomless dark descended on them.

Floating above, Red and Keith are caught in the same shadow. Even the other moons, less than a minute of leisurely flight away, have disappeared. Without Red’s sensors, he wouldn’t even know where the surface of the moon is. 

“Can you make it back to Blue?” He asks, squinting into the darkness.

“We can’t see, dumbass. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one here?”

Keith grits his teeth at the grating voice in his helmet. Lance never misses an opportunity to jab at him. It edges Keith closer and closer to insanity every single day.

Pidge scoffs. “I think I’m the smart one, thanks.”

“What about the helmet lights?” Keith decides to just entirely ignore Lance for now. It’s much easier. But, even as he says it, he fiddles with Red’s lights, and nothing he does makes a dent in the wall of black. 

“Any other bright ideas? Ha, get it? Bright?” 

“That was sad, even for you,” Pidge grumbles. “But seriously, any ideas? I don’t want to hold Lance’s hand any longer than I have to.”

“Hey, you should feel blessed. I’ve got that Grade A lotion from the Argunstian system on. This stuff was expensive!” 

“Glad you prepped for the trip,” Keith mutters. “I can see Blue on the sensors, I could just land and hope you guys feel the impact?” 

“Counterpoint, what if you land on us? I didn’t sign up for Death By Keith’s Bad Aim.”

“Better cross your fingers, then. That’s all I got.”

Pidge doesn’t sound too excited about the prospect. “Any luck contacting the Castle?” 

He tries again, though he knows it won’t do anything. Ever since the shadow dropped, the Castle comms only hum with static. “No dice. I’m landing.” 

Even Red feels unsure as he takes over the manual controls. It takes effort to keep his eyes off the windshield. It won’t help him, but it’s instinct now, after a month in space. Instead, he stares at the sensors, at the tiny, blinking, blue light. Everyone stays quiet, and he’s almost grateful for the silence. But, even with the intense focus and the dryness of his eyes from the weight of his stare, he comes down a little too fast, and the impact surprises both him and Red. The dense blackness doesn’t show a hint of Blue, but the scanner blips the lion at just one hundred feet away.

“I’ve landed. Did you guys feel anything?”

“Um, maybe.” Pidge doesn’t sound so sure. 

“Yeah, stomp around a little bit. Do a little dance, or something.” 

Keith grimaces at Lance’s word choice, but he does it anyway. Red pounds her front feet into the surface of the moon. It’s hard to even tell what’s under their feet. It feels like soil, giving a little when she lands.

“I definitely felt something. Lance, this way.”

Keith imagines the scene - Pidge, dragging Lance by the hand on an unfamiliar moon - and he can’t help but smirk. Red rears up again and slams into the ground.

“Okay, Mullet, we get it, you don’t have to keep tap dancing over there. We’re close.” 

Fine. They didn’t need his help. He laces his fingers together and waits. Pidge and Lance bicker about who’s leading the way, whose thumb should go on top, and Keith is content to kick back and listen. Still a few minutes of staring into the darkness, he notices a change.

“Hate to break up the party, but I can see the end of Red’s nose now. Try your helmet lights.” 

He hears a bit of tapping from Pidge’s comms before they answer. “I can barely see my own hands, but it’s definitely lifting.” 

A sudden beeping distracts Keith from whatever quip Lance throws out, and he jolts up in his seat. “I’m getting blips on the sensors. Do you guys see anything? They look like ships, they’re coming into the atmosphere.”

Red looks up, and Keith almost thinks he sees something pass by above them. Maybe his mind is just making shapes out of the darkness. Hopefully. 

“Get back to Blue, now.” Red stomps again for good measure.

“We see your lights, we’re almost there.” Pidge’s words come in bursts - they’re definitely running now. Blue’s lights peek out of the dark on his left.

The moment Keith’s vision catches twin lights climbing into Blue’s mouth, he takes off, shooting into the sky. The darkness separates into smoky whisps, and the ships come into view. They’ve faced more than this before, but the lack of contact with the Castle sends tension into Keith’s spine. 

Blue falls into formation. “Easy peasy fleet,” Lance says with far too much confidence, and Keith’s irritation only grows. 

“Don’t be pretentious.”

Lance starts a snotty reply, but a sudden barrage of laser fire cuts him off. The lions veer in opposite directions, then join back into formation. They don’t waste time gunning down the offending ship.

The oh-so-humble comments from Lance stop for a few blissful minutes. Keith sees his focus in the quick maneuvers of Blue, and a little bit of his stress lightens. Until a larger ship floats up from the still dissipating shadow of the moon. Keith zeroes in on it immediately. The laser cannon mounted on the top of the ship is relatively small, but it flashes red in Keith’s vision anyway. He’s never been a big fan of those things.

Immediately, Keith whips Red away from the barrage of smaller ships, aiming straight for that laser cannon.

“Keith!” Lance yells, anger lacing his voice. “Where the fuck are you going?” 

“Laser cannon,” Keith mutters, eyes locked on his target.

“We have a formation for a reason! What the fuck, fucking help me!”

The laser cannon starts to charge up and Keith pushes forward on Red’s controls, rocketing through the open space. “You’ll be fine,” he replies distantly, a hard edge in his voice.

“Fuck-” 

Pidge pipes up in the comms, voice urgent. “Watch out-”

“I’ve got it- shit!” 

The distraction sends a blast of annoyance through Keith’s hands, still tight on Red’s controls, and he risks one quick glance back, just in time to see Blue barely roll out of the way of a concentrated blast. She collides roughly into a ship. Unbalanced, she balks, spinning in a disoriented circle. The smaller crafts take the hesitance as an opening, and every laser gun activates

With a growl, Keith changes Red’s course and shoots toward the line of offending ships. Red claws the first two, sending them skidding out into a few others. The disarray gives Blue the time to stabilize, and Keith watches the lion shake off the confusion.

Pidge’s warning comes too late.

“Keith, move!”

The laser cannon from the larger ship behind him activates, and Red takes the hit straight to her side. Lights flash red. Jarring shock and anger from his lion floods Keith’s brain and he shakes his head, trying to bring back his focus. His brain is scrambled and his side burns where it bashed into the side of his seat.

Blue is suddenly there, crashing into a ship Keith didn’t even see. The gunfire aimed at Red goes wide.

“What the fuck are you doing, Red?” Lance’s voice is filled with an anger Keith hasn’t heard from him before.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“I didn’t ask.” Lance’s voice is a stab through the comms. 

“Just focus on the battle.”

For once, Lance doesn’t answer. There’s no witty comeback, no taunt, not even a sarcastic scoff. The silence almost feels worse.

They finish the battle in silence. There are a few hiccups in which they don’t read each other correctly, but they don’t try to communicate in words. Keith swears he feels the anger radiating straight out of Blue while the wormhole to the Castle opens.

Blue lands just seconds behind Red, and Lance rips off his helmet as he marches down the lion’s ramp. 

“We could’ve avoided that if you had just listened to me!”

Keith shrugs and pulls his helmet off too. “We made it back, didn’t we?” 

“With a damaged lion and no intel. Good fucking going, Mullet. Why don’t you ever listen? I get the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing is your vibe or whatever, but the rest of us are fucking sick of it, okay?”

“You didn’t have to stay behind. You could’ve taken your merry ass back to the Castle while I distracted them.”

“What, and let you get killed? You’re a real Einstein, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t help you.”

“I didn’t need your help, Lance. I would’ve been just fine.” Keith barely registers Pidge making their way down Blue’s ramp.

“You got shot with me there!” Lance jabs a hard finger at the shoulder guard Keith has just finished unstrapping, and it falls to the ground. 

“Yeah, because you distracted me! I can’t fucking pilot and babysit at the same time. Maybe if you took training seriously, you’d be able to hold your own in the real world.” Keith’s knuckles turn white. 

“You’re a shitty teammate, Kogane. There’s more people on this team than you. Get that through that thick head of yours sometime soon so the rest of us don’t get killed trying to help you.” Lance, childish as always, kicks the shoulder guard out of reach as Keith bends down for it. “Talk about babysitting, all we do is make up for whatever hole you left in our formation when you go off doing dumbass shit by yourself!” 

Keith shoves Lance’s leg away. “Ever think that I have to do shit myself because you can’t fly? Someone has to make up for your slack.”

“Paladins.” A warning voice snaps Keith to attention. He can’t help it. Even though his Garrison training ended over a year ago, Shiro’s commanding voice still reminds him of the soldier-in-training he used to be. “What the hell happened out there?”

“Keith was being Keith,” Lance grumbles, but he doesn’t look Shiro in the eye.

“We couldn’t contact you. I need a full report up on the bridge.” 

“Keith can do it, can’t you, buddy?” Lance shoots him an icy grin. “I’ve got work to do.”

“What work?” Keith scoffs. What could Lance have possibly come up with on the ship? He sees straight through the lame excuse. He just doesn’t want to be around Keith any longer than he has to. For some reason, Shiro lets him leave without question, and Keith bristles again. “He had a part in this, too.”

“I believe you. Let’s get that report to Allura, okay?” Shiro offers him a hard pat to the shoulder and steers him in the direction of the bridge. 

Allura watches him in silence as he recounts the failed mission, and he stumbles over his words more than once. Her stare alone communicates her deep disappointment, and Keith falters. Hunk appears part way through from his and Coran’s latest project in the kitchen to listen, and he stands off to the side with Pidge. He elected not to go, since the mission was supposed to be simple, but now his silence rubs salt into Keith’s skin.

“So-” Keith clears his throat for what must be the third time. “-Lance wanted to start evasive maneuvers. I knew we could take them. And we did.”

“And you returned with a wounded lion, did you not?” Allura’s tone doesn’t quite sound angry, but she doesn’t sound friendly either. Her stony expression gives away nothing.

“Yes.” Keith drops his eyes from her face. “Red got shot. It’s not bad, she just took a hit to the side, it’ll buff out-”

“It isn’t about the scale of the hit, is it? It is about the mission. It was supposed to be routine-”

“And we were surprised, okay?” Keith frowns. Cutting Allura off doesn’t seem to sit well. Her blank expression turns into a frown, too.

“We will start new training drills tomorrow to make sure you don’t… get surprised… again.”

The impromptu meeting wraps up quickly. Pidge turns in Keith’s direction to say something, but he escapes the room before they can try. He doesn’t want their sympathy right now. The mission went wrong, and it was Lance’s fault. If he was alone, he would’ve been just fine. He wouldn’t have gotten distracted like that, and Red wouldn’t be dented.

For a moment, he allows himself to wonder if it was his fault, too. He didn’t listen to Lance - that part was the truth. But Lance’s suggestion was a bad one, wasn’t it? What if they weren’t able to lose the ships, and they got stuck in a less viable system? Cornered onto an inhabitable planet? So much could’ve gone wrong.

But, Red could’ve been a couple feet lower than she was. The shot could’ve been harder, could’ve come from more directions. Could’ve hit Blue, instead.

Keith lets out a frustrated groan and beelines for the training deck. He’s already dumped his armor in the bay with Red, but he can settle for some robotic hand-to-hand right now. He has a new move he wants to try out, anyway.

He speaks to the room the second the door cracks open, and the simulation kicks up before it slides shut behind him. He fixes the gloves on his hands as he steps closer, focused, intent. 

True to its nature, the robot doesn’t hesitate, and the sparring commences. Keith sets the robot on a lower level than usual and darts out of its way easily, practicing the same maneuver over and over, until eventually it becomes familiar to the robot’s system, and it dodges. Keith’s momentum sends him too far and he skids on a knee, whipping around to catch a kick aimed at his throat. He flips the robot easily and ends the simulation.

He waits for his breath to come back, then starts over. Again, and again, and again, until he’s entirely comfortable with the new movement he’s been practicing. He moves on to a harder bot, then a harder one after that.

Finally, he calls an end to the last simulation and lays on his back, panting. The floor cools the waves of heat in his body and he closes his eyes, pretending for the millionth time that he’s alone in the universe, that no one can find him, no one can talk to him. He’s floating alone in space. He’s at peace.

It’s a daydream that follows him around constantly. He found Blue and brought Lance to her, but what if he hadn’t? What if he took Blue and disappeared, awake and alone and surviving in space? The thought always comforts him, then sends a sharp stab of pain through him when he remembers. Blue wasn’t even for him. He was called to her for Lance’s sake.

The thought forces a frown onto his face. All the previous peaceful thoughts are shoved into a corner of his mind, to be explored another time. Now, all he can think is how unfair this is. He never meant to become part of a team like this. And now he’s trapped in it.

Obviously saving the universe is important. He wouldn’t take that back. He appreciates the task he’s taken on, to eradicate the evil influence the Galra had adopted, to free prisoners and enslaved species. But sometimes he wishes…

He wonders what it would be like to do it alone.

Part of him swears he can’t imagine what it would be like to be in space without Pidge’s genius, without Hunk’s culinary ingenuity, without Shiro and Allura’s leadership. The other part of him whispers that it would be so much simpler. 

He sits up when the door slides open. Shiro’s footsteps are silent, his face placid. “I was watching your practice,” he starts. “You’re improving.”

Keith finds himself ducking his head. He never was good at receiving praise, especially when it comes from Shiro. “Thanks,” he says shortly, and pushes himself off the floor. 

“Want a real partner to try it out again?” 

Keith’s exhausted, but he can’t back down from the suggestion. He nods and gets into a stance, with Shiro fluidly mirroring him. They start on Shiro’s soft command, and fall into a rhythm of punching, blocking, and dodging. Shiro is unpredictable. Keith spent a year studying his training videos after the Garrison. The change in his fighting style after his time with the Galra is like night and day. He’s still calculated, almost graceful, in his movements like before, but there’s a certain level of ferocity that the Garrison never got out of him. The thought causes a brief pause in Keith’s step.

The hiccup costs him, and Keith’s back hits the floor before he can blink. He lets Shiro pull him back to his feet, and squares up again. 

“I think you and Lance really would make a good team,” Shiro says behind a blocked punch. A dodged jab and low kick gives Keith time to come up with a response.

“Why do you say that?” He tries to sound casual, but the anger from earlier edges at his ribs.

Shiro shrugs, and lets out a stream of rapid attacks that Keith barely manages to dodge. “I think you underestimate him. You’ve become an incredible fighter and leader, but you should take a look at his progress too.”

“I mostly just try to ignore him.”

“I know,” Shiro chuckles. He brings his hands up high and steps out of Keith’s reach. “But he’s doing really well, too. Have you seen him practice recently?”

Keith lunges after him and aims a low kick at his knees. “...No.” 

With seemingly no effort, Shiro hooks his foot under Keith’s knee and uses his momentum to send him sprawling to the floor. Keith rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. His arms drop to his sides and rest against the cool floor, muscles screaming. Shiro takes a seat next to him, and the asshole doesn’t seem the slightest bit out of breath. 

“You should take a look next time. Although, something tells me if he knew you were watching, he’d be more focused on showing off.” 

“Yeah, his ego is too big for his own damn good.” Keith mutters. Shiro just shrugs next to him.

“Maybe, but I think it helps, sometimes.” Keith drops his head to the side to give Shiro an incredulous stare. Shiro laughs and stands up, offering Keith a hand. “I’m serious, keep your eye on him. He’s going to do some neat things.”

“In his dreams, sure.” 

“Go shower, cadet. You smell like the Galra.” Shiro makes a big show of waving his hand in front of his nose, and Keith laughs. 

“Whatever, you smell like old man.”

Shiro tries his best to look offended, shoving Keith toward the door. “Shower, then take care of your lion, yeah?”

The reminder quickly quells Keith’s laugh. “Yep. I will.” 

Over the past month, Keith has taken to wandering the halls at night. He’d never been too good at sleeping through the night - sleeping at all, really. Back on Earth, he had propped up his makeshift bed under the only window in his shack to watch the stars go by, when he had the patience. Other times he’d pace back and forth and stare at his wall of conspiracies while that undeniable energy dragged at his skin, calling him into the desert. 

The empty halls are much more comforting. Allura changed the lights to mimic Earth time a few weeks ago, under the pretense of helping their circadian rhythms. It did fuck-all for Keith’s sleep, but the dimmed lights do relax him. 

He spends several nights just walking. Exploring the Castle, taking turns he hasn’t seen before. One night, he got himself lost for several hours and barely made it to breakfast the next day. 

But tonight, he’s stuck in his head. Just yesterday, Hunk had discovered some sort of alien tea on a trading moon, and Keith hauls himself out of bed to go try it. Might as well do something.

The tea is okay. Back on Earth, Keith had perfected his daily tea. He stole several tea bags and honey packs when he went back to the Garrison for rations. One of the only pleasures he allowed himself to take. But this tea, the alien tea, is just okay. Just a little alien.

He zones out on the counter, staring into the depths of his cup as if they’ll tell him the secrets of the universe. That’s probably how Lance manages to sneak up on him. 

“Come here often?” Lance’s sudden arrival is almost enough to make Keith flinch, but he’ll probably never hear the end of it if he does. His voice is quieter than usual, laced with sleep, and Keith is nowhere near prepared for his appearance when he turns. 

Lance always seems put together, even when Allura calls them to emergency drills at two in the morning. Although Shiro’s still working on getting him to change out of his pajamas beforehand, Lance always shows up looking chipper and relaxed from the world’s best night of sleep.

That Lance isn’t the Lance that leans against the doorway of the kitchen now. His hair sticks out in all different directions like he’s been zapped by a stray bolt of lightning as he slept. He wears mismatched socks and a long shirt that comes down over his thighs, almost covering the end of his basketball shorts. Where did he manage to find basketball shorts up here? Was it a special request to Allura? Keith makes a mental note to look into that later.

“You look like hell.” It’s not an attack, for once, just a simple observance. And, for once, Lance doesn’t take it the wrong way. 

“Yeah, not so hot yourself, bud.” But there’s nothing biting in his tone, just the edges of exhaustion. To Keith’s utter and complete shock, he shuffles over and hops up on the counter too. “Can’t sleep?”

Keith quirks a brow. He can’t help it, he’s suspicious. Who is this placid Lance? “Never can. You?” 

A shrug is all he gets. Seriously, what happened to the real Lance? 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep deprived,” Keith continues after the silence. “It’s a whole new Lance.” 

Something like a smirk passes over Lance’s face, and he leans his head back against the wall. “I’m an ogre, Keith. I have layers.”

“...What?” 

Lance’s head drops to the side so he can squint at Keith accusatorily. It’s a look Keith is used to, but he can’t tag any bitterness in the expression this time. “I should’ve guessed you’ve never seen Shrek.” 

It’s Keith’s turn to shrug. “Never really had time.”

“You never watched movies? What about Disney? Not even princess movies, or like, Nickelodeon?” Lance looks more incredulous now. For some reason, they both speak in hushed voices. It’s not like they have to be quiet. The Castle is so spread out, Keith doubts anyone would hear them if they were yelling. 

He can’t tell if the thought is unsettling or not. 

“Not really. I think I watched some stuff in middle school, but I never really paid attention. I don’t think I’m good at watching movies.”

Lance laughs, and it softens the edges of the weariness in his face. “It’s not really a skill.”

“Sitting still and staring at a screen doesn’t really sound like a good time to me, I guess.”

“Wow, I’m finally better than you at something.” Lance laughs again, and Keith watches.

He’s never really taken the time to look at Lance. Like, really look. He spends most of his time staring in the opposite direction, if he can. But this Lance, the early morning Lance with the rumpled clothes and the bright pink left sock, is much easier to look at.

“Don’t get used to it,” Keith says, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Shh, this is a big moment for me. Let me live in it.”

Keith waits as Lance shuts his eyes for dramatic effect and inhales deeply. It takes Keith a second to feel the smile on his own face, and he wipes it away immediately. 

“Okay, moment lived, I feel much better.” Lance opens one eye to smirk at Keith, but he ends up almost… studying him instead. “You’re a real mystery man, Kogane.”

Keith frowns, feeling exposed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re so prickly all the time.” Lance gestures with his hands as he talks. “You don’t let us anywhere near you, but Shiro makes you laugh, sometimes. What’s your problem?”

Even though Lance only sounds curious, it’s an attack either way. And true to Lance’s word, he prickles. “I don’t have a problem.” He looks away. He’s not sure what to think about this different Lance, and he doesn’t like not knowing.

“See? Prickly.” Lance sounds proud of himself, and it sends a stab of anger into Keith’s jaw. 

He pushes off the counter and doesn’t bother to say goodnight as he leaves. 

A month (in Earth time - Keith isn’t really sure how it works out here) passes without the barest hint of the Lance he met in the kitchen that night. The next day, he had automatically gone back to the maddening, irritating piece of shit Keith had gotten used to. 

Today is no different. Most of the team has gotten much better at the bonding exercises Allura throws at them. Most, because Keith just can’t get a handle on them, and Lance won't let it go.

“Come on, Kogane. Hurry up, it’s not that hard.” Lance sounds bored. 

The team sits in a circle in the training room, hooked up to some brain machine Allura had dragged out of the spaceship’s lower levels. Four solid projections of the lions float in the air before their paladins, but Red keeps flickering in and out of existence.

Shiro gives Lance some sort of muttered warning. Keith doesn’t even hear it, too focused on the projection in front of him. To his left, the projected Blue tries her best to get Yellow’s attention, but Hunk’s lion looks too preoccupied rolling around on her back. Allura said they were supposed to be representative of the Paladins’ current emotional states or something, and had nothing to do with the real lions in the bay.

It seems to check out. Black sits patiently, watching Shiro, and Shiro watches her. Green seems to be almost asleep, tail flicking, and Pidge is leaning on their hand, looking almost as bored as Lance sounds.

But Red just flickers. 

The more Keith fails, the more agitated the projection appears, when it manages to solidify for more than a second. The lion’s ears are pinned back, and the tail forcefully flicks side to side. 

“Keith, dude, just focus. The rest of us got it in like, five seconds. What’s the holdup here? I want lunch.” Lance whines, leaning toward Keith to jab him in the shoulder. Keith blocks without looking - another benefit of his recent hand-to-hand training with Shiro - and the mini Red disappears altogether. “Wow, that was really impressive,” Lance drawls, squinting at the spot where the lion had been.

With a frustrated growl, Keith tears the contraption off his head and throws it to the ground a little harder than necessary. Shiro calls to him, but he’s already out the door and marching away.

As usual, he ends up in the kitchen. It’s muscle memory now. Train, then eat to recover faster. So he can train again. 

He doesn’t bother to sit, instead leaning against the counter to shove the green goo into his mouth. The texture doesn’t throw him off anymore. Honestly, he’s eaten worse, and he sees it more as fuel than a meal anyway. It takes him quite a long time without food to even feel hungry. 

A few scattered nights in the desert got him there, when he’d gone a few days too many without sneaking into the Garrison to steal rations. It was always such a quick change, from feeling fine to laying on the floor, body wracked with hunger pains. It’s like his body doesn’t even register the pain until it’s too late. 

He ponders that for a moment, idly wondering about his internal makeup, until Pidge makes their way into the kitchen. 

They stop and size him up with a bland expression before they grab their own bowl of space goop. “Fun training today, huh?” There’s clear sarcasm in their voice, but Keith frowns into his bowl.

“Yep,” he says shortly, and shoves another spoonful into his mouth.

 “Don’t sweat it too much.” They take their bowl over to the table and sit, but they don’t stop scrutinizing him. Every second of their intense stare winds Keith a little tighter. “You’ll get it next time.”

“Don’t be supportive, it’s weird,” Keith grumbles. It’s true, Pidge and Keith’s relationship has been more about sarcasm and light jabs than anything meaningful, and Keith prefers it that way. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge says through a mouthful of goo, “I’ll lay off. But the projections are kinda fun, you’ll see.” 

Keith shrugs and puts his bowl in what the team has come to refer to as the ‘dishwasher.’ It’s really just a hole in the counter that collects their bowls. He’s not really sure where they go, but they never run out of dishes. “Did everyone leave the training room?”

“Yep, all yours.” They don’t even have to ask now. They know he prefers when the training room is empty, and he spends most of his free time there nowadays. 

The rest of the team files into the kitchen, and Lance is talking animatedly about the projection of Blue. It’s like he specifically makes sure to throw a glance at Keith when he recounts how fun it was. “Oh, Keith,” he starts, smirking. “You wouldn’t know, but it feels like-” 

Keith shoves past him on his way out of the kitchen, marching off before Lance can finish his sentence. 

Metal screeches against metal. Even the lights in the training room are dimmed at this time of night. It’s Keith’s third time in the training room today - the first being the failed bonding exercise, then the session after dinner, and now, again, when he finally gave up on sleep. His body aches, but there’s still that fire that he can’t quite put out unless he’s swinging his sword around. 

Sometimes it helps him, to make his body so tired he just passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow in his sad little room. He grits his teeth as he blocks the robot’s downswing. He chose to train with his bayard this time, and the opposing bot had materialized with a sword twice the length of Keith’s. He’s sure Lance would make some sort of joke about it, if he were here. 

Keith rolls out of the way and severs the robot’s leg. It falls to the floor and dematerializes, but the Castle immediately replaces it with two armed bots. Keith takes a second to wipe the light sheen of sweat off his brow, then jumps back into combat.

He hears the door open as he dispatches the first bot, but he doesn’t have time to look as the second sweeps at him with its unfairly long blade. He barely ducks under it - maybe he really is more tired than he feels - and counters a second quick attack with his bayard. A few heavy blocks and lucky swings later, the second robot falls to the linoleum and dematerializes. 

A slow clap starts from the direction of the door and he barely looks before his eyes roll on their own accord. “What do you want?”

Lance covers his heart with both hands like a scandalized maiden. “I can’t come watch a friend in his practice?” 

Keith scoffs humorlessly, but he takes in Lance’s appearance. There are dark bags under his eyes, and he’s wearing sweatpants that look three times too big for his slim body. Keith would bet they belonged to Hunk, but he can’t begin to wonder why Lance would be wearing them. 

“What was that last move? I haven’t seen you use it before. When you like-” Lance acts out some sort of move, and he looks ridiculous doing it in his oversized pajamas. It takes Keith a second to put together what he’s asking.

“Oh, when I disarmed it? It’s new, Shiro and I have been working on it.”

“Do it again?” Lance asks, and there’s something so honest about the way he asks, that Keith only hesitates a few extra seconds before he starts up a simulation. He requests a lower level bot and demonstrates the move slowly, narrating what he’s doing to his one-man audience. The bot’s sword clangs to the ground, and Keith makes quick work of dispatching it.

“What if it comes in lower than that? Could you do the same thing?” Lance really does seem curious, sitting cross-legged in the corner and watching without any of the Lance-typical boisterousness in his posture. 

“Yeah, I’d just have to angle lower, like-” He tries to demonstrate in the air, but it doesn’t make sense, even to him. He sighs, and walks away to grab a training sword for Lance. “Catch,” is his only warning before he tosses it. 

“You want me to train? Now? It’s like, three in the fucking morning, dude. Not all of us are crazy!” Lance immediately starts complaining, and Keith isn’t surprised, but he’s starting to discover that Early Morning Lance has a much harder time pissing him off than normal Lance.

“Come on,” Keith prompts, and gets into a fighting stance. Judging from the pout on Lance’s face, he’s sure Lance will keep whining. But then he stands, swings the sword around a few times, and walks over to match Keith’s stance. It feels like a victory to Keith, and he doesn’t know why.

“Show me how it’s done, then,” Lance sighs.

They run through the move a few times, painfully slow. Keith demonstrates and talks Lance through it, and it only takes a few failures for Lance to successfully disarm Keith. Not that Keith makes it difficult, he stands still with his sword moving slowly, but Lance still grins when he succeeds.

“Ha!” Lance does a triumphant little dance, and the grin on his face only falters when he looks back at Keith.

Keith doesn’t understand when Lance gasps, rather dramatically, and points at him.

“You smiled!” Lance accuses, but he looks way too gleeful.

Keith frowns and crosses his arms. “Did not.” 

“You did! I made you smile!” Lance’s face is so bright. Keith has only seen this part of Lance directed at the others, but now Lance grins expectantly at him, and it throws him off-kilter. 

“No one will ever believe you.” Keith sniffs haughtily. He still feels the threat of a smile on the edge of his lips and he forces it down.

“Doesn’t matter, I know it happened.”

Keith deactivates his bayard and looks anywhere but at the bright light that is Lance right now. Lance doesn’t seem to mind, practically bouncing over to the wall to return his sword. 

Honestly, Keith doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but he stands ready when Lance returns. The two examine each other in a tense silence, and when Lance finally opens his mouth, Keith doesn’t know whether to expect an insult or a joke.

“Want to try the projection stuff again?”

Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that. He narrows his eyes, prepared to defend himself about the failure he committed earlier, but Lance doesn’t give him the chance.

“It’s really fun when you get the hang of it. Just try it, yeah?”

Keith battles with himself inside his mind. Obviously Lance just wants to watch him fail again, right? It’s Lance’s favorite pastime, seeing Keith’s mistakes. He opens his mouth to reject the offer, but Lance puts up a hand between them.

“We’re trying it.” 

And then Keith is standing alone in the middle of the room as Lance roots through the mess of headgear and wires in the corner. How had he even moved that quickly? Keith stares dumbly until Lance stands up straight, hands on his hips, with two trails of wires and headgear presented proudly on the floor. 

It takes a moment of Lance’s expectant gaze before Keith snaps back into his body. This whole situation is so alien - and Keith knows aliens. He steps over gingerly, assessing the setup like it’s ready to bite, and Lance lets out a laugh.

“Come on, Kogane, it’s more scared of you than you are of it.” 

“I’m not scared-”

“It’s a saying, dude, chill.” Lance plops down and busies himself with situating the headgear in his messy hair. 

Again, the uncharacteristic untidiness pokes at Keith’s curiosity, but he shoves the feeling away before it can get too close. Instead, he slowly sinks to the floor next to Lance and picks up the headpiece. 

Only a few seconds pass by before Blue manifests between them. The lion stretches out, then turns to watch Keith with expectant eyes. Keith feels the same pressure in his head as before, like his temples are trying to compress his brain. It’s uncomfortable, and it makes Keith’s head buzz. He shifts his seat and stares at the spot where he wants Red to appear. The pressure increases, and his brow furrows with the intensity of his stare.

Nothing happens.

Keith tries and tries. And tries. Allura’s instructions repeat through his head: ‘Simply imagine the bond between you and your lion. Follow your thoughts to your lion in the bay. Feel the connection, visualize your lion.’

The tension spreads from Keith’s temples to his jaw. His teeth grind, and the silence of the training room rings in his ears, until a voice breaks his focus.

“Close your eyes,” Lance commands.

Keith’s stare darts up from the floor. “I am not-”

“Trust me, for once?” Lance gives him a small smile, one that Keith has never seen. Somehow, Keith can’t look away. “Close your eyes.”

And he does. For whatever godforsaken reason, he closes his eyes, and the image of Lance’s smile burns into his eyelids.

“Now relax, man. Take a breath.”

Keith opens his mouth to argue, but he doesn’t get a chance. A light weight rests on his shoulder - a hand. 

“Take a breath.” 

With a frown, Keith inhales slowly, and lets it out. He actually tries to relax, for his own sake. When Lance speaks, his voice is low and quiet, and something resonates in Keith’s chest.

“Y’know, when we first got in Blue, I was way over-excited.”

“No shit,” Keith scoffs.

“I’m not done, shut up.” Lance shushes him. “I was excited, but I was sort of nervous too. The adrenaline was crazy, and I had this moment of ‘what the fuck am I doing’.”

Keith thinks back to that first flight, with Lance’s loud whooping and the wild grin on his face. He remembers holding on to the back of Lance’s chair for dear life as the lion weaved through the atmosphere at impossible speeds. “I didn’t know,” he says honestly. He can’t remember Lance hesitating for a single moment.

“It was only a second, because I’m too good-” Lance ignores Keith’s short laugh “-’cause then there was the total freedom.”

That one, Keith understands. Bonding with Red was a struggle at first, but when it clicked, they became unstoppable.

“It’s like… I dunno. It feels like I’ve been waiting for it my whole life.” Lance huffs a laugh, and Keith catches a self-conscious note in it. “That sounds cheesy.”

“I know what you mean.” Keith doesn’t expect his voice to come out so soft. Flying with Red feels like instinct. Like he was born to do it. He can turn his brain off and just move. She doesn’t balk from his impulses. Instead, she meets them, and expects him to meet hers. 

When Lance speaks again, it’s almost a whisper. “Hey, Keith. Look.”

Red sits in front of Keith. Well, a miniature version of her. She’s not all there - her back paws are barely visible - but she looks at Keith expectantly. Blue sits quietly in front of Lance, all of her attention on the projection of the red lion. Some sort of emotion thuds against Keith’s chest. Victory? Success? He doesn’t know, but it thumps in time with his heart, and Red’s projection solidifies with every beat.

And the pressure in his head? Gone. In its place is a certain warmth. It feels just like the summer sun in the desert, or slipping into one of the natural hot springs in the caves around Keith’s shack. It feels like comfort, like home. It feels like Red. A hum rolls through his chest, and it didn’t come from him. Red’s consciousness brushes up against his, and his face warms a little at the pride she pushes toward him. It’s just a silly simulation, but Keith relaxes into his success.

He looks up, and immediately tenses. Lance is staring at him with some sort of unreadable expression. His eyes almost glow in the sudden blazing light of Blue’s projection, and there’s an intensity in them Keith has only seen in the midst of battle. 

Keith clears his throat and swallows. “What?” 

Just one word seems to break the spell, and Lance comes back to life. He blinks, like he doesn’t know where he is, and the projection of the blue lion sputters out. 

Lance’s eyes flash down to the empty space where his lion sat, then back at Keith. He almost looks shocked. In the silence, Red’s projection fades, and Keith watches her go. The calming warmth leaves with her, and goosebumps rise on Keith’s arms from the sudden chill.

“Um, okay. So.” Lance trips over his words. He tugs the wires off his head and drops them on the floor. “Good job, and stuff. I have to go. To bed.” 

Keith doesn’t even have time to open his mouth before Lance hurries out of the training room.

The battle was hard enough. Legions of ships pushed and shoved at the paladins, and the soldiers on the surface of planet Llodiac kept the lions divided, unable to form Voltron. Halfway through the battle, Blue was hit head on, and Lance had to make an emergency landing. No one escaped unscathed, but the aftermath had been worse. 

Too much time passed until all five paladins had been able to group together on the planet, bruised and bloody and exhausted. But then came the aftereffects. An unknown body, too small and too broken. A screaming Llodian, falling to their four knees.

Lance had been the first to their side, and he supported the weight of the alien as they howled until their voice gave out. That was hours ago, but it feels like days. 

Upon returning to the Castle, the team hadn’t said much. Keith turned away as Hunk and Lance exchanged a silent hug. Even Shiro just gave each paladin a kind shoulder pat and reserved smile before heading off to his own room. 

For the record, Keith tried to sleep. 

He went to his room and lay in the dark for a long time, blinking up at the ceiling. Then he gave up.

It started out as a simple walk, exploring the Castle halls like he had for months, but unsurprisingly, he ended up in the training room.

Blue had been hit in the battle, but Keith came out bruised as well. He swings his arms a few times to try and stretch out the ache in his forearm. Since they returned to the Castle, the bruise has turned an angry dark red, spanning most of the pale skin between his wrist and elbow. But, it’s nothing worth the healing pods. Those are for emergencies. 

He debates the bot simulation. He’s been wanting to practice more disarming tactics, but Shiro’s been busy, and neither Hunk or Pidge seem like they would want to practice outside group hours. And he’s not going to stoop to ask Lance. Keith swings his sword around a few times, gritting his teeth against the discomfort in his arm. He switches his sword to his left hand and starts up a level one simulation. 

“You’re relentless,” a voice says from behind him, quiet and calm.

Keith flinches so hard he fumbles with his sword, barely catching a sloppy block against the bot. “Jesus, Lance,” he growls. “Isn’t there a protocol for knocking, or something?”

“Nope,” Lance pops the ‘p’ and strolls all the way into the training room, hands in his pockets. Keith shoots him a glare and he just shrugs lightly. “Block left.” 

Keith moves without looking, throwing up a hard left block and saving his own leg from the bot’s blunt pole. A distant part of him questions the immediate reaction to Lance’s direction, and Lance’s pinched brow echoes his surprise. 

Recently, both in training and live combat, they’ve been… working together. Keith blazes a trail forward, Lance covers his back, and they communicate in an unspoken language together. They’re a force to be reckoned with. Shiro has even made comments about their progress, and Lance, unsurprisingly, just teases Keith or takes the credit. 

Despite his momentary distraction, the bot is still just level one, and it disintegrates under Keith’s sword just seconds later. When he turns, Lance is still looking at him with that odd confusion, and Keith rolls his eyes. “Why are you here?” He rolls his wrist in a circle, and Lance’s eyes dart down to his arm.

“Why are you training with a bruise like that?” 

“It looks worse than it feels.” Keith frowns.

Lance huffs and leans against the wall, tracking Keith’s movements as he sheaths his bayard. “Answer my question.” 

“I asked mine first.”

“I asked second,” Lance says with a shrug and a smirk.

“That doesn’t make- you- what?” 

Lance seems content to smile and watch him flounder. Keith shuts his mouth and deflates, joining Lance by the wall and leaning heavily against it. He doesn’t have the energy to follow the fight that Lance is obviously trying to pick.

“I was on a walk,” Lance says, and his smile disappears. There’s something in his eyes that Keith doesn’t know how to name. Maybe, if he actually spent more time with the team, if he tried to get to know Lance more than their stupid spouts, he’d know what that look means. 

On the planet today, Lance had quietly sat with that grieving Llodian. The rest of the paladins stood back. Even Allura hadn’t moved, frozen with a hand pressed to her mouth. But, Lance hadn’t hesitated to step forward. He bore the weight of the Llodian and their anguish, even though the alien had been much bigger than him, and Keith knew he must be hurting from the shot that hit Blue.

The other locals had walked by, offering comforting pats and quiet words, but they hadn’t stopped. Allura had given quiet instructions to the paladins to continue cleanup, but Keith couldn’t stop looking back. Lance kept holding the Llodian. Sometimes he would speak, so quiet that Keith couldn’t hear. At one point, Keith had spotted a stray tear on Lance’s face. 

Keith can’t figure him out.

There’s the Lance who pokes and prods at him, who shows up unannounced with sharp words and devilish smirks. And, there’s the Lance in front of him now. He’s leaning against the wall, his lips set in a straight line, a faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the far wall. There’s the Lance who appears at night and powers up the projection simulation. There’s the Lance who supports the weight of a mourning stranger. 

The absent expression on Lance’s face doesn’t feel right. He should have come in with a grin and an insult, like usual. Something about that look has Keith speaking up, surprising both of them.

“A walk?” He asks, tentative, and Lance looks over. Keith notices that his blue eyes look more grey right now, then notices himself noticing, and quickly dismisses the thought. “Care if I join?” 

Another time, this moment of surprise, the way Lance’s mouth forms an O shape, would have earned him infinite teasing. But then Lance clears his throat and shrugs loosely, replacing the confusion with casual dignity. “Why not?” 

Keith jerks his chin in the direction of the door and sets off without waiting to see if Lance will walk with him. But, within seconds, Lance is beside him, matching his footsteps. 

They walk like that for a while. For the first time since coming onto the Castle, Lance doesn’t fill the silence. Their footsteps echo in the empty halls in tandem, and Keith finds his shoulders finally relaxing. 

At first, there doesn’t seem to be a destination in mind. But, eventually, Lance takes a sharp left turn and strides ahead, toward a large double door that Keith recognizes somewhere in the back of his mind.

It’s been a while since he’s come to the observatory. At first, Keith had come here every few days to marvel at the expanse of stars and darkness outside the window. Then, battles had gotten harder. Training became more important. Keith split his time between training, fighting, and the short periods of sleep he’s able to catch. But, Lance walks into the observatory like he owns the place.

Lance doesn’t stop until he’s inches from the glass. The light of the planet reflects into the observatory in a purple glow, sending dim light across the walls, the door, and the pile of blankets in the corner that Keith knows wasn’t there when they first started traveling as a team. 

Unlike Lance, Keith doesn’t approach the glass. The planet glows impressively, and Keith imagines the Llodians below, sleeping underneath a purple sky. They deserve some rest, after what they’ve been through. 

When the silence finally breaks, it’s through a deep, audible exhale from Lance. His breath fogs on the glass. His nose almost touches the window, and the purple light dances across his face. It’s another one of those moments, Keith realizes, where all the bravado has melted away. Lance’s lips turn down on the edges, and his eyes… he looks tired. Not just from lack of sleep. He looks beaten down. Exhausted. Like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

So, Keith steps up. Literally. He steps to the glass to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lance and study the planet. He watches his breath fog the glass, watches Lance’s breath doing the same.

“Today was hard,” Keith says, lamely. But, Lance’s shoulders sag a little. Keith does his best not to look over, but examines Lance in his peripheral. 

“Yeah.” Lance’s voice is quiet. He sounds like a completely different person. That peppy, obnoxious boy isn’t in this room. 

For as long as he can remember, Keith has tactfully avoided these kinds of situations. It’s not that he wants to be an asshole, he just doesn’t know how to handle this. A sword? His fists? Those he can handle. Emotions? Not so much.

Once, he’d stumbled across a classmate in the hallway, crying because her mother was sick. Very sick. He sat with her on the cold tile, in silence, a hand on her shoulder. Eventually, her sniffles died down. She had silently hugged him, then gotten to her feet and walked away. 

That interaction stuck with him. He didn’t really do anything, and he never saw the girl again. She had simply hugged him, like she needed someone to hold her for a minute, and disappeared. 

For a moment, Keith wonders if that would work with Lance. Maybe he just needs to stand here. But, he glances over, as subtle as he can manage, and realizes he doesn’t want to. He wants to know what’s on Lance’s mind. What can weigh down such a bright, burning light like Lance? 

“No one else stepped forward but you.” Keith sees the moment Lance processes his words. His eyes lower, unfocused. “I don’t think anyone could have done that, except you.” 

He nods, barely. “It shouldn’t have happened at all. That was just a kid.” 

And wasn’t that the truth of war? Even a galactic war like this? The cruelty, the unfairness. Innocence meant nothing to Death. 

“But you stayed with them. That makes you braver than all of us.” 

Lance chews on his lip. One of his hands presses against the glass, fingers splayed, like he’s trying to absorb the cold of space. 

A bit of light sparks in front of them, and Keith looks forward again to catch a stray bolt of lightning dancing across the purple clouds. Sound doesn’t travel in space, but he imagines the thunder anyway. Like during the monsoons in the desert. Deep and all-encompassing and rattling his core. He debates breaking the silence. Pushing harder. But, Lance does it himself.

“I hope someone is there like that for my mom when she finds out.” 

One of Lance’s fingers taps a slow rhythm on the glass. Keith turns fully toward him and leans against the glass. 

“When she finds out?” He repeats carefully

“That I died,” Lance says, and his voice catches almost imperceptibly. 

Keith can’t stop his words from coming out a little harsh. “You haven’t died, Lance.” 

“Not yet,” Lance answers immediately, and he finally looks at Keith. He looks older beyond his years. “We’re at war. Any one of us can die at any time. Don’t you realize that?” 

He’s taken aback by the bitterness in Lance’s voice. “Well, yes, but I don’t waste time-”

“Waste time- for the love of-” Lance huffs out a sharp breath and pushes off the glass, stalking away like he’s going to just leave. But, he turns, and begins pacing back and forth across the stretch of the observatory. “I took that hit today because that shot was headed straight for Green’s eye.” 

“They would’ve been okay.”

“But what if they weren’t?” Lance blurts out, turning wild eyes on Keith. “What if, next time, something goes wrong, and I’m not there to stop it?” 

Keith slowly peels his shoulder off the window, keeping his movement slow so he doesn’t spook him. “That wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Pidge is just a kid.” Lance’s pacing speeds up. His left hand clutches his shirt at his side.

“So are you,” Keith says, carefully monitoring his tone. This is nothing like the girl in the hallway. Lance turns again, holding his side, and winces. “You’re hurt, aren’t you? From the shot?”

“My mom-” Lance chokes on a breath, fully ignoring Keith, and tries again. “My mom will be ruined, Keith. I can’t stop this war and save my mom’s heart at the same time.” 

“You’re going to see her again.”

“You don’t know that.”

Keith has had enough. He moves directly into Lance’s path and forcefully grabs his shoulders. “You’re- look at me, Lance.” He does, and Keith almost wishes he didn’t. The purple light from the planet ripples in the devastation in Lance’s eyes. So, Keith tightens his grip. “You’re going to see her again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t make promises like that.”

“I can, and I will, thanks. No one’s dying. You did an amazing thing today, sitting with that Llodian. That was so hard, and so brave, and I admire that.” He pauses to give Lance a moment to make fun of him for admitting that, but it doesn’t come. “You are so kind. But your mom won’t need someone to hold her like that, because you’re going home after this is all over.” 

Lance’s lip trembles, and Keith blanches. Oh fuck, he has no idea what to do if Lance starts crying. Instead, Lance wraps his fingers around one of Keith’s wrists, still latched onto his shoulders, and gives it a slight squeeze. 

Something happens then. 

Lance blinks, and his exhaustion disappears, replaced with a spark of fire. He erases the weight of the day from his skin and straightens his shoulders. “You admire me?” He says, his tone teasing now. 

Keith’s hold on his shoulders lightens from surprise. How did he do that? He looks like an entirely new person. “You’ll never repeat that to anyone else, got it?” 

“And you think I’m kind?” Lance smirks a little. The sudden shift has Keith entirely off kilter, like the room itself pitched sideways.

“No, you’re a giant dick.”

“Only in the way that matters,” he says with a well timed wink, and Keith rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts. He releases Lance’s shoulders, shaking off the hand on his wrist, and turns back to the planet with his arms crossed.

Quiet returns to the observatory, only disturbed by the sound of Lance shuffling to the corner. When Keith glances back, he’s wrapped himself up in the blankets in the corner like a cozy burrito, and his gaze once again sticks to the swirling purple outside the window. 

The beginning of understanding awakens in Keith’s mind. Ever since he noticed Lance, way back in the Garrison, Lance has been all swagger. All ego, all pride. 

But just seconds ago, Lance had schooled all of his features into a perfect, confident smirk, even though he had almost shattered right in front of Keith. 

He makes Allura laugh after tense diplomatic meetings. He sits with Pidge while they rant about technical problems that must go way over Lance’s head. He sits on the counter and tells stories while Hunk cooks with whatever ingredients Lance manages to find on the planets they visit. He cleans the pods, on purpose, with Coran, and listens to stories of Altea. Keith had even walked in on Lance sitting with Shiro after a difficult battle, talking about dyeing Shiro’s hair pink. And Shiro was laughing. 

He came to Keith, too, after Keith’s struggle with the lion projection. 

All these little acts that Lance has been doing for months. How many times has Lance donned that mask of bravado to stride up to someone on the team and wipe at least a bit of their stress away? To offer his shoulder to lean on, and expect nothing in return? 

Has he dropped that mask a single time in months? 

The thought gives Keith enough resolution to march to the pile of blankets and plop down onto it, closer to Lance than he’s probably ever been. He feels Lance watching him, but he fixes his stare on the purple planet, on the lightning sparking in the clouds. 

Eventually, Lance goes back to watching the planet, too. The quiet is far more comfortable than Keith expects. So, no, this whole conversation was nothing like that time in the hallway, but still. Something’s shifted between the red and blue paladins.

Lance leans forward to pull one of his blankets over Keith’s knees. He settles back down, then bumps Keith’s shoulder with his own. 

The next time Keith looks over, Lance is asleep. 

There’s a certain kind of quiet after a battle. A physical presence in the air weighing in everyone’s very bones. Llodiac is no exception.

In the morning, the team returns to the surface of Lloriac to provide whatever cleanup and medical aid they can. Before stepping off the ship, Allura gives the team their individual tasks. Everyone looks just as dead tired as Keith feels. 

Lance had dozed off all wrapped up in the observatory, and Keith let him sleep. Kept watch over him, as if anything bad could happen in the Castle. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the purple planet spinning below them, but his hyperawareness of the sleeping paladin beside him kept dragging his gaze back over well into the night. 

As they walked out of the lions earlier, Keith had glanced over just in time to watch the tension melt out of Lance’s shoulders. A calm alertness wiped off the rest of his gloom. And then, he entered the waiting crowd of Llodians with empathetic, calming smiles and hands on shoulders. 

Keith falls into his designated task easily. While Shiro and Lance focus on medical aid, crowded by locals with injuries ranging from small cuts to shattered bones, Keith works through the rubble with a few larger Llodians. The group works in silence to scrap what’s unsalvageable, and reconstruct what isn’t. He always prefers this. The quiet physical labor. He can’t imagine being on the front lines of the crowd where Lance likes to be. Keith doesn’t have any comfort to offer.

Still, that foreboding silence buzzes in Keith’s head like a snowstorm in the woods. He can see it in the Llodians around him, too. They try not to make eye contact, throwing all of their focus into raising the wall they’re working on now. 

Keith relishes the weight of the wall against him as he pushes. Some of the edges have crumbled, but the group deemed it worth saving anyway. They’ve been at this for hours, and Keith is sweaty and covered in dust from the rubble. Finally, the wall stands, and Keith uses the synthesizer provided to him to fill in the crumbled stone, almost like spray foam. Whatever it is, it holds well.

The entire group takes a moment, breathing hard. Keith leans against the wall and pushes slick hair out of his eyes. Still, no one speaks, and the tension starts scraping at Keith’s brain. Usually, this doesn’t get to him. He can focus entirely on his work and forget the rest. But today… today is different. 

He ventures a look at one of the locals. They’re almost seven feet tall, even leaning on their two back feet, and there’s an empty sort of look in their eyes. As far as Keith knows, the child yesterday was the only loss. 

He cringes at the thought immediately. A loss is still a loss, and everyone here seems affected. A child, a death, and a ruined city. The destruction shoves its way down Keith’s throat.

All at once, the silence shatters. 

It starts with a sharp laugh, human, followed by the chattering giggle of younger locals. A loud, clear chord rings out, and Keith’s head whips around to find Lance.

Lance, in the middle of the crowd, holding an oddly shaped stringed instrument. Small Llodians crowd around him, their unusual mouths twisting into smiles. Lance diddles on the instrument for a moment, like he’s feeling it out, and then he squares his shoulders proudly and strums again. The children laugh and sway to Lance’s chords, and even the older aliens start to gather. The Llodian beside Keith watches curiously with a new spark in their eyes. 

A new Llodian with an instrument appears, joining in with Lance’s improvised song, then another. In minutes, a little band made up of locals and Lance stand in the middle of the circle, playing a happy tune. Children and elders alike sway to the beat with easy smiles. Allura drags Shiro into the circle, in front of the band, and he spins her around with a laugh. 

Keith can only watch. The abrupt change throws his brain in a confused loop. That oppressive silence died away in just one second of Lance’s brightness. The Llodian next to Keith finally stands and joins the edge of the circle. Lance whoops and picks up the song’s pace, twirling in his own circle as he plays. How does he do it? How does he drag happiness by the collar into the coldest atmosphere? From ruin to a celebration of survival. A celebration of community. And Lance did this.

More and more Llodians take Allura and Shiro’s lead. They spin around in a dizzying dance, and Keith loses sight of Lance for a moment. Until he appears from the edge of the circle, the odd instrument slung over his back, eyes searching for something.

His gaze lands on Keith, and he smiles.

Keith doesn’t understand until Lance reaches a hand out to him. A smile and an offer. Keith starts to shake his head, but Lance rolls his eyes so dramatically that Keith makes it out even over the distance between them. Without his permission, his feet are suddenly moving, suddenly steering him toward Lance.

Even Lance looks surprised as he approaches, but his hand stays outstretched, waiting, until Keith takes it. Immediately, Lance laces their fingers together and pulls Keith into the circle in a strong grip.

“I can’t dance-” Keith starts to say, but Lance’s hand finds his shoulder and steers him into a spin, then grabs his other hand.

“Relax,” Lance says, and Keith thinks that smile might blind him. “I got you.” 

Lance is unrelenting in his dance, spinning and grinning and bouncing on his toes. Keith tries his best to follow, and trades a confused smile with Hunk as he spins by with Pidge

Somewhere in the crowd, unbalanced and laughing, Keith realizes he might be spinning toward Lance faster than he can control.

The following weeks after Llodiac makes the fall worse. Keith doesn’t get a single moment to try and sort through the spiraling thoughts in his head, because Lance is there. He sits next to Keith at dinner, sometimes with a knee pressed against his under the table. He shows up in the lounge when Keith is reading and sits too close, even with the entire expanse of the couch open. He doesn’t always speak. Sometimes, they just sit together in silence, doing their own separate things, together. And Keith can’t get enough of it. Any moment he has alone, he waits for Lance to appear around the corner and join him.

The thought drives him crazy. He’s spent his entire life relishing his solitude. He thrives in his own company. But, now, he searches for Lance’s presence. 

Even the others have noticed. 

Pidge walks in on them in the lounge and sees Lance’s long legs slung over Keith’s knees. Keith glances up from cleaning his bayard, and Lance, laying back on the couch, starts to greet them. Their eyebrows slowly disappear into their hair and they back away silently. Lance calls after them, but they don’t reappear.

Later, after an entire week of begging, Keith finally relents and sits quietly on the floor while Lance braids his hair. Just like Pidge, Hunk walks into the room with a purpose, then sees the two sitting close and freezes. His eyes dart between Keith, sitting on the floor between Lance’s legs, and Lance’s hands twisting in Keith’s hair.

“Oh… hey guys…” Hunk says haltingly. “I was just… leaving.”

Hunk spins around on his heel and shuffles away before either of them speak.

Keith tries to shake off the weirdness of his teammates, but he can’t quite move past it. More than once, he catches Pidge and Hunk whispering to each other, and they never let Keith in on the conversation. Or, he’ll be arguing over something unimportant with Lance, and Allura will press her hand to her lips to cover an untimely smile. 

He doesn’t get it. 

Especially now. They stand on the surface of some planet that Keith can’t even pretend to pronounce. Lance removed his helmet ages ago. He keeps complaining about the humidity, and Keith keeps telling him to shut up. Every time he speaks up, Shiro and Allura shoot each other some sort of humorous look. It’s new, and Keith doesn’t get it. And he doesn’t like not getting things.

Okay, Lance is right, the humidity sucks. They all drip with sweat in the jungle-like biome. Apparently, there’s some sort of society here that Allura wants to offer alliance to, but they haven’t had any luck. They landed right by the coordinates the Castle showed them, but they’ve been walking for ages without a single hint of civilization. 

“It’s just like my cousin’s place in Manaus,” Lance laments. “I hate visiting them. Like, I love them, but it’s fucking brutal the entire time. This might be even worse. I might not survive this place.” 

“You’d think someone who signed up to protect the galaxy would be a little tougher,” Keith mutters, mostly to himself, but Lance cuts him a glare.

“You can’t tell me you’re having a good time in this hell.” 

Keith scans their surroundings. Huge, tree-like plants tower over their heads, dripping in some type of moss. By their feet, they step carefully through vibrant flowers, and several times they’ve fallen into single file to push through tall, thick grasses.

“At least the plantlife is cool.”

Lance groans and swipes sweat from his brow. “You’re not supposed to be an optimist.” 

“Maybe I’m learning new things.” 

“Impossible. You’re like, the definition of stubborn. And-” Lance continues on, but Keith’s attention snaps away.

The flowery bushes directly to his right sways back and forth. It wouldn’t have caught his eye, if there was any wind on this planet. He stops in his tracks, fingers twitching toward his bayard.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, sounding weary.

Lance pipes up, and he sounds just as tired. Maybe a little more annoyed. “Come on, dude, we don’t have all day.” Keith draws in a breath and opens his mouth to respond.

The clearing explodes.

The creature that crashes into the clearing blocks out the two suns above. Seven massive feet hit the ground, all sporting sharp, gleaming claws. Keith dives out of the way just in time, rolling quickly and gaining his feet back. The team behind him splits with the creature’s landing.

Its head reminds Keith of the flowers below his feet. What Keith can only assume is the thing’s mouth splits in five orange slices when it roars, and neon green spittle sprays around the clearing. Wherever the saliva lands, the grasses and flowers sizzle.

“Watch the spit,” Keith yells and runs forward with his bayard.

He hears his name from somewhere, but he doesn’t heed the voice. The creature’s flowery head spins toward him and he slides under the gaping mouth, swinging his bayard up toward its chest. Somehow, it seems taller up close. The tip of his sword barely catches on the spotted green skin, and the creature roars again. A leg slashes out, quicker than Keith expects, and knocks him to the ground.

That voice calls again, and his vision clouds with blue. In one smooth motion, Lance pulls him to his feet and aims a shot into the creature’s fleshy elbow joint. As always, whenever Keith watches Lance in his element, unsuspecting pride blossoms in Keith's chest. He lands every shot with ease, like his bayard is an extension of himself. Somehow, Keith is always impressed.

“Move!” Lance yells, and Keith acts without hesitation, diving to the side. The movement barely saves him from a row of razor-sharp claws. The bottom of the creature’s paw collides with Lance’s arm and he trips sideways. Several tiny red eyes lock in on the blue paladin, and the creature’s long, disconcerting body slithers toward him.

A crash from behind Keith has him glancing back. Two more of the creatures have emerged from the forest, engaging the rest of his team in combat. Lance yelps and Keith jumps into action, berating himself for his distraction. 

Just like Shiro keeps saying, they work together like two halves of a machine. The creature is relentless, sliding around their attacks with a quickness that doesn’t match its awkward body, but the two paladins always catch each other’s backs. Lance’s shot goes wide when the creature charges, and Keith is there, carving into a dappled paw with both hands on his bayard. 

The thing shrieks and rears back on its back four legs. Keith meets Lance’s eye from the other side, and the sheer determination on his face rocks Keith’s core. He keeps trying to ignore this. The confidence and fiery focus Lance adopts in the heat of battle. It’s never the time for Keith’s distraction, but somehow, he always catches it. And it always makes him pause. It always makes his skin tingle. 

Lance’s whole schtick is his cockiness. His overwhelming ego. His quick jokes and easy smiles. The roasts he comes up with on the fly, usually at Keith’s expense. Over time, Keith has learned how to take Lance’s energy in stride, and sometimes meet it with his own fire. But here, in combat, it’s a different type of conviction. A confidence Keith can rely on. And once he learned that he can trust Lance like this, everything changed. And not just the unity in their training that Shiro won’t shut up about. Shit, Keith trusts Lance with more than he should. The thoughts build up in his brain. Keith and Lance work together, more than just as paladins-

Neon green spatters his chest. 

He falls backwards ungracefully. Lance screams his name. Only now does it occur to him that Lance was calling his name, and Keith didn’t even hear him. He crawls backward, away from the creature’s snapping mouth. The acrid smell of his burning armor meets his nose. The beast lashes at Keith and he rolls across the grass. Some of the sharp teeth scrape across him, through the holes burnt into his armor. A barrage of well-aimed laserfire connects with the creature’s head and it turns away with a screech, skin steaming.

Holes burn into Keith’s armor, and he takes the free second to rip it off his body. Green smoke curls off the edges of the chestplate. Even his flight suit underneath steams, holes curling the fabric against his skin. He spares a glance over his shoulder. The other two creatures are down, and his teammates are recovering.

He ignores the burn in his chest and stands. He twists his bayard in his hand, squares his shoulders, and faces the beast. It advances on Lance, who’s yelling raunchy insults behind his gun. 

The creature is too close to the blue paladin for Keith’s liking, but they’ve chipped away at its fleshy exterior. Green blood flows from deep cuts and laser wounds, and it limps toward Lance with half its speed. It breaks into a run, straight at Lance, but Keith is faster.

He sprints forward, the skin on his chest protesting the movement. His pain mutes when he catches the tension in Lance’s stance, though he doesn’t waver. Every shot connects with the tough skin on the beast’s neck. Keith forces his legs to move faster underneath him. The creature’s tail slithers in the grasses, and Keith uses it as a ramp, running straight up the thing’s back. It immediately rears up, attention ripped away from Lance, but Keith doesn’t stop. 

He digs his feet into the back of its fleshy neck and stabs down with all his might. The responding shriek rattles Keith’s brain and the creature flails, knocking him aside. His sword finds a path through the bullet holes in its neck, and green blood pours from the wide slice Keith leaves in his wake. When he hits the grass, he stumbles. Strong arms catch him before he falls, and he’s dragged out of the way of the collapsing creature. 

The thing falls and doesn’t get back up. But, when Keith tries to rise, hands shove him back down into the grass.

“Don’t move.” Worry laces Lance’s voice. He leans over Keith, fingers roaming over his chest. He skates around the holes burned into his suit. The sudden soft touch to Keith’s skin dizzies him embarrassingly. His heart, still racing from the battle, stutters in his chest, and he grabs one of Lance’s hands, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What-” Keith gasps out through his heaving breaths “-are you doing?” 

“Are you okay?” Lance’s eyes dart to Keith’s face, and he finds sheer panic in his eyes. “Can you breathe? Does this hurt?”

Keith cringes when Lance’s free hand pokes his skin, still burning from the neon saliva. “Yes, that hurts, Lance. Jesus!” He tries to slap away Lance’s other hand, but a burn on his bicep has him giving up. 

“Fuck,” Lance hisses out, and sits back on his heels. “You fucking scared me, Red.” His hand wipes sweat from his forehead. “Fuck.”

“I’m fine, Lance.” Keith sits up slowly, and Lance tracks every single movement with a tight expression. 

Everyone on the team has gotten hurt in some way. In the grand scheme of things, this is a small injury. He might hop in the healing pod when they get back to the Castle, but he doubts he’ll be in there for more than an hour. The skin on his chest still burns with pain, but it’s not too inhibiting. This doesn’t warrant Lance’s level of panic.

Lance won’t stop. His hand stays on Keith’s chest, right over his heart. The edge of his thumb traces a hole in his suit, and Lance doesn’t look up from Keith’s burning skin. It stings, but Keith doesn’t stop him. Not when he looks like this, like Keith might melt straight into the grass.

“Lance.” Keith speaks slowly. He leans into Lance’s line of sight until he finally meets Keith’s eyes. “I’m fine.” 

Lance chews on his lip, and he looks back down at the suit. Keith grabs Lance’s jaw, a little rougher than he means to, and forces his head up. 

“I’m fine.”

Lance’s eyes dart back and forth between Keith’s. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out quiet. “Okay…”

“Okay?” Keith’s fingers don’t move from Lance’s jaw.

Some of the tension in Lance’s face softens. “Okay.” 

Keith searches Lance’s face. He hasn’t acted like this before. This fear doesn’t match Keith’s injury. It’s an overreaction for sure, but not in the way Lance usually likes to emphasize things. Keith’s mind races, trying to find the formula behind this, and Lance stares back.

“Keith?” 

Hunk’s sudden voice, just a few feet from the two paladins, makes Keith flinch. But Lance reels away from Keith like he’s been shot. He falls on his ass in a flower patch. Any other time, Keith would make fun of him. But the confusion clouds his brain, and he looks up at Hunk blankly.

“Um…” Hunk looks back and forth between Keith and Lance. “Are you okay?” 

Keith clears his throat. “Yeah. Just some burns. Watch out for that thing’s spit, okay?” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hunk laughs and pulls Keith to his feet first, then steps over to Lance to help him up.

The entire walk back to their lions, Keith feels Lance’s eyes on him. 

Keith grits his teeth and pushes back against the bot. It falls in a heap, but recovers quickly, slicing at Keith’s ankles as it stands. He jumps over the blade, brings his sword down on the bot’s head, and it disintegrates into the floor. 

He lets his bayard drop to his side, breathing heavily, and listens to the gentle music from the corner. The locals from Llodiac last month had insisted Lance keep the odd stringed instrument, and Lance had pretended to argue for all of ten seconds before he accepted with a wide grin. Lance has only brought it out of his room a few times, but he must have been practicing in there, because now the odd strings really do sing.

“Is that Bach?” Keith says in surprise, throwing a look over his shoulder. Lance sits against the wall, still in his pajamas. The instrument sits on his thighs and his fingers pluck a soft melody.

“Why do you sound surprised?” Lance accuses, but there’s no bite in his tone. The recent weeks have made arguing with Lance much harder. They still bicker, sure, but Lance usually throws him one of those soft smiles that has Keith giving up. Or, sometimes, Keith will just laugh, and Lance drops the argument immediately. Last time, Lance had blinked hard, like he was just waking up, and went quiet. Keith had caught an unreadable look from Allura, but shrugged it off. 

“You don’t strike me as a Bach kind of guy.” Keith shrugs and plods over to Lance with all the energy of an overfed squirrel. He’s been pushing himself harder recently. Mostly because those moments where he’s slashing and sidestepping and pushing are the only moments where the overlapping questions about his feelings quiet down. Lance frowns at Keith’s slow movements, but doesn’t comment as Keith slides down the wall to sit next to him. 

“You don’t strike me as a Bach kind of guy,” Lance mimics in an exaggerated voice. “I can be any kind of guy, Keith. The world is my oyster.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith rolls his eyes. “You’re getting good with that thing.” 

“They called it a Sciritula.” Lance’s fingers never stop on the eight strings, though the song has changed from Bach to something simpler. Something less focused. “It’s pretty similar to a guitar, honestly. Just a little weirder.”

“A little alien,” Keith offers, and Lance smiles at him.

“You’re a little alien.” 

“You’re literally an inch taller than me.” 

“Some guys would say an inch makes all the difference.” 

Keith drops his face into his hand and wonders where all his sanity went. How could this be the guy he can’t get out of his head? Honestly, he wishes he could go back to the Keith before all of this space shit and tell him about this. Past Keith would laugh in his face, then probably punch him or something. 

“Don’t tell me I’m wrong,” Lance says, and Keith can hear his shit-eating grin without even looking up. 

“You usually are.”

Lance gasps, and his song pauses so he can press a hand against his heart. Keith watches out of the corner of his eye, pushing down his own smile. “Take that back!”

“Make me.” 

A beat passes where Lance sizes him up. Then, the instrument is on the floor and Lance tackles Keith to the side. 

Keith reacts immediately. He hooks a leg around Lance’s knee and rolls, shoving him to the floor, but Lance has been training, too. 

It’s a chaotic mix of rolling, pulled punches, grappling, and even a moment of Lance pulling Keith’s hair that makes him laugh out loud. They throw insults back and forth until Keith decides the fight is over and pins Lance. Even though he lost, Lance grins up at him, eyes bright. And Keith stills, poised over Lance’s chest, hands gripping Lance’s wrists.

The silence lasts too long. Lance’s smile begins to fade, and something more serious takes up his face. They’re so close that Keith sees immediately when Lance’s eyes drop, just for a split second, down to Keith’s lips.

The instant red in Lance’s face, his widened eyes - Lance knows immediately that he’s been caught. But only a second passes before that neverending conviction settles on his face.

“Keith-” he starts, and his voice is rough. Keith doesn’t even have time to steel himself. 

The Castle sirens blare, the lights in the room flash, and they both flinch.

Immediately, Keith rolls away from Lance and stands. 

“Keith.” Lance repeats, but Keith can’t look at him. Not now. Not when Lance says his name like it means something. 

“Let’s go.” Keith stalks out of the training room without a backwards look. 

The battle is brutal.

Smaller crafts stream from a huge warship in relentless waves. The lions are divided across space, unable to get close enough to form Voltron. The planet below them crackles with dizzying bolts of lightning. Keith keeps blinking against the flashes. Pidge shouts through the comms, and Red spins just in time to see a ship crash straight into Green’s leg. The lion spirals through space, unbalanced. 

Keith acts before his brain catches up. He’s suddenly beside Green, ripping the damaged ship apart in Red’s jaws. His quick arrival pauses the ships ready to take Green’s disadvantage, and he leaps into action. Red pounces across the crafts, claws extended. Green steadies in the air and turns to take care of any ships that escape Red’s storm.

Pidge gasps out a quick ‘thanks’ that Keith doesn’t acknowledge. They’ve been at this for too long, and the paladins are making mistakes they shouldn’t. Exhaustion battles against his adrenaline, and Keith is losing the fight.

“Eyes up, team,” Shiro commands. He calls out to the Castle again, and Allura responds with their arrival time. It’s taking too long to charge a wormhole big enough for the ship. The team isn’t at that breaking point yet, but it’s coming. They all feel it.

Another bay door opens on the main warship, and a black cloud of crafts swarm out. Lance curses colorfully, but even he sounds drained. 

Keith stares at the oncoming fleet. “We need Voltron.”

“We can’t get anywhere close to each other,” Hunk argues.

In the corner of his vision, Blue’s ice stops a few speeding crafts in their tracks. “Then we try harder,” Lance says, though he doesn’t sound very sure in his words.

“Alright.” Black charges through a line of crafts. “Everyone, to me.”

The next sixty seconds blur by. The paladins meet attacks from every angle. Red rolls away from a laser, so quickly that it jolts Keith’s stomach. His eyes dart everywhere at once, falling into the type of focus he only finds when his life depends on it. 

It’s working. The lions inch closer to each other, despite the ships’ best efforts to keep them away. A bit of energy leeches into the team with every successful movement. They’re almost there.

And then, a bay door opens on the warship. Smaller, this time.

Keith prepares for new ships to enter the swarm, but when the crafts leave the ship, they bank in a sharp angle, straight for the surface of the lightning crossed planet below. 

“Allura,” Lance’s voice comes through the comms, urgent and strained. “Are there people on this planet?”

The silence stretches as Allura checks. Then, she inhales sharply. “Yes, a mining city-”

Blue dives before Allura finishes her sentence.

“Lance!” Keith barks out. But Blue doesn’t even pause. She threads through the crowded skies, leaving ships destroyed in her wake. Several more ships turn to follow her charge.

“Everyone else stays in formation,” Shiro commands. 

The beginnings of a wormhole open above the ships. The Castle is almost here. Keith scans the battlefield. Green and Yellow fight side by side, carving a path toward the warship. Carnage of broken ships surround Black, and she bats away floating ruin to pounce on another. The team is fine.

Red finishes Keith’s decision for him, and they spin around to speed through the pathway Blue left behind.

“Don’t-” Shiro starts, then cuts himself. “Be smart,” he warns instead.

He gets glimpses of Blue through the mass of ships behind her. A strong laser connects with her flank before she disappears into the throng of purple and black. He yells Lance’s name into the comms, but the lion and its followers disappear into the churning clouds. All that comes from Lance’s comm is static.

Uncertainty rolls off Red as they near the sparking lightning, but neither lion or paladin balk. They barrel into the clouds headfirst, and the world disappears in swirling clouds. A flash of lightning briefly lights the silhouette of a lion, far off and flying backwards from a powerful laser blast.

“Shiro, they have a cannon,” Keith warns into the mic, but his only answer is the feedback hum.

Gunfire lights up the clouds in spurts, and the display is too dizzying to focus on. Lightning cracks all around them, and Red shakes with every booming thunderclap. Electric blue pulses in the clouds to Red’s right - Blue’s ice, hopefully - and they whip around, charging toward the light. It fades out and Keith is lost again, dizzy and disoriented. 

“The surface. Red, can you scan-” he doesn’t finish his sentence before Red projects the distance to the surface. The numbers flash uncertainly. Fifty kilometers, then forty-eight, then fifty-four. The uncertainty rolls over him again, stronger this time, and he curls his hands over the controls. “We can do this. Just like in training.”

The uncertainty doesn’t fade away. Not completely. But Red has always met Keith’s impulse twice over.

When Red dips toward the ground, Keith almost feels Lance’s hands on his waist, spinning him around on planet Lluriac. It’s the same sort of dance - careening through the crowd, careening through the clouds.

Keith’s breath comes easily in his chest. He lets his calm flood over Red, and she responds in turn. The doubt becomes determination. 

A ship appears from the clouds in the blink of an eye, and Keith throws a hand forward on the controls. They pivot, barely a meter away, and Red banks gracefully back into the cloud cover. Huh. Graceful. That’s a first for both Keith and Red. 

Then, shapes form in the clouds. Ships. So many ships. Keith can’t even count them in the short flashes of lightning. Something touches the edge of his senses and he propels Red into a sharp roll. Her claws rip apart the top of a ship he didn’t even see coming. Shock and a little awe form on the tip of his brain. How did he sense that?

A sharp nudge from his lion sharpens his focus. Now’s not the time to dwell. Two more silhouettes in the next flash. They skid sideways, moving as one, and Red catches a ship in her jaws as it passes. They take chase to the other, blindly following Keith’s sense. The craft feels like a vague wrongness in the air. He can’t put his finger on it, but he follows that wrongness, and Red lets out a blast of fire aimed into what seems like nothing. They pass the ship as it falls from the sky, burning. 

The wrongness spreads. Keith loses track - it’s all around them. He whips Red’s head around in a lucky dodge, and she lets loose more fire. The emergency lights flash once. She echoes his sudden anxiety. There are so many, all around them. More than what followed them from the ship. Maybe they were already here. 

Lightning flashes right in front of them, skittering across Red’s hull, and the light spots Keith’s vision right as a ship circles over them. He moves to get Red out of the damn way, but too slowly. Gunfire rips out - and the ship explodes.

Blue shoots past them and disappears just as quickly.

“-Got - ..you-r… -si-x” Lance’s voice crackles over the comms, distant, but there. Lance is here.

Keith laughs out loud and grips the controls a little tighter. 

“Hey, Blue.” The note of affection coating his voice shocks even him, and his damned lion’s amusement taps at him.

"G-lad.. to- se-e y-” Lance crackles back, and even with the static, Keith swears he can hear him smiling. 

They surf the clouds together. The lightning, still chaotic and dizzying, works to his advantage now that Blue is close by. He keeps her silhouette close, constantly waiting for the electric blue of her ice. They swirl around each other in a chaotic dance, leaving a trail of burning ships behind them.

Keith’s elation isn’t all his own. At first, he thinks it’s just Red, but he feels more. From outside. It’s Lance and Blue, echoing his exhilaration. Someone else’s feelings entangling with his own is alien and distracting, but now’s not the time to dwell on that, either.

Lance and Blue’s animation disappears like a blanket being ripped away. He bursts out of the clouds a second behind Blue, and his heart drops. 

The city burns below them. 

A few of the ships have landed, and Galra soldiers run through the streets. Even from here, Keith sees locals running for shelter.

Somehow, Lance’s intentions reach Keith’s, as if he’s speaking clearly. They split off in determination without speaking. Blue speeds toward the ground, Red flips around to counter the ships trying to land. He has the advantage in the air. The moment any ship dips below the clouds, he’s there to destroy them. 

Red’s tail thrashes, and a black spot of wrongness edges at his mind. He aims straight for it, and they break the ship in half before it has the chance to even dip out of the clouds. “Lance?” He asks into the comms. 

“H-..ere. It’s-” this time, Lance pauses. Half of Keith’s brain stays locked on the comms, while the other half tackles two ships flying in tandem. “There - …a lot… -soldiers. Too man-...” 

It’s the strain in Lance’s voice that fills both Keith and Red with sharp alarm. High above them, through the bursts of electricity of the clouds, something explodes. Something so large that the impact ripples through the atmosphere, and Red shudders in the sky. Keith prays to whatever god might be out there that it was the warship, not one of his teammates.

“Where are you?” Keith scans the ground. Blue sits by a tall, thin building, her shield up. Lance has to be on the ground somewhere.

“Gett-ng.. -inside… t-o..o..injur–” 

Keith growls and smacks a hand against the console. He can’t make out what Lance is trying to say. He could be anywhere. 

Red brushes against his brain, and he understands. For now, he can’t find any of that wrongness in the sky. So he closes his eyes.

His brain floats back to the training room.

“Take a breath.” A hand on his shoulder.

“It feels like I’ve been waiting for this my entire life.” Lance laughs self-consciously. “That was cheesy.”

“I know what you mean.” 

Warmth fills his mind. Red’s warmth. “Hey, Keith. Look.”

Reaching down the connection with Red was heat. Like the summer sun, or a blazing campfire. But Lance is ice. He’s the brush of a cold hand against heated skin. He’s the water in an arid desert. He’s the sparkle of snow in the sun.

A note of curiosity meets Keith’s mind. Not his own - it’s Lance, reaching back.

There’s an awkward fumble when their minds meet. They don’t meld, not quite. It’s like they’re side by side. Not touching, but close enough to try.

Where are you? Keith asks again, but he doesn’t speak.

Images flash in front of Keith’s eyes. They’re blurry and disjointed. His hands - no, Lance’s hands - wave in front of his face, hurrying two aliens along. They’re humanoid, with two legs and two arms, but Keith can’t make anything else out in the blurred image. It blinks out, and Keith lets out an exasperated huff, brow furrowing in concentration. 

Another image clouds Keith’s eyes. Lance has his bayard out. He runs full sprint, firing over his shoulder. Keith knows the shots land. He recognizes the tall, thin building to Lance’s right, and his eyes snap open. 

He scans the city, backtracking what he saw. There. The row of short buildings Lance was running through, on the other side of the tall building from Blue and her shield. He reaches for the console, to join him, and another image flashes in front of his eyes.

Pure panic floods through Keith’s body. It’s not his own panic, not at first. It’s Lance’s, as he looks up at the building.

It shakes the ground as it falls.

Keith shouts out, but he’s stuck now, watching helplessly through Lance’s eyes as the building crashes toward him - toward Lance. He hears a cry, muted and distorted and he - Lance - whips around. A child in the street. 

Keith - Lance - shuts out the boom of the falling building and sprints as fast as his legs can carry him. He doesn’t slow when he reaches the child. He grabs the kid by the shirt and hauls them along, toward a shelter. Somehow, Keith knows Lance already guided several aliens to the same shelter.

Shrapnel falls around them. Lance narrowly dodges a falling slab of rock. It knocks him off his feet, but he recovers quickly and keeps running.

From far away, Keith desperately tries to return to his body. Red’s alarm slams against his skull, and the console thrums under his fingers, but he can’t get back. He can’t move.

They almost make it. They’re right there. With a wordless scream, Lance shoves the kid ahead of him, into the shelter.

The ground explodes as metal and stone crash down.

Keith’s consciousness returns to his body.

The emergency lights beat a panicked rhythm. Alarms Keith has never heard berate his ears. He’s in his own head again, and he’s terrified.

“There!” He shouts, directing Red to the spot he just saw Lance disappear under the rubble.

She rockets straight down, but it’s not enough. It’s not fast enough. Dust and ash billows from the fallen building. He’s right there, he’s under there. 

“There,” he says again, his voice cracking.

Red doesn’t even land before Keith is out of his chair, running to her mouth, ditching his helmet on the floor. She lets him out, even as her legs struggle to find purchase on the debris. “Get the others. Go.” 

It’s dangerous. She’s unmanned. But as always, her determination rivals his own, and she leaps into the air.

The surface is quieter than Keith expects. The lightning strikes are high in the atmosphere, and the thunder barely reaches his ears. Gunfire echoes across the silent city, and it doesn’t sound Galra. The thought barely soothes him as he turns in a circle, eyes wide. 

The landmarks are different now. Crushed by the building. Keith chokes on the dust in the air.

There - the shelter. It sticks out among the debris, a closed and untouched rectangle. Lance had been so close.

Keith has never run this fast. He leaps over crumbled foundation without really seeing it. Though he doesn’t look down, he doesn’t trip, not once.

“Lance!” He shouts, voice gravelly. He coughs and tries again. And again. 

By the shelter, just feet away, Keith starts shoving stone and metal and concrete slabs out of his way. He calls Lance’s name, head snapping back and forth, wildly searching for a glimpse of blue. 

Something weak breathes against his mind. Keith barely notices, until it comes again. It’s barely a whisper. But it’s there. “Lance,” he chokes out, voice grating against the ash in his lungs. There’s a tug on his mind. An unbidden memory of Lance braiding his hair, playfully tugging on the strands, blinks across his mind. He doesn’t stop to wonder if it was him or Lance that offered up that thought. He follows the tug, stepping backward, concentrating so hard he feels his teeth bite through his cheek.

The tug stops, and he drops to his knees. Stone edges slice through his gloves as he shoves them out of the way.

Blue flashes through the rubble, and he bashes his shoulder against a concrete slab, pushing with all his might. Half of Lance’s helmet rolls to a stop by Keith’s foot, and the extra panic heaves the slab away.

Lance lays impossibly still. His arm bends the wrong direction. Blood stains the ground around his legs, trapped under hundreds of pounds of rock.

“Lance,” Keith breathes, hands shaking in the air between them. What does he do? What can he do? How can he fix this?

Blue eyes flicker open. “Hey, Red,” Lance croaks out, almost too quiet to hear. Blood covers his face, pouring from somewhere in his hair. Keith can’t get his armor off fast enough. He rips his suit open and presses the fabric to the wound on Lance’s head.

Gingerly, Keith’s fingertips find Lance’s cheek with his free hand. His eyes flutter, and his face turns ever so slightly into Keith’s touch. 

Lance’s voice sounds like two rocks grating together. “The kid?” 

“Safe.” His hands hover over Lance’s body, not quite touching, but searching. Where else is he hurting? What else is broken? All of him, all of him. All of him looks broken. “They’re coming. The team is coming. They’ll be here.”

“Keith,” Lance coughs, and his body convulses. “I think I’m dying.”

Black spots dance in Keith’s vision. He’s dizzy with panic. “Shut up. Shut up. You’re not dying.”

Lance’s eyes finally focus on Keith, ice blue through the dark blood staining his skin. “I’m glad it’s you. With me.” 

Tremors rack Keith’s fingers when he places them back on Lance’s cheek. “You’re the most stubborn motherfucker I’ve ever met, Lance. You aren’t going to fucking die on me.”

“Will you do it?” 

Keith’s teeth chatter in his skull. “Do what?”

“Will you sit with my mom?” Lance’s eyes glow, the lightning above reflecting in his gathering tears.

“I told you, Lance.” Keith’s voice comes out desperate. He presses his fingers deeper into Lance’s skin. “I promised you. You’re going back to her.” 

Lance smiles then, and Keith’s heart shatters. It’s that smile. The soft one, that he only ever offers Keith in private. In the dark of the observatory room. In the kitchen at three A.M., sharing a bowl of food goo. On the surface of planet Kischdam, where they stood at the edge of the water and spoke about home. 

Lance’s unbroken arm reaches up, and he tangles their bloody fingers together. Keith didn’t even notice the stones cutting his skin, and he still doesn’t feel the pain. He’s numb. 

“That brain magic stuff was really cool, though.” Lance’s voice creaks like old door hinges. “You feel like hot chocolate.” 

“Hot chocolate?” Keith tries to laugh, but it comes out like a rasp. But he continues anyway, squeezing Lance’s fingers. “You feel like when it snows for the first time.”

“Cheesy,” Lance laughs, and his body seizes again. A tear streaks through the blood on his face. Lance’s eyes stay on Keith’s, like he’s trying to memorize him. “How-” he chokes, and blood flecks on his lips.

Keith’s heart beats in his throat. “Stop talking. They’ll be here any second. Save your breath.” 

Lance ignores him. “How’d you do it? The- the brain magic.”

“Lance-”

“Please.” Lance tries to smile again, but he’s breaking. Right in front of Keith. There’s no bravado to save him. No mask to put up. It’s Lance, raw and broken and bleeding. This is the only Lance that’s left. 

Keith bites his own lip hard, cutting off the tears that threaten him. He’s not going to cry. Not right now. Not right now.

“The projection simulation. It felt just like that.” 

Lance nods slightly, and fresh blood streams over his forehead from the movement. Keith curses under his breath. Blood soaks through the strip of Keith’s suit against Lance’s head.

“The simulation,” Lance whispers. His eyes flutter again, and a faraway smile touches his lips. “That’s when I fell in love with you.” 

Keith freezes. He stares at Lance, and when his eyes open again, they’ve dulled to an empty gray.

“What, didn’t you know?” Lance asks, and his weak voice scares Keith more than anything. “You fucking dumbass-” Coughs rack his body, and a low keening noise comes out of Lance’s throat. His eyes flutter, unfocused.

“Lance, shut up,” Keith begs. “Save your strength.”

“No,” Lance tries to argue, but he barely whispers now. “I need you to know.” 

“I know,” Keith whispers back, gripping Lance’s hand like he can keep him tethered. “I know. Now shut the fuck up and breathe.” 

“Find my mom,” Lance breathes. “Hold her hand for me.”

“Lance,” Keith growls, squeezing his fingers. “Come on.” 

Lance’s hand goes limp.

Keith doesn’t cry. 

He doesn’t yell, or scream, or throw things, or huddle in the corner to sob. 

Instead, he lets the cold bite into his skin. He sits, silent and numb. He sits and he waits.

The others flow in and out, but Keith doesn’t leave. When the lights dim in the Castle, signalling nighttime, he lets the blue light from the healing pod wash over his skin. 

He promised Lance he wouldn’t die. So, he’s going to sit here and wait for Lance to get out of the pod, just so he can say ‘I told you so.’

Keith doesn’t like to dwell. But as he sits beside Lance’s pod, legs going numb, he can’t help but sort through the blurry memories from the lightning planet.

Lance’s hand went limp, and Keith screamed. He shouted Lance’s name, he gripped the front of Lance’s armor and begged him to wake up. He ripped his glove off to check Lance’s pulse, then started compressions when he couldn’t find it. His voice went hoarse with his pleas.

Red forcefully slammed down into the rubble, as if she hadn’t even braked. 

A flash, and Shiro and Hunk were there, straining as they lifted the concrete slab off Lance’s legs. Blood poured from the lacerations on his thighs. Pidge was there, helping Keith move Lance’s limp body as gently as they could. 

A flash, and Keith was on the floor of Black, desperately trying to get Lance’s heart to beat, while Pidge applied pressure to his legs.

A flash, and Keith stood in the infirmary, soaked in blood, watching Coran gently set Lance in the pod.

The others tried to speak to Keith. Tried to get him to go to the showers, to get the blood off him, he thinks, but he’s not sure. Even in his memory, their voices are muted. 

At some point, Coran sat by his side with a rag and a bowl of water, and cleaned Keith’s skin himself. Patched up the cuts on Keith’s hands that he still doesn’t feel.

Later, Shiro came in with extra clothes and practically forced Keith to change out of his bloodsoaked ones.

Days go by. Keith doesn’t count. 

“You have to eat,” Shiro demands, and shoves a bowl of food goo into Keith’s hands.

Shiro came in so quietly that Keith didn’t even hear him. He looks up, blinking several times. His eyes are dry from staring at the pod for too long without blinking. 

“Have you slept?” Shiro prods. People keep coming in, keep asking questions, and Keith keeps ignoring them. He replays it over and over. Lance’s death.

That much he’s picked up. Lance died. His heart stopped. 

He’s kept his stare on the vitals screen of the pod. It shows Lance’s heart rate, his blood pressure, his brain waves. It shows he’s alive. 

Shiro flicks Keith’s forehead and he flinches back so hard that his head collides with the wall. “I said, have you slept?” 

“N-” Keith’s voice is a rasp, his throat still raw from screaming. He clears his throat and tries again, but he still sounds like a scraping chair. “No. I’m staying here.” 

“I’m not asking you to leave.” Shiro sighs and slides down the wall, joining Keith on the floor. 

Muted appreciation makes Keith shove a spoonful of goo into his mouth. It burns on its way down his throat.

“It’s hard, watching someone you love suffer.” Shiro speaks quietly, almost reverently. “It’s harder than feeling the pain yourself.” 

Keith turns the words over in his head. Finally, for the first time in days, he turns his gaze away from the healing pod. “You know? That I love him?” 

“I think I’ve known longer than you have, Keith.” The smile Shiro gives him is almost proud.

Keith blinks hard. He hasn’t said it out loud until now. But now it crashes into him like a tidal wave. He loves Lance. He’s in love with Lance. And Lance fucking died in front of him. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Shiro hesitates at the change. “Maybe let him heal first?” 

Keith shoves the bowl of goo aside and stands. His legs almost give out from misuse but he catches himself against Lance’s pod. “That fucking asshole!” He tries to shout, but it comes out more like a rasp. 

“I don’t think I’m… following…” Shiro stays seated, brow furrowed.

“He told me he loved me when he was dying!” He starts to pace back and forth, legs shaking.

“He confessed?” Shiro grins up at Keith. “That’s great! We all thought he’d hold onto that forever.”

“He was dying. What was I supposed to do with that? Just know that he loves me and move on? What a fucking dick - wait,” Keith pauses midstep, and trips over himself. He catches himself again on the pod, and keeps his hand there, relishing the cold against his heated palm. “You all knew?” 

“Oh, my god, Keith.” Shiro drags a hand down his face. “You didn’t?” 

Keith presses his other hand against the glass too, like he can absorb the cold. It feels like Lance. “No?”

The sheer disappointment in Shiro’s gaze makes Keith want to shrivel in on himself. 

“We thought you were playing it up.”

“Playing it up?” Keith repeats, jaw dropping.

“Come on, Keith! The private sparring sessions? He never took anyone else to the observatory. And he was always, always touching you somehow. Even at the dinner table you guys were touching knees or something.”

“You saw that?” Keith’s cheeks heat.

“Everyone saw that.” 

Keith’s eyes drift back up to Lance, floating peacefully in the pod. “Huh.”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself? ‘Huh’?” Shiro sounds miserable.

Keith shrugs loosely. He barely hears Shiro. Now, he’s focused on the ridges of Lance’s face, softened by the blue light. Unlike the last few days, he doesn’t imagine the blood dripping down his temples. He doesn’t think of the dull gray of his eyes. Instead, he plays back memories.

Lance in the lounge, strumming the odd instrument from Lluniac, hopping around and singing a duet with Hunk. Lance in the observatory, curled up in a blanket burrito and making up new constellations. The first time Lance draped his legs across Keith’s thighs while they were reading separate books. Lance chasing Pidge down the corridor in his underwear when they stole his face cream. 

“Huh,” Keith says, and then, he laughs. 

When he starts, he can’t stop. Shiro looks on in both worry in amusement as Keith cackles, gasping for breath, doubled over. At some point that Keith doesn’t catch, the laughter turns to tears.

Shiro guides him to the floor, wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Keith finally cries.

It’s late when the pod opens.

The Castle went dark long ago, and Keith has been drifting in and out of sleep. The first few warning beeps are a part of some dream he was having, but his eyes snap open.

He stands so fast that blue spots float in his eyes. The liquid drains so slowly, and Lance’s shoulders loosen. When the glass lowers, Lance sways a little before his eyes open. 

The silence stretches. Lance stares and stares.

Finally, Keith breaks the silence. “Shiro said I can’t kill you.” 

That throws Lance off. His brow furrows and he gingerly steps out of the pod, unsure on his feet. Keith knows the feeling well. “What?”

“I can’t kill you. Because of Shiro.”

Lance nods slowly, carefully making his way across the bay, one step at a time. “I appreciate that. Mostly from Shiro, but you too, I guess.” 

Silence falls on them again. Lance picks at the skintight pod suit he wears. The laugh lines around his eyes disappear in Lance’s frown. 

The urge to touch him rages in Keith’s mind. Just to hold his shoulder, or to brush his arm. Like Lance is magnetic. But, rushed footsteps echo down the hall, and Pidge bursts into the bay. Their shoulders heave from running, but they only stop in the doorway for half a second. Then, they dart forward and throw their arms around Lance’s middle.

Keith’s eyebrows twitch upwards. Pidge? Showing affection? That might be the strangest thing Keith’s seen out in space so far. Still, they disentangle themselves quickly and aim a sharp punch at Lance’s shoulder. Lance barks out a laugh and rubs the shoulder a little, but those laugh lines are back, and Keith’s frantic heart slows to a reasonable beat.

“It’s so rude of you to come out at night, too. My fucking scanner had to ping the pod opening. Don’t ever-” they punch Lance’s other shoulder. “-do that shit again. Do you hear me, Sanchez?”

His smile softens the smallest bit. “I’ll do my best.”

The vague promise soothes Pidge, and they give him another quick hug. “Scared the shit out of us,” they mutter, but their anger fades quickly. “Now, go to bed.” 

“I just got out of the pod!” Lance crosses his arms.

“That’s not sleep. The pod heals you, it doesn’t rest you. Missing out on eight days of sleep is a big deal.”

Lance’s eyes widen. “Eight?” 

“Eight,” Pidge responds, looking frustrated. “You broke Shiro’s record by three days. Congrats. Go the fuck to bed.” 

The number startles Keith, too. That means he’s been in here, watching that pod like a hawk, for eight entire days. The amount of training he’s missed out on…

But even with that, he can’t imagine training with Lance in the pod. He would’ve spent the entire time with flashes of Lance, blood on his face. Legs trapped. Arm broken, ribs crushed. Lance’s ruined voice would have played back, over and over again. 

“Will you sit with my mom?”

But Lance laughs, and Keith violently jolts out of the memories he’s lived in for the past eight days. He didn’t catch what Pidge said, but Lance is leaning heavily against their shoulder. At first glance, it seems casual, but Pidge stands a little taller. They’re supporting his weight.

Pidge elbows him in the stomach, but they’re obviously holding back, just teasing. But, they cross their arms stubbornly. “Time for bed, Sanchez.”

“You’re just like my mom,” Lance complains. “Five more minutes.”

“I’ll literally make you sit in the corner.”

Lance drops his head back to groan dramatically at the ceiling. “Fiiiiiine, I’ll go.” 

“I’ll walk with you,” Keith says quickly, and both Pidge and Lance look up, like they forgot he’s here.

Pidge throws some sort of Look at Keith. “Don’t let him do anything stupid.” 

“We’re literally walking to my room-”

“And have him in bed by nine, and make sure he brushes his teeth.”

Keith nods seriously. “Nine o’clock, teeth brushing. Got it.” 

“I’m right here,” Lance protests.

“Obviously you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself,” Pidge says sharply, and Lance sobers right up. 

He squeezes their shoulder and lets go, straightening up. “‘Night, Pidge. Don’t trip and fall and hit your head on the way back.”

“I’ll do my best,” they say in a mocking tone. They salute loosely (with the wrong hand, but Keith doesn’t correct them) and stroll out of the bay. 

Then, it’s just Lance and Keith again. Uncharacteristically, Lance doesn’t meet his eyes. His bare foot twists on the floor.

“Come on,” Keith mumbles. Lance looks up, a little sheepishly, and nods. 

Keith leads the way out of the bay, but one glance back has him slowing. Lance walks gingerly, and Keith catches a subtle shake in his knees. He stops, letting Lance catch up. Without leaving space for arguing, Keith grabs Lance’s arm and loops it around his shoulders. He wraps his arm around Lance’s waist and continues on down the hall like nothing happened. It’s the most movement his body has seen in days, and only now does he regret it. His legs ache already.

“So.” Lance finally speaks up. They move slowly, and the shake in Lance’s legs only emphasizes with their crawling pace. “How heroic was it?” 

“Heroic?” Keith says incredulously, glancing up at him. Lance shoots him a sideways smirk, and it’s a little too close for Keith’s poor heart, so he focuses on the floor instead. 

“Like, running around saving people, and getting that kid to shelter, and all that. Pretty cool of me. Right?” He plays it off casually, but Keith catches a quiet, self-conscious undertone.

“Sure,” Keith drawls, matching his casual tone. “It was fine.”

“Fine! I was cool. Say it.”

“For a few minutes, sure. But I was up there protecting the city too, remember?” 

“And it was very cool.” Lance’s hand pats Keith’s shoulder. He leans on him heavily, though neither acknowledge it.

“I know.” 

They lapse back into silence. Lance stumbles, and Keith’s fingers dig into his side to keep him upright. He catches Lance’s lips twist into an uncomfortable frown. Suddenly, Lance stops, and Keith almost trips over both of their feet. 

“I don’t want to go to my room.”

“Pidge said to get you in bed by nine-”

“Both of you need to shut up, I’m an adult.”

Keith scoffs. “Debatable.”

“Come on.” Then, Lance is steering Keith by his shoulder, pulling him in the opposite direction. Keith stumbles again, and his hand grips Lance’s waist. Lance walks quickly, but Keith still feels him shaking through his hand. At this point, they all know what it’s like to step out of a healing pod and feel unbalanced. But, Lance’s legs were fucking lacerated - Keith cuts that thought off there.

“Lance…” 

“Just humor me, okay? For once?” 

“I literally always humor you,” Keith mutters, and he pretends not to see the smile that spreads over Lance’s face. 

“I know.”

When they round the corner, Lance’s arm drops from Keith’s shoulders and he strides forward, although unsteadily, to burst through the observatory doors. They slam against the wall in a deafening bang. But, he doesn’t stop there. He marches straight up to the glass.

“Lance?” Keith asks carefully. The room darkens as the door swings shut behind them. 

Stars float outside the window like fireflies. Lance had made the metaphor once and Keith teased him for it, but right now, he gets it. They twinkle out in the darkness, and the moving Castle makes it easy to imagine them bobbing around in dark grasses.

Lance places his hands on his hips and stares out into the dark. His lips are a thin line, his eyes dark and serious.

With no response, Keith hesitantly steps closer. “Lance? You good?”

Lance turns to look at Keith. Study him, more like. There’s a crease in his brow, and his eyes roam across Keith’s face, taking him in. 

“Lance-”

In one breath, Lance’s hand fists in Keith’s shirt, and their lips brush. Softly, at first, barely touching. Then, Keith inhales sharply and touches his fingertips to Lance’s jaw.

That’s all it takes. 

Keith’s spine hits the glass and their lips slot together. Melt together. Keith’s fingers thread into Lance’s messy hair, his other hand falling to Lance’s chest. But Lance moves closer, presses him against the window, like he can’t get close enough.

Keith doesn’t mean to, not really. He doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until Lance responds, letting his mind brush against Keith’s open senses. 

Keith flinches at the sensation - the sudden Lance. Before, when their consciousnesses touched, it was strategic. Broadcasting plans or directions. It’s still muted, like someone calling to him from across a gaping canyon, but if Keith focuses, he starts to narrow down what exactly he’s feeling. The emotion pouring out of him drowns Keith, and he pulls back, just a hair. Just enough to look Lance in the eyes. Their breaths mingle, and Lance’s eyes are wide, but sure.

Affection. That’s what it is. It burns Keith from the inside out. An icy fire ripping through his veins, settling in his chest, circling his heart with cold, gentle hands. Keith can barely breathe through it.

“Why do you want to kill me?” Lance asks, and Keith feels a touch of humor in the rushing river of Lance’s emotions.

“Because you died,” Keith manages to whisper. “You died, and you didn’t let me say it back.” 

Lance’s lips twitch upward. Honestly, Keith isn’t sure what he’s broadcasting to Lance, but he has a damn good guess.

“Well, I’m still here,” Lance hedges. “I’m listening.” 

This is going to be the death of Keith. This man. This paladin. This teammate. This partner. He’s going to kill Keith, just by standing there, with the hint of a smile and laugh lines crinkling his eyes.

Keith’s eyes dart back down to Lance’s lips, and a brief mix of humor and affection touches the connection between their minds. Right. Keith is still broadcasting all of this. He doesn’t really know how to shut that off yet.

But he looks back up. He looks between Lance’s eyes. Sometimes, Lance’s eyes are the blue edges of a fire. Or, sometimes, the ocean in the morning, crystal clear and sparkling. But, now, in the observatory, they mirror the galaxy behind Keith’s back. Dark and depthless, swirling with stars. 

Maybe it was his eyes that got him first. Or his smile. The soft one he wears now, or even the cocky smirk he gets when they spar. Or the constant cold of his fingers, and the way likes to press them to the back of Keith’s neck to annoy him. 

Lance’s face has gone serious. His eyes are lidded, taking in everything Keith is throwing at him. And it’s the seriousness that makes Keith open his traitorous mouth.

“I like you. A little.” 

With that, Lance’s expression dissolves into a grin. “You like me?” He laughs, breath brushing against Keith’s lips. “A little?” 

Keith can’t help his responding smile. “A really small little.” 

Lance moves his foot between Keith’s feet. Really, Keith wants to hate the way he has to tilt his chin up to look Lance in the eyes. But he can’t. “I’m deciding if I want to live with that.”

Keith’s humor drains away. “It’s too early to make jokes about that.”

“I didn’t-” Lance hums thoughtfully. “Oh. Oops.”

“Oops?”

“Oops.” Lance shrugs. 

With an exasperated huff, Keith surges forward, crashing their lips together. It’s not pretty, but it’s perfect. He feels Lance smile against his lips, and his heart responds, skipping over itself. Out of elation, out of love, out of fear to lose Lance again, he doesn’t know. But for now, this is all he needs. Lance, in his arms, safe and whole again. 

This, he can live with.