All is quiet. Far too quiet for what Keith's accustomed to. His teammates, his friends, aren't the quiet types. They're the yammer-until-a-plan-is-plotted-and-problem-is-solved types. Keith's the quiet one. And now it seems it's his time to make the plans and speeches. Where does he even start? How can he possibly fill these boots?
Shiro – their strength, their sanity, their leader – is missing. Vanished into thin air, before them all. Basically. One moment his voice is coming through the comm, the next he's just gone. It's unfathomable and surreal.
As they make their way to the control room, Keith glances back at his teammates to gage their reactions.
Pidge has that fierce, calculating glint in her narrowed brown eyes, a veritable warning to anyone and anything that's in her way to finding Shiro. The same expression she gets when deliberating the search for her family. Shiro has become family to Pidge, Keith recognises the connection between them, so similar to his own with Shiro, and understands that determination to find him. If anyone can do it, it's Pidge.
Allura is oddly quiet, though she does look incredibly fatigued after her battle with Haggar. Hunk's eyes dart anxiously, concern for the team, their mission and his friends discernible in his expression. Lance is the most worrying. His uncharacteristic silence is deafening and makes Keith's skin itch. As much as it may annoy him at times, Keith's gotten used to Lance's jabbering, to the point that it's absence makes him uncomfortable.
Lance hasn't been his usual self recently. Between bouts of ridiculousness, he's been pensive and isolated. It's been worrying Keith for weeks but he's had no idea how to approach it. Interacting with people is awkward at the best of times, and Lance is a whole other level of inexplicable tension for Keith.
As they all slow to a mechanical stop in the control room and Coran voices all the questions whirling around Keith's mind, rambling on endlessly, as worried and confused as the rest of them. The tense, final silence that follows feels heavy. It settles down on Keith's shoulders, the weight of what he must do. Lead them.
Keith opens his mouth to speak, but any words that make their way to the forefront of his mind seem clumsy and inappropriate. So, he closes his mouth again.
How does Shiro do this?
"The logs," Pidge says, breaking the silence. Everyone turns to her but her gaze is distant, contemplative. "I've been working my way through Green's tech, learning what I can. I discovered a section in the coding, logs, records, but I haven't gotten into it yet. Perhaps the lions keep archives of previous encounters."
Pidge's determined gaze moves to where Allura is leaning heavily against one of the chairs. Keith's never seen her lack composure before, she's exhausted.
"It's possible," Coran answers instead, noticing Allura's weariness. "However, the Black Lion may not be responsive to you."
"It's worth a try," Keith says, remembering the way he piloted Black when Shiro had been in distress. Considering the close bond between Shiro and Pidge, Black should respond just as well to her. "Make sure to explain the situation to Black, I'm sure she'll want to help."
"Right, good idea," Pidge agrees, nodding as she makes her way to leave.
"Wait Pidge," Keith says, words out of his mouth before he can stop them. This is the moment, this is where it begins, stand tall against the weight or fall underneath the pressure. What would Shiro do? He asks himself, gaze roaming between each of his teammates where they're watching him expectantly. "Hunk, go with Pidge, see what you can determine about the physical condition of Black, if there is anything out of the ordinary. Coran, do as many scans as you can while Allura rests."
"No, I can help," Allura argues, straightening but swaying unconvincingly.
Keith shakes his head adamantly. "No, Princess, you need rest, you're—"
"Woah, woah, woah!" Lance interjects, face scrunched in confusion as he gapes at Keith. "Who the hell died and—Who made you leader all the sudden?"
Keith scowls, anger sparking to life. With all the willpower it's taking for Keith to merely hold himself up right now, let alone speak these commanding words, he doesn't need Lance doubting him. He should have expected it, but he thought they were closer than this, that they'd developed some semblance of understanding. A bond.
"Not 'all the sudden', Shiro made me promise to lead the team if anything were to happen when we all got separated weeks ago," Keith explains, the words sounding harsher than intended with the firm set of his jaw.
Lance's incensed expression falls, broad shoulders slumping and momentarily revealing a pained expression Keith's never seen before. It's there, lining Lance's features for barely a second, but it hurts. It makes his chest contract painfully.
"Of freaking course he did! That'd be about right," Lance grumbles, his long arms flailing about expressively. "Didn't think to bring the rest of us in on this decision? Didn't deem us worthy of such a weighty decision? And here I thought we were all supposed to be equal. A team."
"Well, who else is going to do it?" Keith questions defensively, blood boiling. Lance doesn't believe he can lead them? Lance doesn't want him to lead them? Lance doesn't believe in him…
"Um, I don't know, maybe our leader, the Princess," Lance says, arm sweeping out to where Allura is just as she slumps back against the chair. Lance frowns. "Okay, well, now isn't her finest moment but she's our most capable decision maker and leader!"
"Lance, I can hear you," Allura sighs, too tired to be irritated.
"Look, I know we're all tired and frustrated and worried," Keith says, lowering his voice and calming his annoyance, allowing himself to be understanding. "But this is what Shiro wanted and I'm going to do the best I can until we find him."
In his periphery, Keith can see them all accept it, nodding, but his gaze is locked on Lance's. Lance, who's jaw clenches, hands curling into fists and lips pressed together into an aggravated line. Keith has never seen him so angry before, he can practically feel the explosion of words building up behind his firmly sealed jaw.
Keith doesn't understand it, doesn't know where it's coming from or what he did.
"Fine!" Lance finally says, abruptly turning on his heel and stalking out. "Let me know what you decide to do with me," he spits the words, like he's something disposable Keith will throw aside.
Keith stares after him, frowning, confused. "What the hell was that about?" he asks under his breath.
"He'll be okay," Hunk answers, though his troubled expression isn't reassuring.
"We understand why it's you, Keith," Pidge says, her eyes moving from the door Lance disappeared through and meeting Keith's. "You're the obvious choice. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't all have been included in the decision."
"So this is my fault?"
Hunk winces. "I'm not sure that—"
"Not everything is about you, Keith," Pidge growls with uncontained frustration.
Keith flinches, he knows Pidge to always speak her mind and to snap at Lance or Hunk's antics, but he's never been on the receiving end before. Someone so small shouldn't be so scary, it's unnerving. Pidge heaves a sigh and gives Keith a pitying look, which is even more unnerving.
"It's been… a long day," Keith says slowly, uncertainly. Understatement of the century. "We probably all need rest and—and time to collect ourselves."
"I'm going to see Black," Pidge says resolutely. "Hunk!"
"Er, right, yep," he replies, glancing back conflictedly at Keith.
More confused than ever, Keith internally curses everyone and everything. Why is everyone behaving so freaking weird? He understands their irritation at being left out of the decision, it was wrong of him and Shiro, even though the decision was likely well thought out on Shiro's part, it was an unplanned moment in dire circumstances. Neither of them had so much as spoken about it since, Shiro was there and he was fine, there was no need to even consider it further.
Keith's hand curls into a fist. It's not like he wanted this. Why do they all have to make it so damn difficult?
"And I'm going to—" Allura slurs and suddenly there is a crash behind him.
"Princess!" Coran calls, rushing toward the fallen Allura. "Keith, come help me get her to her room."
Keith closes his eyes, holding back his long deep sigh. He's not ready for this. But he doesn't have a choice.
"Coming."
Days pass without any break throughs, without any information about Shiro.
Pidge and Hunk spend hours on end with the Black Lion, delving through technological things Keith pretends to understand, when all he actually understands is the despondent expressions on their faces. Allura, having rested, and Coran search through the galaxy. Lance is more elusive than ever, Keith barely sees him anymore. And Keith passes the time taking his frustrations out on the training room robots because he is maddeningly useless in all of this.
Keith's body aches with his exertions and refuses to suffer his training any longer, leaving him restlessly pacing the control room, listening to Allura and Coran's futile efforts. That is, until Allura snaps at him and, honestly, he can't blame her.
"Keith! Will you stop pacing!"
"Perhaps you should check in with your teammates, Keith," Coran suggests diplomatically, glancing between them worriedly.
Heaving a sigh, Keith leaves without responding, fearing the frustrations that might spill out. Being on the receiving end of all this exasperation is disheartening, he has no idea how Lance remains unaffected, like water off a duck's back.
As Keith makes his way down to the Black Lion's hangar he can't stop his mind from wandering to Lance, as it often does. He can't help but miss Lance, even though he's still technically here. He misses their easy banter and entertaining bickering. He feels like a massive wall has been shoved between them and Keith doesn't understand why. He hates it, wants to break it down. He wants Lance back.
"Shit—fucking dammit—bastard—shitting—"
"Pidge!" Hunk scolds in a groan.
Not encouraging sounds to approach. Neither of them are visible from the front of the Black Lion, instead Keith skirts it and finds Pidge encircled by a mass of computers and tech. Her hair is a frizzy mess, pushed haphazardly away from her face, and her glasses are low on her nose. Keith's not even sure she needs them, thought them a part of her 'Pidge' costume that became a habit to wear. Hunk is nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Hunk?" Keith asks, he swears he'd heard him nearby.
"He's in the butt."
"I'm in the butt!"
Keith frowns in the general direction of 'the butt' and narrows his eyes. Beside Black's tail he can make out a loose panel and movement within.
Keith raises an eyebrow and slowly asks, "Why?"
"Oh, you know, since Black and I have become so close I figured we should make it official and literally become butt-buddies," Hunk explains. Considering his words, it sounds like he should be being sarcastic but Keith can't tell, especially without seeing his face and with the distorting echo through the metal.
"What…? I hope you're being funny."
"Oh no, not at all," Pidge says, and that is definitely sarcasm he hears. She glances up at him apologetically. "We're going through Lance withdrawals."
You're not the only ones, Keith thinks, embarrassed enough by the thought alone that he ducks his head. He couldn't ever imagine admitting it aloud, admitting how much he misses Lance's company and his voice and his presence. He can imagine the reaction, the taunting and can practically hear Lance's teasing, 'aw, Keith, buddy, didn't know you cared.'
"You guys haven't seen him either?" Keith asks.
Silence – and Hunk fidgeting around in the Black Lion, unawares – follows his question, making Keith glance up to find Pidge watching him. The sharp scrutiny of her gaze gives him a moment of panic, but he's one hundred percent sure those admissions only occurred in his thoughts.
"We haven't seen him much, sometimes at meals…" Pidge trails off, shaking her head and staring down at the screen in front of her aimlessly. "Hunk's tried talking to him but—"
"I did what?" Hunk asks, poking his head out of the Black Lion's rear-end, which is a disconcerting image.
"Do you know what's wrong with Lance?" Keith questions, folding his arms over his chest, hoping to get to the bottom of this.
Hunk's eyes flicker nervously between them. "I—um—It's not for me to say. I know, but that doesn't necessarily help and he won't talk to me…" he heaves a sigh. "Lance isn't a solitary person, he's got a big family and doesn't ordinarily spend so much time alone. It's really worrying."
Keith knows a lot of this, but hearing it from Hunk reinforces his concern. Not only is he concerned for Lance, with a stomach heavy with anxiety, but their team is completely unsettled without his presence. It's like they've lost Shiro and Lance at the same time… A devastating blow to their morale.
Glancing between Pidge and Hunk he can discern how lost they feel. Pidge, burying herself in work, only stopping for the meals Hunk forces on her and when she passes out from exhaustion. Hunk, more on edge than ever and clinging desperately to Pidge. Keith himself feels the loss, a gaping void in his chest that no amount of training can fill.
"Keith, you should talk to Lance," Pidge suggests, a sly glint in her eyes.
"What? Me? Are you kidding?" Keith splutters. "I'm the last person Lance would want to talk to."
Pidge snorts her you're-an-idiot laugh. "You're our leader now, you should at least check on him. Even if you weren't, wouldn't you want to know if he's okay? You're Lance's friend aren't you?"
"Of course I am. And you just told me he's not okay," he argues weakly. Honestly, in the last few days Keith has gotten half way to Lance's room before changing his mind and turning back countless times. Literally, he's lost count. They have no idea how worried he is, how much he wants to see Lance's chaotic, mischievous smile again, but they also – clearly – have no idea how little his presence will help. Very likely he'll do the complete opposite of help.
"Lance and I, we don't—it's always so difficult," Keith continues, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Their interactions are so volatile, he doubts Lance needs that right now. "I don't know how to—I'd only make it worse."
"You should at least try, Keith," Hunk says, his dark eyes pleading.
Keith pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. They're right, he knows it, but that doesn't make the prospect any less doomed. It's not like he's doing anything useful in the search for Shiro, perhaps helping Lance is what he can do for the team.
"Fine," he concedes.
"Thanks, Keith," Hunk says earnestly. "Just don't be—y'know… you."
"Thanks, dude," Keith deadpans.
Hunk winces. "Sorry man."
Giving a half-hearted wave in response to Pidge's overly enthusiastic thumbs up, Keith walks away from their weird expressions. On his way to Lance's room, where he supposes Lance has been holed up, Keith tries not to contemplate talking to Lance. That's exactly how he'd psyched himself out every other time. Doesn't stop the nervous flutter in his chest as he approaches Lance's door though.
Before he can hesitate, Keith knocks firmly and keeps his hand curled into a fist even as he lowers it. The wait is nerve-wracking and the air feels too thick in his lungs.
"Hunk, I told you to stop—"
The door slides open and the relief that washes over Keith at finally seeing Lance is quickly overwhelmed by worry. Lance's eyes are red and bloodshot, his clothes are messy, crinkled and eschew, and his expression is pained and pinched. His eyes widen as he sees Keith and he stumbles back a step like he's been punched.
Any and all words catch in the tightness of Keith's throat. He should speak, he needs to speak. He can't just stand here staring at Lance, making him feel more and more uncomfortable in his vulnerable state. But Keith doesn't know what to say. He's never seen Lance upset, never even considered it as something Lance could be. Lance is hurting and Keith doesn't know why and it… it hurts.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Lance questions, breaking the silence.
"I—er," Keith mumbles and finally catches himself, forcing himself to ignore the aching squeezing feeling in his chest. "I'm here to check on you."
"Well, here I am. You checked. Duty done."
Keith rolls his eyes and pushes past Lance into his room. This, at least, he's more accustomed to. Even if there is a sincere edge of hostility in Lance's voice, the banter he can deal with.
"Oh I see, now that you're leader you have free reign to just go where you please," Lance mutters to himself, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
"No…" Keith says, frowning in complete confusion. He doesn't understand where all of this is coming from. "What's wrong, Lance? We barely see you anymore. You should be—You could come help us try to find Shiro."
A combination of anger and shame flash in his blue eyes, his lip curling in a snarl. "Ha, very fucking funny, Keith. Me, help, good one. Trying to fill my all important role of comic relief?"
Just when he thought he couldn't frown harder, just when he thought he couldn't be more confused. Keith shakes his head incomprehensibly. "What are you talking about, Lance?"
"Just, never mind. It's not like it matters, not like you care. Just please leave."
"Of course I fucking care!" Keith growls, fury burning through him. Keith cares, he cares too much. He cares more than Lance will ever know. Because you refuse to tell him, he reminds himself bitterly. "And it matters! You matter. So stop being a fucking drama queen—"
"Get out, Keith," Lance mumbles, crestfallen, his head bowing. His frame of broad shoulders and narrow hips, usually tall and animated, looks like it's crumpled in on itself. All that blindingly radiant Lance energy drained, replaced with this lifeless form. "I can't do this right now. Just leave."
"No, Lance, I'm not just going just—"
"Get the fuck out!" Lance screams, his features contorted with aggression, and Keith staggers back with the force of it. Lance's breath is heavy but his glower fades into misery but he turns away, avoiding Keith's stunned expression.
He knew this was a bad idea.
Without a word, Keith backs away and leaves, his jaw clenched with frustration and turmoil. Even in this he's useless, even to the one person he cares about most. Shiro would have fixed this, Shiro would have made Lance smile again. And all Keith can do is make him angrier than he's ever been.
Some leader. Some friend.
The velvet darkness of the immense endlessness of space stretches before him. Uncountable planets and universes and stars twinkle at him, reminding him of how infinitely small he is. And yet, how much work they have to do. How many planets and universes and stars of people they have to save from the devastating, destructive force of the Galra.
Keith sighs heavily, resting his chin on his arms where they rest on his knees, legs curled towards his chest. Usually this place offers him solace, comfort. But not recently. His mind has been too troubled, too chaotic.
It's in a section of the castleship that's rarely traversed, away from the main areas. He suspects it's some important part of the castleship that makes it go places, but he's not one for technology or engineering so he really doesn't know, or care. All he knows is that it has a whole wall of curved glass – or some super strong, transparent alien material that isn't crushed by the vacuum of space – reminiscent of earth aquariums. Only, you know, looking out at space instead of fish.
It offers no respite tonight though. Not after today's epic mess of a Voltron Rescue Mission Minus Shiro. They barely survived, let alone succeeded in saving the small outpost of refugees fleeing the Galra. Not only could they not rely on forming Voltron but Lance had been distracted, Hunk panicky, Allura snappy and Keith indecisive. Honestly, thank God for Pidge or they'd all be locked up in some Galra prison being tortured by Haggar.
The team is disorganised and unfocused, each with their own hold ups and frustrations. Butting heads like never before, with no one to call them on their shit and direct them. Try as he might, Keith simply cannot do what Shiro does and finds himself questioning, over and over: How does Shiro do this?
"Hey."
Keith flinches, automatically reaching for his Marmora blade. Lance jumps back comically, eyes wide and hands raised in surrender.
"Geez, dude, chill. It's just me," Lance says, even as Keith is in the act of 'chilling', sheathing his weapon and returning to his sitting position.
After the hideousness of their last conversation Keith has avoided Lance as much, if not more, than Lance avoids him. During their mission Keith had been wary and hesitant, only ever interacting with Lance indirectly. It's been awkward, but Lance has been so distant he hasn't even seemed to notice.
Lance approaches quietly, sits down and swivels gracelessly, reclining against the curve of the glass so that he's facing Keith. He relaxes back like he's sunbaking, arms crossed behind his head and long legs stretched out, hip touching Keith's thigh unintentionally, probably, but Keith's acutely aware of the contact.
He tries really hard not to stare, but from his perspective Lance is floating in space, encircled in a halo of glittering stars. Lance is dazzling, he always is, but looking far less wrung-out, looking rested and healthy once more, he looks beautiful. Keith purses his lips, glancing back at the stars but his gaze is promptly drawn back to Lance as if magnetised. Fortunately, Lance is distracted by the position he's in, staring up at the arc of galaxy above him.
"How did you find me?" Keith forces himself to ask, probably sounding defensive but it's better than getting caught silently ogling.
"Oh, y'know, just passing through," Lance says indifferently, shrugging. As convincing as his indifference is, Keith knows it's a lie.
"This part of the ship is nowhere near anything else for you to be 'passing through.'"
"Okay, fine, I had Pidge track you," he responds sullenly, pouting. It shouldn't make Keith happy to see and hear this, but it does. Gone is all the real bite and anger, here is the Lance Keith knows, playful and silly. Comfortable and frustrating to be around all at once.
Keith huffs a small laugh. "I didn't know she could do that. Scary."
"The scariest tiny person that has ever existed," Lance agrees, nodding solemnly.
His dark blue eyes roam the stars for a silent moment, his broad shoulders are tensed even though his expression is serene. As if holding something back, holding something in. Perhaps building himself up for something. Keith remains silent, he doesn't want to push, not again.
"I'm really sorry, Keith," Lance says quietly, his gaze slowly moving to meet Keith's and the intensity of it makes him swallow hard. "About yesterday. I was—I shouldn't have yelled at you. You were just doing your job."
"No, Lance, it was more than that," he admits, more freely than he intended but it feels right. "I was worried about you. I still am."
A surprised expression crosses Lance's features, but it disappears quickly and he tilts his head back against the glass, staring up at the stars once more. "I'll be okay. It's the rest of the team I'm worried about. Shit, dude, that mission was a worry."
Keith grunts in agreement, pulling his knees in closer to his chest. "Yeah, well, no Shiro, no Black Lion and therefore no Voltron to fall back on when shit hits the fan. Which, it always does. At this rate we're going to have to seriously consider passing by the next distress call because, the way we are now, it's too much of a risk. Everyone's just so flustered and worried and on edge, I just can't… I'm not Shiro. I don't know how to focus everyone. I don't know how to… What?"
Lance is staring at him, frowning so deeply it's pulling the corners of his mouth down. "Well, first, I've never heard you speak so many words all at once, it's disconcerting," he says teasingly and Keith rolls his eyes. "Second, what the hell are you on about? No one expects you to be Shiro. No one expects you to magically keep the group working flawlessly. Hell, even Shiro can't do that."
"I have to do something, to try," Keith growls with frustration. How is Lance always so calm about such important things?
"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" Lance questions, sighing heavily. "You literally overthink everything. All you have to do is make decisions, the rest of us will tell you if they're dumb or not and, bada bing bada boom, you're a successful leader."
There is nothing special about the words, aside from that usual Lance flare, but they flow through Keith soothingly. He remembers all the worrying he's been doing, worrying about what he's saying and how they see him. Fretting over each word and each decision. Believing that he and he alone has to make the right decision straight away.
Are they not all doing the best they can to simultaneously search for Shiro and fight the Galra? They're all working hard, they're all getting by in this difficult and trying time. Why is he expecting more? Of his team. Of himself.
Keith gapes. "…How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make everything so easy! And I don't mean make it sound easy, I mean you actually make doing anything easier. Just your presence and your stupid words and you set everyone at ease. You're so optimistic and sure that none of us will ever let you down…"
Lance shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. "You're all too amazing to ever let me down," he says sincerely, his gaze darting away. The colour rising on his cheeks is difficult to discern with the dark backdrop but certainly there. Lance inhales deeply and seemingly forces himself to meet Keith's eyes. "You can do this, Keith, you're the only one who doesn't believe you can. Sure, we're all looking to you to lead us, but you forget that we're also here to support you. We all support each other, it's what we do."
Keith blinks, dazed and in awe. "We're a team."
Lance smiles, warm and earnest at first but growing into something broader and more brilliant. Keith feels his heart swell, revelling in the brightness of it, revelling in the radiance that is Lance. Too relieved for words to have him back, to see him smile again.
"Thanks, Lance," Keith says, voice as stern and sincere as his expression. He needs Lance to know how grateful he is.
"You're welcome, buddy. We make a good team," Lance says, his voice soft and Keith isn't sure if he's still talking about all of the paladins or the two of them. "You should trust in that."
The thought draws Keith's happiness and relief short. Lance has helped him, so effortlessly he's set Keith's mind at ease and alleviated his burden. Keith should—no, wants to reciprocate and wants to help Lance. Even though he's smiling, even though he's talking like his old self, there are hints of his sadness darkening the edges of his bright light. Keith can see how he's hiding it now, probably how he's always hidden it, behind that shining mask.
"We do," Keith agrees, nodding. "Do you…" He swallows hard, he has to try. "Do you want to talk about what's wrong? You don't have to. I just thought—if you wanted to, I'm—you know. Here."
Smile falling instantly, Lance's gaze flickers up to the stars. "It's dumb, don't worry about it."
"I can't not worry about you, Lance."
The tendons in Lance's jaw flex and tense as he works it, deliberating. He glances at Keith, studying his expression cautiously. Keith watches him steadily, hoping Lance trusts him with his vulnerability as much as Keith trusts Lance with his.
"It's just that—I don't bring anything to the team, I'm just the seventh wheel," Lance admits, his gaze fixed on the window of space above him. "I mean, everyone's just so awesome and you all have your things. I don't have a thing. Maybe I was just in the right place at the right time, maybe it was just an accident and maybe Blue just happened to accept me because I was closer to her preferred traits than you guys. I'm always just stumbling through everything, maybe I don't belong in Voltron."
This all sounds like utter nonsense to Keith, but the sheer openness and emotion of Lance's voice stops him from interrupting. Lance believes this, believes every single word. It rips through Keith's chest and crushes his heart.
Lance's blue eyes gleam with unshed tears, he squeezes his eyes closed, expression lined with pain, and releases them. Due to his reclined position, they silently roll at an odd angles over his cheekbones and down his warm brown cheeks.
Every instinct in Keith is telling him to reach out and hold Lance. So he does. Grabbing a handful of Lance's jacket, Keith hurls him forward. Lance flails in surprise, voice breaking in a 'woah', but Keith manoeuvres him relatively easily, pulling him against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. After an awkwardly tense moment, Lance relaxes against him, resting his head against Keith's shoulder and clutching the back of his t-shirt.
"You really have a thing for cradling me in your arms, don't you?" Lance asks, voice filled with amusement though still thick with emotion.
"Shut up, Lance," Keith responds without bite.
They remain like that for a while; holding each other silently, supporting each other wordlessly. While Lance's breaths even and he begins to calm, Keith feels his own heart rate speeding up and breath shortening. It feels too good, here in the warmth of Lance's embrace he feels comfortable and safe. As Lance continues to hold him, Keith thinks – hopes – that maybe he feels the same way.
Keith sighs, now is not the time, Lance is hurting and he needs to fix it. "Not for a single second has any one of us thought that you don't belong," Keith says with confidence. "It wasn't a coincidence, you being there, you being chosen. I'd been tracking Blue for months, she had been calling out to me, but she chose you, Lance. She wanted you to pilot her."
"Yeah, maybe. But that doesn't mean the team needs me."
"Are you freaking serious? You're not even missing and the team is falling apart without you," Keith declares heatedly, pulling back to gage Lance's expression. How can he not see this? "Hunk misses his best friend and is more anxious than I've seen him. Pidge is agitated and twitchy, she will never admit it but having you around balances her. Allura and Coran are arguing, like, actually arguing, which is the most unnerving thing I have ever experienced. And I'm…"
I've never felt more lost or alone. I've never missed someone's voice more. I've never felt more wanting and restless. I've never wanted so desperately to scream and shout at the top of my lungs for you to just be there. For them. For me.
Lance watches him, intent and expectant, and Keith has never felt more nervous. "You're not there and I… I need you, Lance," he admits, barely above a whisper.
Lance inhales sharply and Keith is suddenly acutely aware of how close they are. It was his initial intention, to hug Lance, but he never expected them to remain that way, he never expected Lance to stay. But there he is, a breath away, and Keith is lost, drowning in the deep, endless oceans of his dark blue eyes. Eyes that flicker down to Keith's mouth.
"You need me?" Lance asks, breathlessly.
"I need you," Keith confirms.
Lance leans closer, agonisingly slow, and wets his lips with a quick flick of his tongue, his gaze never leaving Keith's mouth. He tilts his head, his nose sliding along Keith's, and seals their lips together. A mere, hot press of mouths and Keith feels himself catching fire, engulfed by the flames and burning so blissfully.
Curling his fingers around the curve of Lance's neck, Keith parts his lips and presses in to kiss more fervently, taking control as the fire in his veins desperately demands. He warily licks at Lance's lips, the resulting hum of gratification vibrating against his mouth and provoking an eager hunger for more. Keith licks and sucks at Lance's lips intently.
Keith grunts at the uncomfortable angle of his leg, pressed awkwardly between them. Shifting his weight without breaking contact from Lance's mouth, Keith pulls his leg up and settles it over Lance's hip. Lance smirks against his mouth.
"That's very forward of you, Keith," Lance teases, his eyes glimmering playfully.
Partially annoyed that he's speaking instead of kissing and partially fired up by the taunt, Keith pushes up and tilts them so that he's sitting between Lance's legs. He squeezes his thighs, pulling himself flush against Lance's body.
"Says the idiot who kissed me," Keith says, leaning in to claim Lance's mouth again.
They fit together seamlessly, press into each other so easily. Wrapped up in Lance, with Lance's fingers curled in his hair and pushing up under his shirt, Keith wonders if this has always been waiting for him. If Lance has always wanted this as much as he has. If they've both just been too scared and stupid to act on their mutual feelings.
As easy as breathing. As easy as bickering. As easy as working together. Everything is easier with Lance. He should have known.
Breathing heavily, Keith pulls back. He reaches out, fingers tenderly exploring the lines and planes of Lance's gorgeous, expressive face. Lance's expression softens, his eyes fluttering closed. It feels so natural. To be here, to be doing this, to be with him.
"The team needs you, Lance," Keith says, voice low and sincere and insistent. He needs Lance to understand this, cannot cope with the idea of Lance continuing to doubt himself. It may not be something that can be instantly fixed, but he's sure as hell going to do everything he can to help. "Apparently you're blind and can't see it, but we rely on you. Each and every one of us.
"You make Hunk feel comfortable and safe. You give Pidge someone to ground her. You question Shiro's decisions when they need to be questioned. You respect Allura, give her confidence. You give Coran someone to joke with. You make us all work together better. There is no team without you, Lance."
Lance quirks an eyebrow at him. "Did you hit your head during that last mission, dude? Because so many words, so many nice words."
Keith scowls.
"Sorry, sorry! Humour is my defence mechanism because—" Lance mumbles, burying his blushing face against Keith's shoulder. "You're killing me here, Keith. Go back to, like, insulting me or something."
Keith snorts a laugh, fingers brushing through the short, soft hairs at the nape of Lance's neck and whispers in his ear, "Humiliation kink?"
"Keith," Lance whines, somewhere between needy and exasperated.
Smiling happily, Keith leans into Lance's warmth and gazes out into the vast galaxy. "Just, promise me, that you'll talk to me, in future. It's hard, not having you there."
"Okay," Lance agrees softly, mumbling against Keith's neck and squeezing him tighter. "I will."
"Any updates, Pidge?" Allura asks as they all slump over their breakfasts, still exhausted after very little sleep. The others for important, Shiro finding reasons and Keith and Lance's for… less heroic reasons.
"Nothing on Shiro or what happened, yet," Pidge admits, her voice firm. Keith hasn't for a second doubted her ability, he knows that somehow she will find something. That they will find Shiro. "But I accidentally hacked into the castleship's security system and security footage. I discovered an interesting anomaly on the upper maintenance decks."
Keith's eyes widen at Pidge's words and he glances up to see a devious smirk curling her lips. Without specifically knowing how or why yet, Keith knows they're screwed. He glances at Lance but he's completely oblivious, nodding away and eating.
Pidge turns the monitor of her laptop towards them – which Shiro would have certainly scolded her for having at the breakfast table – and presses play. Keith, already knowing what he's going to see, watches with amusement as Lance's eyes widen comically and his mouth drops open. Hunk splutters loudly, spraying green breakfast goo on the table and Allura's frowning, tilting her head curiously. Glancing at the screen, Keith notices that Pidge has started the video past all the deep and meaningful talking and at the more physical part. Though it's blurry, like she's put a censored filter over the footage because apparently she's not one hundred percent brutal.
"Interesting," Coran remarks, scruitinising the video like he's discovered a strange new species on Animal Planet. "Sucking each other's faces is part of the human mating ritual?"
"This means they're a 'couple', doesn't it?" Allura questions with a deflating sigh. "I owe Shiro 'twenty bucks.'"
"Oh my God, make it stop!" Hunk complains, waving his hands helplessly.
"Pidge!" Lance says, sounding strangled, his face bright red.
Keith sighs. "Pidge, turn it off, you're going to make Hunk sick."
"Aw, but this is a really nice angle for your ass, Keith," she says, glancing at the video and pointing at his tight black denim clad ass. Not that it's overly clear, likely just teasing Lance. "See."
"Hey, stop checking out his ass!" Lance protests and shoves his hands in front of the screen Allura and Coran are squinting more closely at.
"Oh, wow, that is rich coming from you, man," Hunk comments, crossing his arms over his chest. "How many months did I have to hear about Keith's butt?"
"Hunk, shut up!"
"Right, Lance is the expert, what do you think of this angle?" Pidge asks curiously, raising at expectant eyebrow at Lance.
Lance huffs and focuses on the video. "It's fucking perfect as always. Now turn off the damn video!"
"We need to find Shiro, like, now," Keith mutters darkly.