Title comes my favorite Klance song, "I Was An Island (EP version)" by Allison Weiss.
Nonbinary (they/them) Pidge in this one.
The opportunity came suddenly, and Keith was still high on adrenaline from the recent battle, okay, he wasn't in a thinking place, he was running on pure instinct here. Even more than usual.
"Ugh, I think I pulled something in that battle," Pidge complained, as they swung their lions around to begin the trip back to the castle. "Joysticks are fun and all, until you have to slam them all over the place for hours on end. Why couldn't Alteans be really into keyboard interfaces?"
Something giddy lit up in Keith's stomach, and he activated his comm instantly, without considering what he was about to say.
"You're just sore that the lions don't have your favorite control on a computer," he said, trying not to grin yet.
There was a doubtful pause. Pidge furrowed their brows at him in the comm screen.
"…What would that be?"
"Well," Keith said. "The space bar. Of course."
The silence that fell was… well, some kind of profound.
"What?" Shiro broke it first, stunned.
"Did that just happen," Pidge hissed. "Keith. Did you just–"
"SEE!" Hunk yelled triumphantly, "I told you! I told you Galra Keith makes jokes! Didn't I tell you?! You didn't believe me but it's true!"
A low chuckle rang over the line, quiet yet somehow shutting everyone else up. Lance's image popped up on Keith's right, and he was grinning, one hand over his mouth but with these glimpses of white teeth behind his fingers, and his voice was deeper than usual, all Keith could hear, and he could feel himself smiling so wide.
"Keith," Lance pronounced after a minute. He lowered his hand, swung it out in a grand, kingly gesture: "You're funny."
Keith's heart did a – thing. A stumbling, helpless, melting sort of thing.
"Oh," he said.
His cheeks felt hot, all of a sudden.
"That, uh, I'm," he swallowed, voice a little hoarse, but he could still feel himself beaming, and he knew it wasn't really possible given the way their commlinks worked, but for a second he thought he met Lance's eyes, and it looked like Lance was smiling back at him, because of a joke he'd told, and he'd never expected that to happen, never expected it to affect him like this: "If you think so, I guess I must be?"
He felt weirdly honored. After all, Lance was – he was funny, he was fun. He knew jokes. He had the best sense of humor of all of them, wasn't afraid to laugh at himself or anything else, knew how to lighten a dark mood. Even in the midst of a war, Lance could get a room snickering with ease. He knew funny.
He thought Keith was funny.
"Yeah, funny looking!" Lance suddenly shouted, leaning so far forward that his nose took up half the screen, before collapsing back into his seat, loose-limbed and laughing for real this time. Cackling, even.
"Oh," Keith said again.
His heart did another thing. This time was more… twisty. Not as nice.
"I mean, c'mon, mullet man, what second grade jokebook did you get that from?" Lance mocked. There was no real heat to his words, but the fact was Keith had gotten that one from a jokebook in elementary school, and he felt like he had just been lit on fire.
"Shut up," he hissed. Lance only laughed louder.
"Holy quiznak, you did!"
Over the comms, there was a muffled snort. It sounded distinctly Shiro-ish. The – traitor.
"Aww, c'mon Lance, it wasn't that bad," Hunk interjected. "I mean, I actually kind of thought it was pretty good? Because it's Pidge, you know –"
"Well there's another reason why Keith's joke was super dumb, Hunk," Lance explained. There was a sly smirk twisting up one corner of his mouth, and Keith glared at it. "I mean, a space bar?! Look at Pidge!"
"Lance I'm warning you I let Keith's slide because it was his first ever joke but you will get no mercy – " Pidge's voice was low, rushed, and honestly more frightening than the Galra fleet they'd just defeated. Lance appeared completely undeterred.
"They're tiny! A space bar would never even let them in the door!"
Groans rang out on every side, an almost choral expression of exasperation at first broken only by Pidge's "that's it Lance, I warned you" as the joke slowly turned itself around in Keith's head.
Space bar?
Space… bar.
"Ha!" he said, loudly. The twisty feeling was gone, lost in the rush of delight at Lance's – stupid, maybe, but so good, and based off his – pun: "Space bar!"
The other Paladins of Voltron shared another moment of silence.
"Really?" Shiro asked, a little pitying.
"I mean… I never said Galra Keith had a good sense of humor…" Hunk agreed.
"I can't believe there's two of you now," Pidge sighed.
"Shut up!" Lance declared, grin so bright that Keith averted his eyes to the nearby sun instead. "Keith may not be funny, but at least he appreciates real comedic genius when he hears it! You all wish you were so discerning."
"We wish something all right," Pidge muttered, and the rest of the flight home was filled with banter and laughter and smiles, and Keith's own wouldn't quite go away, kept getting caught on the proud way Lance had said his name.
-xxx-
"Best goo yet, wouldn't you say, Paladins?" Coran twirled his moustache proudly, beaming around the table. "I thought that after all the hard work you've been doing lately, you deserve a good morale boost! And what better to boost morale than a hearty, traditional meal! So I pulled the hershvisl off ice, fought it to the death, drained the poison out, and the crushed the legs into a nice little julienne! Enjoy!"
Hunk's face was slowly turning a deep shade of green. Pidge's smile trembled around teeth clamped tightly shut. And Shiro – Shiro had abandoned all pretense and was leaning way back in his seat, breathing shallowly.
The goo was a murky green, with small bits of bright purple… legs? poking out here and there; it smelled like someone had taken a wet dog, beat it with a dead fish, then spritzed the result with armpit stench for good measure.
"Personally, I think the best way to raise morale would be, uh, another food fight?" Keith tried.
"Ooh, Keith! Smart!" Lance exclaimed brightly.
Keith turned his head to smile at his fellow Paladin, shades of the last food fight echoing in his mind. He remembered, last time, Lance had said he didn't hate him – like it was only a temporary thing, yeah, but that was back then. Things were different now, they actually got along some of the time and even the fights were almost fun. It was kind of… great, honestly, going toe-to-toe with Lance. He always got so dramatic, completely fired up, voice screeching all over the place as he waved his arms about and his eyes just lit up and…
"Yeah," Keith said softly. "Thanks, Lan-"
"Smart-aleck, I should say," Lance returned, before Keith was even finished talking. That peppy, excited lilt to his voice was totally gone, replaced by a familiar indignation. "Who knew you were such a little snot, dude? Didn't you just hear all the effort Coran went through to make this for us?"
"I – what?" Keith blinked. He – more even than the sting of humiliation at mistaking Lance's insult for a compliment, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you saying you actually want to eat this stuff?"
"Dude, my man Coran pulled the hershvisl off ice for us! No way in the galaxy am I missing that action!" Lance shoved a proud thumb against his chest, grinning wide, but his eyes were narrowed in a glare that Keith just – didn't get. And how did Lance even know what a hershi-whatever was, anyway?
"Fine. You can have mine then, since you're so eager." He shoved his bowl at Lance. It was immediately sent spinning back.
"It is delicious goo. You must eat it," Lance snarled. Keith was pretty sure he heard Pidge snort somewhere, but didn't really pay attention, too focused on glaring right back at Lance's confusing stupid face.
"Um, guys…" Coran ventured tentatively. Keith ignored him too.
"No. It looks gross and smells worse. I think you just want me to choke on it so you can make fun of me." He crossed his arms over his chest, slumping pointedly back in his seat. "Not falling for it."
"I'm not tr- fine! Fine, then!" Lance shouted. He actually shoved himself to his feet and pointed with his whole arm at Keith, nearly whacking him in the nose in the process. He looked furious, bright, completely nonsensical and utterly alive and Keith swallowed hard, staring up at him. "I'll show you, Keith!"
Bravely, Lance lifted his bowl of food goo to his mouth and, tilting his neck back, poured the whole thing in. His cheeks ballooned out as he dropped the empty bowl to the table. Winces and muttered "no, don't-"s all around the table didn't dissuade him at all as he glared down at Keith.
There was a fire in his eyes, even as his whole body froze in place for a second. Lance's outstretched hand fell to grip Keith's shoulder, and he shuddered all over before slowly beginning to chew. Every bite made a horrible crunching sound.
"Ohh, dude, don't be sick. If you're gonna be sick I'll definitely be sick," Hunk moaned. Lance's grip on Keith's shoulder ground tighter as he kept chewing.
When he tried to swallow, he visibly almost puked – but, somehow, he held it in, and a moment later he was grinning down at Keith, a flush rising to his cheeks as he bragged unsteadily.
"Who's… afraid now, huh? Th-that was –" Lance lost his balance and fell back towards the table, whimpering. Keith grabbed at the hand that was fisted loosely in his shirt, trying to steady his friend, but only really succeeded in tugging him so Lance wavered and ended up almost completely in his lap.
"I'm good," he breathed, closing his eyes, and the fact that he wasn't immediately leaping away from Keith was already proof enough that he really wasn't. His skin was very warm against Keith's. "I – Coran, that was… Uh. Your momma… had great taste…"
Keith looked up swiftly at that, blinking in surprise when he saw the soft, open look on Coran's face. The older Altean didn't say a word, but he stared down at the ill Blue Paladin with unmistakable fondness – and a faint gleam of wetness in his eyes. Keith still didn't understand exactly what was going on… but nonetheless, Lance's over-the-top indignation made sudden sense, and he even felt a little guilty for making his distaste so utterly clear.
Not for the first time, he found himself thinking that Lance was good to the people he cared about. There was something wistful about the concept, something that made him want to lean down over the boy in his lap and meet his eyes. Maybe run a hand through his hair.
"Lance," Allura spoke up from the head of the table. She sounded a little concerned, and set her sporkful of goo down untouched. "Are you all right?"
Lance lifted a thumb up above the edge of the table, but made no effort to actually get out of Keith's lap. He'd shut his eyes, and his other hand was pressed flat against his stomach. His hair was a little messy and Keith's hand felt sweaty where it was holding him up, his thighs were burning.
"Are you dying?" he asked.
"N-no," Lance denied unconvincingly. "Just. Uh. Gotta use the little boy's room."
He made no move to get up. After a moment, Keith hesitantly tipped him back up to his feet. Lance flailed for the edge of the table, caught it, and then just stood there, one hand still pressed to his belly and a strained look on his face, eyes only half-open.
"…Uh, I'll go too," Keith said, after a moment. He tucked Lance's arm over his shoulder and began to drag him out of the room – quickly, before anyone else tried to guilt him into eating some of that goo. If he stayed in here Coran's face alone would probably be enough to make him at least taste it.
Keith stood just outside the door as Lance retched into the toilet for the next half-hour; yeah, he'd definitely made the right decision in fleeing.
"Thanks, buddy," Lance said when he finally exited. His voice was rough and his face still flushed, but he looked much better. He slapped a hand down on Keith's shoulder, and gave him a weak grin – "Even if you are a culinary coward."
Keith ducked his head to hide the red on his own cheeks. "Whatever, death wish."
-xxx-
"All right team, we've trained for this. W-well, not exactly, but kinda? I think the combat training is gonna come in handy for sure, at least –" Hunk broke off his babbling when Lance nudged him hard in the shoulder. "Anyway, uh, we're Paladins of Voltron! We can't lose! Let's do this!"
"Yeah!" Lance and Keith agreed in vehement whispers, and then the mission was on. They crouched down low before sneaking into the room, immediately splitting up to find cover behind the many different piles of machinery and books. Communicating only in glances and hand gestures (Keith still didn't really get exactly what Lance was trying to convey, but Hunk seemed to, at least), they slowly honed in on their target, preparing to strike.
Hunk was the first to reach them; he rose slowly, looming over the tiny figure before him –
"I know you're there, Hunk," Pidge said, unimpressed. Their expression didn't so much as twitch even through his startled scream. "Go away, I'm working."
Lance frantically gestured something at Keith from the next desk over. He kept making this round gesture with both hands then flattening them both.
What? Keith mouthed at him. I don't get it.
Lance flung his hands up and began to pout.
"Um… yes, I see that Pidge, but it's past two in the pretend space-morning," Hunk pointed out. "You need sleep."
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Pidge muttered resentfully. When Hunk tried to sneak closer anyway, he was blocked by a suddenly-humming green bayard.
Lance was gesturing again. He walked two fingers across the opposite palm, then widened his eyes and made this sort of spinny motion with one hand and then clenched a fist and –
"Ugh," Keith said, and stood up. "Pidge. You're sleep-deprived and it's gonna make you stupid. You'll have way better results after you get some rest."
Pidge scoffed, and kept typing away. Hunk inched closer, then squeaked and jumped back as the bayard swung back up to threaten him once more.
Lance burst up to his feet with a harsh, "Keith, dude, what the hell?!"
"All this secret agent stuff is dumb. Pidge doesn't need us to trick them into taking care of themself. I don't see why we weren't just using logic in the first place."
"Oh man, you don't get it. Back in the Garrison w-"
"Shh," Lance hissed at Hunk. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Keith. "Fine. Go ahead, show us your logic in action then, pal."
"Fine," Keith glared back, stepping closer. "I will."
"Fine, go ahead!"
"I am!"
"Okay!"
Hunk cleared his throat delicately. With a snarl, Keith spun away from where he and Lance had almost been forehead-to-forehead and made his way around the last workbench to approach Pidge's desk.
They still hadn't stopped typing.
"Um. Pidge," he said.
"What."
"You – how long have you been working on this?"
"'Bout eighteen hours? …Nah, closer to nineteen probably."
"And, how much sleep did you get last night?"
"Three and a half hours."
Keith swallowed. Pidge was always amazing, one way or another, but… just. Wow.
"And how much more work is left before this is done?"
This time, the typing actually paused. Pidge glanced up at him, heavy bags beneath their eyes and face twisted into a contemplative frown.
"Uh… good question. Maybe, another six hours or something? Could be eight. Could be only five, if I had some privacy don't you touch me Hunk!"
The yellow paladin leapt back with a yelp as the green bayard swiped towards him again.
Keith scowled at him, making a 'stop it, just wait' gesture.
"Look, Pidge, you know how much sleep a human body needs – especially teenagers. You're not operating at peak capacity right now. But if you take a break to rest, then when you come back I'll bet you'll get the rest done in two hours. Not to mention, with fewer bugs to work out."
Pidge glanced at him, then at the computer, clearly torn.
"I… yeah," they agreed reluctantly. "You're probably right. Just, let me finish this one thing, okay?"
"Okay," Keith smiled. "We'll wait for you."
The youngest paladin smiled back at him, then went back to their work with renewed gusto. Keith crossed his arms over his chest and gave Lance a smug smile.
It was met with an even smugger smirk that made his heart instantly beat harder.
"Nice," Lance said, and Keith stared at the arrogant curve of his lips and hoped, really hoped, there was no follow-up to the compliment, but, "try, dude."
"What are you talking about? Pidge agreed!"
"Yeah?" Lance leaned over the bench he still stood behind. "Piiiiiiidge," he crooned. "You done yet?"
No response.
Keith cleared his throat nervously. "Uh, Pidge. Ready to go?"
"One minute," Pidge muttered, typing away.
A minute passed.
"Pi-"
"Not done."
"Bu-"
"No."
Keith stepped back, grumbling. He refused to look at Lance. He didn't need that in his life. The guy was being awfully quiet for having been proved right – he probably wanted Keith to look at him. Looking at him would be giving in. He was not gonna look.
He looked.
Lance was brighter than moonlight, grin impossibly wide and more than a little evil. He looked so goddamn confident, so utterly self-assured and proud. It was so immature. It was so stupid. It made Keith imagine things, shit, and he looked away again fast. Still imagined Lance looking down at him like that from much closer, leaning in and – god, no, no. Not now.
"Ahem," Lance said, "Allow the expert to teach you how it's done."
Of all the things he could've said. He chose. That.
Quiznak.
Keith bit his tongue and took deep breaths, only listening as Lance took his turn baiting the beast. And that really was the word for it – baiting. He teased Pidge, got them annoyed enough to pay a little attention, then a little more, said stupid shit about the current project, got them furious and then, casually, threatened to start breaking things if Pidge didn't come to bed.
"I'll end you if you so much as try," the genius snarled viciously.
"You know I will try," Lance said breezily. "Because I'm just that cool, devil-may-care kinda guy. And you know I'll succeed, because let's face it –" he grinned like a shark, picking up something that looked extremely delicate and tossing it back and forth between his palms. "Your pipsqueak little arms can't get to me fast enough to stop me."
With an unholy screech, Pidge flung their bayard at Lance – who ducked under it, then grabbed the cable and yanked violently, pulling the green paladin off balance. Keith stumbled into action fast enough to help, and Hunk rushed in at Lance's yell, quickly saving the document on the computer before swinging Pidge up into his arms and rushing out of the room.
Keith and Lance remained, clutching the bayard until Pidge's fingers gave way and it transformed back into its base shape. They stared at each other, alone in the work room.
"You're so dead in the morning," Keith muttered in awe as the screams of fury retreated down the hallway.
"Nah," Lance laughed, stretching his arms above his head. "Hunk'll calm them down. Pidge never holds a grudge about bedtime tantrums once they've got some sleep. Only thing they ever forgive."
He wasn't sure he entirely believed that, but…
"Well, I guess you were right," he admitted. "You did know what to do after all."
"And thank you for acknowledging your crushing defeat," Lance responded, dropping his arms back down – and one swung around Keith's shoulder, dragging him in closer, and Lance was grinning again, holy god. "Now, what say you we go for a celebratory snack? There's still some of that food goo Hunk made taste like Jello left, I think."
Lance's arm was touching his neck and Keith wasn't – he couldn't stop – he –
"No thanks," he squeaked, shrugging loose. "I. Um. I'm tired too. Gonna get to bed as well."
He bolted before Lance could respond.
-xxx-
Keith needed to get it together.
He knew he needed to, he was determined to get a hold of himself. It was no secret that he had a crush – well, to himself, anyway. He wasn't in denial about that. But even so, there was having a crush and then there was being completely smitten and he refused to go there. He just. He refused to let Lance turn him into such a mess.
…Or so he told himself very sternly in the mirror, but his resolve didn't last long. It never did. Keith had already lost count of all the times he'd told himself to just stop, it wasn't like anything would ever come of this so just give up already. It never mattered. Somehow, Lance would always come along with a sunshine smile, or a stupid joke, or his shirt would ride up a little, or in training he'd shoot six moving targets from across the entire room in a quick-draw from resting bayard form and bullseye every one of them in less than ten seconds.
"Did you see that? Did you see that?!" He screamed.
"Hot damn, Lance!" Pidge exclaimed, immediately prompting a scandalized Shiro to scold their language – despite the impressed smile on his own lips.
"Aw, come on, that was pretty quiznaking sweet," Hunk shouted back supportively, "The language is necessary!"
Lance was preening like never before.
"HUNK," he shouted, hoisting his gun over his head like a trophy. "BRO. SAY MY NAME."
"You got it, Sharpshooter!"
Lance screeched and launched himself across the room, cannoning into Hunk's waiting arms. They spun in a circle, laughing uproariously, and crashed into Pidge. All three of them fell to the ground in a giggling, squirming pile that came to rest right at Keith's feet. Lance opened his eyes, still laughing, and met Keith's eyes. He grinned, reaching a hand up in an undeniable invitation.
Keith… stared.
Lance's face was flushed, his eyes bright. His giggles were a little high-pitched, his hair a ruffled mess. He was sprawled across Hunk's belly, Pidge tangled up between his legs, he was so happy and… skillful, goddamn, Keith knew he was a good shot but that had been something else, Lance deserved all the praise and more – and, what's more, he clearly loved it. He was obviously just basking in the excitement over his skills, enough to forgo all pretense of rivalry and invite Keith to join his friendship dogpile, and. And if Keith accepted, if he took Lance's hand and let himself be pulled down, banging his elbows on the floor and accidentally kneeing Hunk in the gut, if he allowed himself to laugh and praise Lance's skill and roll around and get all tangled up –
His mouth was dry, just thinking about it.
(Maybe, if he was sincere enough in his compliments, he'd make Lance blush.)
Keith wrinkled his nose, and took a deliberate step back.
"Get up," he said, heart pounding hard. "Come on guys, we're supposed to be training, not rolling around on the floor like a bunch of – of – puppies or something. Focus."
Like a switch, the joy on Lance's face flicked off, in favor of too-familiar irritation. He shoved himself out of the pile with jerky movements, rising to his feet and getting up in Keith's face in an instant.
"Yeah, how could I forget, you're so focused Keith," and it clearly, clearly wasn't a compliment, but Lance was so close and Keith's heart was tripping over itself, he was still too flustered and he wished it was sincere, he – "We're all just so jealous of how focused you are. Nothing even matters to you except training!"
That stung. Keith knew he wasn't great at socializing, but… he'd been trying, and Lance had bitched about it a little bit but never seriously, he'd always been welcoming underneath the bluster. Everyone had, really, but it was Lance most of all that Keith looked to, because – aside from always looking to Lance for other reasons, Lance had always been so effortlessly social, so friendly and open and easygoing. Everything Keith wasn't, but he'd accepted Keith's paltry tries without comment, had kept leaving open spaces for him on the couch, saving some of Hunk's cookies for him, barging into the training room and telling him it was time to take a break and be with people who only sometimes wanted to kill him, and never actually tried.
But now Lance was glaring real murder at him from less than an inch away, and Keith knew it was his own fault, for letting his dumb crush get the better of him and twist everything up, he knew he'd probably just hurt Lance's feelings too – but none of that stopped the horrible heavy feeling overtaking him, that swift stab of rejection.
"I do care," he said, wobbly. He felt like he was about to cry. This was all so stupid. "I-I just…"
A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and Keith twisted his head up to see Shiro smiling down at him. There was something knowing in that look, a warm and welcoming understanding of all his flaws, that melted him a little like it always had. He hadn't said anything about his feelings to anyone, but Shiro knew Keith, he'd always been good at seeing right through him. He probably could tell exactly what was going on here.
"We all know you care, Keith," he reassured, squeezing Keith's shoulder. "You just find it difficult to show, sometimes."
Keith's heart dripped down into his ribcage, he wanted to close his eyes and lean into Shiro, tell him all about the boy he stupidly liked so much – but Lance just snorted, stepping back and crossing his arms.
"Whatever," he huffed, and leaned back on his heels without looking, trust rewarded when Hunk was there, catching him and holding him steady as always. Pidge had stood up too, and nudged Lance's hip with two fingers, giving Keith a weird look. He didn't try to figure it out, focusing back on Lance, whose voice was bitter and whose eyes sparked strangely too. "We get it, you're always on Keith's side."
"That's not true," Shiro said calmly. "Lance, you did really well and we're all impressed. But we are here to train, so let's save the celebrating until after. We're almost done for the day."
Lance took a deep, slow breath in through his nose. He let it out on a sigh and a smile that looked all wrong, dim and defeated and insincere. Keith swallowed hard, wanted to reach out and touch him like Hunk and Pidge were, comforting and true, but he couldn't move.
"You got it, bossman," Lance said with a lazy salute, and turned around to walk away. Pidge turned with him, still sticking much closer than usual, but Hunk lingered a moment. The glare he shot at Shiro and Keith was the physical embodiment of seriously not cool, dude; more disappointed than angry and intensely devastating.
"It'll be okay," Shiro murmured after a moment, sounding a little devastated himself. Hunk's disappointment did that to a person. He squeezed Keith's shoulder again, before heading off to join the others in the middle of the room for a round of the team shielding exercise.
Lance didn't deliberately let Keith get hit, as he'd half-expected. Instead, he protected him until they were the only two remaining, when the drones finally became too much and they were shot down at the same time. They set a new record.
Lance didn't look at Keith or talk to him once the entire time, and it was so much worse than violence could've ever been.
-xxx-
Ever since the incident in the training room, Lance had been cold. He didn't completely stonewall Keith, not after that first day; instead, it was just like all the progress they'd made as friends had been forgotten overnight. Or at least most of it. They spoke, sure, and even trained together easily enough. But gone were the casual afternoons spent hanging out as a group, the occasional spars together outside of official team training sessions, the late nights when Lance couldn't sleep and he'd go stare at the stars and if Keith showed up and sat quietly next to him, he'd tell long stories about his family. The one time Keith came in and tried to sit down next to him, Lance fake-yawned and left to go to bed.
It probably didn't help that this time, Hunk and Pidge were upset too. Strangely, Hunk was the one who seemed to nurse more of a grudge, for once. He kept shooting Keith these looks, like, fix it, and it was super annoying because he was trying, okay. He really was. He – didn't know what to do or say to make things better, wasn't even sure how he felt. He was guilty, yeah. Everyone knew Lance looked up to Shiro and was strangely sensitive to Keith, so even kind of teaming up on him must've hurt. Hunk's reaction alone was plenty of evidence that some real slight had been unintentionally made, and Keith really did feel bad about that. He'd just been trying to protect himself, not hurt anyone else.
But then, after several days of Lance's distant attitude, and Pidge's long thoughtful stares, and Hunk's silent guilt-tripping, and even Shiro's hovering concern – Keith started to find his shame overwhelmed by a more familiar emotion… anger.
After all, they didn't know what he was going through. Every day, he had to deal with these stupid, intense feelings for someone who mocked him constantly, who was annoying and unfair and, yeah, gorgeous and clever and kind, but also flirted with everyone and picked stupid fights and was apparently allergic to giving Keith an honest compliment. Every day, he didn't say a thing. And every day, Lance, who had hurt Keith just as much during that stupid argument in which Keith'd had a point, even Shiro said so, every day he continued to act as cold as his lion's ice powers. All Keith even wanted was for Lance to like him. Or – no, he wanted to stop liking Lance, but apparently that was impossible and it made him furious that his friendships were suffering now just because he couldn't handle being in a dogpile with his crush without probably confessing or something, and Lance couldn't take any insinuation that he was second best. If either of them'd had a little more chill everything would still be just fine – but they didn't, and it wasn't, and in the next battle Keith let all his frustrations out with a series of stupidly reckless maneuvers that nearly killed him. Hunk managed to block an ion cannon blast that would've definitely finished him off, and Pidge swooped in to tow the Red Lion to safety while Lance laid down cover fire and Shiro played distraction. It all turned out okay in the end, but that had been a close call. Even Keith knew that.
He was still shaking a little bit as he exited his lion after the battle was finally over. They hadn't managed to completely defeat the Galran troops, but Shiro had taken out the main ship with the cannon before Allura wormholed them all to safety, so at least they didn't have to worry about that for now. Keith… kind of wished they weren't in the clear yet, because he knew he was going to get a lecture. And he knew he deserved it, and he'd take it in silence because everything Shiro would have to say about his impulsiveness was completely true, but he didn't know that he could stop. Despite everything, he still had feelings for Lance, and he still didn't know how to manage them, or even to effectively deal with the frustration they caused him. Shiro would probably tell him to just confess, but that was way too stupid to ever consider seriously, not when Lance would never like him back. He just, he didn't know what else to do. The situation was hopeless from every angle, and he sighed as he finally stepped down into the Castle, tugging his helmet off to run a hand through his sweaty hair.
"What the hell was that, Keith?" a sharp voice demanded, and Keith tensed, jerking his head up.
In front of him stood Lance.
Not Shiro.
Lance, with his own helmet tucked under an arm and the other hand aimed in a furious point right at Keith. Lance, with equally sweaty hair and eyes blue like fire, stepping harshly forward and snarling at him.
"What the everloving quiznak was that little maneuver supposed to be, huh? What d'you call it, 'time to burst in flames and die'? Hunk nearly got fried saving your ass!"
When he got really, truly furious, personal space ceased to exist for Lance. Already, he was so close that Keith could feel angry breaths on his nose, had to tip his head back to meet Lance's eyes.
"I'm sorry, alright?!" he snapped back. "I thought I could pull it off!"
"You thought you co– oh, of course," Lance loomed even closer, flecks of spit hitting Keith's cheek as he shouted right in his face. "'I'm Keith, I'm the best pilot in the galaxy, I can defeat Zarkon single-handedly –'"
"Shut up!"
"No, you shut up!"
In the corner of his eye, Keith could see the other paladins watching. It looked like Pidge was holding Shiro back from intervening, and normally he'd wonder why, but right now he was just so upset and Lance was all he could think about, Lance screaming in his face, Lance hating him – god –
"Whatever, everything turned out fine!" he shouted, shoving Lance away. "What do you even care?"
"Wh- What the hell – I care because I don't want you dead, you piece of shit!"
Keith stopped. Just – stopped, everything. Lance cared about him. Lance didn't want him to die. Of course, he'd known that intellectually, but. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think, he was just a rush of furious, tangled emotions. Guilt and shame and regret, all swirled up together with longing, with lust, with things too deep to even name – and now, in the wake of those furious words, hope. He wanted to punch Lance. He wanted to grip Lance so fiercely it bruised and refuse to let go. He was a fire, reaching out in every direction, hungry for he didn't even know what, but Lance just glared back at him.
"Listen." He demanded, voice quieter in the sudden silence. "Keith. I know you think you're pretty –"
Keith was completely out of his mind with emotion, literally. It was shock, or lovesick lunacy, or – or something. Just: he was insane, right now. Had to be.
"No, I think you're pretty!" Voice still following the cadence of a furious argument, Keith spit out the compliment like a death threat. At top volume.
"–indestru-… Wh-what?" Lance stuttered to a halt, mouth falling open. Keith felt his own eyes widening, his mouth gaping in utter horror, as slowly his thoughts caught up to what was happening. What he'd just said.
He clapped both hands over his mouth, feeling his entire body heat up to boiling.
Lance was blushing too. He stared at Keith silently for several seconds, a dark red spreading across his cheeks. His eyes were so wide, his mouth still hanging open, narrow eyebrows raised high on his forehead, and – Christ. He was so pretty. He really, really was.
He always had been, with his smooth, shiny skin. His short, almost-curly hair, with that one cowlick he never seemed to be able to tame. His fingernails were always neat and clean and sometimes Keith could've sworn he saw clear polish on them. Lance's teeth were bright white and his legs so long and his neck so long too, inviting whenever he tilted his head, he was all lean and sharp and. His eyes were such a dark blue, almost black, and he was so expressive, always talking with his arms, his eyebrows, his whole body. He did these stupid little shimmies sometimes, they made Keith want to die. His hands were so soft. Keith bet he was that soft and smooth all over. Everyone always teased him about his long beauty routines but in Keith's opinion, they did their job, because Lance was the prettiest boy he'd ever goddamn seen.
But he'd never meant to tell him that.
"Wow," Hunk said distinctly from across the room.
"Uhhh. I–" Shocked into life by the sound, Lance finally shut his mouth, only to open it again with the obvious intention to say something.
Keith threw his helmet at his face and sprinted from the room.
-xxx-
He didn't know where to hide. Keith sprinted through the halls of the Castle, muttering a constant string of profanities as he rapidly considered, and discarded, various points of refuge. It was instinct to bolt to his room, to hide in his bed under the covers and block out the world – but Lance slept right next door, and there was no way he wouldn't check there first. The training room was just as obvious, as were most of the common areas, really. He could probably just find a random room but the odds were too high that Lance or someone else would spot him in the process of looking for a good one. Either that or he might get lost.
Keith thought of hiding out in Shiro's room, next – because unlike Pidge or Hunk, Shiro would definitely never sell him out to Lance… but he would try to get Keith to talk, and. He could not handle that right now. He just – nope, that wasn't happening.
Skidding around the next corner, Keith flinched at a sudden squeak. He looked down to see one of the space mice, squeaking irritably at him. The taller green one with the angry eyes that Pidge said looked like him; Plachu maybe? Keith could never remember which was which, the only one who really knew was Allura.
Allura!
Coran and Lance were really close so he was a no-go, but Allura was regularly a little irritated at the blue paladin, and she didn't hear what just happened, and she knew the castle better than anyone. She was his best bet for a place to hunker down.
Keith spared a quick thanks to Chuchule or whoever, and headed off to the bridge at a full sprint. Luckily, Allura was still there, and he dragged her out of the room without bothering to acknowledge Coran's offended squawk at being ignored.
"Princess, I need your help," he demanded breathlessly.
Allura frowned worriedly down at him.
"What is it, Keith? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he hissed. "I just, I need you to hide me. Right now. Show me somewhere they won't find me."
"'They?' Who's –"
"Please," Keith gritted out. He felt himself shaking all over. His breath was short from more than the run here, and his heart was beating so hard, shit, he couldn't do this. "Please, Allura. I just. I can't see him right now. I don't know where to go."
The Princess stared down at him with furrowed brows for a long moment… then sighed and nodded. She reached out and took Keith's hand, holding it warmly between both of her own, and leaned in to press her forehead against his. He blinked up at her, confused and dizzy.
"I'm not sure what's going on," she said quietly, "but it will be all right."
Straightening, she turned and tugged Keith down the hall before he could think to reply. Allura led him down several halls, finally ending up in a room that was large, round, and completely empty save for a slightly raised podium in the center. Keith slowly moved towards it.
"What is this?" he asked.
"This is the holodeck," Allura explained a little throatily. "It used to host my – my father's AI, but it's empty now. You should have some peace in here until you are ready to come back out. Here."
Suddenly, the walls faded away, replaced by blue skies over a familiar green field. After a moment, Keith recognized it as a meadow from back on Arus. He sat down cross-legged in the middle of the field – room – with a sigh.
Allura hesitated at the door. "Do – do you want me to stay?"
He shook his head, looking away. Waiting until he heard the doors slide shut, Keith dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes. He took a deep, slow breaths, insanely grateful to have found Allura. She'd taken the edge of impending panic out of him, and without it in the way he found himself able to sink fairly quickly into a state of resigned horror.
This was exactly what he'd always wanted to avoid.
Emotions weren't Keith's area of expertise. So he didn't expect to be able to anticipate everyone's exact reactions to his unintentional confession. He honestly didn't even know what Lance would do about it; he wouldn't be terrible, Lance wasn't actually an asshole about things that mattered so Keith knew he would never be intentionally cruel about this. He understood, too, that Shiro always had his back, and Allura had been so supportive just now, and Coran was a goof but kind, and Pidge was often uncomfortable with emotions too but that would just make them more understanding that he couldn't deal, and Hunk was just good. He wasn't sure about the particulars of their reactions, but no one on this ship would ever treat him badly because of this. Keith knew that, for the first time in his life, the people around him could be really trusted. It was solid in his chest.
But none of that changed how he felt.
Not angry. Not at himself, or even at Lance anymore. He was done feeling guilty too. But Keith also just didn't feel any shred of hope; he was just horribly, sadly resigned all of a sudden. It was a familiar feeling. One he was used to from so many years of so much being just simply out of his control. Growing up in a series of foster homes, Keith learned this quickly, that sometimes there is nothing you can do. It doesn't matter how much you care. He never handled the lack of control well, he'd always been impulse-driven and prone to lashing out, but the problem was, that only ever led to more situations just like this one, where he found himself waiting to face the consequences of his outbursts. Waiting for someone else's reaction to dictate his fate.
Back when he was a kid, he used to wonder if his latest fight would get him kicked out of yet another so-called home (and sometimes, it did). Now, no one was actually calling their team anything quite so sentimental but they all knew the truth. Keith had faith in them though, hard-earned and solid like nothing else. He knew, whatever the fallout, the family he'd finally found wasn't really on the line.
But Lance might be, and Keith had never wanted to be put in this position. He'd never wanted this. He was used to rejection but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt, and –
There was nothing he could do. He knew that.
He just wasn't ready to let go of Lance.
-xxx-
In the end, Allura was no more trustworthy than the rest of them. Keith only got somewhere between an hour and a varga of solitude before he heard a fist banging on the door.
"Dude," Lance called. "I know you're in there. Allura told me."
Keith curled up a little tighter into himself, staring at the grasses swaying in a nonexistent wind.
"She also told me that she'd maim me and then throw me in a cryopod so I'd still be Voltron-ready if I barged in before you were ready, and y'know, I totally believe her? Protective Allura is probably the scariest thing I've ever seen. We should totally just let the Galra hurt your feelings and then point her their way."
"…Pidge," Keith sighed, eventually, because Lance's voice was gentle the way it got when Pidge was hurt. He'd crouch down in front of them and ignore their cursing and sometimes tears, and speak soft and soothing, take care of them. "Or Hunk, would be a better bet."
"Dude, if Zarkon ever tramples Hunk's delicate heart, Allura'd better stand back for me," Lance vowed. Keith smiled. He couldn't help it.
"Shiro, then."
"Shyeah," Lance laughed. "Why wasn't he first pick? Princess'll whoop some purple ass for that guy anyday."
There was no sound for a moment.
"Hey," Lance said. "Keith, buddy. Can I come in? I don't wanna get maimed, so if you say no, I'll leave. But. I wanna talk to you."
Keith wanted to tell him no. He wanted to send Lance away and refuse to face this conversation for as long as humanly possible… but, it'd only be prolonging the inevitable. Besides. He didn't like being a coward.
"Come in," he said.
There was a soft whoosh as the doors slid open, then another moments later as they slid shut behind Lance. Keith glanced up; through his bangs, he could see Lance looking around in awe.
"Whoa, this is a real holodeck, isn't it," he said, coming close to sit crosslegged next to Keith. "That's some prime Star Trek shit, right here."
Keith grunted, and Lance nudged him with an elbow.
"Hey," he said again. His smile was soft. Keith was aching. "About earlier."
Keith watched silently as Lance grinned sheepishly; ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't look away. He'd still see Lance every day after this, but it wouldn't be the same, and he felt greedy for what was left before the door slammed shut for good.
"Um, firstly, your helmet's in your room, so. When you need it," Lance looked a little embarrassed. The tips of his ears were red, along with a light flush on his cheeks. Keith had never realized his ears blushed, before. It was adorable. Goddamn it.
"Thanks."
"Y-yeah. So. Um. You think I'm… p-pretty?"
"Yeah." There was no point denying it now.
"I – I mean, I definitely am, and anyone would be struck dumb by my beauty regardless – but. Uh." Lance looked down at Keith with a nervous grin, hands clenching tight around his own knees. "Am I right in thinking you like me?"
"Yeah."
"R-romantically."
"Yeah."
"Oh." Despite already being aware, Lance still seemed floored by the confirmation. He stared at Keith for a long minute, eyes wide. Keith stared back, thinking, not yet. I'll stop when he tells me. The longer they held eye contact, the worse he felt. That tug in his gut, the ache in his chest – they weren't getting better at all.
Eventually, Lance broke first. He looked away, laughing awkwardly.
"Wow, okay," he muttered. "I'm – this is a tough one. I – shit." Abruptly, he spun back to face Keith, a determined scowl on his face, and grabbed his hands. He cleared his throat twice before speaking. "Okay. Here goes."
"Just say it already."
"I – I am! Don't rush me!" Lance took a deep breath. His palms were warm and a little sweaty. "Keith. You um, I mean, it's probably super obvious that I think you're stupid –"
Stung, Keith jerked his hands back.
"Fuck off," he hissed furiously. Lance squawked and scrabbled to grab his hands back.
"No, no, I wasn't done! I was gonna say stupid cool, stupid cool!"
"Idiot," Keith slumped back down, huffing out a shaky sigh. "Why would you phrase it like that?!"
"Well, why wouldn't you let me finish?!" Lance retorted, gripping Keith's palms so tight they hurt a little. "Dios santos, you're gonna be a terrible boyfriend, always interrupting. I can already tell."
"I will n– wait," Keith choked. "I. What."
"What," Lance echoed back, cheeks and nose and eartips red, fingers gripped rough and sweaty around Keith's own. "I like you too."
"N-no." Keith was gasping. "Wh- shit. No you don't. Y- no?"
Lance was starting to smile now. It wasn't quite that smug bedroom smirk, nor his soft gentle smile, but something in between. Something very happy and a little sly, and getting closer. He was leaning in.
"I like you, dork," he said, pressing his forehead against Keith's. Like Allura had done earlier, Keith thought hazily, panicked, but not like Allura at all – "I have for a while now. It's been really embarrassing and obvious and dumb, trust me."
"I," Keith breathed. He let his fingers grip back at Lance's. They were both sitting crosslegged, knees touching, foreheads touching, faces red in a field of alien grass in the middle of outer space, he didn't understand any of this, "me too."
"That's," Lance grinned, blinding, "nice."
"No, it's been awful," Keith retorted without thinking. Maybe he didn't need to be thinking right now. "I'm really mad at you."
He didn't want to let go, so he just kind of shrugged and nudged his head against Lance's as a way to sort of show what he was mad at. Lance's everything, basically.
"Oh, me too, absolutely," he agreed, seeming to get it, and made his own nudgy motion. It sent something hot and shivery to swim around in Keith's stomach, the thought that Lance might have been experiencing similar frustrations, resentments, wants.
God.
Could he?
"I," Keith started to say, but he couldn't find the words to follow, just kind of leaned in a little heavier and asked, "want to?"
Lance's smile this time was lazy, already satisfied.
"Yeah," he said. Very very soft. "I want–"
Keith kissed him before he could finish.
Lance's lips were warm and soft and moved gentle like they knew what they were doing, and soft, and so so good, so good. He tilted his head a little and suddenly the angle was much better, Keith made a noise in his throat and one of Lance's hands left his to tangle in his hair, it felt amazing. He wrapped both his arms around Lance's neck and fell further into him with a shudder, leaning up and kissing up, kissing, kissing, breathless and warm and open just a little, just a hint of Lance's tongue swiping across his bottom lip before they both stopped to breathe.
Keith's eyes dragged open slowly.
"You're pretty good at that," Lance said, fingers still curling into his hair. Keith smiled, cheeks warm, and knew this time there wasn't going to be any dumb follow-up – "I mean. I'm better, but you're decent, is what I'm getting at."
Well. This was Lance.
"If you're such an expert then teach me," Keith said simply, and watched as Lance spluttered, caught off guard and red all over, and here with him, whatever retort he was about to say soon muffled against Keith's mouth, slipped away to a happy little hum, to lips pressing back.
His heart was singing, quiet but alight. The holographic grasses swayed around them. They stayed in that room for a long time, kissing and talking, and kissing again. Keith made damn sure he got a chance to kiss Lance's neck; it made him squirm and make stupid little noises, fingernails scratching his scalp. Lance retaliated by catching him up and sucking on his tongue, something that made Keith go sloppy and limp, nerves sparking and heart beating faster. He really liked the way Lance said his name after that.
He really liked all of it.
They eventually left holding hands.
this whole fic was written because I wanted Keith to mistakenly think Lance was calling him pretty and get affronted on Lance's own behalf, because Lance is Beautiful and Keith has never once in his life even moisturized.