Keith leans against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly. No one speaks; no one has anything to say. They all feel the same hole inside them—a Shiro-shaped gap—even after the past few days.
Hunk is the first to break the silence.
"I'm going to...go. Sleep," he manages awkwardly, rising and standing there for a moment. "Okay. Uh. See you guys in the morning."
He flashes them all a big grin, but it's tainted with a lingering worry. Keith nods at him, stepping out of the way.
"Sleep well. We're—we'll need our strength." Keith grits his teeth; those are Shiro's words, not his. "Sleep—sleep…good night."
Coran exits next, inventing some pathetic excuse, closely followed by Allura, who flashes them all a tight, tired smile, and then it's just the three of them left there—Pidge, Lance, and Keith. Pidge doesn't look up from her computer, typing quickly and furiously. She sniffs once, rubs at her eyes beneath her glasses.
"I'll just stay here," she finally informs them, her voice flat. "You guys can go."
Lance nods stiffly.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll—" he starts.
Pidge keels over, snoring, and both Lance and Keith jump.
"How long has it been since she slept?" Keith asks Lance quietly.
Lance shrugs, everything about him suggesting carelessness—but the worry in his furrowed brow betrays him. He rises and gently takes the laptop from Pidge's hands, setting it aside. Quietly, Lance slides out of his jacket and places it over Pidge, tucking it around her body so that she's covered completely.
"How late have you been staying up?" Lance scolds the unconscious Pidge, voice low.
Keith swallows, suddenly feeling like he's intruding, and slips out of the room. He exhales, aimlessly threading his way through the halls. The pool's not an option, and neither is sleeping. He's too wound up to relax and, bizarrely, not in the mood for training, and there's no way he's seeking anyone out for some sleepy heart-to-heart.
Before he's even aware of where he's headed, Keith finds himself in the hangar, standing before Red. Even deactivated, she seems aware of his presence, keenly attuned to his every move.
"Sorry, buddy. Not taking you out right now," he apologizes to her, walking over and seating himself at her feet.
Predictably, there is no response. Keith heaves a sigh and leans his head back, resting it against Red's paw, and finds his thoughts straying back to the image of Lance laying his jacket over the sleeping Pidge. He creases his brow, puzzled—how does he make sense of that Lance's existence when there's the equally real Lance who flirts with every pretty girl he stumbles across? How can they be the same person? Keith wonders, shaking his head.
This isn't the first time he's seen Lance do something like this, though. A little while before the final battle with Zarkon—before Shiro disappeared, a little voice in Keith's head hisses—Hunk was trying out some new 'recipe' he'd happened across. Lance was finally managing to maintain a real conversation with Allura, and he seemed ecstatic, but when Hunk asked if he wanted to help, Lance didn't even think twice about it, vanishing to the kitchen with Hunk. When the finished product emerged from the oven a dangerous shade of neon green and hissing, Lance tasted it and lied through his teeth about how delicious it was. He was violently ill the next few days. Keith laughed at him. He regrets that now—well, just a little bit.
And then there was that time Keith accidentally walked into Lance's room instead of his own, tired and distracted after hours of training, and caught Lance curled up in a vulnerable ball on his bed. He held a little scrap of paper—a photo of a big family on a beach, laughing—in his hands. When Keith froze, suddenly realizing he was in Lance's room, Lance looked up, eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
"What're you doing here?" Lance asked, perplexed.
"Uh, wrong room," Keith replied uncomfortably, turning on his heel and darting away.
Keith blinks at the memory. That's it.
Lance gives too much of himself away—and now, there are no pieces left for himself.
He gives his heart, even if it's just a little part, to every girl he flirts with, and he completely trusts whoever holds it. Keith releases a quiet, sharp exhalation, almost a laugh but not quite, at the thought of Nyma. He probably thought she was just looking for some naughty fun the whole time she was tying him to that tree—and I bet he didn't figure it out until she flew off with Blue, Keith thinks, mouth twisting into a wry half-smile. There's also Allura, repeatedly rejecting him. Lance bounces back every time, covering up the brief vulnerability with that ridiculous overconfidence.
Lance gives his friendship to Hunk and to Pidge, stubbornly there for the two of them when they really need it. For all his bluster, Keith thinks, frowning, Lance really is a good friend—loyal, protective, caring. Keith hums, wondering why anyone would cover that up.
Lance gives his pride to Keith in the form of cocky competition, and, after throwing it back in his face a few times, Keith got fed up and unwittingly let Lance in. Keith snorts, realizing all he does is feed Lance's pride every time he allows himself to be goaded into arguing. Slowly, he bites his lip, deciding he's just fine with that—with keeping this little piece of himself Lance has given him, even though it's probably the most bothersome piece he could get. Why can't I get a little bit of his heart instead? Keith catches himself wondering, eyes wide. He curls up, reeling at the sudden and entirely unexpected wish—reeling with the pain at the knowledge that he never will get that piece of Lance. Keith grabs ahold of his traitorous thoughts before they can make any more unwelcome discoveries, and they slink back to Lance and how startlingly selfless he is.
Lance even gives his faith and confidence to Shiro—or, thinks Keith bitterly, he did, when we even knew where Shiro was. Keith grits his teeth, a sandpaper pain sawing away behind his sternum.
"I can't do this, Shiro," he mutters to nobody. "I—"
The sound of the door sliding open echoes through the hangar, silencing Keith instantly. He looks up, painfully aware of his red-rimmed eyes. Great, Keith groans inwardly.
Lance stands in the doorway, frozen. Keith narrows his eyes, ignoring the painful throb in his chest that comes as a reaction to the sight of him, and Lance recovers instantly, narrowing his eyes right back. Keith bristles, spotting the concealed concern in Lance's brilliant blue eyes. Oh, no, you don't.
"What is it?" he demands.
Lance snorts.
"I'm here to see Blue," he replies. "To anyone else, that'd be obvious."
Keith resists the urge to roll his eyes. He can hear the lie in Lance's voice—and, that aside, he's in the wrong place if he wants to find Blue. No, here he goes again, giving another piece of himself away. Keep it, Keith wants to spit at him. You have nothing left to spare.
"Whatever," he mutters instead, gathering himself to leave before Lance can—
"Wait," Lance calls out hesitantly, and Keith kicks himself for waiting around so long.
He stops, closing his eyes, and turns around slowly, reluctantly.
"What?" Keith demands, actively working to be unpleasant. "I'm going to go train, so spit it out."
Lance cocks a hip and places a hand on it in a show of carelessness.
"What's up with you, man? You've been all…broody. More than the usual, anyway. If you're going to lead Voltron—"
"I'm not going to lead Voltron," snaps Keith, cursing his idiocy when he catches a glimpse of concealed hurt in Lance's eyes.
"You can't pull this," presses Lance. "Shiro wanted you to lead Voltron if anything happened to him, so that's what you're gonna do—I mean, unless you're too scared…."
It's a clear ploy to ignite his temper, and Keith can see it, but he takes the bait anyway, lips drawing back in a snarl.
"I'm not scared!" Keith shouts, advancing angrily. "I—I'm just…."
Lance's smug grin fades into an expression of reluctant sympathy.
"As much as I hate to give my rival advice," begins Lance, "you don't have to be an emotionless robot all the time."
Keith looks at him blankly.
"I'm not an emotionless robot," he replies flatly.
Lance raises his eyebrows, staring at Keith in disbelief for a long moment, during which Keith can feel his stomach squirming—but that's nothing compared to the million backflips it does when Lance explodes in laughter, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. Despite himself, Keith can feel a corner of his mouth tugging upward, and he breaks into the first full smile in ages.
"You smile?" Lance exclaims, pressing a hand to his heart.
Keith's smile stretches, blooming into a grin no matter how hard he tries to fight it. Soon, both of them are completely helpless to their laughter, Keith bracing himself against the wall and Lance doubled over.
"I hate you," gasps Keith through giggles—giggles!
Lance grins at him.
"I was gonna go out for a bit with Blue—Allura said she's cool with it. I mean, she didn't want to come, though, so…." He trails off and rubs at the back of his neck, an unspoken invitation in his voice. "Uh, Keith?"
Keith silently urges his internal organs to quit attempting acrobatics and drags his gaze up to meet Lance's, a sly smirk spreading across his face.
"You asking me if I want to come with you?" Keith asks.
Lance blanches but quickly composes himself, examining his nails.
"Psh. I was going to ask if you wanted a taste of my amazing piloting skills, but forget it. You wouldn't be able to handle it," he claims.
Keith places a hand on his hip, raising his eyebrows.
"Oh, yeah? Well, we'll see about that," he responds, heart in his throat.
Lance flashes him a quick sideways glance, eyes wide.
"Yeah. Yeah, we will. Hey, Blue!" Lance calls, walking off to the Blue Lion's hangar. "You coming or not, Mullet?"
Keith snorts and shakes his head, jogging after Lance.
In a few moments, they're sitting in Blue's head, Lance maneuvering them out of and around the castle. Keith notes how much better at piloting Lance has gotten since they first crash landed in Blue, carefully keeping his thoughts to himself. He sneaks a glance over at Lance, at his focused look, and feels his heart squeeze. Lance glances back at him, that infuriating grin fixed on his face.
"You all good back there?" he checks.
A yawn sneaks up on Keith. He exaggerates the sound, passing it off as boredom.
"Thought we were out here so you could show off, but so far, this is pretty unimpressive," Keith challenges him with a smirk.
Lance's grin widens.
"Unimpressive, huh?" Dread shoots through Keith. "Might want to hold on to something, Mullet."
Suddenly, they're hurtling forward into an asteroid belt, swerving around debris at breakneck speeds. Keith clutches tightly onto the back of Lance's seat, knuckles white.
"Holy…fucking…Lance, slow down!" he shouts as they just barely avoid a head-on collision with a particularly large asteroid.
Lance throws his head back and crows in exhilaration.
"Told you you wouldn't be able to handle it," he calls back smugly.
Keith scoffs.
"I can handle good piloting just fine—it's when I'm trapped in a cockpit with a shit pilot at the wheel that I have issues," he growls.
"Hey!" Lance cries, offended. "I'll show you shit piloting!"
He yanks on the controls, jerking them up suddenly, and Keith flies back, slamming into a wall. His vision goes starry for a moment. He shakes his head, reeling.
"Fuck," he mutters, rubbing the pounding back of his head. "Yeah, Lance, you certainly do a great job of shit piloting."
"Oh, Dios, are you okay?" demands Lance urgently, and Keith realizes Lance is crouched beside him. "I'm sorry, that was stupid—"
"Yeah, it was," Keith cuts him off grumpily. "No surprise there."
Lance glares at him.
"You're fine," he snorts, hauling Keith up and making his way back to the pilot's seat. "You can sit on the arm of the chair or…something."
Keith makes his way over to Lance and does exactly that, the aching in his head subsiding, replaced with a sudden exhaustion. The rest of the ride is calm, just coasting smoothly around, admiring space. Lance chatters away about his family and home back on Earth, occasionally gasping at the sight of a particularly beautiful star or nebula and babbling about it. Keith nods and listens, perfectly content, and finds himself relaxing. The calmness feels strange after so much time spent on edge, worrying about one thing or the other; the stress had even managed to invade his dreams during the brief periods of sleep he'd gotten. Somehow, though, he's perfectly at ease out here, sitting in the Blue Lion with someone he'd been certain he'd always hate—someone, he realizes, he isn't quite sure how he feels about anymore.
The first time Keith catches himself nodding off, he snaps awake, blinking blearily. Lance is quiet, focusing on manning the Lion. Keith rubs at his eyes and sneaks a sideways look at Lance. He looks so beautiful like this, the dim blue glow softening his serene face. Keith sighs quietly, eyes drifting shut again. His chin connects with his chest, and he jolts awake. He fights to stay conscious and aware, the struggle getting harder and harder the longer he goes at it.
A gentle vibration runs through Blue, as though she's purring. The sensation is soothing, calming, and at last, Keith lets himself fall asleep for the first time since Shiro disappeared, head dropping onto Lance's shoulder.
It may be a dream, but Keith is certain he feels Lance lean his head against Keith's.
When Keith wakes up, it's in his own bed, nestled more neatly beneath his covers than he himself would ever bother with. His jacket is folded meticulously at the foot of the bed. The scent of Lance—something Keith can't quite place, but in a soft, pleasant way—lingers sweetly on Keith's shirt. Sleepily, Keith smiles to himself, burrowing down further underneath his blankets, a new warmth glowing within him.
His last thought before drifting off again is that Lance may have given him a piece of his pride, but Keith has given Lance all of his heart.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed that! Sorry if it was a bit (okay, a lot) cheesy. I seem to have that tendency. Ah, well. Thank you all for reading!