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“Ten bucks says this is poisonous and we’ll all be dead by tomorrow.” Despite his own statement, Lance still sticks out his tongue to catch a few of the large snowflakes falling from the sky.
Needing to stretch their legs after being cooped up on the castle-ship for so long, Coran decided to set them down on a nearby, habitable planet, close to the polar caps where it just happened to be snowing. Of course, they were all wary at first. There have been many planets where what looked like your average Earth water or other safe liquids were in fact toxic or could mess with their systems. The type of mess that usually ended with one or more of them needing a healing pod. This time Lance was just happy to see something so normal–even though he never grew up in a place suited for snow.
Nevertheless, seeing the snowfall reminded him of Earth, and instead of wallowing in homesickness, he decided to make the most of it.
The others shared his excitement in varying degrees, but one by one they all made their way out of the ship to explore. For some reason, Lance decided to stick close to Keith–or maybe it’s more the other way around.
“I don’t think that’s a bet you want to make,” Keith says, hands in his pockets, completely uninterested in the scene before them. “And Coran said it was fine, so you’d lose anyways.” Unamused, his gaze swivels to Lance. “Why are we out here again?”
“Because it’s snow? Haven’t you ever wanted to see snow, desert boy?”
Keith scowls. He holds out his hand, allowing a few snowflakes to rest in his palm before melting onto his fingerless gloves. Raising an eyebrow at Lance, he says, “I’ve seen it. Is that it?”
“Oh my god.” Lance breathes in deep, placing his hands near his mouth. “Come here. I’ll teach you how to properly enjoy it.”
A slight smirk creeps up on Keith’s face. “Aren’t you from Cuba? I don’t think you’re an expert in this either.” Then, after a moment of thoughtful silence, he says, “If anything, we should ask Pidge.”
Lance sputters and points a finger at Keith. “Hey, me and my family went to New York during the winter months once. I have more experience than you.”
Shaking his head, Keith finally gives in, throwing up his hands in one big exasperated gesture. And he calls Lance a drama queen. “Fine, teach me everything you know, oh great and knowledgeable teacher.”
“Ha, you called me ‘great.’ No take backs,” Lance quickly says, grinning.
Rolling his eyes, Keith eventually makes his way to Lance’s side. Their shoulders brush together and Lance jolts at the unexpected contact but soon settles against him. The extra body heat is welcome. He never realized that Keith is so warm.
Slowly, Lance tilts his head up. He gazes into the endless dark, clouded sky above them, snow gently landing on his face. It tickles when the large flakes kiss his lips. “Just hold your head up to the sky and let the snow fall on you.”
“That’s stupid,” Keith mutters but Lance can feel him watching with rapt attention.
“Just do it.”
Reluctantly, Keith arches back his head, matching Lance’s movements. They stand like that for a minute. Snow collects on their faces. It’s cold, but enjoying the soft touch of the flakes, Lance barely notices it. Out of curiosity, Lance turns his head, peeking at Keith’s reaction.
With his mouth parted, snowflakes catch onto Keith’s long lashes and melt on his cheeks. His hair becomes dusted in white dots, enough that it looks like a crown. “This, this is actually kind of nice,” Keith says but makes no indication that he realizes Lance is staring. His eyes remain closed.
Lance looks only at Keith and smiles, cheeks heating from the cold and nothing else. Nothing else. “Yeah, it is.”
Oh, he thinks, oh no.
It’s been a few days since Lance realized he kinda, maybe, slightly has a crush on Keith. And he kinda, maybe, slightly has not accepted this fact yet. Out of all the eligible people in the entire universe, he has to go and fall for Keith? His rival? Whoever watches over the universe is definitely enjoying his conundrum way too much. And Lance would have words with them if he could. Clearly, this is some big cosmic joke.
Except Keith keeps doing these perfectly normal things that he’s always done but now Lance immediately locks onto them. And he blushes.
For instance, apparently training is too much for him now. He almost got clobbered in the face by the training bot because he couldn’t stop watching Keith’s fancy footwork as he battled the three other droids surrounding him or the way he cut through a droid in one powerful swing. Shiro scolded him for getting distracted--at least Shiro couldn’t figure out what actually distracted him.
Or when Keith walked into the dining hall early one morning, sweeping his mullet into a stubby ponytail to wrangle the bedhead he forgot to brush. And Lance’s gaze immediately latched onto his exposed neck like some repressed vampire, part of him wondering what it would be like to kiss Keith there. To kiss Keith everywhere. He almost choked on his food goo. Hunk saved him.
None of these things should be attractive and yet this is all just the tip of the iceberg to Lance’s Titanic . He tries to avoid Keith when he can; except it’s hard to since they’re supposed to be a team and do things like team bonding exercises and team training.
Basically, Lance is doomed. That is all too apparent.
“What’s up with you lately?”
Speak of the devil. Lance slowly opens his eyes to find Keith standing behind him, head arched over him. Lance rests on the couch in the lounge with his head tilted as far back as possible. He had been attempting to get a quick nap in but clearly he should have made the extra effort to walk to his bedroom. Because now he has to deal with this. “The sky,” Lance says, blinking.
“What?”
Lance shrugs. “You said what’s up and the answer is ‘the sky.’ I’m not wrong.”
Keith’s gaze flickers above them as if having to check. “It’s more the ceiling so technically you are wrong…”
“You know what, forget it. You can have the lounge all to yourself.” Standing now, Lance brushes past Keith, making his way to the door and hopefully to the safety of his bedroom.
Keith grabs onto his arm, pulling Lance back. He stumbles. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re acting weird.”
“You’re weird,” Lance mutters as a comeback.
“Nice one,” Keith bites back with heavy sarcasm. His eyes bore into Lance, unrelenting. “Are you going to tell me what’s the matter with you?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you’re my teammate, because when we form Voltron the energy is… different, and you’re not being your normal self.”
“Charming, dashing, and handsome?” Lance supplies with a cracked smile.
“Loud, annoying, and constantly bugging me,” he bites back immediately, easily falling into their normal routine.
Lance finds he isn’t bothered by it though; a full smile works its way to the surface. “Wow, for a second I almost thought you cared.”
Frustrated with himself, Keith cards a hand through his hair. “ I mean that I’m worried–we’re all worried about you.”
“Did everyone put you up to this?” Part of Lance finds it amusing that to try to figure out his problem, they sent the problem himself–not that they’re aware of that of course. At least Lance hopes they’re not aware of his feelings for Keith. He’s tried to keep them as close to his chest as possible, even if his eyes do wander.
Keith’s cheeks color. “No.. yes, but I would have done it anyway,” he admits, suddenly looking at the floor. He crosses his arms; his fingers dig into the sleeves of his jacket–hard enough that Lance can see the wrinkles. When Keith finally looks at him again, Lance can’t help but get caught in his gaze. His face softens, voice firm but calm. “We’re a team and I do care, despite how annoyed I get sometimes.”
The genuine concern in Keith’s eyes is too much for him.
It would be easier if Keith stayed a jerk with a pretty face. Still heartbreaking but in the long run not as painful. But then Lance got to know the guy more than just what the back of his head looks like and the perpetual scowl on his face. He soon realized that Keith isn’t so much of a jerk, that Lance actually kind of doesn’t hate him. That he probably never has.
Now he has to deal with life-shattering romantic feelings as if fighting in a 10,000 year old war wasn’t difficult enough.
Lance never quite felt this way with Allura--he felt a romantic connection to her for a time, sure, but he never felt attuned to her movements, on every minor thing she did. Probably why whatever fleeting crush he harbored for her easily turned into platonic affection. Which was a great relief to both of them really. But this, this intensity bursting through his chest, he’s not sure he has ever felt something like it before. It scares and excites him.
“Lance?” Keith asks, catching onto his silence and hopefully not his staring.
What Lance has learned so far over the past year that they have been teammates: Keith has a blunt way of talking, will say what he believes, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to him being mean on purpose. Keith is very much an introvert but if you’re patient and careful, you can get him out of his shell. Keith loves classic bad horror movies, will eat anything put in front of him because he learned not to be picky while living out in the desert, and can often be spotted with a book in his hands late at night. Keith is selfless, genuine, and a pain in Lance’s ass most of the time.
Lance can’t help but fall for him.
“I’m fine.” Lance flicks his arm out of Keith’s grasp to properly storm out. If his blush happens to deepen even more, at least Keith doesn’t see it.
Weeks ago, Pidge and Hunk finally figured out how to get the pool down from the ceiling. And now Lance is able to enjoy a daily swim, usually during winddown time after a big training session or even after a battle if all went well. They also figured out that it is easy to control the pool’s temperature too, meaning Lance can create one giant hot tub if he so desires. Which he definitely does today. He wants to soak and boil and let the world dissolve away into nothingness. If his hands become pruney afterwards, so be it.
Unfortunately when he walks into the room he discovers that the pool is already occupied.
And of course Keith is shirtless .
Lance almost slaps a hand to his face. His eyes look to the ceiling for a moment as he sucks in a sharp breath, steeling himself. He bounces in place for a moment and then decides to take the plunge.
By this time, Keith has noticed his entrance. He swims to the edge of the pool, laying his arms on the ledge and his chin on top of them. As if wanting to be polite for once, Keith waits for Lance to speak first, though his facial expressions seem to be doing a lot of talking for once. They range from: ‘ really?’ –which Lance can relate to–to surprise, and even a little bit of relief… but Lance could be reading into that one too much.
Lance grumbles rather loudly, “You’re here too? Just one place, one place I’d like to be alone.”
Whatever Keith’s expressions had been saying before, his face now dips into annoyance. “You don’t own the pool,” Keith says.
Lance’s flip flops clap against the floor. He squats in front of Keith. At some point, Keith must have slicked back his hair after diving under because that elusive forehead of his is out on display. Lance would be a liar if he said Keith didn’t look good like that. “Neither do you.”
He wonders what Keith would do if he balanced on the balls of his feet, leaned forward, and kissed him.
Luckily, Keith is not a mindreader. “You can just stay far, far away from me if you’re that peeved about it.” He rolls his eyes.
It’s an intriguing suggestion–the pool is massive, around the length of an Olympic swimming pool. But they would be remaining in the same room, no matter how many gallons of water would separate them, which is still too close for Lance’s comfort. “No, I’ll just come back later.” He pivots, avoiding slipping on loose water, and makes his way out only to almost trip in surprise.
Keith grabs onto Lance’s ankle. Lance turns, looking partially over his shoulder to see Keith half in and half out of the pool. Water puddles beneath him, his arm stretched taut to prevent Lance’s escape. “You’re not running away again.”
“Let go.” Trying to shake him off, Lance starts to inch forward, shuffling the best he can. He practically drags Keith with him.
“Stop being weird!” Keith growls. “You love to talk so why did you start to clam up all of a sudden?”
“How about you stop being weirdly social all of a sudden!”
Feeling Keith’s grip loosening, Lance makes a break for it. His escape doesn’t last long. Keith pulls himself out of the water and chases after Lance. Arms wrap around his middle before he can open the door.
“ Ack .” Lance’s fingers just brush the control panel as he gets pulled back.
“Nope, you’re not getting away that easily.” Keith literally scoops Lance up before he has the chance to protest. And he does it with ease, with ease. Somewhere on some planet that should be considered illegal. Lance is carried bridal style until Keith unceremoniously throws him into the deep end.
Keith follows him soon after, creating even more waves.
“What was that for!?” Lance sputters, water dripping from his arms as he pushes back his hair. He already feels it curling from the chlorine–or whatever the Altean version of chlorine is.
Unapologetic, Keith shrugs. “I had to get your attention.” By this time, they’ve moved out of the deep end enough for both of them to be able to properly stand instead of treading water. The water line comes up Lance’s collarbone; on Keith, it reaches the base of his neck–which is something to inwardly smile about at least. He still has one thing over Keith.
“You always have my attention,” Lance mutters to himself, half of his face dipping into the water. He looks at Keith like a shark skimming the surface. Suddenly, Lance slaps his hands against the water to send a large rolling wave directly at Keith. It drenches him.
“Ok,” is all Keith says, flicking his plastered hair out of his eyes. He joins the fight.
They push and pull each other, splashing with enough force that they have to tumble under the waves to avoid drinking pool water. Which isn’t always effective. Lance spits out a mouthful as he dives at Keith again. The splash fight easily shifts to wrestling. No punches are thrown or anything aggressive, but they manhandle each other in an attempt to come out on top.
Probably more pool water ends up outside of the pool than what remains inside. That would be a problem if they were anywhere other than an alien spaceship, but it just sinks through tiny grates in the floor, barely leaving any puddles behind. In other words, there is no evidence that anyone can yell at them for.
In the midst of trying to dunk Keith under the surface, Keith slips from Lance’s grasp and climbs out of the pool. Lance isn’t stupid enough to think he is running away so he cautiously wades towards the back of the pool, far away from whatever Keith is about to attempt. But even his caution doesn’t save him. Keith takes a running start, leaps, folds his legs into his chest, spins in mid air, and lands with a solid thump as he cannonballs into the water.
After that, it is pretty much over.
“Ack, ugh, stop, I surrender.” Lance laughs as he accidentally swallows a gallon of pool water. He only chokes a little bit and pounds on his chest. The waves from the jump still push against him.
Keith smirks in victory. That right there almost causes Lance to start up the whole splash fight again, if only to wipe that pleased look off his face. But he’s an adult–somewhat–and decides to leave it be. He drank enough pool water already anyways. He should probably double check with Coran and make sure it’s not toxic to humans.
Using his last bit of energy, Lance swims over to the edge, back hitting the side of the pool as he allows his body to float aimlessly. Keith joins him and settles almost too close beside him but Lance is too tired to double check just how close he is. He would rather not give himself a heart attack anyways. To relax and slip away is why he came to the pool in the first place.
By the time Keith speaks, Lance has to resettle his mind back into his body–he might have actually fallen asleep for a few minutes. “Better?” Keith asks when the silence over them hangs thick and heavy.
Lance cracks open his eyes, turning his head. A small, genuine smile appears on his face. “Yeah, thanks, Keith.”
“But you still won’t tell me what’s up?”
Lance lightly shakes his head, not as bothered by Keith’s questioning right now. “Nah, you have to get to like level 35 of friendship to unlock that secret.” He holds his hand high above his head to demonstrate.
Keith raises an eyebrow. He opens his mouth for a moment, then closes it before deciding to speak. “What level am I at now?”
“Hm.” Lance makes a show of contemplating the answer, resting a hand on his chin and sitting up straight in the water now. “Around level 21, inching up to 22.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what the criteria for each level is.”
“That’s a trade secret.”
“In other words, it changes every day.”
“Oh, of course.” Lance doesn’t even lie, flashing him a bright grin.
Keith chuckles. “Glad to know it’s such a sophisticated system.”
Keith may be at friendship level 21 almost 22 but he is at the romantic interest level of like 50, but Lance isn’t going to share that specific bit of information with him.
They descend back into silence, but a more comfortable one this time. Keith rests his head against the floor, eyes closed, lazily floating in the water–a mirror of Lance from earlier. Lance sneaks a peek at him, enjoying the one time he can without worrying about Keith’s vigilance.
His hair, just beginning to dry, curls around his forehead, his jaw, his neck. His brow remains smooth, less furrowed than Lance has ever seen it. In all honesty, Lance isn’t sure he has ever seen Keith so relaxed before. Lance studies the curve of his mouth, the slant of his nose, the length of his neck, all parts Lance wants to trace with his fingers and then with his mouth.
He could stare forever, if allowed to.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long.
Keith opens one eye. “Why’re you staring?”
Lance may blush but he covers his misstep easily enough. “I was just thinking how much better your mullet looks right now. The wet mop look really suits you more.”
Keith raises a hand, weakly slapping it onto the surface to splash Lance. “Shut up.”
“You’re the one who wanted me to talk. Be careful what you wish for I guess.”
“I’d rather have you insult me than be silent all the time,” Keith easily admits. Suddenly he lifts his hand out of the water again, pointing at Lance. “And no, that does not give you permission to constantly insult me. I know that look.”
A cheshire grin threatens to split Lance’s face. “Oh, I’d never .” But something sparks inside Lance, his heart pounding a little harder than normal, because somehow Keith just admitted, in a roundabout way, that he likes when Lance talks. Which shouldn’t be all that surprising considering how much Keith has spent this last week or so trying to get Lance to do just that.
Does Keith even realize what he just admitted to? Maybe, maybe not, but either way, Keith isn’t one to take back what he says, for better or for worse.
“Hey, Mullet,” he says, bringing the conversation back, “You know I’m never going to shut up now.”
Keith smiles at that, smiles at him. Lance is caught starstruck again. “I know.”
Lance fights the computer and is currently winning.
Shiro forced Pidge to move the gaming system out of her room and into the lounge after he found her transfixed to the game one morning, having pulled an all-nighter to defeat some difficult level. With the change, however, now they all have the ability to pull all-nighters playing video games, a side effect Shiro hadn’t thought of. At this moment though, it is only late afternoon, but Lance has probably been playing for too long anyways.
The doors to the lounge slide open. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance spots Keith walking in, probably searching for his cropped jacket, which is draped haphazardly over the back of the couch.
Realizing too late that he tracks Keith’s movements more than the video games’, he turns back just in time to see his opponent viciously KO his character. He curses. Keith chuckles at his defeat.
“Hey,” Lance calls out to him. Keith stops in his tracks, turning half around to face Lance. It’s easier to be in Keith’s presence after the pool incident. Something about that day caused Lance’s brain to reset. He realized that he actually does have the ability to act normally around Keith even if he dreams of something more between them. “Come here. I need an easy victory.”
“Are you joking? I can even beat Pidge at this game. What hope do you think you have?”
Seeing the serious glint in Keith’s eyes, Lance shucks off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. “Ok, now it’s on.”
Keith hops over the back of the couch, landing beside Lance. He grabs the offered spare controller. “You’re going to regret this.”
They sit close to each other, enough that Lance can throw a wayward elbow into Keith’s side and call it an accidental spasm. Enough for Keith to push his whole body into Lance, practically pushing him into the ground, and say he tripped.
Part way through the game, their health bars both holding steady at the halfway mark, Keith struggles to blow his long bangs out of his face. He tries three times only for his hair to flop back into his eyes. The corner of his mouth ticks in frustration as he continues to mash buttons.
The action has Lance’s eyes straying from the game and once again onto Keith. What would it feel like to run his hands through Keith’s hair? He bets it would be soft, unfairly and stupidly so.
Lance drops his controller before he registers what he is doing. Reaching out, he tucks part of Keith’s bangs behind his ear. (And yes, it is as unfairly soft as he feared. Dumb mullet).
Keith, almost freezing up at the unexpected contact, slowly turns to Lance. His mouth parts slightly, and Lance answers his unspoken question.
“It looked like you needed help,” he explains, voice suddenly thick in his throat.
“Thanks,” Keith says quietly.
Lance hasn’t removed his hand, now practically cradling Keith’s face, and Keith has made no move to shake him off. In fact, Keith almost seems to lean into it. The game becomes forgotten, their characters simply bouncing in place on the screen, waiting.
Keith fully faces him now, encroaching on Lance’s personal space enough that Lance can feel whenever he breathes out. He can count Keith’s individual lashes, the light freckles on the bridge of his nose that Lance has never noticed before, and spots a small, almost invisible scar on his chin. His eyes linger on Keith’s lips.
Do it, Lance’s mind tells him, do it.
“Keith,” Lance whispers, eyes already fluttering closed.
“Yeah?” he responds, just as quiet but not quite caring for an answer. He tilts his head closer, their lips brushing.
Vaguely, Lance registers the sound of doors opening, but ignores it, focusing on Keith’s warm breath dusting his lips, a promise of what’s to follow.
“Oh, there you are, Keith,” Shiro says. They jump apart, Lance’s eyes growing wide and heart pounding. Luckily they were sitting in front of the couch; Shiro probably saw nothing more than the tops of their heads. Keith doesn’t look at Lance--or maybe can’t look at him and decides to focus his attention on Shiro. A frown sets on Keith’s face, and Lance isn’t sure if that is from being interrupted from what was definitely going to be a kiss or if he just slid into his natural expression. “Did you forget about our training session?”
Keith shoots up from the ground. “N-no. Just leaving now.”
He seems to hesitate at first, but when he finally leaves, Keith never bothers to spare a glance back at Lance.
Thus, Lance is left alone to simmer in whatever the fuck just happened. Or, what almost just happened.
Lance stands in front of Keith’s door.
He still hasn’t figured out what he wants to say to Keith. Maybe something along the lines of: ‘hey, Keith, not sure if you realized this but we almost kissed yesterday. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in continuing where we left off?’
Somehow, Lance doesn’t believe that would help the situation. Though, Keith is always one for direct confrontation, so maybe that approach would yield results. Whether they’re the results Lance wants remains a mystery.
It’s not like Keith looked back, after all. Not like he has sought out Lance in the past day or so. He probably forgot all about it. Wiped it from his memory. Just like Lance did with their original bonding moment because he couldn’t deal with the implications at the time.
Keith ‘forgetting’ about yesterday would only be fair, Lance guesses.
He raises a hand to finally knock when he hears, “What’re you doing near my door?”
Startled, Lance turns his head to find Keith standing a good couple feet away from him–having used his stealth skills, clearly, to sneak up on Lance, which, rude. Keith crosses his arms in wait. Any confidence Lance had for confronting Keith crumbles into dust.
“Oh, this is your room? Thought it was mine. They all look the same.” Lance nervously laughs, palming the back of his neck as he steps away, prepared to run (he thought he got past this, apparently not). “Silly me.”
Keith seems unconvinced. He walks closer, positioning himself between Lance and his door. “What do you want?”
“Nothing, I told you I just got the doors mixed up.”
“You really want to keep sticking with that excuse?” Raising an eyebrow, Keith lightly scoffs. “How stupid do you think I am?”
A smirk plays at Lance’s lips. He can’t help himself. Not when Keith makes it so easy for him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Keith shakes his head, more in exasperation than an answer to that question. “So did you need me for something?” he asks again, hands now in his pockets, a nice, non-threatening gesture.
No matter how at ease Keith can appear, it does nothing to reinstill that much needed confidence in Lance. He shrugs his shoulders, already preparing to turn away. “Not really; I’m just going to…yeah.” He waves a hand in the direction of the hall behind him hoping that finishes his sentence for him. Yet Lance doesn’t make it far, only about ten steps away from Keith’s door.
“Lance,” Keith calls out suddenly to draw him back. “About yesterday, I–”
Lance’s heart spikes as he slowly turns.
He urges himself to say something, the truth primarily, to just get it over and done with and start to deal with the fallout when it comes like an adult. But Lance never said he wasn’t a chicken. Never said his confidence and bravado were real. Waving his hand, Lance quirks his mouth in a nonchalant way. “Don’t sweat it. It’s already forgotten, if that’s what you’re going to ask.”
“No, actually–”
But the emergency alarm blares out, painting them red and ceasing all further conversation.
They destroyed the flag ship easily but had to clear out the rest of the Galra force that took positions within the bombed capital city. They landed their lions and continued the battle on foot. The fight has gone on forever; luckily the people of the planet offered up their military services (or what remains of them) so it became more of a fair fight than just six people battling an entire squadron.
Lance’s arm aches with a burn from a blaster shot he only just managed to dodge, lucky enough that it didn’t take out his shoulder. He limps on his sore ankle–it’s most likely sprained from tumbling off one too many buildings today. His sniper spot kept getting compromised.
During the latter half of the battle, he and Keith got separated from the others. They’ve been fighting back to back since then, not wanting to risk getting further separated from each other again. All comms have been jammed so there is no current way to contact the rest of the team, or Coran on the castle-ship. But everybody else is definitely having a better time than he and Keith are.
“Get down!” Keith yells. He pushes Lance to the ground, landing on top of him as blaster fire whistles above them. He covers both of them with his shield. The shots would have taken off their heads if Keith hadn’t reacted in time.
Lance’s teeth rattle upon impact; he almost bites his tongue. Picking himself back up, finding cover behind a wall–the last remnants of some building–Lance shoots the three Galra he can see. Their little area settles into silence. After a few moments of waiting, nobody else makes a move; hopefully they cleared the space for now. It’s so silent that Lance can hear Keith’s heartbeat next to him, or maybe that’s just him breathing heavily.
Lance settles against the wall. He sets his blaster on his lap and reaches up to take off his helmet. The air is breathable–Pidge confirmed it before they got out of their lions–and it feels good to breathe in something fresh, even if it’s laced with a dissipating layer of ozone from constant blaster fire and smoke of small fires scattered around. So maybe not so fresh, but at least he is not feeling as claustrophobic now.
He folds his hands over his helmet, drumming them against the surface. It’s probably the adrenaline, the fight or flight drive coursing through him, probably the fact that he could be seconds away from dying or still years away. Whatever causes the desire to say something now, his brain won’t shut up about it. Not with Keith inches away, bone tired and wary. Biting his lower lip, he looks at Keith. “I have to tell you something.”
Their eyes lock. “Lance, this isn’t the best pla–”
“I know, I know but I want to say it. Because if something happens, I don’t–”
Keith sighs. As if knowing he won’t be able to shake Lance away from the subject, he scans their surroundings. When he deems it safe enough, no enemies visible or starting to fire at them, he turns to Lance and says, “Alright, tell me.” He takes off his own helmet, shaking out his hair and running a hand through the sweaty strands.
It only delays Lance momentarily as he shakes his head to refocus. Keith waits patiently, eyes boring into him. One more look at them and Lance can’t force it back in anymore.
“I–I like you so much it’s literally killing me.” Then he pauses, thinking that may not have been the clearest way to put it given Keith’s blank, unblinking stare. “Romantically. I like you in a romantic way.”
“That’s why you were acting so weird,” Keith realizes immediately, voicing it to himself. Louder, he says, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Lance stares at Keith like he offended him. He’s not sure what this means–it’s neither an acceptance nor a rejection and Lance doesn’t know why he thought anything that involved Keith would go smoothly. His cheeks heat. “Because it’s scary? Because you’d probably reject me? There are a million reasons, Mullet!”
Keith tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. “But didn’t you realize I like you too?”
“I– what ?” Mouth dropping, Lance’s eyes pop wide open.
“The entire team has been teasing me about liking you for months!” Keith almost yells but bites back the volume enough that it comes out as an aggravated hiss. “How did you not figure it out?” The crease between Keith’s brows deepens in confusion.
Lance huffs a strangled laugh. What a mess. What a glorious mess. He lifts two fingers in the air, counting. “Okay, one, I was clearly dealing with my own stuff so excuse me for not realizing what was going on around me. And two, hypocrite much? You could have told me .”
“I tried earlier!” he defends himself, “But then we got…”
“Interrupted,” Lance finishes for him. Which reminds him that they are presently in the middle of a battle, and maybe this really wasn’t the best place to do this. His gaze flickers off to his left, thinking he heard something. When nothing reveals itself, probably a space-rat or other creature, he moves to set his attention on Keith again, wanting to know how long he’s liked him, what this means for them now, and does Keith want to kiss him as much as Lance wants to kiss Keith. But that doesn’t go as planned.
Suddenly, Keith is no longer beside Lance. He spins completely around to see a seven foot tall Galra soldier holding Keith by the throat. His clawed hand grips onto Keith tightly, creating indents in his skin. A bit more pressure and he’ll pierce Keith. Held high, Keith’s legs squirm uselessly in the air, trying to clock the Galra in the shins, as he desperately tears at the hand choking him. His bayard has fallen to the ground.
They missed one, clearly.
Lance swallows his guilt to focus.
The Galra soldier snarls. “Drop your weapon, little paladin. There’s nothing you can do.”
Grimacing, Lance keeps his bayard steady in his hands. Sweat builds up on his palms under his gloves. There is one thing he can do. But Keith is a little too close to the Galra’s head for Lance to feel comfortable pulling it off. He could shoot the soldier in the leg or arm but he has a feeling the Galra would just as easily rip through Keith’s throat in revenge.
At best, Keith may come away with a new scar. At worst, Lance accidentally kills Keith before the Galra can. It’s not an encouraging thought.
“L-Lan-ce,” Keith attempts to speak, the word broken. He quickly tries another approach, angling his head towards the Galra. ‘Do it,’ Keith mouths. His gaze holds steady. It’s all Lance needs.
He breathes out and shoots the Galra in the left eye. Keith’s head whips to the side. He pulls off the hand around his throat and drops to the ground. He braces himself from the impact before he slumps completely into the dirt. The Galra soldier topples back, dead, but Lance doesn’t pay him any attention.
“Keith!” he yells, sharp and loud, as if his voice could physically lift Keith off the ground. He sprints to Keith’s side the quickest he can on his busted ankle and rolls him over so he faces the sky. Lance finds Keith’s eyes already open, watching him, mouth quirked into a smile. “I didn’t kill you, did I?” His hands tentatively hover near Keith’s shoulders and hesitate around the newly formed bruises on Keith’s neck. A light burn mark streaks across his cheek, but it is shallow enough that the healing pod will take care of it without leaving a scar. Probably. “I’m sorry; this is all my fault.”
Keith’s expression is completely relaxed as if he feels no pain at all. Lance isn’t sure if that is a good thing or not. He might be in shock. A pleased smile rests on Keith’s face. “You’re amazing,” Keith suddenly mutters. He surges forward, grabbing onto Lance’s armor to pull him into a kiss.
“ Oh .” Lance gasps against Keith’s lips. He settles his hands on Keith’s hips to anchor himself and matches Keith’s intensity.
The kiss is a little sloppy; both of them grin a little too much and their noses get in the way at some point. Despite all that, it’s perfect. Keith reaches up to Lance’s hair and threads his gloved hands through the short strands. Lance hums. This is his first kiss so while he has nothing to compare it to, he thinks it’s going more than fine. But then he feels Keith wince against his mouth, almost biting his lip by accident, and Lance immediately pulls away. His eyes sweep over Keith’s face and body in concern.
“You’re sure you’re ok?” Lance continues to fret, gently cupping Keith’s face. The battlefield really isn’t the best place for full on confessions, he surmises a bit too late, but at least the outcome turned out good–in more ways than one. “I’m sorry,” he says again.
Keith grabs his hands but instead of pushing Lance fully away, he interlaces their fingers to keep him close. “Yeah, I’m ok. It’s ok, Lance. And thank you,” Keith says genuinely, squeezing their hands. Standing, he drags Lance with him. He lets go to grab his discarded helmet and fallen weapon. Lance immediately misses that contact. He craves it now, knowing it’s possible. “We should find a spot with better cover,” Keith suggests, looking back at him.
They make their way to one of the more intact buildings for cover. Which means it has a rather complete ground floor to hide in but the face of the top floor has been sheared off. The walls actively crumble as they pass, small debris raining down on them. Keith opens the door, creaking on its misshapen hinges, but the building remains standing. It’s safe enough.
Sunlight breaks in through the slits on the boarded up windows. Lance slices his hand through the dusty beam as they make their way across the room. This building was once a shop, based on the rows of overturned shelving and piles of unidentified objects–but whether it used to be a grocery store or a general wares store, Lance can’t tell.
Once they’re one hundred percent sure this time that no Galra lurk in the shadows, having searched every inch of the building, ground floor and blown out second level, Lance returns his attention to Keith. Dried blood already cracks on Keith’s skin. Lance reaches up, gently brushing underneath the mark before moving to his hair. A few ends have been signed, crumbling in his hands, but no major damage. Nothing that can’t easily grow back. Keith keeps his steady gaze on him.
“You know, a few more inches and I would have blasted off your mullet for good,” Lance says.
“I’m glad your hand wasn’t shaking.”
“Eh, that’s debatable,” Lance jokes, feeling lighter now. He continues to card his hands through Keith’s hair, brushing it out of his face. With a smile, he bumps their foreheads together. Everything from before rushes into his heart. “You like me.”
“No, I just go around randomly kissing people I know,” Keith deadpans, cupping Lance’s face.
“You like me,” Lance says, giddy as he presses a quick, chaste kiss against Keith’s mouth. A promise for everything. “And I like you.”
Keith’s mouth lifts into a small, but soft, smile. “Someone’s high off of adrenaline.”
“Mmm,” Lance mumbles, somewhat agreeing. “I’m just really happy. You make me happy.”
This time it is Keith who says “ Oh, ” as if not believing what he heard. In response, he wraps his arms around Lance, burying his face into Lance’s neck. Warm lips press against Lance’s skin; his fingers knot in Lance’s short hair at his nape. “You make me happy too,” Keith mutters but Lance hears every word.
Lance separates, putting the smallest amount of space between them, but only so he can dive back in and kiss Keith again.
It’ll be easy to fall for Keith, Lance knows without a doubt. He probably already has in some way and only has a few more steps to go. What a wonderful descent it will be.
They spend a few more precious minutes lazily, but eagerly, trading kisses, mapping each other in the best way possible. When one of the suns of the planet begins to warm Lance’s face, he realizes how much time has passed since the battle started. Keith seems to notice it too by the way he sighs, his hands finally leaving Lance’s body. Suddenly, Lance is cold.
“We should find the others,” Keith says, almost reluctant.
While the thought may cross Lance’s mind, he knows he could never be selfish enough to stay here forever with Keith. “Let’s hope they’re not too worried.” On the way, they’ll probably think of a good excuse for their lengthy absence or maybe they’ll just tell the truth.
The truth wouldn’t be bad.
Lance stands, offering his hand which Keith grabs onto gratefully. When their fingers lock, they walk off together.