In a hotel room, at a small glass table, with sunlight pouring in from the south-facing window, Princess Allura was, once again going over her speech to the United Nations. Surely this was just another diplomatic encounter, one of thousands she'd done before. Why was there suddenly a lump in her throat and a knot in her stomach now? She took a sip from her glass of water and flipped through her speech to the beginning.
Someone knocked on the door. "Allura, are you decent? Can I come in?"
Allura hummed an absentminded response and Shiro walked in. Caught off guard, Allura did a bit of a double-take. She tried to hide it by turning the action into tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Nope, I saw it. You looked."
Damn.
Allura quickly recomposed herself.
"And do you have your speech memorized?"
Shiro suddenly became very interested in the burgundy hotel drapes. "I'm not really one for being in the public eye, princess. I'm just there to stand behind you and look pretty."
And pretty he did look. Shiro's broad shoulders were accentuated by the fitted cut of his suit, and the bowtie encircling his neck just barely covered a scar she knew lay right below his collar. Tempting. Later.
Allura raised her eyebrow in mock disdain.
"Ah, so you're just going to wing it. At your United Nations."
Shiro blushed and swooped in, placing a kiss on her cheek and whispering in her ear.
"That's what teleprompters are for!"
She giggled as he snuck in a tickle to her waist, and with that he was suddenly back in the door frame, edging his way out with an excited boyish grin. Allura smiled back.
"I'm just glad you decided against the gloves idea."
Shiro spread out his fingers in front of him, assessing one last time the metal and flesh beside each other.
"Yeah. Me too."
Pidge couldn't stop fiddling with her lapels. At the hotel, everyone was in various states of getting ready. Black suits, black ties. This was the big one. She paced back and forth in front of the large dresser mirror, shifting her shoulders up and down, wriggling her toes into the lush carpet.
"What if the world isn't ready for us? What if the knowledge of aliens starts a war on earth? What if they hate us for not telling them earlier? What if-"
Pidge was cut off as she was swept into a pair of strong and and gentle arms.
"Have a little more faith in humanity, Pidgeon. We've pulled through before. We can do it again. We got off of oil. We cured AIDS and cancer. We built the central library. I think we're ready to meet some new people and open up our back yard!"
Pidge squirmed a bit at first but turned around and hugged her father tightly.
"I hope so, dad."
"Besides," replied Dr Holt, "I'm well and ready to be declassified and start existing again! I want to take a trip to Coaster World just like old times."
Pidge's smile wilted and turned sour. "It won't exactly be like old times."
Dr Holt hugged her closer than ever, hiding the redness in his tired eyes. "I know, Katie. It won't be the same. But we can still make it good."
Pidge broke down into sobbs.
"I'll tell you again. I'll tell you as many times as you need, little bird."
Dr Holt sat down on the bed and swooped his daughter into his lap, holding her as if she were a child again. Pidge leaned her head onto his chest like she always did, listening to his heartbeat. Tears silently streamed down her face. This would take time. A long time, more than likely.
"You didn't fail, Katie. You didn't fail," Dr Holt smoothed her hair out of her face and took Matt's glasses off of her, placing them beside them both. "For everyone on earth, you've made the universe a bigger place. You did what Matt and I set out to do."
He knew what lines were coming next. The well-worn track of guilt spinning in her mind.
"I couldn't save-"
"-You saved all of humanity by listening and searching and finding what was really out there."
This was not the first time Clan McLain and Clan Garret had met up in full force. Nearly every auntie, every cousin, every grandparent that was well enough to travel from the near to the thrice-removed had come for this occasion. There were crowds of similar-looking faces and ongoing jokes about digging up the front lawn of the hotel for a pork roast.
Hunk was mostly dressed, and was passing through from his own room for approval from his parents and uncles. Both clans had taken up nearly an entire floor of the hotel, and children were running in the hallways, bow-ties askew and sashes undone.
Hunk had to wade through the thigh-high heads swirling around him just to get to his parents in the middle room.
Mr. and Mrs. Garret had flown for nearly 18 hours from Hawaii, and they were still fighting the jet lag. But Hunk couldn't contain himself. He was bouncing around the room hugging relative after relative, greeting everyone with jokes and songs and his arms were going to be lead by the end of the day from too much squeezing.
"And did Nana make her steam buns? And we get to have great-grandma's chocolate coconut cream pie?"
"Yes, babe, we're doing it all. Just like at the restaurant back home." Hunk's mother ruffled her son's hair.
Hunk let out a tiny noise of pent-up joy. "I can't even describe it, mom. I have been away from earth eating goo for five years and I just want me some of great grandma's triple-C pie. I'll say it again. I'll say it forever. I missed you guys. I missed everyone. It's a relief. It's a joy. It's-"
"YO HUNK!" Someone was yelling from down the hallway. And that someone was Lance. "HEY HUNK, ARE WE RELATED?"
Hunk peeked out of the room to see Lance all the way at the other end of the hall leaning out of his own doorway.
"YEAH, MY AUNT MARRIED YOUR OLDER COUSIN, REMEMBER?"
Lance shot back, even louder, "YEAH, BUT ARE -WE- RELATED?"
"I DUNNO, DUDE. LOOK IT UP. YOU'RE LIKE A SECOND COUSIN, RIGHT?"
"WAIT, NO, IF IT'S YOUR AUNT WOULDN'T THAT MAKE ME YOUR UNCLE OR SOMETHING?"
"WHAT? NO!"
"WILL YOU TWO STOP YELLING DOWN THE HALL?" It was Shiro's voice this time, waiting for the elevator to take him down to the main floor to meet with the UN officials.
Lance shrugged and wandered down to where Hunk's family's room was.
"Lance! Brother, you look hot!"
Lance had swung his way in, swooping around a toddler playing with a toy truck on the floor. As soon as the compliment hit his ears, Lance was in full peacock mode. He pulled a comb out of his back pocket and gave a very performative swoop through his hair, flashing a toothy grin at Hunk's parents. Hunk's mother was giggling now.
"Lance, you look so grown up. I see space has matured you, but- come here darling."
Mrs. Garret pulled Lance out of his pompous display and bent his head down to her height. She licked her thumb and smudged the side of his lip.
"You've been eating the cream puffs they set out after lunch. You just got a little something on your face, babe."
"No! No! That is moms-ONLY!" Lance begged in mock-indignation, "My DIGNITY, Hunk!"
"You just got MOM'D, bro. You got mom'd so hard."
Mrs. Garrett brought Lance in for a crushing hug, and Hunk, then Mr. Garret joined in, too. Wrapping them all up in a tight smother, until Lance couldn't handle being the centre of a crushing Garret dog-pile any longer.
"Whoa, whoa, watch the threads, guys. I gotta keep this thing pressed for success until showtime!"
Lance patted the front of his jacket and fiddled with his cuffs again.
"Face it, Hunk. We discovered the universe! We're all gonna be rockstars!"
And suddenly a thought struck Lance.
"Hey, has anybody seen Keith?"
Down at the other end of the hallway, away from the screaming children and wandering cousins, in a single room Keith Kogane stood before the most perplexing challenge of his life. He had piloted the most advanced star ship mankind had ever seen. He had helped rescue Shiro and Dr Holt and formed the most advanced weapon in the universe. He had fought the Galra empire and Zarkon himself.
And here he was, stopped in his tracks by a cummerbund.
Why were there so many clips? How was he supposed to get dressed alone? Why would they put pockets on his jacket if they were fake and he couldn't reach into them?
Keith stared at the jacket, bow tie and belt laid out before him on the bed as if frustration alone could will them onto his body.
His twill dress shirt was untucked and only buttoned up half-way. Basically, Keith Kogane had managed to put on pants that day.
"Knock knock, can I come in?" said Lance, as he definitely let himself in without waiting for an answer. Lance McClain, whose tall, spindly, boyish body had filled out remarkably in five years. His open jacket casually displayed his soft blue-grey vest against his crisp white shirt. His pocket square was impeccably folded. Lance walked with a difference in formal clothing. He always pretended to walk around with airs on the ship, but this time, his footing was sure when he wore his shiniest shoes.
Keith swallowed dry. When did Lance become so... handsome? Refined? Adult? His hair was perfect, his skin was freshly-shaven and soft. Soft-looking. Keith bet it would be really soft if he touched it. And as Lance egregiously barged his way into Keith's room he wafted behind him the pleasant scent of sandalwood cologne.
"Oh, It's you."
Great job, Keith. You said something.
"That's a fine way to greet the savior of the universe. Hey, why aren't you ready? We've barely got two hours until showtime!"
Keith turned to look at lance and tried to toss him his best gruff, unsociable scowl, but it quickly drooped into a sad mope.
"I... can't figure it out."
And of course Keith immediately regretted it, because now Lance was going to lord it over his head that he was indeed a sweaty desert-dwelling sand-troll who knew nothing about being civilized or the finer points of moisturizing or whatever.
"I'll help you," Lance smiled.
Keith sucked in a bit of air, still waiting for the punchline.
"Ok, first things first, get that shirt fully buttoned up and tuck it into your pants. There's these neat buttons inside your pants to hold down the front..."
There wasn't going to be one. Lance, this... this especially handsome version of him, was going to help him not embarrass himself.
"Thanks, Lance."
Keith got another priceless smile.
"Dr Holt? Pidge?" Shiro knocked on their door. "We've got about an hour and a half, I just wanted to make sure everything's ok."
Shiro heard a small mumbled conversation, and then Dr Holt's voice.
"It's all right Shiro, you can come in."
Pidge's face was red and puffy, but she was no longer crying. Her suit was wrinkled from being curled in her father's arms and her pocket square was falling out.
"Hey! Hey, is everything ok? Pidge?" Shiro moved in and shut the door quietly behind him. He still felt helpless to resolve Pidge's guilt. He still wished he, himself could have done more for the Holts, but Pidge... She was so young and took on so much of that responsibility personally.
"It's all right, Shiro, we're just having a sad right now."
Pidge sniffled, "I'm 19, dad. Not 5."
"Pidgeon, you will be 55 and you will still be having a sad from time to time in my arms. That's never gonna change."
Shiro came over to the bed and sat beside Pidge and Dr Holt. He folded Matt's glasses in his hands, then took out his own pocket square and started polishing them absentmindedly.
The three of them sat in silence while the sun slowly stroked across the carpet and they could hear the dull thumping on the floor above from all the McClain kids.
Finally, a beep on Shiro's watch let him know it was time to get moving.
"Come on, Pidge. I'll fix you up a bit in the mirror before I go."
"Thanks Shiro."
And finally, after a moment,
"Thanks, dad."
"Ok, but why are the pockets fake? Is it just decoration? Is my jacket defective?"
"They're not fake," Lance replied casually, savoring, once again, knowing something, however small, that Keith didn't. "They're sewn shut during manufacturing to keep it from wrinkling. Your jacket isn't defective, it's just new."
Lance casually reached into Keith's front jacket pleat, and maybe he noticed the massive shiver that rocketed up Keith's spine and maybe he didn't.
"Here."
Lance pulled at a tiny thread that slid out easily.
"You just have to remove the basting thread."
And then Lance went for Keith's breast pocket.
His hands weren't as steady as Keith thought they would be, and he had to dig a bit at the thread in his pocket. Keith's heart was beating a mile a minute and he was sure, absolutely sure, that Lance could feel it drumming out of his chest. Lance's hands were on his heart, his face was impossibly close. He smelled really good.
This was awful.
Lance was about to go for the final thread but Keith turned away, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.
"Uh, let me try this one myself."
Keith did the same with his left pocket, and was slightly amazed when the thread just slipped out, allowing his hand to reach in comfortably.
"And now, finally, last step for making a television appearance- cologne."
"I- but we'll only be seen?"
"Doesn't matter. This is an event for the ages, Keith. You gotta let the ladies and gents know you're present and ready to party!"
"I hate parties."
Keith was now fiddling with his cuff links, not to perfect them, like Lance, but because they were the closest object available to fidget with. He rolled the silver lion head between his fingers, his expression one of pained acceptance.
"Keith, what's wrong?"
Keith tore off the tight jacket and pawed clumsily at the bow tie until it loosened a bit. He stepped away from Lance and sat down not on the bed, but in the corner behind it, by the vent. His hand slipped over it, feeling the cool air-conditioning flowing out.
"I'm not a very social person. I don't think I can handle this. I can fight, and I can protect, but I'm not... good with people. You and Hunk have huge families and Shiro has Allura and Allura's a diplomat and Pidge has her dad back. I don't have a family, Lance. I don't... I don't know what I'm doing. Nobody taught me."
Lance was struck once again by Keith's blunt honesty. Keith wasn't one for tears or huge displays of histrionic emotion like Lance was. He kept a lot of things to himself, and Lance suddenly realised the crushing feeling of being alone in a crowd.
Lance flopped onto the bed and rolled over so that his head hung upside-down near Keith's face.
"Keith, if you think you're not part of the McClains or the Garrets or the Holts, you're mistaken. We will wrap you up in so much family and so much food, you will be begging to spend another year in your dirtshack."
"That's kinda what I'm afraid of-"
"And if you want to be left alone, I will fix that, too. I know a good fire escape on the next floor, and a bubble tea place down the street."
Lance grinned his upside-down grin and Keith felt a warmth melt-through him.
"I'm actually... glad that you understand my weirdness."
"Hey, Princess? You still in there?"
Allura was snapped out of her concentration, suddely very self-aware that she was waving her hands in front of a blank television set-audience on the wall.
"Yes, Hunk?"
The door slowly opened and Hunk entered, cradling a small plastic case.
"Um, my family got this for you. It comes all the way from Hawaii. Well, the plant originally does. This one is from the florist. But they wanted to wish you good luck and thank you for taking such good care of all of us."
Allura took the delicate box in her hands and gazed at the delicate pink and yellow bloom.
"Oh, Hunk! It's lovely! Can you fix it to me? Does it go on the dress or in my hair?"
Hunk blushed.
"I'm not super good at these things. But why don't you come upstairs and meet my Nana? She'd know the answer!"
Allura looked at her cue cards, and the empty glass of water on the table. The words were solid in her mind. It was just a matter of confidence and compassion now.
"Hunk, I'd be delighted."
In the bathroom, Lance was standing behind Keith, pulling his choppy hair into something minimally presentable. Lance had more than a sneaking suspicion that Keith cut it himself, but he shoved all of his comments down as he fussed with pulling the too-short strands into a small ponytail.
He'd borrowed some bobby pins from Amanda down the hall, and while she also offered a straightening iron, Lance didn't think it wholly necessary. Keith would probably get nervous and burn his ears.
"I've been finking about the future, myuknow," Lance mumbled, gripping a pin in his lips, "I know the war isn't over even with Zarkon gone, and we'll have to go back out into space a lot, but with being open on earth and being able to visit..."
Lance fussed with a particularly uncooperative strand of Keith's hair while Keith stood, pressed against the counter, watching Lance in the mirror.
"Stop moving."
"I'm not!" Keith shoved himself further forward, against the counter, and in response, Lance accidentally stepped forward, pressing his body into Keith.
"Watch it!" Keith felt very trapped. And very warm. Did that bathroom window open up? Could he escape through it? Lance responded by Pulling Keith's head back a bit and re-centering his body in front of him.
"Just hold still."
Keith was trying. He was trying so hard.
Lance continued, "Have you ever had a big Christmas before? Actually, are you like, Jewish or something? It never really came up in space."
Keith's expression flatlined. "No, I'm not Jewish. I'm not really anything. I had some Methodist foster parents once, but I never really got into it."
Despite trying to look like he was annoyed, Keith was starting to imagine where Lance was going with this. Big dinner, family games, presents...
Lance's fingers felt like they were trembling on the back of his head.
"Well, why not come and spend Christmas with Hunk's family and mine? We're all going to Hawaii to visit them this year. You could be my b- like a brother. With Hunk and me."
Lance felt it. Keith heard it. That hitch in his voice. That tiny pause. Lance suddenly let go of Keith's hair. The pause between them grew and grew while Keith's mind scrambled to change the subject.
"You look good, Keith."
Lance awkwardly placed his hands on Keith's shoulders and they both looked at him in the mirror, somehow managing to avoid eye contact.
"You really like helping out your "rival", don't you?"
Lance sputtered, "Well, it wouldn't be much of a competition without my help, now would it?"
Keith turned around and looked at Lance up and down. He took him in. He smelled that sandalwood cologne.
"No, it wouldn't."
And then he was trapped. Locked in the gaze of Lance, utterly bewildered by the man who stood before him in a pressed shirt and a beautiful vest and those blue, blue eyes and now his hands were going up, and into his hair and Keith was doing something stupid and impulsive and reckless again.
And Lance returned his kiss full-force.
Arms snaked around Keith as he leaned against the bathroom counter, Lance pressed up against him and into him and his nose was full of cologne and hair product and the soft acidic smell of man.
Keith felt his body relax fully into Lance's grasp and he stayed there. And Lance stayed there. They were just existing and breathing and looking at each other. He tightened his grip around Lance's neck and rested his head on his shoulder, pressing his closed eyes into Lance's neck.
"Your eyelashes are tickling me."
"I think I might be in love with you."
Out on the front stone steps, the paladins filed in from the guarded escort service cars. Cameras flashed all around and everyone tried their best to maintain composure, but Pidge did sneak a big wave to her mom in the crowd.
Up the stairs, they each shook the hands of major dignitaries and diplomats, the Lions of Voltron gloriously posed on the lawn in the distant background.
When they reached their final placement marks, Lance positioned himself and Keith strategically behind the podium. He grabbed Keith's hand and gave it a quick squeeze, but allowed Keith to slip out of his grip when he was ready. They smiled and waited.
And now, before them, Allura stepped forward to the podium and began her speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of a united Earth.
I have come to you today in greeting and in friendship.
For, as you may have dreamed for so long, you are not alone in the universe..."