Pidge and Coran sat hunched over a computer control panel, Pidge's laptop on her lap. "It was Hump Day when you all first formed Voltron," Coran said. "The third quintant of the Spicolian movement. Each quintant is about 4 and a half of your Earth months."
"It was like mid-June when we left Earth," supplied Pidge, clacking away furiously. "Because we had just finished final evals at the Garrison." When Coran shot her a confused look, she elaborated. "June is sixth of the twelve months."
Coran nodded, and turned back to his computer. They worked and charted and coded, and counted on their fingers. Until finally Pidge yelped. "I got it!" She grinned at Coran before turning back to her screen and jumping out of her seat. "Holy quiznak! It's new year's eve!"
"What is new years eve?" Coran asked, her excitement already spreading to him.
Pidge grinned, face dripping with mischief. "It's when you get drunk with your friends and watch one year die as a new one is born." Coran's eyes widened. "We have any more of that nunville lying around?"
Coran stood up and straightened his lapels. "Sounds like we have a party to plan."
In a few hours, Team Voltron put together a party to rival the Arusians' celebration. This time though, it was just them. Shiro was telling Allura about Earthen holidays, and how different nations across Earth celebrated New Year's in different ways. Pidge and Hunk were swapping stories about how they'd spent different New Year's Eves, with Coran listening in genuine fascination. Keith sipped at the nunville (which wasn't so terrible once the pleasant buzz kicked in), half listening to the chatter around him, when it suddenly hit him that Lance wasn't there. He had been around at first, when everyone had settled in the common room. Sometime between then and now, he'd snuck off. Keith downed the rest of his drink and stood up. Unsure of what exactly he was doing, or why, he went off to find Lance, letting the light feeling thrumming in his veins guide him.
Keith searched for Lance fruitlessly in his room, the blue lion's hangar, and even-however unlikely-the training deck. He finally found him in a tower room, with fifteen-foot floor to ceiling windows all around, overlooking...space. Keith had never been here before. It was breathtaking. For a moment he could do nothing but stare, awestruck, out the windows at the stars and nebulae, feeling like an insignificant speck amidst it all. Focusing, he drew his eyes to Lance, sitting on the floor facing the window, leaning back on his hands. Keith went up and sat next to him, looking out to share Lance's view.
Lance turned around and looked at him, nearly expressionless, but Keith caught something in his eyes, something sad. It irked Keith to see it, and he had a sudden urge to blink it away. Lance turned back toward the window and spoke. "Back home, I always used to spend New Year's Eve with my siblings and cousins. We would watch the ball dropping on TV, and before that we would sing along with the live concert songs." He sighed. "I wonder how they're holding up, thinking I'm dead. I wonder if they're celebrating."
Keith didn't know what to say. His New Years always went by like any other night. Usually alone. He had no words to comfort Lance. They must miss you, and They'll be proud of you, sounded obvious and hollow. Instead he said, "Tell me about them."
So Lance did. He told Keith about his family; about how old each of his siblings was, and what they all liked. He told Keith about his parents and how loved they made him-and everyone-feel; about how big his extended family was, and how the last two months of every year were one extended revolving-door family reunion.
And Keith listened. He had long since lost interest in the stars before him, losing himself instead in the planes of Lance's face, in the clear blue pools of his eyes. Lance was so animated when he talked. The skin around his eyes and mouth crinkled pleasantly when he smiled, which happened a lot as he recalled happy memories. His nose scrunched up as he recounted his older siblings' teasing. He raised a single eyebrow and smirked smugly while telling Keith about the pranks he had successfully played on unsuspecting aunts and uncles. Keith found himself hanging on to every word, and every expression.
Eventually Lance slowed, then stopped talking altogether. Keith was used to silence. Silence was normal for him. But it was also stifling in its loneliness. But this silence… it was different. It wasn't lonely. It didn't stand for a lack of sound. This silence was comfortable.
The boys looked out at the unbelievable view of space. All things considered, it was a pretty cool way to usher in the new year. Lance lay down on his back, legs still crossed. Keith followed a moment later, without hesitation. Lance's cup of nunville sat between them, almost full. Lance had barely touched it. Keith ran his finger over the rim.
"That stuff tastes even worse than I remember," Lance exclaimed suddenly, watching Keith's hand. "Where's yours? Did you throw it out?"
"No, I drank it."
Lance gaped. Keith felt his eyes on him and chuckled. "It's not so bad if you sip it slowly, and wait for it to take effect. Once you're a bit tipsy it's bearable."
"You're crazy. Dude, it's nasty."
Keith crossed his arms. "If you try to drink it in huge gulps, then yeah. If you go slow it's kinda like beer."
"Beer is disgusting."
A beat as Keith considered this. Then he shrugged. "Touché."
"You seriously drank it all? Why aren't you drunk?"
"It wasn't that much. And it's not all that strong. I think Coran diluted it a bit compared to last time."
Lance scoffed. "I bet I could drink more than you."
Keith couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You couldn't even drink one cup. You didn't even drink half a cup!"
Lance propped himself up on an elbow and made to grab the cup.
Keith beat him to it and slid it out of reach. "Lance, what're you doing?" He was laughing at how ridiculous Lance was being. "Why is everything a contest with you?"
Lance was grinning too. "I gotta win man. It's who I am."
Keith rolled his eyes. Lance lunged, trying to get the nunville. Keith's reflexes kicked in and he half got up, blocking Lance. They were close now, leaning on their elbows facing each other. Keith felt himself getting pulled into deep blue again, but this time Lance was staring back into violet. Impulsively, Keith leaned forward a bit, not quite closing the distance completely. He willed Lance to do it. And Lance did.
Their lips met and Keith was drowning. He pulled away before he could run out of air, before it was too much.
"Woah," breathed Lance.
"Yeah," agreed Keith.
Slowly, keeping their eyes on each other, they lay back down, matching each other's movements. They turned back to the stars above and all around.
Lance looked at the watch Pidge had synced with Pacific Time. It was almost midnight. "Hey, wanna countdown?"
Keith smiled, feeling giddy. He reached for Lance's hand, and squeezed it.
Their voices sounded together. "10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Happy New Year." They kissed again.
