The aliens on this planet hated fire.
It was a planet eerily similar to earth, with several main continents and deep blue seas. The people of the planet had dark brown skin that blended into the plant life well, and used their several limbs and light mass to almost fly through the air.
It's been several months since Lance had even thought of the term, but these people looked and acted like monkeys. It made him tear up, because his nickname for his niece translated to "littlest monkey" in English.
He remembered the day she was born, being one of the first non-immediate family to hold her and feel her little hands wrap around his pinky finger, those blue eyes staring in wonder at the world around her.
Her name was Tina and Lance will protect her with his life, down to his last breath.
He will do the same for all of his family members, even old grumpy abuelita that complained loudly that he was too skinny to be of her blood.
These aliens on the planet they called Farok hated fire.
When Lance really thinks about it its logical.
Fire is a chemical reaction, literally oxygen exploding over and over and releasing heat and light. Fire is perfect for roasting Altean foods, bringing out the flavor and softening the paper-like texture.
Fire was like setting off a nuclear bomb to the natives, and that's why the Blue and Red had their legs curled around the small flame.
And in the dim light, holding a silver-colored rod he broke off of the tree-like plants that speared a Altean sweet, was Keith. His eyes reflected the orange light, so different from the artificial lights of the Castle or the UV lights of the Galra.
When the sweet caught aflame he didn't blink, just pulled the sweet from the fire and blew gently, before poking the clean end into the ground to cool.
His older brother did that too. Daniel would find a stick with the most twigs and branches he could, stick a marshmallow on every single one, and set them all on fire. Once he did it with matches he took from their father's desk, lighting them up one by one in the backyard hidden from their mother's watchful eye.
Marshmallows had never tasted so good.
These Farok natives hated fire, despised it so much that Blue and Red were curled in a pile, protecting the fire between the two paladins.
The lion's heads were facing each other, their tails shifting slightly as they hummed to each other. Blue's low rumble echoed in Lance's chest, making him feel safe and comfortable in the alien atmosphere.
"I sometimes wonder what they're talking about." Lance commented, anything to break the silence of the fire crackling and their breathing.
Keith gave him a weird look. "Does Blue not tell you?"
Lance bristled, defensive of his lion. "Does Red tell you?" he shot back.
Keith's gaze fell to the fire. Lance could have sworn a thin blush dusted his cheeks. "Yeah. Well, not in words what they're thinking. More like feelings and warmth."
"Warmth." The word rolled off of Lance's tongue easily.
Then it clicked together. The way Red and Blue seemed to coordinate together without their Paladins, the way they talked to each other that was different from the other lions, the way they were curled together now, humming sweet nothings and warmth in their own way.
"You mean-" Lance stuttered. "Red and Blue are-"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
A comfortable but heavy silence fell between them. Lance took careful notice of Blue's purring and Red's responses. The interactions were warm and soft and tender, like the way the sky touched the ocean.
"Makes sense in a way."
Keith's head cocked in question. "What does?"
Lance took hold of his hand, calloused fingers running over his smooth skin. "They're like us."
Keith's hand fit perfectly into his own, like they had manufactured their hands to be perfect for each other. Lance was sure his palm was sweating, he wanted to pull away because he might be grossing Keith out, but wanted to keep this warmth between them-
and then Keith softly pressed his lips to Lance's temple.
they pressed against each other in the dark, with their Illegal Fire crackling on sticks and twigs that were never meant to be burnt, and two self conscious robot lions murmuring sweet nothings in a language only they could understand.
and it was soft, Keith's lips were as soft as they looked, he must have chapstick in his pockets somewhere, and this thing between them, a syrupy sort of feeling that Lance got in his chest when Keith's eyes sparkled with a smile, was so new and tender they were afraid they'll break it.
Tentative fingers lightly ghosted the back of Lance's neck, experimenting, testing the waters. Seeing how each touch would send a shudder through Lance's body. Kissing the sensitive flesh beneath his chin-
And it was good. It was unfamiliar, but it was Keith, and how could someone he knew like the back of his hand make his nerves feel like they were set aflame, like nothing could ever hurt them when they were in each other's arms?
Fire was rare on this planet they were on, but this warmth in their chests were warmer than any chemical reaction.