Work Text:
The rain over the farmlands was different from the rain in the city. It was heavy, dark, and smelled of wet earth and turned soil. Keith walked the perimeter of the property first, his boots sinking slightly into the mud at the edge of the sleeping fields. He didn't know why he was delaying. Maybe he needed to feel the vastness of the space Lance had chosen, or maybe he was just terrified of what he would find when he finally reached the centre.
He walked slowly, the rain drumming a steady, rhythmic pulse against the hood of his jacket. In the distance, rising out of the dark expanse of the fields, stood the farmhouse. Its windows glowed like embers in the rainy gloom.
I’m outside. The thought hummed in Keith's mind, a quiet ache that matched his footsteps as he finally pulled himself away from the fields and stepped into the yard.
He approached the side of the house, keeping to the shadows where the porch roof didn't quite reach. The kitchen window was wide and bright, casting long squares of golden light onto the wet grass. Keith stopped just outside the glass, pulling his collar up against the damp chill, and looked in.
Through the rain-streaked window, the warmth inside looked like another universe. Lance was there. He looked older, his shoulders broader, wearing a soft, faded flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot, his expression relaxed and entirely at peace.
Then, someone else stepped into the frame.
Keith’s breath hitched in his throat. A girl walked up behind Lance, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her chin against his shoulder. Lance didn't startle; he just smiled—that easy, genuine smile Keith hadn't seen in over a year—and reached back to rest his hand over hers. He said something that made her laugh, shaking his head as he tasted whatever was in the pot and offered her a spoonful.
It was completely ordinary. A quiet, domestic routine of cooking dinner together, entirely untouched by the ghosts of the war or the cold void of space.
A sharp sting of realisation pierced right through Keith's chest, leaving him breathless. He had spent months convincing himself that he was giving Lance space to heal, running away to the Blade because he didn't know how to exist in the quiet. But looking through the glass, the truth was undeniable: Lance had healed. He had built a beautiful, steady life, and he had done it completely without him.
Is she all that you want? Keith thought, his gaze locked on the way Lance’s hand lingered on her waist. Is she all that you need? Because Keith was standing out in the freezing rain, drowning in a thousand regrets, and he had never felt more invisible.
***
The kitchen door clicked open, the sudden burst of warmth and the smell of garlic and roasted vegetables cutting through the damp air. Keith froze, pulling back into the deep shadow of the porch overhang as Lance stepped out onto the wooden deck. He was carrying a heavy plastic trash bag, his head ducked against the drizzle.
‘I'll be right back!’ Lance called over his shoulder, his voice bright and clear. The sound of it hit Keith like a physical blow. It was the same voice that used to crack jokes through the comms, but now it sounded grounded, settled, and completely at home.
Lance walked down the three wooden steps, tossing the bag into the large bin at the side of the house. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and paused to look up at the dark sky, letting the cool rain mist over his face for a second.
Keith stood perfectly still, barely breathing. He knew he should leave. He should turn around, walk back through the dark fields, get into his ship, and disappear back into the stars before he ruined this.
But then, Lance’s eyes drifted toward the side yard.
It was dark, but a flicker of light from the kitchen window caught the wet leather of Keith’s jacket. Lance squinted, his posture instantly shifting from relaxed to guarded. He took a cautious step forward. ‘Hello? Is someone there?’
Keith didn't move. He couldn't.
Lance took another step, the light from the window finally hitting Keith’s face. Lance stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widening in absolute disbelief as the rain pooled on the brim of his baseball cap. For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound was the steady downpour hitting the metal roof of the barn.
‘Keith?’ Lance whispered. The name was barely audible, but it carried the weight of a year’s worth of unanswered questions.
Keith swallowed the lump in his throat, stepping out of the shadows and into the soft, golden glow of the porch light. He looked a mess—soaked through, dark hair plastered to his forehead, and eyes entirely consumed by regret.
‘Hey, Lance,’ Keith said, his voice rough and cracking under the weight of everything he hadn't said.
***
For a second, Lance didn't move. He stood frozen in the wet grass, his mind clearly struggling to bridge the gap between the Keith who existed only in his memories and the living, breathing person standing in his yard. He blinked rapidly, as if expecting the rain to wash Keith away like a mirage.
Then, his expression fractured.
The shock melted, replaced by a raw, heavy wave of disbelief that turned into immediate defense. Lance’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders tightening. This wasn't the clean, easy closure he had fought so hard to achieve over the past year. This was a ghost ripping open a scar Lance had spent months trying to smooth over.
‘What are you doing here?’ Lance asked. His voice wasn't loud, but the softness of it held a dangerous, fragile edge. He took a half-step back, toward the safety of the porch, as if Keith’s presence alone might pull him under. ‘Keith, seriously. It’s been a year. No notes, no transmissions. Nothing. You just... show up in my yard?’
He looked Keith up and down, taking in the soaked clothes, the dark circles under his eyes, and the familiar, maddening quietness of him. Lance shook his head, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping his lips.
‘You don't get to do that,’ Lance whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he gestured vaguely toward the brightly lit kitchen window behind him. ‘You don't get to walk away into the dark because it's easier for you, and then just reappear when you feel like it. I finally... I built something here. I'm okay now.’
But as Lance said the words, his eyes locked onto Keith’s, and the lie tasted like ash in his mouth. The anger in his chest wasn't just fury—it was the terrifying realization that one look from Keith was already threatening to dismantle the quiet, safe life he had forced himself to love.
***
Keith didn't flinch. Every word out of Lance’s mouth hit him like a physical blow, but he stayed exactly where he was, taking the brunt of the anger he knew he thoroughly deserved. The old Keith would have gotten defensive, snapped back, or turned around and walked back into the dark fields. But the void of space had cured him of his pride.
‘I know,’ Keith said softly. He stepped forward, his hands coming out of his pockets, open and trembling slightly. ‘I know I don't get to just show up. You’re right, Lance. I’m sorry.’
He looked up at Lance, the rain dripping from his dark hair, his violet eyes completely stripped of the walls he usually kept up.
‘I tried to stay away,’ Keith confessed, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of a year’s worth of isolation. ‘I told myself that leaving was the best thing for you. That I belonged in the dark with the Blade, and you belonged somewhere warm and safe. But I was wrong.’
Keith took another tentative step, his gaze shifting for a split second to the kitchen window where Lance's new life was waiting, before locking back onto Lance's face.
‘I thought I could change,’ Keith whispered, his chest aching. ‘I promised myself I was changing, that I was leaving all of that shit behind. But every star system I flew through, every quiet planet I landed on... it was just a reminder that I left the only thing that mattered to me back on Earth.’
He stopped just a few feet away from Lance, close enough to see the way Lance's breathing was erratic, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him despite the cold rain.
‘I saw you through the window,’ Keith said, a bittersweet, agonizingly honest smile touching his lips. ‘She makes you laugh. You look... happy. And a part of me wants to just turn around and let you have that. But I couldn't leave without telling you. Not this time.’
***
Keith’s words hung in the damp air, heavy and absolute. Lance stared at him, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. He wanted to scream. He wanted to push Keith away, run back inside to the warm kitchen, lock the door, and pretend this night had never happened.
But his feet felt rooted to the wet deck.
Inside the house, the radiator clanked softly, a mundane sound of the comfortable, predictable life he had spent months assembling piece by piece. His new partner was inside, safe and uncomplicated. She loved him, and he had convinced himself that her quiet affection was enough. It was supposed to be enough.
But looking at Keith, the carefully built foundation of Lance's new life began to crack.
I promised myself I was changing. Keith’s confession echoed in Lance's ears, pulling at a deeply buried ache he thought he had successfully starved to death. The truth was terrifying: it hadn't died at all. The moment Keith stepped into the light, the past year of moving on felt less like healing and more like anesthesia. He had settled for a quiet life, not because he wanted it, but because he believed Keith was gone forever.
Lance looked back at the kitchen window. The golden light looked different now—not warm, but suffocating. It was a life built on a compromise, a place where he never had to risk his heart because the person holding it was thousands of light years away.
Then he looked back at Keith. Keith, who had always been a storm, who had always driven him crazy, but who had just admitted that the entire universe was empty without him.
‘You're an idiot,’ Lance whispered, his voice thick with tears that he couldn't blame on the rain anymore. He rubbed a hand over his face, a shaky, frustrated gesture. ‘You're such a self-sacrificing idiot, Keith.’
The anger was draining out of him, leaving behind nothing but the raw, terrifying reality of his choice. He could go back inside to safety, or he could step off the porch and risk everything for the boy who had finally come home.
***
Lance didn't go back inside. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step down from the wooden porch, his sneakers sinking into the wet mud right next to Keith’s heavy boots. The distance between them vanished, leaving only the sound of the rain and the fast, matching rhythm of their breathing.
‘If you stay here,’ Lance said, his voice barely a whisper against the storm, ‘you're going to ruin everything. You know that, right?’
‘I know,’ Keith replied. He didn't pull away. Instead, he reached out, his knuckles brushing carefully against Lance's cold cheek, a silent ask for permission. ‘But I don't want to stay here, Lance. Not on this farm. Not anywhere near the ghosts of who we used to be.’
Lance tilted his head into the touch, his eyes closing as a shuddering breath escaped him. The warmth of Keith's hand was the only real thing in the world. ‘Then where do we go?’
Keith’s thumb traced the line of Lance's cheekbone, his expression intensely focused, full of a quiet, desperate certainty. ‘Somewhere completely ours. Away from the Garrison, away from the Blade. I could build us a house, Lance. Down across the sea. Somewhere quiet, on some planet in the middle of nowhere, where the world can't find us unless we want it to. Just come back to me, Lance. Please.’
The space between them felt alive—a promise of an entirely new beginning, built from scratch, just for the two of them.
Lance looked back at the kitchen window one last time. The golden light inside belonged to a version of him that was trying to survive a ghost. But the ghost was real; he was warm, and he was holding his face in the rain.
Turning back to Keith, Lance reached up and grabbed the lapels of Keith's wet leather jacket, pulling him down into a rough, breathless kiss. It tasted like rain, salt, and the sudden, overwhelming relief of a year’s worth of unsaid words. Keith immediately wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, pulling him so close that the cold air between them completely disappeared.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them laughing softly through the tears.
‘You better be good at carpentry, Kogane,’ Lance whispered, his hands sliding up to tangle in the damp hairs at the nape of Keith's neck.
Keith smiled, a brilliant, rare expression that lit up his entire face. ‘I'll learn for you. Let's go.’
Hand in hand, they turned away from the farmhouse and walked back out into the dark, sleeping fields, leaving the safety of Earth behind to finally build something real.