Addendum (2/23/13): Republished after some clean-up work, especially on later chapters. No major plot changes.

A/N: Wow, writing this piece has been a journey for me in so many ways—mentally, emotionally, and physically (I wrote parts of it during a recent road trip).

Thank you to Sybil Rowan for beta reading. Your encouragement is much appreciated. Also thank you to Harmony for boosting my ego. Finally, arigato to Kogane Akira for the Japanese translations.

Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron.

Denials

Location: North American Space Academy, San Francisco and surrounding counties

People think I'm uptight because I usually choose not to drink alcohol when I go out. It's not that I don't ever drink; I just don't see the need to imbibe vast quantities simply for the sake of getting drunk. Okay, that does sound a bit prudish. The truth is I'd rather not wake up in the middle of the night with extreme nausea and painful stomach cramping. Go alcohol allergy. So, to save myself from later misery, I tend to avoid the alcohol altogether.

Lance, on the other hand, seems to be a permanent sponge for the stuff. He's never just the life of the party; he usually is the party. That man has a tolerance to alcohol like no one else, which is funny because he's so skinny. You'd think it would go straight to his head and knock him out based on the way he drinks. But it doesn't. He attributes it to his high metabolism, claiming his liver works doubly fast as anyone else's. Wouldn't surprise me. He's fast at everything—running, driving, eating, flying. He's one of the best damn pilots I know.

Not only can he move fast, he can also think fast. I suppose that's what makes him such a great pilot. Trouble is, he doesn't consider every consequence of his decisions, and that's landed him in trouble more times than I can remember. But his charm and smooth talking usually get him out of sticky situations.

Lance is also a ladies' man. At least, that's what he wants you to believe. Every week it seems like there's a new girl or two on his arms. He's proud of others thinking he has a list a mile long of women he has banged, but I know better. More often than not he passes out with a girl in bed before doing as much as taking her top off. Both are too hung-over in the morning to realize nothing actually happened. And it's not just the women that fall at Lance's feet. I've caught plenty of men ogling him, too. I would notice that because I'm the one usually looking at them.

Yeah, I'm gay, and I'm out. Most people are supportive, and the ones that aren't I luckily don't often have to work with. I've had my share of relationships, but none have lasted too long. I finally came to realize why—I'm in love with Lance and have been for some time. We've been best friends since day one of freshmen year at the Academy when we were placed as roommates. They say opposites attract; well, we're about as opposite as you can get. Lance loves losing control and being the center of attention. I'm the control freak who makes a point to find quiet and solitude. But somehow, we just click.

Being close to him presents me with another fascinating revelation: Lance is gay. Sure, he denies it; he's been so conditioned by the conservative little town he grew up in that he would deny anything that could cause his parents grief. I've tried to convince him otherwise, but he just replies with some snarky comment like, "Keith, I think your gay-dar is off tonight." "Takes one to know one," I would say in response. He would just slap my back and ruffle up my hair. "Which one of your buddies wants to have his way with me now?"

He always assumed that was the reason I brought it up. But I've caught him staring at men before. And he always laughs a little too much in response to dick jokes. God forbid I ever show him a gay porno. He asked me about gay sex a couple times before. Of course, it was only "research for a friend." I angrily told him if he really wanted to know what it was like just stick a banana up his ass. I swear he blushed a bit, almost like he had thought about doing it before.

I once invited him to a gay bar I frequented with friends. Now before you get all shocked that I would go to such an establishment, let me emphasize that there are gay bars where you go to pick someone up for the night and there are gay bars where you go to just hang out with your friends, gay or otherwise. This was one of the latter kind. I sipped on one glass of wine all night long, while Lance downed a drink about every 30 minutes. Typical.

At one point a man who had been eyeing Lance all night approached our group. He introduced himself as Todd and found a seat next to Lance, who, being as inebriated as he was, moved over and welcomed him with open arms. Todd joined our conversation quite casually, but I kept noticing his body language towards Lance. If something funny was said, he laughed and patted Lance's thigh. Lance even blushed a bit at the contact. Eventually, Todd seemed comfortable enough to leave it on Lance's knee, and Lance made no move to protest. They soon struck up their own conversation. Lance succumbed to his charm and began flirting with him as well. Before I knew it Todd leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on Lance's lips.

Now, I should have been happy for Lance, right? Maybe he was finally accepting the truth about his homosexuality. Instead my protective instincts churned up. Was I actually jealous? It never bothered me when Lance flirted with women. Maybe I just wanted his first man to be special—someone I knew and trusted, like me.

After downing several more drinks together, Todd stood and offered his hand to Lance, who accepted. My anger rose.

Lance said his good-byes to the group, but I pulled him aside before he left. "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Lance?"

"Keith, my friend, I have this totally under control. Todd and I are just going for a breath of fresh air."

Fresh air? Bullshit.

"Just…be careful. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Relax, bro, it's all good."

He patted my shoulder and left the bar as I stared after him, confused.