Archive of Our Own

the displacement didn't make a sound.

the air came back into his lungs all at once, cold and sharp, burning like needle points. keith hit the dirt on his hands and knees, the impact rattling up through his wrists. he stayed there for a long time, chest heaving, his head pounding with a dull, rhythmic throb that pulsed right behind his eyes.

the ground beneath him wasn't stone. it wasn't the slick, freezing floor of the altean temple. it was dry, packed earth, smelling faintly of baked clay and old engine oil.

keith squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his breathing to slow down. one, two, three. he counted the beats, waiting for the temporal nausea to pass, waiting for lance’s voice to crack through his comms and call him an idiot for taking the hit.

silence.

slowly, keith uncurled his fingers from the dirt. he lifted his left hand to his face.

the thick, scarred leather of his paladin gauntlet was gone. in its place was a plain, pale wrist, the skin clean and unblemished. no faded white mark across his knuckle from the blade training on Daibazaal. no black metal band resting against the base of his ring finger.

he stared at his bare hand for three full seconds before his gaze slid up his arm to the sleeve of a worn, dark-green garrison flight jacket.

"no," keith breathed into the quiet dust.
he pushed himself up, his legs slightly unsteady, and looked around.

the desert stretched out for miles, fading into a hazy orange twilight that bruised the horizon in shades of violet and dusty red. behind him, half a mile down the ridge, the harsh floodlights of the garrison main hangar flickered on one by one, humming with that flat, low frequency he hadn't heard in over fifteen years.

he was back.

he didn't know how, or why, or what kind of spatial tear had dragged him across a decade of his own life, but he was standing on the ridge behind the simulator bays. he was seventeen years old again. thin, sharp-edged, and completely alone.

a heavy knot formed in the center of his throat, hard as lead.

lance.

if keith was here, if the timeline had reset itself, then–

"hey! kogane!"

the voice cut straight through the desert air.
keith’s whole body locked up. he didn't turn around right away. he couldn't. he needed a second to steady his hands, to shove them deep into his jacket pockets so they wouldn't shake, to pull down the wall he’d spent a decade tearing down just so he wouldn't scream.

he took a slow breath, turned his head, and looked up the ridge.

lance was walking down the dirt incline, carrying a heavy torque wrench in his right hand.
he was so small. his shoulders were narrow, his garrison uniform slightly too loose around his chest, his hair a messy, unstyled disaster from a full day in the flight simulators. he didn't have the broad frame he’d grow into by twenty. he didn't have the quiet, steady weight in his stance that came after surviving a universe-ending war.

he just looked like a kid. a defensive, glaring kid who was currently staring at keith like he wanted to throw the wrench right at his head.

"you were supposed to clear the flight deck ten minutes ago," lance snapped, stopping about six feet away on the slope. he threw his weight onto one hip, pointing the wrench accusingly at keith’s chest. "if iverson docks my simulator hours because you were out here sulking in the dirt, i swear to god, i'm loosening the bolts on your hoverbike."

keith just stood there.

he didn't move. he didn't fire back a sharp, bitter insult like he would have back then. he just watched the way the wind caught the stray strands of lance’s hair, the faint smudges of dark grease across his nose, the sharp, stubborn line of his chin.

lance’s glare wavered. the cocky posture stayed, but his eyebrows pulled together, a tiny furrow forming between his eyes as keith’s silence stretched out too long.

"what?" lance asked, taking a half-step back, his guard instantly snapping up. "why are you looking at me like that? did you finally lose your mind?"

keith swallowed down the dry heat in his mouth. he kept his hands buried deep in his pockets, feeling the fabric tear slightly under his knuckles as he gripped the lining just to anchor himself.

"no," keith said softly.

lance blinked, the wrench dipping an inch.

"...no?"

"i'm fine," keith added, his tone entirely too calm, completely stripped of the defensive prickle lance was clearly bracing for.

lance narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, his boots crunching loudly in the gravel. he squinted at keith, searching his face for something, a smirk, a joke, a trap. when he didn't find one, he looked even more annoyed.

"you're being weird," lance declared, pointing the wrench at him again. "you've been weird all week, but right now you look like you're seeing a ghost. if this is some new tactic to mess with my head before tomorrow's flight evaluations, it's not going to work. i'm taking the top score, kogane. bank on it."

keith looked down at the point of the wrench, then back up at lance’s eyes.

there was so much noise in them, fear, ambition, a desperate need to be seen, to be good enough, to prove he belonged here. keith remembered how much lance had hidden behind that loud, arrogant shell during these first few months at the garrison. he remembered how long it had taken him to realize that lance wasn't arrogant at all. he was just terrified of being forgotten.
a sudden, sharp ache bloomed right behind keith's ribs.

"you're going to take the banked turn on the third lap too wide," keith said.

the words came out before he could stop them, quiet, matter-of-fact, lacking any of the sharp, competitive edge he used to throw into their arguments.

lance froze. "what?"

"the third lap," keith repeated, stepping forward just half an inch. "the simulated crosswind on the ridge. you always try to compensate by pulling the stick hard left, but you overcorrect. keep your hands steady."

lance stared at him. his jaw literally went slack for a second before snapping shut so hard his teeth clicked. his face flushed a sudden, brilliant red, the color spreading straight down to his collar.

"i do not overcorrect!" lance stammered, his voice cracking right on the last syllable. he shoved the wrench into his belt, crossing his arms tight over his chest, his eyes wide and furious. "who asked you anyway? who gave you the right to analyze my flying, you pretentious–"

"i'm just telling you," keith cut in smoothly. he couldn't help it. a tiny, involuntary twitch touched the corner of his mouth, the familiar, easy habit of teasing lance pulling through the grief before he could stop it. "you flex too much when you see high numbers on the monitor."

"I DO NOT FLEX!" lance yelled, taking a fast, aggressive step straight into keith’s space. he was breathing hard, his chest heaving under his jacket, his face burning as he glared up at keith. "i don't flex! i fly with style! something you clearly know nothing about, Mr. I-Sit-In-The-Corner-And-Brood!"

they were standing close now. close enough that keith could feel the heat radiating off lance’s skin, close enough to see the tiny flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

keith didn't back down. he didn't raise his voice. he just tilted his head down slightly, looking at lance with a cool, infuriating patience that made lance’s eye twitch.

"right," keith hummed, his voice dropping into that low, quiet register that usually meant he was about to say something completely unhinged. "style."

lance swallowed hard. his throat bobbed. he opened his mouth to snap another insult, but the absolute lack of hostility in keith’s eyes completely stalled him out. he stood there in the dirt, trapped between his own defensive anger and the sudden, suffocating feeling that keith was looking right through him.

"...you're insane," lance whispered, his voice losing its bite, sounding smaller now. "you're actually insane."

"maybe," keith admitted quietly.

he forced himself to take a step back, breaking the proximity before his hands did something stupid, like reaching out to fix the crooked collar of lance’s shirt, or catching his wrist just to feel his pulse.

"come on," keith said, turning his shoulder toward the path leading back to the barracks. "it's almost curfew. iverson's going to lock the doors."

lance stayed where he was for a second, watching keith’s back with a look of pure, utter bewilderment.

they walked in silence down the long gravel path that led toward the main garrison quad.

lance was vibrating with a weird, prickly energy three steps behind him, his boots scraping loudly against the dirt like he was trying to make as much noise as humanly possible. every time keith slowed his pace even a fraction, lance would instantly slow down too, careful to maintain that exact three-foot buffer zone between them.

"you're still doing it," lance muttered under his breath, glaring at the back of keith's head.
keith didn't turn around. "doing what?"

"that... walking thing. like you're too cool for the rest of us."

a small, involuntary twitch touched the corner of keith's mouth. "i'm just walking, lance."

"you're walking weird!" lance insisted, pulling ahead slightly until they were shoulder-to-shoulder, though he kept his arms crossed tight against his chest. "and you haven't mentioned your hoverbike once. usually by now you've bragged about some illegal engine modification you made over the weekend."

keith kept his hands deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the bright overhead floodlights of the courtyard ahead. "didn't feel like bragging."

lance stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open for a second before he caught himself. "who are you and what have you done with the mullet kid?"

before keith could answer, a voice called out from the lit doorway of the comms building.

"hey, lance! you still got those simulator notes from tuesday?"

keith paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked over.

a cadet from the communications track, a tall guy named strayer with crisp, perfectly ironed sleeves, was leaning against the doorframe, holding a datapad. strayer had been one of the dozens of people lance tried to impress back then with terrible line drops and obnoxious hair flips just to get a fraction of attention.

lance’s whole posture shifted instantly. the sharp, defensive prickle melted away into that smooth, overly casual stance he used when he wanted to look cool.

"oh, strayer!" lance said, his voice dropping half an octave as he smoothed down the front of his jacket. "yeah, man. i scribbled down some flight coordinates during the night shift. i could... walk them over to your dorm later, if you need help decoding them."

he flashed a grin, bright, cocky, and entirely fake.
keith felt a sharp, cold knot twist right in the center of his chest.

it was a strange, suffocating kind of heat. in his timeline, lance only looked at him like that, well, not with the fake charm, but with that soft, undivided warmth when they were alone in the lion huddles or sitting on the kitchen counters at two in the morning.

seeing lance pull out that cheap, defensive flirting on some random comms cadet hit keith like a physical punch to the ribs.

he didn't have the right to be jealous. he knew he didn't. this lance didn't belong to him yet.
but keith’s body didn't care about temporal logic.
without thinking, keith took two long strides, closing the distance between them until his shoulder bumped firmly against lance’s. he didn't look at the comms cadet. he just kept his dark eyes fixed on the side of lance’s face, his presence heavy, oppressive, and impossible to ignore.

lance stumbled slightly from the impact, his smooth smile instantly dropping into a look of utter shock. "dude! what is your pro-"

"he's busy," keith said flatly.

his voice wasn't loud, but it was low, dangerously calm, carrying that sharp authority he had used when commanding a squad of blade of marmora fighters.

strayer blinked, looking between keith’s terrifyingly dark glare and lance’s bright red face.

"...what?"

"he has curfew in ten minutes," keith added, his hand coming out of his pocket to grab the strap of lance's heavy flight pack, tugging it firmly back toward himself. "and his notes are terrible. he mixed up the vector coordinates twice."

"HEY!" lance shrieked, his face turning a dark, furious crimson as he tried to yank his bag back, but keith’s grip was like iron. "they are NOT terrible! i have incredible handwriting!"

"you write like a toddler on a bumpy hovercraft," keith said without missing a beat, stepping directly between lance and strayer, completely blocking the comms cadet from lance’s line of sight. "come on. hunk's waiting."

strayer took a hesitant step backward into the comms building, clearly wanting zero part of whatever intense, terrifying dynamic was happening in front of him. "uh... yeah. never mind, lance. see you in the mess hall."

the door slid shut.

lance whipped around to face keith, his chest heaving, his hazel eyes wide with pure, unadulterated outrage. he shoved keith’s shoulder with both hands, but keith barely swayed.

"what the hell was that?!" lance hissed, his voice cracking violently. "i was being smooth! i was making a connection!"

keith didn't apologize. he didn't even look guilty. he just stood there, looking down at lance with a possessive, dark intensity that made the air between them feel ten degrees hotter.

"he's boring," keith stated simply.

lance stared at him, his mouth opening and closing in absolute disbelief. "he's- what?!"

"he's boring," keith repeated, taking a half-step closer, his eyes dropping to the way lance’s pulse was hammering in the crook of his collarbone. "and you have bad taste when you're desperate for validation."

lance gasped, a sound of pure offended disbelief.

"i'm not desperate, have you never craved-"

he stopped himself, catching the way keith was staring at him. keith wasn't mocking him. he wasn't laughing. he was looking at lance like he wanted to drag him into an empty supply closet and lock the door, his jaw set so tight a muscle was twitching in his cheek.

lance’s breath hitched. he took a small step back, his face burning hotter than the desert sand, his hand flying up to cover his own throat like he was trying to hide his racing pulse.

"you don't get to do that," lance whispered, his voice dangerously quiet now, stripped of the performing bravado he'd used on strayer. "you don't get to just walk into my conversations and decide who i talk to. we aren't friends. we aren't team members. we're rivals. you barely even look at me unless we're on the leaderboard!"

keith looked down at him. "i look at you."

lance’s hand froze near his collarbone. "...what?"

"i look at you all the time," keith repeated, his voice low, steady, and completely devoid of the sharp edge lance was expecting. "you're just too busy looking everywhere else to notice."

lance stared at him. the hallway was dead silent except for the flat, rhythmic hum of the air recyclers overhead. the anger on lance's face flickered, faltering into something open, vulnerable, and deeply confused.

"stop," lance rasped, taking a slow step backward, putting distance between them like keith was something dangerous. "stop talking like that. it's weird. you're being weird."

"lance-"

"no," lance interrupted, backing up toward the door of his dorm bay. "i don't know what kind of head game this is, keith, but i'm done. i'm going to bed."

the metallic door hissed open behind him. lance paused in the threshold, letting out a sharp, ragged breath before stepping inside and letting the heavy door slide shut between them.

the next morning, the heat in the simulator hangar was oppressive before seven in the morning.

keith leaned against the railing near the bay three entrance, his arms folded over his chest. he looked dead on his feet, but his eyes were sharp.
when lance walked in with hunk, he looked like he hadn't slept a minute. his eyes were slightly bloodshot, his garrison jacket thrown on a little crookedly over his shoulders. lance’s gaze immediately cut across the hangar floor until it landed squarely on keith.

they reached the base of the simulation pod. keith didn't move from his spot by the rail, but as lance passed him to step onto the launch platform, keith straightened up.

"third lap," keith said quietly, his voice cutting clean through the ambient noise of the hangar.
lance stopped dead on the metal grate. "i told you to stop."

"don't jerk the stick," keith continued, his tone low, almost intimate. "you have a habit of pulling left when the simulated crosswind hits the canyon wall. just let the vector carry you. trust the ship."

lance slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder, dark eyes filled with a dangerous mix of frustration and something heavy he couldn't name.

"why do you care?" lance whispered, the bite completely gone from his voice. "you've never given me advice a day in your life. you barely even acknowledge i'm in the same class."

keith stepped off the railing, closing the short distance between them.

"i'm watching you, lance," keith said softly, the truth slipping out before he could filter it down into something safe. "i've always been watching you."

lance’s breath hitched loud enough for hunk to turn around in surprise.

for three long seconds, nobody moved. lance stared down at keith, his face slowly flushing a deep, burning crimson from his neck to his hairline, before backing into the simulator pod so fast his heel caught the frame, slamming the door shut.

by noon, the mess hall was loud, a chaotic wall of clinking tray metal.

keith was sitting at the edge of a corner table, staring blankly into an untouched bowl of oatmeal. he was exhausted, running on garrison slop, spatial jetlag, and ten years of memories.
a tray slid onto the table across from him with a loud clatter.

a senior named golden from the upper-tier fighter track leaned back in his seat with an annoying, confident smirk.

"you know, kogane, i saw your flight times this morning. impressive stuff. but you always sit out here alone. i was thinking... maybe after curfew, we take a couple of hoverbikes out past the perimeter? just the two of us.

keith blinked, his mind sluggishly processing the words. back in the future, nobody flirted with keith, everyone knew he was fiercely, aggressively taken by the blue paladin.

without even thinking, operating on ten years of ingrained marital muscle memory, keith narrowed his eyes and flatly said:

"i'm married."

the table went dead silent.

golden’s smirk froze. "...what?"

the second the word left keith’s mouth, a cold spike of ice shot straight down his spine. fuck. keith stiffened, his fingers locking around the edge of his tray.

"you're what?"

the voice came from right behind his chair.
keith slowly turned his head. lance was standing there, holding an apple, looking like he’d been struck by lightning. golden took one look at the tension in the air, grabbed his tray, and practically bolted.

lance stepped into the vacated spot, slamming his apple down onto the metal table. he leaned over, his face mere inches from keith's, his skin burning a furious, chaotic red.

"what did you just say?" lance hissed in a desperate whisper. "what did you just tell him, kogane?"

"nothing," keith lied, looking straight ahead. "it was a joke."

"a joke?!" lance choked out. "you don't make jokes! you just told a guy you're married!"

"i meant i'm busy," keith muttered, pulling his tray toward himself. "drop it, lance."

"i will absolutely NOT drop it!" lance barked, sliding into the seat across from him. "you are seventeen! we live in a desert! who could you possibly be married to?!"

"i'm not married," keith said, forcing his voice to stay steady and smooth. "i said it so he'd leave me alone."

lance squinted at him, his brow pulling down into a deep, suspicious line. "you reacted too fast. it came out of your mouth like you say it every day. like you forgot where you were for a second."
keith met lance's gaze, seeing the desperate confusion in those hazel eyes.

"i'm fine, lance," keith said quietly, his tone softening. "you don't need to worry about it."

"i'm not worried!" lance snapped, though his face flushed even darker, his eyes darting down to keith’s bare left hand. "you're driving me insane, keith. who are you keeping secrets from?!"

keith looked at him for a long, heavy beat, swallowing down the urge to tell him everything.
"eat your apple, lance," keith murmured softly. "you're making a scene."

at midnight, keith walked up to the roof of the communications building.

he found pidge tucked into the deep shadow of a satellite dish, lap littered with copper wire and a stripped datapad, soldering a stolen receiver.

pidge gasped, flinching hard enough to drop their tool when keith’s shadow fell over the bench.

"what are you doing up here, kogane?"

keith sat down on an overturned supply crate three feet away, hands deep in his pockets, looking out over the dark desert.

"you're good with theoretical mechanics," keith said quietly. "if an object... got pulled out of its natural sequence. shifted backward. hypothetically."

pidge stared at him, irritated. "you're talking about time travel."

keith shifted, uncomfortably, but didn't deny it. "what if i... what if someone were to travel back in the past?"

pidge shook their head. "that's not possible, not with human tech. is this a prank? are you

"your real name is katie holt."

pidge’s thumb froze instantly on the soldering iron.

"your father is samuel holt. your brother is matthew," keith continued, his tone carrying the cold weight of absolute fact. "you chopped your hair off, stole a dead cadet's identity papers, and forged your medical intake forms just to break into the garrison comms system to search for the kerberos logs."

the silence that fell over the roof was absolute. pidge set the iron down, their whole body rigid, face drained of color.

"who told you that," pidge rasped, terrified. "did security find my files?"

"nobody told me," keith interrupted softly. "in a few months, when we're millions of lightyears away from earth, you're going to fix the green lion's cloaking array using the exact same logic board you're holding in your left hand right now."

pidge stared at him, mouth opening and closing. "...holy shit. you're... you're actually... what the fuck?"

"keep your voice down," keith warned, looking exhausted.

"what the fuck, keith?!" pidge hissed, crouching right in front of him. "how... why are you here?"

"i don't know," keith admitted, resting his forehead in his palm. "there was an altean artifact. a temporal rift. i reached out for... someone, and then i woke up on the ridge."

"my dad? my brother?" pidge asked, his voice shaking.

"they're alive," keith cut in gently. "i can't give you details, pidge. I can't risk changing how things happen. but they are alive. I promise you."

pidge swallowed hard, nodding, forcing their hands to stop trembling. they were smart enough to respect temporal paradoxes. then their eyes narrowed as they looked at keith’s miserable face.

"so if you're a hardened future soldier... why have you been acting like a complete lunatic around lance?"

keith went rigid, a deep flush creeping straight up his neck. "i haven't."

"you told a senior cadet you were married!" pidge pointed out, leaning in with unholy realization. "you touched his face! wait..." pidge’s jaw slowly dropped. "oh my god. in the future, you're married to lance?!"

"don't say it," keith growled, shoving his face into his hands.

pidge leaned back with a quiet, breathless laugh. "this is the most unhinged thing i've ever heard. he thinks you hate him!"

"i know what he thinks," keith rasped into his palms. "he's seventeen, pidge. he doesn't know me. he thinks we're rivals."

pidge looked at him, their expression softening slightly. "so... what about us? do we even talk in the future?"

keith looked up, a faint, genuinely soft look in his eyes. "you're the first person i go to when i break something i shouldn't have. and when lance and i drive each other crazy, you threaten to throw us out the airlock."

pidge smiled faintly, hiding it under their collar.

"sounds about right. you should probably go deal with him. he was pacing near the commons when i came up here."

.
.
.

the garrison common room was mostly empty at midnight, bathed in the dim blue light of the vending machines.

lance was sitting on the edge of a vinyl couch, leg bouncing in a fast, agitated rhythm. when the automatic doors slid open and he saw keith, he stood up so fast his datapad clattered onto the cushions.

"where were you?" lance demanded, sharp and vibrating with restless energy. "curfew was twenty minutes ago, kogane."

"i was on the roof," keith said smoothly, closing the distance between them.

lance flinched slightly, crossing his arms tight. "right. doing what? meeting up with your wife?"

keith stopped three feet away. "i don't have a wife. i don't have anyone at the garrison. i'm not trying to mess with your head, and i'm not trying to throw off your flight times tomorrow."

lance stared at him, searching keith’s face for a punchline. "then why are you doing this?" lance asked, his voice cracking slightly. "you barely looked at me for two months, keith. now suddenly you're watching me, touching my shoulder, telling me how to fly... what do you want from me?"

keith looked down at him, feeling the sharp, familiar ache in his chest flare up like a live wire.

"i just want you to fly well tomorrow," keith lied softly, stepping back just enough to give lance room to breathe, though his dark eyes never left lance's face. "you're better than you think you are, lance. stop trying so hard to prove it to me."

lance froze, completely disarmed, the defensive anger draining right out of him.

keith turned toward the hallway leading to the dorms, throwing a quiet glance back over his shoulder.

"get some sleep," keith murmured. "i'll see you on the flight deck."

.
.
.

the morning sun was barely over the desert horizon, but the barracks common room was already boiling hot.

lance was pacing the length of the worn linoleum floor, his arms waving frantically in the air while hunk sat on the arm of a saggy couch, slowly chewing his way through a dry protein bar.

"i'm telling you, hunk, the guy is compromised!" lance dragged both hands down his face, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "he looked me dead in the eye yesterday and told me i had bad taste in comms cadets! who says that?! since when does keith kogane care about my taste in anything?!"

hunk swallowed his bite, tilting his head thoughtfully. "i mean... maybe he was just giving you an honest opinion? you do drop pretty terrible pick-up lines, lance."

"that is entirely beside the point!" lance snapped, whirling around on his heel, his finger pointed accusingly at the ceiling. "and then in the mess hall! you heard him! he told golden he was married!"

"yeah, that was weird," hunk admitted, brushing crumbs off his knees. "i thought maybe he was talking about his hoverbike."

"nobody gets married to a vehicle, hunk! well, maybe you would, but keith was serious! he looked like he genuinely forgot where he was for a second!" lance stopped, his shoulders hitching up as his voice dropped into an intense, frantic whisper. "and on the roof! pidge was up there doing... whatever pidge does, and keith showed up, talked to them for ten minutes, and pidge came back down looking like they'd seen a ghost!"

hunk set the rest of his bar down on its wrapper. he looked at lance, taking in the bloodshot eyes, the frantic pacing, and the deep, burning flush that had been stuck on lance's neck since yesterday morning.

"lance," hunk said slowly, his tone entirely too gentle. "can i ask you something?"

"yes! please! give me a logical explanation before i throw myself into the water recyclers!"

"is it possible," hunk started, carefully weighing every word, "that keith just... likes you?"

lance went completely, utterly rigid.

for three agonizing seconds, the only sound in the common room was the low hum of the vending machine. lance’s mouth opened. then it closed. then his face flared a red so intense it looked physically painful.

"what," lance squeaked, his voice cracking violently on the single syllable.

"i'm just saying," hunk raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "he's been watching you in the hangar. he gave you flight tips. he stood right next to you when you were talking to strayer, and then he lost his mind when golden tried to talk to him. it kind of sounds like a crush, man."

"A CRUSH?!" lance shrieked, taking two fast, aggressive steps backward as if hunk had just handed him a live grenade. "KEITH?! ON ME?! are you insane?! we are rivals, hunk! WE ARE ARCH-NEMESES! he hates my guts! he looks at me like he wants to drag me into an empty hallway and put his hands on-"

lance choked on his own words, his brain suddenly short-circuiting as his own memory supplied the mental image of keith doing exactly that, standing three inches away in the hallway last night, looking at lance with those dark, terrifyingly intense eyes and telling him, i look at you all the time.

lance’s stomach did a sudden, violent flip. he slammed a hand over his own mouth, his hazel eyes wide with pure, unadulterated panic.

"he does NOT have a crush on me!" lance rasped through his fingers, his voice muffled and desperate. "he's practicing psychological warfare! he knows i perform better when i'm angry, so he's trying to throw me off by being... by being weirdly attentive!"

hunk sighed, leaning his chin into his hand.

"right. psychological warfare. with the eyes."

"YES! WITH THE EYES!"

before lance could spiral any further into his own delusion, the automatic doors hissed open.

pidge walked in, holding a datapad under their arm, a half-empty pouch of synth-juice clutched in their teeth. they took one look at lance's bright red, sweating face, and then at hunk’s utterly exhausted expression.

pidge pulled the pouch out of their mouth. "let me guess. you're still talking about kogane."

"PIDGE!" lance practically lunged across the room, grabbing pidge by the shoulders and shaking them slightly. "you talked to him last night on the roof! what did he say to you?! is he an alien spy?! is he in a cult?! who is he married to?!"

pidge didn't even flinch. they casually reached up, adjusting their glasses on the bridge of their nose, their dark eyes sparkling with a terrifyingly sharp, secretive amusement that made lance’s skin crawl.

"he's not in a cult, lance," pidge said smoothly, stepping out of lance's grip and sliding onto the couch next to hunk.

"then what is wrong with him?!" lance yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "why is he acting like he knows everything about me?! why did he tell me to stop trying so hard?!"

pidge took a slow sip of their synth-juice, letting the silence stretch out just long enough to make lance's eye twitch.

"maybe," pidge hummed, looking up at lance with a small, unholy smirk, "you should just ask him out on a hoverbike ride and get it over with."

lance’s jaw dropped. "PIDGE!"

"what?" pidge shrugged, tapping their datapad screen with complete nonchalance. "i'm just giving you options. besides, we have flight evaluations with commander iverson in ten minutes. if you get grounded because you were too busy obsessing over keith's marital status, i'm taking your extra dessert ration."

"i am NOT obsessing!" lance barked, though his voice cracked again as he whipped around toward the exit, his face burning hotter than the desert afternoon. "i am going to the flight deck! and I am going to beat his scores, and then he is going to tell me what kind of sick game he's playing!"

lance stormed out, the metallic doors sliding shut behind him with a sharp hiss.

hunk watched the door for a second before turning to pidge. "...so, seriously. what's going on with keith?"

pidge looked down at their datapad, their expression softening just a fraction, a quiet, disbelieving breath escaping their lips.

"you wouldn't believe me if i told you," pidge murmured softly, their fingers tapping a short, rhythmic code into the screen. "just... keep an eye on lance today. he's about to have a very confusing couple of years."

.
.
.

"mcclain! kogane! front and center!"

iverson stood at the edge of the flight platform, a heavy physical datapad strapped to his forearm, his one good eye scanning the line of cadets with the intensity of a laser grid. behind him, the giant glass dome of the bay three simulator hummed as the internal turbines cooled down from the previous run.

lance stepped forward first, his chin tilted up, his shoulders squared so hard they looked painful. his knuckles were white where he gripped his flight helmet, his eyes darting toward the side of keith’s face.

keith stepped up beside him. he looked entirely composed, arms resting easily at his sides, dark eyes fixed straight ahead on the simulation monitors, which only served to drive lance further up the wall.

iverson tapped his screen with a heavy, gloved thumb. "mcclain. your course time was three seconds faster than last week. tight handling on the canyon approach."

lance’s chest swelled, a triumphant smirk catching the corner of his mouth as he cut a smug glance sideways. "thank you, sir. i-"

"however," iverson cut in, his voice dropping into a stern growl, "you pulled hard left on the third lap vector, nearly clipping the simulated rock face. if that had been a real crosswind in the desert, you would’ve torn your port stabilizer right off."

lance’s smirk instantly evaporated. his jaw went slack. he didn't look at iverson. his head snapped directly toward keith.

keith didn't flinch. he kept his eyes locked on the wall ahead, but the slight, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw betrayed him.

"as for you, kogane," iverson growled, turning his focus to keith. "top flight time in the cohort. flawless execution on the vector correction. but you backed off your thrusters on the final leg to let the secondary unit close the gap. why?"

lance froze. his head whipped back to iverson, his breath catching hard in his throat. "...what?"

"i asked a question, cadet," iverson barked, stepping closer to keith, his shadow falling over both of them. "you had a clear six-second lead. you eased off the throttle before crossing the simulation marker. you don't slow down to wait for your wingman in a live fire scenario."

keith finally shifted his gaze to iverson, his expression completely blank, stripped of any arrogance or hesitation.

"the simulator lag in bay three drags on the pitch," keith said smoothly, his voice carrying that steady, quiet confidence that didn't belong on a seventeen-year-old. "if i pushed the thrusters on the final leg, the telemetry data would have glitched and wiped the secondary flight log. i brought us both across the line clean."

iverson stared at him for three agonizing seconds, his eye narrowing as if trying to parse whether keith was lying. he let out a sharp, disappointed grunt, tapping his datapad again.

"dismissed," iverson snapped. "both of you. hit the showers and get out of my hangar."

the second they cleared the heavy blast doors of bay three and stepped into the dim, cool access corridor, lance snapped.

he grabbed the front of keith's garrison jacket, shoving him back until keith’s shoulder hit the cold metal wall with a dull thud.

"what the hell was that?!" lance hissed. his face was burning, his hazel eyes wide and dark with a volatile mix of fury, humiliation, and deep, aching confusion. "you slowed down?!"

keith didn't fight him off. he didn't grab lance’s wrists, didn't use his momentum to flip him, didn't even raise his hands. he just let himself be pinned against the wall, his dark eyes looking down into lance's face with that same unbearable, steady warmth.

"lance," keith said quietly. "drop it."

"DON'T TELL ME TO DROP IT!" lance yelled, his voice echoing violently off the narrow metal hallway. his hands shook where he clutched keith's collar, pulling keith an inch closer. "you let me catch up! you held back on the final leg so i wouldn't get docked on the flight log!"

"it was a telemetry glitch," keith lied, his voice entirely too soft for the violence of the moment. "i told iverson-"

"you're lying!" lance rasped, his breath hot against keith’s cheek. a tear of pure, frustrated rage pricked the corner of his eye, though he viciously blinked it back. "you've been doing this all week! you give me advice, you look at me like... like you pity me, and then you throw a trial run just so i look good on paper?!"

"i don't pity you," keith said softly.

his hand came out of his pocket. it was entirely automatic, ten years of instincts taking over before his brain could stop him. keith’s fingers settled gently over lance’s wrist, his thumb resting right over the frantic, erratic pulse beating beneath lance’s skin.

lance flinched at the touch, but he didn't let go of keith's jacket. he couldn't. he was shaking, trapped in the orbit of a guy who kept pulling him in and pushing him away all at once.

"then what is it, keith?!" lance whispered, his voice cracking down the middle, raw and bleeding through his bravado. "why are you doing this to me?! if you hate me, just say it! insult me, fight me, tell me i'm a terrible pilot! stop acting like... like i mean something to you!"

the silence in the corridor was deafening.
keith looked at him, at the sharp line of his collarbone, the grease smudge still faint near his temple, the sheer, desperate vulnerability bleeding out of a boy who just wanted to feel like he was enough.

keith’s grip on lance’s wrist tightened, just a fraction. his chest felt like it was breaking open, the weight of the future crushing him into the steel wall.

"you do mean something to me," keith said.
the words didn't come out as a challenge. they came out stripped entirely clean of game, or strategy, or secrecy.

lance’s breath hitched. his fingers loosened on keith’s jacket, his jaw dropping slightly as he stared at keith in utter, terrified silence.

"you mean everything," keith added softly, his thumb tracing the small bone in lance's wrist before he slowly, deliberately let go, stepping out of lance's grip. "i'm not throwing trials, lance. i just don't care about the leaderboard anymore. i care about you."

lance stood frozen in the middle of the empty hallway, his arms dropping limply to his sides, his face burning a dark, helpless crimson as keith turned and walked quietly away down the hall.

.
.
.

the next three days were a masterclass in tactical avoidance.

lance was an expert at making noise, but as it turned out, he was even better at becoming a ghost. if keith walked into the mess hall, lance was suddenly finishing his last bite of green goo and ducking out the side doors. if keith was at his locker in the flight bay, lance was suddenly taking the long way around through the maintenance tunnels.

he didn't glare. he didn't throw insults. he didn't even make eye contact.

he just vanished the second keith entered a room, leaving behind a sudden, heavy void that felt louder than any argument they'd ever had.

hunk noticed it immediately. pidge just watched from the sidelines with a look of profound, secondhand exhaustion, occasionally giving keith a small, sympathetic nod whenever lance bolted out of a room like a startled desert rabbit.

for keith, the quiet was torturous.

he was used to lance orbiting him. in their timeline, lance was the constant noise in the background of keith's life, the steady, grounding presence that kept him anchored when his own mind got too dark. having seventeen-year-old lance look straight through him like he didn't exist was a cold, sharp blade right between his ribs.
it finally broke on thursday night during late-night maintenance in bay two.

the hangar was empty, bathed in the dim amber glow of the emergency floor lights. keith was sitting on the wing of his hoverbike, a rag in his hand, idly wiping down an intake valve he’d already cleaned three times.

a set of quick, familiar footsteps echoed down the metal gangway.

keith didn't look up right away, not wanting to scare him off, but the footsteps suddenly stuttered to a halt at the base of the platform.
lance was standing there, holding a box of replacement hydraulic seals.

he looked exhausted. the dark circles under his hazel eyes were bruised and heavy, his garrison jacket thrown on so messily he’d missed a button at the collar. he looked like he hadn't slept a full two hours since the argument in the corridor.

the second lance realized keith was sitting on the bike, he froze. his whole body went rigid, his knuckles turning white around the cardboard box.
for three long seconds, neither of them moved. keith waited, holding his breath, fully expecting lance to whip around on his heel and run for the exit again.

instead, lance let out a ragged, furious breath, slammed the box down onto a supply crate with a loud clatter, and shoved both hands into his pockets.

"i'm not leaving," lance announced, his voice tight, scratchy, and dangerously defensive. "i have work to do in this bay, and i'm not leaving just because you're sitting there like a dark cloud."

keith slowly set his rag down on the hoverbike frame. he kept his hands resting flat on his knees, forcing his posture to stay loose, completely non-threatening.

"i didn't ask you to leave," keith said softly.
lance flinched at the tone, stepping over to the secondary workstation ten feet away. he started violently ripping plastic off a replacement seal, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

"good," lance muttered, staring intensely at the metal parts in his hands. "because i'm busy. i don't have time for... whatever this is."

"lance..."

"i said i'm busy, kogane!" lance snapped, his head whipping around, his face flushing a sudden, hot red in the amber light. "i don't need a lecture! i don't need your weird, cryptic flight advice, and i definitely don't need you saying... saying stuff you don't mean just to mess with my head!"

keith slid off the hoverbike wing. his boots hit the metal floor with a quiet thud.

lance instantly backed up an inch, his shoulders hitching toward his ears as keith took two slow, deliberate steps forward, stopping a safe six feet away.

"i didn't lie to you," keith said, his dark eyes fixed on lance’s pale, stressed face. "i meant every word I said in the hall."

"WELL, DON'T!" lance yelled, his voice cracking violently before dropping into a desperate, furious whisper. "don't mean it! you can't just... you can't say things like that to me, keith! we're rivals! we're supposed to compete, we're supposed to yell, you're supposed to make me want to work harder until i beat you!"

lance dragged a hand down his face, his chest heaving, his fingers tangling in his dark brown hair as he stared down at the floor grates.

"you're ruining it," lance rasped, his voice raw, bleeding with a terrifying vulnerability he couldn't keep buried anymore. "i'm supposed to hate you. it's so much easier when i hate you."

keith felt the air leave his lungs. "why?"

lance looked up, his hazel eyes wide, glossy, and completely wrecked. the defensive wall he had built out of sharp sarcasm and arrogant smirks was completely gone, leaving him looking smaller, younger, and utterly disarmed.

"because if i don't hate you," lance whispered, his voice shaking so badly he could barely get the words out, "then i don't know what the hell i'm supposed to do with the way my stomach flips every time you look at me. i don't know why my heart is beating so fast i can barely breathe. and i hate it. i hate feeling like this around you."

the hangar was dead silent.

keith’s heart hammered a frantic, violent rhythm against his ribs. he didn't move forward. he didn't laugh. he just stood there, looking at the boy who was falling in love with him all over again, completely terrified of his own heart.

"lance," keith murmured, his voice so soft it was barely a breath.

"don't," lance choked out, backing away toward the gangway stairs, his eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated panic. "don't say anything. just... don't."

he turned on his heel and bolted up the metal stairs, his boots clattering against the gangway until the heavy bay doors hissed open, swallowed him up, and snapped shut behind him.

keith stayed standing in the quiet amber light, his hand twitching at his side, a small, aching, impossibly fond breath escaping his lips into the empty room.
.
.
.

the kitchen in the garrison main hall was freezing at five in the morning, smelling faintly of bleach and recycled flour.

hunk was sitting on a low stainless-steel counter, a gigantic metal bowl balanced between his knees, methodically stirring a thick, beige dough with a wooden paddle. he didn't even look up when the heavy door slid open.

"if you're here to tell me lance is losing his mind," hunk said, his voice flat with sleep deprivation, "i already know. he spent two hours last night redesigning his morning skincare routine because he claims his pores are 'reacting to emotional stress'."

keith stopped three feet from the counter. he had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his green jacket, his dark hair a messy disaster, the dark shadows under his eyes proving he hadn't slept a single second since the hangar incident.

"i need to talk to you," keith said.

hunk’s wooden spoon paused mid-rotation. he slowly lifted his head, taking in keith's rigid posture, the tight, defensive line of his jaw, and the sheer, agonizing panic radiating off him like heat off a desert road.

hunk set the paddle against the rim of the bowl, wiping his hands on a clean dish towel. "...okay. wow. you look like you got hit by a landust rover, backed over, and then hit again."

"i didn't mean to do it," keith blurted out.

it was the most words keith had willingly initiated with hunk in two years of sharing a hallway.
hunk blinked, adjusting his yellow headband.

"do... what, exactly?"

"lance," keith rasped, staring stubbornly down at the stainless steel edge of the counter. "i pushed him too far. he's... he's terrified, hunk. he panicked, and he ran, and I don't know how to fix it without making it worse."

hunk let out a long, quiet sigh, leaning his elbows on his knees. "keith. buddy. take a breath."

keith took a sharp, ragged breath, though his fingers stayed locked tight inside his pockets.

"he thinks I'm playing a game," keith muttered, his voice dropping into a rough, frustrated register. "he thinks i'm trying to break his focus. i just... i can't act like he doesn't matter to me. i can't do the rivalry thing anymore. it feels like lying."

hunk looked at him for a long, quiet beat. there was no judgment in hunk’s eyes, no anger, just that deep, grounding empathy that made him the backbone of every team he’d ever be a part of.

"you know lance isn't actually mad at you, right?" hunk asked softly.

keith’s head snapped up. "he yelled at me. he ran up the stairs so fast he almost tripped."

"yeah, because he has no idea what to do with his feelings," hunk said, a small, tired smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "lance builds his whole life around being loud, keith. he flirts with everyone, he brags about his simulator times, he acts like nothing gets to him because he's terrified that if he stops making noise his own thoughts will creep in."

keith felt a sharp, familiar knot tighten in his throat.

"he thinks you're out of his league," hunk continued smoothly, picking up a handful of flour and lightly dusting the dough. "he looks at you, and he sees the top pilot in the garrison. the guy who doesn't need anyone. so when you stand there, looking at him like he's the center of the universe, his brain completely short-circuits. he doesn't know how to handle someone taking him seriously."

keith swallowed hard, the weight of a decade's worth of memories crashing down on him all over again. he never knew, keith realized with a cold, aching clarity. even back then, he had no idea.

"so what do i do?" keith asked, his voice cracking just enough to betray how desperate he was. "do i back off? do i give him space?"

"no," hunk said firmly, looking straight into keith's eyes. "if you back off now, he's just going to think he was right, that it was a game, or that you got tired of him. lance doesn't need space, keith. he needs to know you're not going anywhere."

keith stood there in the cold kitchen light, the advice sinking deep into his chest, settling right next to the quiet, unshakeable love he carried for the boy currently hiding in the dorms.

hunk looked at him for a long, quiet beat. he didn't jump in with advice right away. instead, his eyebrows pulled together, a genuine, deeply puzzled expression taking over his face as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand.

"can i ask you something, keith?" hunk asked slowly. "and i mean this totally seriously... what actually happened?"

keith blinked, thrown off. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, two weeks ago, you didn't even know lance's last name," hunk pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his wooden paddle. "you walked past him in the halls like he was invisible. and now, suddenly, you're hovering over him in the hangar, telling people you're married, and looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky. what made you change your mind about him?"

the question hit keith like a physical weight, cold and sudden.

what made him change his mind?

how could keith explain that he hadn't just changed his mind? how could he tell hunk that he had spent years fighting beside lance in deep space, watching him grow into the bravest, kindest, most brilliant pilot in the universe? how could he explain that he had held lance’s hand through war, built a life with him, and fallen so deeply in love that living in a past where lance looked at him with fear felt like starving?

keith swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone. he looked down at his bare, unblemished left hand, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the empty spot where his wedding ring was supposed to be.

"i didn't change my mind," keith said, his voice dropping into a low, quiet murmur that carried so much quiet grief it made hunk straighten up in surprise. "i was just... stupid. i was so focused on flying, on being the best, that I didn't see what was standing right in front of me."

keith looked up, meeting hunk’s eyes with a raw, unshakeable intensity.

"he's bright, hunk," keith whispered, the truth slipping out past his guard. "he's loud, and he's obnoxious, and he drives me out of my mind. but he cares about people more than anyone else in this place. he looks out for everyone, even when nobody's looking out for him. i just... i stopped being too blind to notice."

the kitchen went dead silent.

hunk stared at keith, his mouth slightly open. all the lighthearted teasing drained completely out of hunk’s face, replaced by a look of sheer, stunned disbelief. he had expected some weird, awkward teenager answer, not a confession so heavy and devoted it felt like it belonged in a romance novel.

"...wow," hunk breathed softly, his shoulders dropping. "okay. so you're... you're really down bad, huh?"

keith’s face flushed a dark, stubborn red, and he shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, looking away toward the flour sacks. "i'm just answering your question."

"no, man, that's intense," hunk said, letting out a quiet, breathless laugh as he picked his paddle back up. "if you say half of that stuff to lance, his head is literally going to explode."

"he won't listen to me," keith muttered, the frustration bleeding back into his voice. "he thinks i'm making fun of him."

"i think you should tell him what you told me, seems pretty convincing to me." hunk smiled.

keith didn't go back to his dorm after leaving the mess hall. he went straight to the ridge.

the desert was still cool, the sky painted in bruised shades of lavender and silver as the first rim of the sun cut across the horizon. he sat on the edge of the dirt incline with his knees pulled up, the dry wind pulling at his dark hair, watching the garrison lights flicker off one by one as dawn took over.

he didn't have to wait long.

at exactly six-fifteen, the heavy side door of the main barracks clattered open.

lance stepped out onto the gravel path, wearing his blue training jacket over a gray tank top, a pair of worn running shoes on his feet. he was doing his morning laps, the same five-mile loop around the perimeter fence he ran every single day to stay at the top of the physical rankings.

lance started at a light jog, his head down, his posture tight and defensive. but as he rounded the bend beneath the ridge, his eyes darted up toward the rocks out of sheer habit.

he froze dead in his tracks.

keith was sitting right where lance could see him. he wasn't hiding behind the satellite array, he wasn't pacing, and he wasn't wearing his usual guarded, scowling expression. he was just sitting in the dirt, hands resting casually on his knees, watching lance with a quiet, unshakeable patience.

lance’s breath hitched loud enough to cut through the quiet desert air.

for three agonizing seconds, lance stood on the gravel trail, looking like he was seriously contemplating turning around and sprinting full-speed back into the safety of the dorms. his hands twitched at his sides, his jaw working as he swallowed hard.

"i'm running," lance called out, his voice cracking violently on the second word before he forced it down into a sharp, defensive snap. "i don't have time for a conversation, kogane."

keith didn't jump up. he just shifted slightly on the dirt, his voice carrying clearly down the slope.

"i'll sit here until you're done," keith said softly.

lance glared up at him, his hazel eyes wide, his chest heaving under his jacket as if he’d already run ten miles. "i'm running eight miles today! maybe ten! i'm going to run until my legs fall off!"

"then i'll be here for ten miles... or i'll pick your legs up for you." keith replied flatly.

lance let out an absurd, strangled noise of utter disbelief, throwing his hands up in the air. "you are a lunatic! an actual, certifiable lunatic! what is wrong with you?!"

he didn't wait for an answer. lance whipped around on his heel and took off down the perimeter track, his sneakers slamming into the gravel with aggressive, furious force.

keith didn't move. he rested his chin on his knees and watched the blue back of lance's jacket disappear around the first watchtower.

forty-five minutes later, lance rounded the final bend.

he was completely drenched in sweat, his chest heaving violently, his face flushed a deep, burning crimson. his hair was plastered to his forehead, and he was practically staggering, his feet dragging through the sand as he completed his final lap.

he slowed to a harsh, wheezing walk at the base of the ridge, hands on his hips, head hung low as he caught his breath.

he looked up, expecting the ridge to be empty.
keith was still there.

keith pushed himself up off the dirt, brushing the dust from his jeans, and walked down the incline. he stopped four feet away, pulling an unopened, condensation-slick pouch of electrolyte water from his jacket pocket and holding it out.

lance stared at the water pouch like it was filled with poison. he was breathing so hard his shoulders shook, his hazel eyes darting frantically between the blue plastic and keith’s steady, unbothered face.

"take it," keith murmured. "you're dehydrated."

"i don't... need your... charity," lance panted, every word a struggle, though he didn't back away this time. he was too exhausted to run, his body completely drained, leaving his defenses entirely wide open.

"it's not charity," keith said smoothly, taking one step closer and pressing the cold pouch directly into lance’s sweaty palm. "it's water."

lance’s fingers automatically curled around the plastic. he looked down at his own hand, then back up into keith's eyes.

"why are you doing this?" lance rasped, his voice entirely stripped of the loud, performing anger he’d used an hour ago. he sounded small, tired, and deeply, terribly confused. "hunk said... hunk told me you talked to him this morning."

keith went rigid for a fraction of a second, but he forced himself to relax his shoulders. "he did?"

"he said..." lance swallowed hard, his throat working as his face flushed a fresh, dark shade of red that had nothing to do with running. "he said you weren't making fun of me. he said you meant what you said."

keith looked at him, at the sweat dripping down the side of lance's neck, the absolute vulnerability in his eyes, the way his fingers were trembling slightly against the water pouch.

"i meant it," keith said quietly. "all of it."

lance let out a breathless, shaky exhale, shoving his wet hair back from his face. "keith, i... i don't know what to do with that. i don't know how to... to be around you if you're not trying to beat me."

"i'm still going to beat you in the simulator," keith said, a tiny, rare flicker of a smirk catching the corner of his mouth. "you still pull left on the third lap."

a quiet, incredulous laugh burst out of lance’s chest before he could stop it, a sudden, bright sound that made keith's entire chest ache with a warmth he hadn't felt in ten years.

lance slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified that he'd laughed, but his hazel eyes were sparkling in the morning sun, the heavy, suffocating fear finally starting to crack.

"you are so annoying," lance muttered through his fingers, though there was zero bite left in his tone. "i hate you. i genuinely hate you."

keith took half a step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off lance’s skin, his dark eyes fixed entirely on lance's face.

"no, you don't," keith whispered softly.

lance froze. he looked up, trapped in keith's gaze, his pulse hammering against his ribs so loudly he was sure keith could hear it. he didn't run. he didn't back up. he just stood there in the morning desert wind, unscrewing the cap of the water pouch with trembling hands, his face burning.

"shut up, kogane," lance whispered, taking a long drink to hide the huge, helpless smile trying to break across his face. "just... shut up and walk me back to the barracks."

keith smiled, real, soft, and entirely devoted, and fell into step right beside him.

.
.
.

the small, illicit bottle of black-market core-system rum had been hunk’s idea of a victory celebration after their cohort crushed the monthly tactical exams.

by midnight, hunk had passed out cold on his bunk, snoring softly with his face shoved into his pillow. pidge had taken one look at the dynamic in the room, muttered something about needing to audit the comms logs, and strategically vanished.

that left keith and lance sitting on the cold linoleum floor between their beds, the half-empty clear bottle resting between keith’s knees.

lance was slouched against the base of his mattress, his garrison jacket thrown haphazardly onto the floor, his cheeks flushed a dark, glowing rose from three heavy swigs of burning, cheap alcohol. his hair was a messy, soft disaster, his hazel eyes wide, glossy, and entirely fixed on keith.

"you're still staring," lance slurred lightly, a dopey, helpless little grin catching the side of his mouth as he reached out and poked keith's knee with his foot. "it's weird, kogane. you're being a weirdo."

keith leaned back against his own bed, taking a slow sip directly from the bottle. the alcohol burned his throat, but it didn't even come close to the heat pooling low in his stomach every time lance shifted closer.

"i'm just watching," keith murmured, his voice low, raspy, and thick with a decade of pent-up desire.

"yeah? watching what?" lance hummed, leaning forward on his elbows until his face was mere inches from keith’s. the sweet, sharp smell of the rum was warm on his breath. "watching the guy who beat your simulation time by two seconds today?"

"you overcorrected on the canyon turn," keith reminded him softly, a faint smirk touching his lips.

"i hate you," lance whispered, but his eyes dropped down to keith’s lips, his own breath hitching. "i swear to god, keith, i hate you so much."

"no, you don't," keith whispered back.

he didn't wait this time. keith reached out, his hand coming up to catch the back of lance’s neck, his fingers tangling into those soft brown curls, and pulled him in.

the kiss was instant, hot, and completely unreserved.

lance let out a tiny, breathless gasp against keith's mouth before melting entirely into the contact. his hands flew up, clutching at the front of keith's shirt, pulling keith down onto the floor with him. the cheap rum faded into the background as keith pressed forward, deepening the kiss, his thumb tracing the sharp, hot line of lance's jaw.

it was frantic and sweet all at once, lance kissing like a boy discovering something incredible for the first time, and keith kissing like a man who had missed his husband for a thousand years.

lance whined softly into keith’s mouth, his fingers tangling tightly in keith’s dark hair as keith shifted his weight, crowding over him on the linoleum floor.

keith's hands slid down to wrap around lance's waist, pulling him flush against his chest, his mouth sliding from lance's lips down to press a hot, heavy trail of kisses along his flushed jawline to the sensitive skin right under his ear.

"keith-" lance gasped, his head rolling back against the rug, his chest heaving as his hands gripped keith's shoulders. "holy shit, keith..."

keith’s mind was swimming, a volatile mix of heavy rum, spatial exhaustion, and the intoxicating, overwhelming heat of lance beneath him.

ten years of ingrained intimacy took over completely. his brain slipped past the garrison wall, past the timeline logic, slipping straight back into the late nights in the atlas quarters, back to soft sheets and whispered secrets.

"you always make that sound," keith murmured against the crook of lance's neck, his teeth gently grazing the warm skin of his collarbone, his voice thick and entirely undone.

lance shivered hard, his fingers digging into keith's back. "what... what sound?"

"that quiet little gasp," keith whispered, pressing a heavy, bruising kiss to lance's pulse point, his hand sliding under the hem of lance's shirt, fingers tracing the warm skin of his ribs. "you used to do it every time we went out onto the lion's lounge... back at the castle..."

lance froze beneath him.

the sudden stillness of lance's body hit keith like a bucket of freezing water.

keith’s eyes snapped open. his breath caught in his throat as the alcohol-induced fog abruptly shattered, leaving him staring down at lance in the dim blue light of the dorm bay.

lance was staring up at him, his hazel eyes wide, blown out, and entirely sobered by confusion. his lips were swollen and red, his hair mussed, his chest heaving, but the soft, dazed look on his face had completely vanished.

"...what?" lance rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

keith went completely rigid, his hands freezing on lance’s waist. his stomach dropped off a cliff, plunging straight into his boots.

fuck.

"lance..." keith started, his voice tight, panic instantly surging through his veins.

"what castle?" lance interrupted, his tone shifting into something sharp, fast, and intensely alarmed. he pushed against keith's chest, sitting up so fast their foreheads almost collided. "what
are you talking about, keith? what lounge?!"

keith scrambled back, pulling his hands off lance as if he’d been burned, sitting back on his heels against his own bed. his heart was hammering a violent, frantic rhythm against his ribs.

"it's nothing," keith lied, his voice raspy and desperate, his hands shaking slightly as he shoved them into his hair. "i'm drunk, lance. i don't know what i'm saying."

"no, you weren't talking like you were drunk!" lance yelled, keeping his voice in a furious, frantic whisper so he wouldn't wake hunk. he scrambled to his feet, staring down at keith with a look of pure, unadulterated shock. "you said 'castle'! you said 'you used to do it'! who are you talking about, keith?!"

"i was talking about you!" keith blurted out, his face burning, his jaw set tight.

"i have never even been in a mansion let alone a castle!" lance hissed, leaning down, pointing a finger directly at keith’s chest. "who were you kissing in your head just now?! who are you comparing me to?!"

the sheer, painful irony of lance being wildly jealous of himself hit keith so hard it nearly brought him to his knees.

keith looked up at lance, at his flushed face, his disheveled hair, the raw, wounded confusion in his hazel eyes, and felt the heavy, impossible secret crushing his chest into dust.

"i wasn't comparing you to anyone," keith said softly, his voice trembling just enough to make lance freeze. "i swear to you, lance. it's only ever been you."

lance stared at him, his mouth opening, his breath catching in his throat as he searched keith's face for the catch. but keith just sat there in the dim light, looking utterly wrecked, completely stripped of any defense.

"...you're keeping something insane from me," lance whispered, his voice cracking down the middle, his hands dropping to his sides. "something huge."

keith didn't answer. he couldn't.

lance swallowed hard, stepping back toward his own bed, pulling his blanket up over his shoulders as he sat down on the edge of his mattress, his eyes never leaving keith’s face.

"i'm not letting this go," lance murmured quietly into the dark room, his voice soft, steady, and entirely unresolved. "when you're sober tomorrow... you're telling me the truth."

.
.
.

keith didn't sleep.

he sat on the edge of his bunk until the dim blue emergency lights faded into the grey, dusty wash of dawn.

across the narrow gap between their beds, lance was staring at the ceiling, his jaw set in a hard, stubborn line, his chest rising and falling in shallow, restless breaths.

hunk’s steady snoring was the only sound in the room until the morning alarm buzzed once, a low, muted chime, and lance instantly sat up.

he didn't look at keith. he didn't pull on his boots, didn't grab his jacket, and didn't check his datapad. he just swung his legs over the side of the mattress, stood up, and looked down at keith with eyes that were terrifyingly clear.

"outside," lance whispered, his voice completely flat.

keith stood up without a word and followed him out.

the utility platform behind bay four was cold, isolated, and hidden behind two heavy exhaust stacks that blocked the morning wind. the desert stretched out below them, vast and empty.
lance turned around the second the metal door clicked shut. his garrison jacket was open, his hair still messy from the night before, but there was zero hesitation in his posture.

"no more cryptic flight tips," lance said, his voice low, sharp, and vibrating with an intensity keith had never seen on his seventeen-year-old face. "no more 'you pull left on the third lap.' no more touching my wrist, no more telling me i mean everything to you, and no more talking about castles like we're in some historical movie."

keith stood three feet away, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his chin tucked into the collar of his jacket. "lance-"

"i spent all night thinking about it," lance interrupted, stepping directly into keith's space, his hazel eyes wide, red-rimmed, and furious. "you know things you shouldn't know. you knew exactly how i fly before we even shared a simulator. last night, you kissed me like... like you've done it a thousand times before."

lance’s voice cracked violently on the last word, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

"who are you, keith?" lance rasped, a tear of pure, agonizing frustration spilling over his lash line. "because if you're playing with me, if this is some psycho-evaluation test for top pilots, or if you're looking at me and seeing someone else- i swear to god, i will walk straight into iverson's office and forfeit my flight status."

the threat hung in the cold desert air, heavy and lethal.

keith looked at him, at the raw, bleeding honesty in lance's face, the absolute terror of being a second-choice option, the fierce pride that made him ready to burn his own future down just to protect his heart.

the temporal paradoxes didn't matter anymore. the timeline didn't matter.

if keith kept lying, he was going to destroy the very thing he’d come back to save. he let out a long, shuddering breath. he pulled his hands out of his pockets and let them drop limply to his sides.

"i'm thirty-two years old," keith said softly.

lance froze. his eyebrows pulled together, a look of profound, bewildered irritation crossing his face. "...what?"

"i'm thirty-two," keith repeated, his voice low, steady, and entirely devoid of any trickery. "i was thirty-two three days ago, when an altean temporal relic fractured during an expedition in the deep core. i reached for you, the rift collapsed, and i woke up on the ridge in my seventeen-year-old body."

lance stared at him. his mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "...are you out of your mind? is this a joke? is this a joke to throw me off?!"

"in eight months," keith continued, taking one slow, deliberate step forward, "a galra battle cruiser is going to arrive in earth's orbit. we are going to break out of this garrison, steal a blue mechanical lion buried in the desert, and fly through a wormhole to a castle ship owned by an altean princess."

lance’s breath hitched, his jaw dropping as he took a half-step back, his brain frantically trying to compute the sheer, impossible weight of the words.

"you're going to become the paladin of the blue lion," keith said, his dark eyes fixed on lance's pale face with an intensity that made the air feel thin. "and we are going to fight a ten-thousand-year galactic war across three galaxies."

"stop," lance whispered, his voice shaking violently as he backed into the cold metal wall of the exhaust stack. "stop it, keith, that's, that's crazy. that's insane. you're making stuff up-"

"your full name is lance mcclain," keith said softly, stepping closer, his hand coming up, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his thumb gently pressed against the soft skin right over lance's racing pulse at his neck. "you have three older siblings and two younger ones. you miss the ocean so much it physically hurts your chest every night you sleep in this desert. you keep a dried jar of sand from the beach in varadero under your mattress right now."

lance went dead, entirely still.

the color drained from his face so fast he looked like he might faint. nobody at the garrison knew about the sand. not hunk, not pidge, nobody. he had hidden it deep inside the metal frame of his bed the day he arrived.

"how..." lance rasped, his eyes wide as saucers, staring at keith like he was looking at an absolute ghost. "how do you..."

"because you told me," keith whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the bone of lance's jaw, his gaze soft, devoted, and filled with a decade of grief and love. "you told me when we were twenty. you told me again when we got built our house near the coast."

lance’s breath hitched loud and ragged. his whole body began to tremble under keith’s touch.

"last night," keith murmured, his voice cracking down the middle, "i didn't kiss you thinking of someone else. i kissed you because i missed my husband so much i couldn't breathe."

the silence on the utility platform was absolute.
the desert wind howled past the exhaust pipes, but neither of them moved. lance stood pinned against the metal wall, his hazel eyes completely blown out, his heart hammering wildly under keith’s palm as the terrifying, beautiful, impossible truth finally settled over him.

"...husband?" lance squeaked, his voice cracking violently on the word, a sudden, bright, chaotic flush exploding across his cheeks.

keith let out a quiet, breathless laugh, his forehead leaning forward until it rested gently against lance's shoulder, his fingers tightening in the fabric of lance's jacket.

"yeah," keith whispered into the quiet morning air. "husband, you idiot."

lance stood glued to the corrugated metal wall, his mind completely, violently short-circuiting.

husband.

thirty-two years old.

space.

aliens.

MECHANICAL LIONS.

his brain ran through the information like a computer experiencing a critical system failure, throwing up a thousand error screens at once. the bright, burning flush on his face drained entirely, then rushed back all at once until his ears were practically glowing.

he pushed keith off him so hard keith stumbled back two full steps.

"NO!" lance shrieked, a high, undignified sound that cracked violently in the middle. he slammed his hands over his ears, pacing frantically back and forth across the tiny metal platform, his sneakers squeaking against the floor grates. "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"lance-"

"DO NOT 'LANCE' ME!" lance barked, whipping around and pointing a wildly trembling finger straight at keith’s nose. "you... you are insane! you are experiencing desert madness! you ate bad garrison slop! you hit your head on a simulator control panel!"

keith stayed where he was, watching him with that terrifyingly patient, soft expression that was only making lance’s panic ten times worse.

"i'm seventeen!" lance yelled at the sky, throwing his arms up. "i am a secondary cargo pilot! i spend twenty minutes every morning trying to get my hair to sit right! i have a three-year plan to become the top fighter pilot on earth, and NONE of that plan involves... involves MARRYING KEITH KOGANE!"

he dropped his hands, staring at keith with wide, terrified hazel eyes, his chest heaving under his jacket.

"we're rivals!" lance rasped, his voice dropping into a desperate, furious whisper as he stepped back into keith's space. "we argue about flight times! you look at me like I'm an annoying fly! how do we go from- from that to space husbands?!"

"you stop trying so hard to hide who you are," keith said softly, his tone completely calm, completely unbothered by the screaming. "and i stop being a stubborn idiot."

"i am NOT a stubborn idiot!" lance snapped automatically, before his own words caught up to him. "wait- i'm not the one who- YOU ARE! YOU'RE THE STUBBORN IDIOT!"

lance dragged both hands down his face with a long, agonizing groan, his fingers tangling in his hair. he stomped over to the railing, gripping the cold steel, staring out at the empty desert as if waiting for a rescue ship to come pick him up.

"this is a nightmare," lance whimpered into the wind. "this is a psychological experiment designed by the garrison to break my spirit. hunk is in on it. pidge is in on it. you're all working together."

"pidge didn't believe me at first either," keith mentioned offhandedly.

lance snapped his head around so fast his neck popped. "PIDGE KNOWS?!"

"i had to prove it to them," keith admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "i told them their real name."

lance’s jaw slowly unhinged. he stared at keith, the sheer impossibility of the situation crashing over him all over again. pidge’s secret identity was guarded tighter than the garrison's main server. if keith knew that, and he knew about the sand under his bed...

"...oh my god," lance whispered, the anger draining out of him, replaced by pure, unadulterated shock. he sank down until he was crouching against the platform railing, his knees pulled up to his chest, his hands clutching his hair. "you're actually telling the truth. you're... from the future. and we're..."

he stopped, biting his lip so hard it turned white, his cheeks burning crimson as he looked up at keith through his messy bangs.

"are we..." lance swallowed hard, his voice dropping into a small, impossibly shy murmur. "...are we happy? in the future?"

keith’s dark eyes softened completely. the exhaustion, the time displacement, the weight of the war, all of it faded, replaced by a look so tender it made lance's breath catch in his throat.

keith walked over, dropping down to crouch right in front of lance. he reached out, his thumb gently catching a stray tear lance hadn't even realized had slipped down his cheek.

"we're very happy," keith whispered. "you make a garden near the ocean. you teach me how to drive a boat. and every morning, you still spend twenty minutes on your hair."

lance let out a shaky, breathless laugh, hiding his face in his knees to cover the massive, helpless smile breaking across his face.

"you're such a dork," lance muffled into his pants leg. "i can't believe i married a dork."

"you haven't yet," keith reminded him softly, a faint smirk touching his lips. "technically."

lance whipped his head up, his hazel eyes flashing with that familiar, competitive spark. "oh, please! i'm going to destroy your simulator scores today, space-husband!"

"we'll see," keith hummed, offering him a hand to pull him up.

lance looked at keith's hand for a second, then reached out, wrapping his fingers tightly around keith's. as keith pulled him to his feet, lance didn't let go right away, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the back of keith's hand.

"for the record," lance muttered, staring stubbornly at the floor grates with a massive blush, "i'm still going to yell at you whenever you're annoying."

"i wouldn't expect anything less," keith said softly.

.
.
.

the transition back was silent.

no tearing sound, no rushing wind, just the sudden, cold weight of heavy metal resting against his chest and the sharp, clean scent of ocean air blowing through an open window.
keith opened his eyes.

the dry desert grit of the garrison ridge was gone. he was sitting on the edge of a wide, unmade wooden bed in a small, sunlit house overlooking a brilliant blue coastline.

he looked down at his hands. the skin was weathered, calloused, and scarred. on his left ring finger sat a simple, polished black metal band, catching the bright morning light.

keith let out a long, shuddering breath, his shoulders dropping as the phantom exhaustion of a seventeen-year-old body melted away, replaced by the solid, grounding reality of his present.

"you're up early."

keith turned his head.

lance was leaning against the doorway leading out to the porch, holding two steaming mugs of tea. he was thirty-two—broad-shouldered, skin warm and bronze from the coastal sun, a faint scatter of laughter lines etched softly around his hazel eyes. he was wearing a soft, faded garrison sweat-shirt that keith had stolen from him a decade ago, his dark brown hair messy from sleep.

he walked over, setting one mug on the nightstand, and sat down on the edge of the mattress right beside keith.

keith didn't say anything. he just reached out, his hand wrapping firmly around lance's wrist, feeling the steady, rhythmic pulse beneath his skin before sliding his hand up to cup the back of lance's neck, pulling him close.

lance let out a quiet, fond hum, leaning easily into the touch, pressing his forehead against keith’s.

"woah," lance murmured softly, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as he searched keith’s face. "you look like you just saw a ghost. bad dream?"

"no," keith said, his voice rough and deep with sleep. he brought his other hand up, his thumb gently tracing the quiet line of lance's jaw, feeling the warmth of him, the absolute solidity of the life they had built together. "just... remembering something."

lance tilted his head, a small, familiar smirk catching the corner of his lips, the exact same smirk that had infuriated and utterly captivated keith back in the garrison hangar.

"yeah? like what?"

keith looked at him, at the man who had dragged him through galaxies, fought beside him through the darkness, and built a peaceful home out of the ashes of a war.

"remember that week at the garrison?" keith asked quietly. "when i kept following you around, telling you how to take the third lap vector, and you thought i was practicing psychological warfare on you?"

lance blinked. then, a brilliant, nostalgic laugh burst out of his chest, shaking his whole frame as he shook his head.

"oh my god," lance wheezed, throwing his head back against keith's hand. "how could i forget? you were acting like an absolute lunatic! you blurted out that you were married in the mess hall, you threatened strayer, and then you backed me into a utility wall and told me i meant everything to you!"

"i was telling the truth," keith pointed out smoothly.

"you were seventeen!" lance argued, though his eyes were warm and shining with affection as he wrapped his arms around keith’s waist, pulling himself flush against keith's chest. "i spent three days convinced you were an undercover spy sent to ruin my flight scores. i was so stressed out i broke out on my chin!"

"you ran ten miles just to avoid talking to me," keith reminded him, a genuine, soft smile finally breaking across his face as he kissed the corner of lance's mouth.

"because you were terrifying!" lance laughed against his lips, his hands smoothing down the back of keith's shirt, pulling him down onto the soft pillows until they were lying tangled together in the warm sunlight. "you kept looking at me like you already knew every secret i had."

"i did," keith whispered, resting his hand against lance’s waist, his thumb catching the metal of lance's matching wedding band. "i knew you were going to be the best pilot in the universe. and I knew you were going to marry me."

lance looked down at him, his expression softening into that quiet, undivided warmth that keith had spent a lifetime chasing. he leaned down, pressing a slow, deep kiss to keith’s sweet, familiar, and tasting faintly of morning tea.

"arrogant as always, kogane," lance murmured against his mouth, his thumb gently smoothing over keith's cheekbone.

"not arrogant," keith corrected softly, closing his eyes as he pulled lance closer, burying his face into the warm crook of his neck. "just patient."

.
.
.

the sun had barely dipped below the horizon on the coast, leaving the bedroom flooded with a thick, golden twilight. the cool ocean breeze rolled in through the open terrace doors, rustling the linen curtains, but inside, the air was heavy, hot, and electric.

lance was hovering over keith, his knees resting on either side of keith’s hips, his hands pinned against the mattress right beside keith’s head. he was breathless, a low, wicked smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at his husband.

"you know," lance murmured, his voice dropping into that quiet, raspy register that always sent a shiver straight down keith’s spine, "if you really spent an entire week in the past watching seventeen-year-old me freak out, i think you owe me some compensation."

keith reached up, his calloused hands sliding up the sides of lance’s ribs, feeling the sharp, shuddering hitch of lance’s breath.

"compensation?" keith rasped, his dark eyes burning into lance's. "i spent three days listening to you yell about your flight times."

"and yet," lance whispered, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of keith’s ear, "you couldn't keep your hands off me."

lance didn't wait for a reply. he captured keith’s mouth in a slow, deep kiss that tasted like warm salt and honey.

keith groaned into the kiss, his hips pitching up off the mattress to flush himself against lance. the friction was instant, white-hot, and completely unravelling. ten years of marriage, ten years of knowing every inch, every sensitive spot, every quiet gasp, and still, the touch of lance's skin made keith feel like he was burning alive.

lance’s hands slid down to the hem of keith’s shirt, tugging it up and tossing it blindly off the side of the bed. his palm settled over keith's chest, feeling the frantic, hammering rhythm of keith’s heart beneath his thumb.

"still so impatient," lance purred against keith’s jaw, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin right under his ear.

"lance," keith choked out, his fingers digging into the muscle of lance’s shoulders, pulling him down harder. "stop talking."

"make me," lance challenged softly, his hazel eyes blown wide and dark in the dim gold light.

keith flipped them in one swift, fluid motion.
lance let out a sharp, breathless gasp as his back hit the soft pillows, his legs automatically wrapping around keith’s waist. keith crowded over him, heavy and unyielding, pressing his hips firmly into lance’s core.

lance’s head rolled back against the headboard, his lips parting in a silent shudder as keith pressed a trail of hot, bruising kisses down his throat, over his collarbone, straight down to the center of his chest.

"keith-" lance rasped, his hands tangling tightly in keith’s dark hair, his hips rolling up to meet keith's rhythm. "holy shit..."

"you always do that," keith murmured against his skin, his breath hot, his voice entirely undone.

"do... what?" lance gasped, his fingers tightening in keith's hair as keith’s hand slid down, pushing lance's sweatpants over his hips, his knuckles brushing against the hot, slick friction between them.

"that quiet gasp," keith whispered, his thumb catching the tip of lance’s length, stroking slowly, deliberately, making lance arch his back completely off the bed with a ragged, vocal whine. "you've done it since the garrison."

"shut up," lance wheezed, his eyes lidded, his face flushed a deep, gorgeous rose from his chest to his hairline. "shut up and kiss me."

keith didn't hesitate. he captured lance's lips again, drowning out the breathless slick sounds between them as his hands worked with practiced, devoted perfection. every touch was heavy with history, a mix of the fierce, desperate hunger of youth and the quiet, unshakeable permanence of the life they had built together.

lance whimpered into the kiss, his thumbs rubbing the back of keith’s neck, his whole body trembling under the steady, relentless heat of keith’s mouth and hands.

when keith finally slid inside him, slow and agonizingly deep, lance let out a long, shuddering cry, his forehead pressing hard against keith’s shoulder, his fingers digging into keith's back like he was anchoring himself against a storm.

"i've got you," keith rasped, his lips pressing against lance's temple, his chest heaving as he began to move. a slow, deep, devastating pace that sent shockwaves straight through lance’s spine. "i've always got you."

"keith, please," lance sobbed out softly, the bravado entirely stripped away, leaving behind only the raw, beautiful vulnerability keith loved more than anything in the universe. lance met every thrust, his legs locked tight around keith's hips, his head tossing back against the pillows as the pleasure coiled tight and agonizing in his stomach.

the room dissolved into hot skin, tangled sheets, and the quiet, breathless sounds of two people who belonged to each other entirely.

keith picked up the speed, his movements becoming faster, harder, chasing the edge alongside the frantic, desperate cadence of lance’s vocal gasps. lance’s hands flew up, his fingers locking with keith’s on the mattress, their black wedding bands clicking softly together in the dark.

"keith- right there- keith!" lance gasped, his whole body going rigid, his toes curling as the climax shattered over him in a blinding wave of white heat.

watching lance unravel was all it took. keith let out a low, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of lance’s neck as he followed him over the edge, his body shuddering with long, heavy waves of release that left them both completely spent.

a long time later, the sky outside had turned to a deep, midnight indigo, littered with brilliant coastal stars.

lance was lying sideways across keith’s chest, his head resting right over keith’s steady, slow heartbeat, one leg thrown over keith’s thighs.

keith was lazily tracing slow, mindless circles onto the warm skin of lance’s lower back, his dark hair messy and damp against the pillow.

lance let out a long, contented sigh, his fingers lightly tapping a rhythm against keith’s ribs.

"hey," lance whispered softly into the quiet room.

"hmm?" keith hummed, his eyes closed, his voice thick with sleep.

"that time loop thing," lance started, trailing off for a second as he tried to figure out how to phrase it. he lifted his chin, resting it on keith's sternum so he could look him in the face. "do you think... maybe you didn't just get sent back by accident?"

keith opened his eyes, looking down at him.

"what do you mean?"

"i mean... what if you had to go back?" lance murmured, a thoughtful, quiet look taking over his eyes. "because think about it. back at the garrison, we were both so stupid and stubborn. you were brooding in your own world, and i was so busy projecting all my insecurities onto you that i couldn't see straight. if you hadn't come back from the future and completely shattered my brain by being so devoted to me..."

lance let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking his head against keith's chest.

"...i don't know. we might've wasted years circling each other in deep space before either of us actually said anything. what if the universe pulled you back just to give seventeen-year-old me a kick in the pants? like... to speed us up?"

keith stared at him for a long beat, taking in the soft, earnest look on lance’s face. then, a faint, fond smile pulled at the corner of keith’s mouth.

"so what you're saying is," keith said, his voice low and teasing, "you needed a thirty-two-year-old version of me to come back in time just to convince you that you liked me?"

"HEY!" lance gasped, smacking keith’s chest with the palm of his hand, though his face flushed a brilliant, sudden red in the moonlight. "i am discussing quantum temporal physics and romantic destiny! do not turn this into a roast!"

"i'm just clarifying," keith hummed, pulling lance closer by the waist until their noses were almost touching.

"i liked you," lance grumbled, pouting slightly, though his hazel eyes were warm and shining. "i was just intimidated by you. there's a difference. but... seriously. do you think it changed anything?"

keith looked at him, at the black band on lance's finger, at the quiet house by the sea, at the ten years of absolute, unshakeable certainty they shared.

"maybe it sped us up," keith admitted softly, his thumb coming up to stroke lance’s cheekbone. "or maybe... no matter what timeline we're in, we just always end up right here."

lance stared at him for a second, the light teasing completely melting out of his expression. a soft, helpless smile broke across his face as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against keith’s.

"yeah," lance whispered into the dark. "yeah, okay. i like that answer better."