I

"Reports have been coming in all week of a group of five individuals claiming to be what they call Paladins of Voltron. They had all previously been presumed dead. Officials at the Galaxy Garrison, where the five were once cadets, are claiming to know nothing about —"

Lance regretted turning on the TV as his yawn turned into a groan. "Screen off," he muttered, and the reporter's stiff voice cut off. Swinging his pajama-clad legs off the bed, he looked over his shoulder at Keith, shirtless and still asleep on his stomach, face turned away from Lance. A smile tugged its way onto Lance's face at the rat's nest of hair facing him. He reached out a hand and ran his fingers lightly through the dark black locks. Keith's breathing stuttered a bit in response, but he stayed asleep. A part of Lance—the part that hadn't gotten to grow up because he'd been too busy fighting the epitome of evil—wanted to curl up next to his boyfriend and go back to sleep, burying all his concerns in duvet. But, he never had been good at going back to sleep once he woke, he thought as he stood up; and now, he had the aftermath of Voltron's victory to deal with. Far from the welcoming parade of adoration he'd always imagined, he and the other Paladins were greeted with suspicion upon their return.

After finally defeating Zarkon and dismantling much of his empire, the Paladins had returned home. By then, Zarkon had come close enough to attacking Earth that the concept of an evil alien race was no longer so bizarre to humans. What still was hard to wholeheartedly accept was that five semi-sentient robot Lions, piloted by some twenty-somethings, could combine to form a giant robot defender of the universe; and that that's what had saved Earth, not the International Alliances or worldwide military might. It felt as if the Garrison's commanders took it as a personal affront that they'd been upstaged.

Almost immediately after landing, reporters had hounded the five of them, prodding their cameras at Shiro's arm, and looking for similar alien contraptions on the others.

The news was spread across the media outlets, with little regard for fact or fiction and an insatiable appetite for speculation. Soon after his first encounter with the swarm of reporters, Shiro had decided to join Coran and Allura on Arus for some time, where they'd taken the Castle and the Lions, at least until a dozen nations stopped trying to call dibs on dissecting his "alien arm."

Lance scrubbed his teeth a bit too roughly as he thought about all of this. Spitting out his toothpaste with vigor, he made his way back to the bedroom to get dressed. He returned to find Keith sitting up in bed, scratching idly at his bare chest.

"Morning mullethead," he greeted casually.

Keith flashed angry eyes at him before tossing a pillow his way. Lance dodged easily, but noted that even when groggy with sleep, Keith threw with bullseye accuracy. Back in space, Lance would've admired such a feat. And before he'd come to terms with his true feelings, he would've been envious. But now, he was accustomed to it; all five of them were prone to little unconscious displays of deadly skill like that, and it made Lance a little sad. Because while it was hot that his boyfriend could pick him up with less effort than the average man exerted on a bag of groceries, it came at a cost. And Lance was well-acquainted with that cost, having experienced it himself firsthand. All five of them had spent their days in space, training to avoid fatal disasters, because one falter, one folly, could have incapacitated any of them. But living like that also meant they sustained many injuries, and they had the scars to prove it.

Lance's mischievous expression revealed none of the depth of his current thoughts as he approached the bed and sat across from Keith. Their hands sought each other out automatically—subconsciously—Lance's hands coming to rest on Keith's blanket-covered knees, and Keith's hands on top of Lance's.

Keith's brows knit and smoothed, his lips parted and sealed, as he struggled to articulate something. Lance decided to be the first to breach the silence.

"Today's the day. You ready?"

Keith blinked and met Lance's eyes. Some of the tension in his shoulders fell away when he saw Lance's reassuring smile. His gaze was soft as he replied, "I have to be. It's been a week already." And even as he said the words, they sent a jolt through him. How had it been a whole week so soon?

"Keith, listen." Lance's hands slid up along Keith's thighs and loosely held his hips. Even through the thickness of the blanket, his hands lent Keith comfort. "It's not like there's a deadline for this. If you need more time, that's completely fine. My family will understand."

"No, Lance." Keith's voice held determination. "We've been staying at this hotel because we—mostly I—needed time to readjust." Because they'd both decided that after years with no contact with other humans, suddenly dropping in amidst a big boisterous family—loving as they were—could be too much of a shock, especially for Keith. "But I know how much you're aching to spend more time with them."

"I visit them regularly," Lance pointed out, but Keith was in no mood to be convinced into more selfishness.

"I know it's not the same, Lance. Plus, you've been avoiding leaving the hotel too much so you don't catch some reporter's eye."

Lance started to protest again, but Keith silenced him with a firm shake of his head. "No, let's do this. It's time I properly met your family."

Lance bit his lip, trying to reign in the smile that threatened to overtake his face. "Seriously?"

If Keith had been having any doubts before, they vanished with that. He chuckled, then nodded fondly, and was rewarded with a happy kiss on the cheek. Lance scrambled off the bed, too excited now to sit still, and Keith knew he'd made the right decision.

II

Keith watched Lance flit about the room organizing the signs of their fortnight-long stay: clothes (loaned from Lance's family) piled haphazardly atop the chair, plastic plates and bowls stacked neatly in a corner, the closet door left ajar. Keith watched him and reveled in the feeling of being home.

In the pod on the way to Earth, Lance was a bundle of excited energy, bouncing his leg, drumming his fingers against his thigh, and looking out of different windows at the vast expanse of space rushing by. When the blue planet's atmosphere finally appeared, he nearly launched out of his seat, held back only by the seat belt. Meanwhile, the whole experience was reminding Keith of the many diplomatic missions he'd attended on various alien planets, in an attempt to get them to join the Voltron Alliance. And when he disembarked from the pod, finally setting foot on Earth after ages, the moment was anticlimactic. He didn't know what he'd been expecting to feel after landing on what was by all means his home planet, but he'd been expecting something . Lance on the other hand was ecstatic the moment his toes brushed pavement. It was that observation more than anything else that made Keith feel at home.

Keith had met Lance's family—his house had been the first stop after the international bureaus had cleared them. Lance's mother had enveloped Keith in her loving arms and he'd immediately understood why her hugs' reputation preceded her. There had been siblings and cousins, and aunts and uncles, and at least one grandparent. Keith had never experienced such a sheer amount of love, in so many different voices, all at once, and from all directions. He'd been more than a little overwhelmed. The ever-observant Lance had taken notice, despite everything going on in that moment. The two of them had decided to wait until Keith was ready before moving back in with Lance's family.

The little bubble they'd built around themselves, staying at this hotel room funded grudgingly by the government, was bound to pop sooner or later; and Keith had come to the decision that he'd rather step out himself before it did. With keen awareness that Lance had not once rushed or pressured him, Keith gave the word, and they packed their still-meager belongings. The hovercab let them off in front of the big pink house of Lance's childhood. When Keith's breath hitched, Lance wordlessly took his hand in his own, rubbing circles around his knuckles.

Keith wasn't quite sure when Lance knocked, but all at once, the white door was opening. Lance's five-year-old nephew Javier, who had apparently opened the door himself, ran back inside shouting, "Mommy, they're here!"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Keith's face, and he squeezed Lance's hand.

"Are you going to be making eyes at each other like that all the time?" an arch voice interrupted, making Keith drop Lance's hand. "Because I have to deal with enough of that from Thalia and Alex."

"Mom!" Lance rushed ahead and wrapped his lanky body around Teresa's tiny one. Her arms came up around his middle in a vice grip. It looked fierce, but having experienced it himself, Keith knew how incredible it felt, like she was transferring life to you through her touch.

When they separated and Lance stepped into the house, Teresa moved on to Keith, who accepted her hug like the motherly-touch-starved man that he was.

"Speaking of Thali and Alex, where are they?" asked Ricardo, Lance's older brother-in-law.

"They'll be over later," Lance's dad answered.

The boys were drawn deeper into the house as the rest of the family greeted them. Keith caught snippets of the conversations proceeding around him. Little Javi peeked out at them from behind his mother's legs. The mother was Lance's oldest sister, Noemi, a stern-looking woman in her late thirties. Her smile, as she beheld Lance, softened her features, and Keith saw Lance reflected in the tilt of her mouth.

"Are you really my uncle? How come I've never seen you before?" Slowly gaining confidence, Javi started to pepper Lance with questions. A girl of about twenty, whose name and relation Keith couldn't quite remember right then, rolled her eyes, while Ricardo gently chided his son,

"That's enough, Javi-cito. Let Tio Lance and his friend rest before you ask so many questions."

But Lance seemed to bask in the child's attention, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the curious little bundle of energy. "Is it true you guys came from space ?" he asked.

Lance laughed and knelt down to Javi's level. "Yup," he confirmed. "And I can take you up anytime you want."

Javi's eyes widened in awe. "For real ?"

Lane nodded solemnly. "Just remember to ask your mom first."

Javi ran to his mom, tugging at her skirt to whisper something to her.

"Oh sure," said Noemí, shaking her head in irritation. "Promise him things, and then make me look like the bad guy when I say no."

Lance stood up and winked at Keith, sending warmth through him. This was Lance in his element: people-pleaser, center of attention.

"We've cleared out your old room for you, mijo," said Teresa. She turned to Keith. "We don't have an extra room, so you'll have to share with Lance."

"No problem, Teresa. Thank you!" The words seemed inadequate to express his gratitude at her opening her home to him. He thought to add something, but Lance beat him to it.

"Oh, don't worry Mom. It's no problem at all ." This he punctuated with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle and shit-eating grin aimed at his boyfriend.

Keith returned the look with a mortified one of his own, and the girl who'd rolled her eyes earlier finally spoke to say, "Gross, Lance!"

Teresa pointed an accusing finger at her son, and despite being more than a full head shorter than him, she cut an imposing figure. "You will keep things strictly G-rated. We have an impressionable child in the house." Said child had since left the room to go find his favorite toys to show his new uncles.

"Yeah Lance." A teasing voice carried from the kitchen; it could've passed for Lance's if not for the slightly scratchier pitch. "Stop corrupting young minds." A man of Lance's height and build emerged, who could only have been his brother. He even walked like Lance. Or more likely, given that he was the youngest sibling, Lance walked like his brother .

"Leon!" he exclaimed, embracing him tightly.

Leon pulled away and ruffled Lance's hair. "Hey, baby bro." Turning his attention to Keith, he extended his hand. "I wasn't home the last time you were here. You must be Keith."

"I am." Keith shook his hand. "You must be the older brother Lance looks up to so much."

Leon smiled and looked over his shoulder. "He's so polite, Lance! How'd you land a catch like him?"

"Oh he seems nice now, but don't be fooled."

Keith discreetly gave Lance the finger, and Lance threw him a flying kiss in return.

"I'm serious, boy," Teresa stated. "No funny business in the house."

"Do you tell Thali the same thing?" asked Lance.

"You know it."

"She doesn't listen to you of course," Noemí added.

"Sí, pero she's married now." Teresa rounded on Lance. "You want to not listen to me, then get married. But until then, you follow my rules, and the first one is 'no indecency in the house.'"

Whether it was intended or not, her comment had Lance flushing, stealing a glance at Keith before looking away again hurriedly. Keith smiled to himself. He liked Teresa—a lot.

"I can help you two take your things up to your room," offered Ricardo.

"Thank you, but we literally just have these two bags," Lance sheepishly indicated to the knapsacks slung over their shoulders. "We got it. C'mon Keith."

Keith followed him up the stairs and into the first door in the hallway. Lance closed the door behind them. The room was softly lit with all modes of space posters decking the walls—from recruitment ads for astronauts to prints of high-res photos of far out galaxies. Keith's heart swelled with love for the naïve child who'd dreamed of going into space before he'd had any inkling of the horrors and joys that awaited him there.

"Oh man, I can't believe mom kept all of these." Lance was examining the posters too. He walked up to one and touched the corner where it was curling with age. He smiled wistfully before dropping onto the made bed. Feet still on the floor, he lay back, and Keith joined him. They stared at the ceiling in silence for awhile, thighs barely touching, until Keith spoke, "No glow-in-the-dark stars?"

"Huh?"

"I don't know, I always pictured your childhood room would have those plastic glow-in-the-dark stars taped to the ceiling."

Lance turned on his side so he was facing Keith; and Keith mirrored him. "Someone's given this a lot of thought," Lance teased. Keith smiled and closed his eyes, finally realizing how tired he was after the long cab ride. He unconsciously scooted closer to Lance, seeking his warmth. Lance tucked a stray lock of hair behind Keith's ear and started to answer the question. "I actually had them for like, a day."

"So I was right about you yet again," Keith said, eyes still closed.

Lance reached forward to kiss his eyelid. "Not really." But Keith could hear the smile in his voice. "Because I took them down after a single night of having them. I was probably like ten, and I got excited when I saw them in the store. I thought they'd be so cool and begged Noemí to buy them for me. But when we actually put them up, turned out the glow was annoying when I was trying to sleep." A moment passed and Keith didn't move, so Lance prompted, "You still with me?"

"Lance?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about your family."

A beat.

"You sure you're not sick of hearing me talk about them all the time? Plus, you literally just met them."

Keith toed off his shoes and drew his feet up from the floor, curling up tightly to fit sideways on the bed. He was really tired and Lance's bed was soft . "My sleep-addled state will allow me to admit that I'll never get sick of hearing you talk. Also, now that I've met them, I can put faces to your stories. So tell me about them."

"Okay, um…" For once, Lance seemed at a loss for where to begin. So Keith asked the question that had occurred to him when they were downstairs,

"Who was that moody girl, about our age?"

"Oh, Gloria!" Lance's voice was smiling again. "That's my cousin. She was my best friend when we were little. Her mom is Tia Inés, my mom's sister."

Keith hummed inquisitively.

"Yeah, you haven't met her. She's always over though, so you will soon enough. She's a single mom and Glo is her only. She sometimes forgets that me and my siblings aren't her kids."

"I remember you talking about her. She must work hard, raising a kid on her own."

"Oh yeah, definitely. She did good. Noemí actually takes after her more than our mom. They're both bossy, but like Ricardo says, 'it comes from a place of love.' He used to say that when I was little." Lance paused a bit before continuing, tone more contemplative. "I can't believe I missed my first nephew's birth… and his infancy and toddlerhood. I missed Thali's wedding."

Keith opened his eyes to gaze at Lance, but he turned to lie on his back. "Keith, my sister and I planned out her wedding when we were kids. Even when I ended up in space, it didn't occur to me that she'd get married without me. At least not at first. And now she's married and I don't even know her husband. Who even is this Alex guy? How do I know he's good enough for my sis?" He sighed deeply. "So much has changed. I didn't just miss births, I missed the deaths too. Abuelo is gone, and I never even got to grieve him. Abuela lives alone, and she seems like a different person now."

"Babe." Keith threw an arm over Lance's belly and rubbed a thumb against his rib. "You'll make new memories with them. You belong here among them. That's what matters."

"I know. I just wish… I just feel like I've lost all these years."

"I know. Fight back with new years."

A laugh bubbled out of Lance. "Why is everything a fight with you?"

"Not everything," Keith insisted, tucking his head against Lance's shoulder and closing his eyes again.

"Yes, everything."

"You're the one arguing over this," Keith mumbled into Lance's shirt.

Lance scoffed in offense, but his boyfriend's breath tickling his neck kept him from saying anything. They fell asleep against each other without meaning to. Soon after, they awoke with stiff necks when Keith accidentally kneed Lance in the side.

"Shit, we fell asleep." Keith sat up, looking about the room, only half-certain of where he was.

Lance crawled rightways on the bed so his head was actually on the pillow, and pulled Keith back down next to him. "It's fine. Mom'll wake us later." When Keith started to protest, not wanting to be rude to the family, Lance shushed him. "Defenders of the universe deserve their sleep."

Unable to argue with that logic, Keith conked out, spooned securely in Lance's long arms.

III

"Gourmet souffle," Thali announced unnecessarily as Keith's cake-slice-shaped game piece landed on the property.

"I'll buy it," he declared without hesitation. They were sprawled out on the living room floor playing Chocolate-opoly, which Lance was dangerously close to winning.

"Seriously?" Lance questioned. "It has like two bucks rent, and we're almost at the end of the game." He ignored Leon's 'we've been playing for three hours' to teasingly grill Keith on his motives. "What are you expecting to get out of this investment?"

"To keep you from taking over the board." Keith didn't even look up from the deed Alex had handed him.

Leon sniggered. "He's just as bad as you, Lance."

"Come on, Keith!" Lance poked him in the ribs from his position lying prone in front of the game board. "What's mine is yours. You should be helping me scoop up delicious chocolate properties, not working against me!"

"Gourmet Souffle," Keith sounded out the words. "Death-by-Chocolate. Where did you guys get a chocolate-themed Monopoly anyway?"

Leon pointed at his little brother. "We have Lance to thank for this." Lance hummed in agreement from beside Keith's thigh, as Leon elaborated. "He saw it at a bookstore one day, and begged Mom and Dad alternatively until they bought it."

"I took great care of it while I was around." Lance's tone was upbeat, but his expression dropped a bit as he observed the worn out deed-cards and game money in his hands. He didn't actively resent it, though he was aware of it just the same. The kids and the adults who'd played with it in his absence had treated Lance's prized board game with less care than he would've liked. He was interrupted from a fresh bout of thoughts on how different everything was now when his mother called to him from the doorway.

"Moomm," he whined, sitting up nonetheless. "The game's just about to end."

"Don't argue with me boy." She used her no-nonsense voice—not annoyed, just impatient. "Your father and I need to see you in the kitchen. You too, Keith." With that, she turned and left the room, presumably to wait for the two in the kitchen.

Keith and Lance exchanged a bemused look before getting up to follow Teresa. Lance noticed Javi's pout at the abrupt end to the game, and he ruffled the boy's soft black hair. "Don't worry, buddy. I'll teach you how to play chess later."

Javi brightened at that and craned his neck to look at an upright Lance. Lance winked at him before heading toward the kitchen, where one look at his waiting parents instantly straightened his spine at attention. "What's going on guys?"

His dad was pacing, and when Lance spoke, he spared his son a cursory glance before resuming his anxious walk. "Why is the Secret Service coming to our house unannounced? Why are they coming here at all ? Why do they even know where we live?"

"Calm down, Froylan." Teresa waved a hand at her husband. "You're not helping."

"Dad?" Lance didn't bother keeping the worry out of his voice. "What happened?"

"Two Secret Service agents are in the dining room right now, with a local police officer," Teresa elaborated in a hushed tone. "Your sister's in there with them."

Lance heard Keith let out a huff behind him, and he could clearly imagine the accompanying eye-roll. He couldn't agree more. The government had been just as bad as the media when it came to not leaving them alone; and with the added power of office, they were the bigger headache by far. After weeks of constantly avoiding attention, the Paladins were not as unsettled by the visitors as were Lance's parents, who had last dealt with government agents when Lance had disappeared from the galaxy in Blue along with two other Garrison students and a high-profile patient.

Lance figured this was dredging up memories for his parents of being told their son had died. His right fist clenched at the same time his left hand came to rest reassuringly on Teresa's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mom. They probably just want to invite me and Keith to some formal meeting to talk about Voltron and Zarkon." Even as he comforted her, his voice held a trace of bitterness for the institution that was now trying to ally itself with the Paladins after having covered up their disappearance with false reports of their deaths.

Keith stepped up, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Lance. "We're sorry that they're disturbing you because of us. We'll ask them not to come here again."

"You've only heard the half of it," said Froylan wearily, though he'd slowed his pacing to a stop. "It's not just them." Lance arched an eyebrow. "They only came to announce another, more important visitor."

Unable to handle her husband's cryptic talk, Teresa butt in. "They said the president is coming. Here. To see you two. To… talk." The calm she'd been maintaining started to crack.

Lance and Keith exchanged a glance. This was new. But they didn't get a chance to react beyond that, because light footfalls, the click-clack of expensive dress shoes, and voices speaking low into comms started emanating from the adjoining dining room. A moment later, Noemí slipped into the kitchen, flashing Lance a particularly severe look and ignoring Keith entirely.

"She's here." Noemí said no more, but Lance knew from experience that his sister's calm would only last until they had such a high-profile guest in their home. When he and Keith didn't move right away, she looked at them pointedly. "She's waiting for you. Be careful not to make the family look bad Lance." It was stuck on as an afterthought, but intended nonetheless.

"She's not here to judge you, Noe," he retorted without thinking. She wasn't used to being talked back to, and the surprise showed in her widened eyes. Most of the family generally either vaguely agreed with or ignored her pronouncements.

With a nod to his parents, Lance set foot in the next room, Keith close behind him.

"Ah, Lance, Keith." The president rose to greet them, hands clasped below her chest and smile warm.

The familiarity with which she addressed them instantly rubbed Lance the wrong way. He arranged his expression into something neutral, while Keith crossed his arms, something Lance had come to recognize as a defensive gesture. "Madame President," he said charmingly, gesturing for her to sit. With a smile, she did. She had taken the couch in an immature display of power, Secret Service agents standing behind it, leaving Lance and Keith to take the cramped loveseat.

"To what do we owe the honor?" Keith said it flatly, but to Lance's familiar ears, the sarcasm was palpable. It took some effort not to snigger.

President Molique smiled again. "Well I'm glad you asked Keith. I simply wanted to check in on you two, see how you're adjusting to life back on earth, after your… adventures."

Keith's brow knit, but it was Lance who spoke first. "You needn't have troubled yourself coming all this way just for that. We could've given you a status update over the phone." Molique's smile was frozen in place, looking more uncomfortable with every word coming out of Lance's mouth. "Unless," he continued, "that isn't the only reason for your visit?" He turned his voice up at the last words like a question, but its answer was clear to everyone in the room.

"Very astute, Lance," she admitted. "I also wanted to chat about your experiences in space."

"Our adventures , huh?" Lance repeated her word with distaste.

"Yes. It has been brought to my attention that the media "—it was her turn to show distaste—"has been pressuring you to sell them your story. And I felt it was my responsibility to let you know that you are under no obligation to do so." Her words were starting to take on a rehearsed quality. "I assure you the media does not have your best interests at heart. They care only for ratings and selling sensational stories, whether or not they're true."

"We appreciate your concern ma'am," began Keith, "but we are aware of reporters' tactics." He tried for a reassuring smile, but it came out looking more like a grimace. "You can trust that we won't share our full story publicly until we've vetted a credible news organization." She wasn't responding, so he elaborated. "We just haven't been back long enough to get a chance to plan anything. Hunk and Pidge have been with their families too, and Shiro hasn't been able to return yet. And we'd all like to make the decision together of when and how to tell our full story."

"How fitting that you should mention your friends." She paused, looking uncomfortable again. "I have spoken with Katie regarding this matter as well on my way here. I offered her the same advice I just gave you."

Lance and Keith gave matching expressions of interest. "And what did she say?" Keith questioned.

If Lance knew his friend at all, he predicted she would have asked the president to mind her own damn business and pull her nose out of this.

Molique cleared her throat. "She was quite sullen while I spoke, and at one point suggested that this matter doesn't concern me." Lance chuckled as his prediction was confirmed. "But in the end I believe she agreed with me, that it's best if you… lie low for some time."

"Best for whom?" Keith's voice was flat again, all pretense of friendliness abandoned.

"For everyone," answered Molique with finality. "Trust me when I say no good will come of revealing the details of this inter-galactic war that you presumably fought." Lance wanted to protest the air quotes he could practically hear in her voice when she mentioned the war, but she didn't give him a chance. "All it will do is cause the public to feel their governments can't protect them. Do you really think it would be wise—so close on the heels of the revelation of the existence of alien races—to incite mass-public-disapproval and distrust of authority?"

She was speaking more honestly now than she had been at first; and that , to Lance, was her ultimate undoing. He leaned forward to answer her, and the look he fixed her with must've indicated to her that she'd said too much.

"So that's your true reason for coming here today, interrupting our family time," he said. "You want us to keep our mouths shut."

Molique started to say something, but combat wasn't the only reflex Lance had sharpened during his 'adventures.' He didn't give her an opening. "You want to control our narrative, just like you want to control the entire account of how our supposedly scientifically advanced civilization was clueless about the existence of genocidal aliens. But you know what, you don't get to do that."

Keith slipped his hand onto Lance's knee. It was a check, a reminder of where they were. Babe.

Lance noticed it, but kept talking anyway. He wasn't yelling yet, and he wanted to get his points in before he started to. "The five of us have had enough of our stories being told for us by others—being told falsely . Like when the Garrison decided, with Executive Branch clearance, that it was okay to tell our families we'd died in an explosion set off by a delinquent expelled student—and that it had been our own fault for being out past curfew—instead of the truth . Only because the truth was that you people had no idea what was actually going on. You knew aliens were involved. You'd suspected since the Kerberos mission went south, but you'd made up your mind to cover it up until you knew you could win."

Lance's breathing was labored now, and Molique took the opportunity to speak. Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard on TV. "Lance, I wasn't in charge then. If I had been, things would've been—"

"Different? No, ma'am, I don't think they would've been. You would've done the same thing your predecessor did. I know this because you're doing the same thing now: arranging a cover-up for a story that makes you look bad."

"I am thinking of larger consequences—of my country, and of the world , matters more complex than you can comprehend."

"With due respect, Madame President," Keith jumped in, "we have comprehended entire galaxies ."

Lance finally brought his hand to rest on Keith's, which hadn't budged from his knee. It was his habit to reach for Keith when he sought comfort or strength; and for what he was about to say, he needed both.

"Madame President, you are incredibly charming; and I truly admire that," Lance acknowledged. "But you are not our friend. You say the media doesn't have our best interests in mind, but neither do you. You have your own agenda. And frankly, given your fixation with Voltron, with us Paladins, and your penchant to portray the media as obstructionist simply because it does its constitutionally sanctioned job of holding you and your administration accountable…" he took a deep breath after that mouthful, "I am not inclined to trust a word you say." His words were measured; yet his labored breath gave away the depth of his emotion. A moment of silence followed, after which he added, "We cannot have anything else to say to each other."

Molique stood, face sour but posture dripping with grace. Keith and Lance got to their feet too, prompting each of her agents to take one protective step closer to her. She turned and left without another word. Her entourage filed out of the house, and Lance only followed to shut the door behind them.

"And you call me a hothead," Keith said to Lance's back, incredulous but fond.

"You are, and sometimes that's bad. But this is about my family." Lance was still facing away, gripping the doorknob, shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly with the effort it had taken not to blow up at Molique. "They made my loved ones mourn me, cry for me, unnecessarily. I can never forgive that." When he turned back, Keith's eyes were locked onto him, rooting him in place. Lance was used to a lot of things by now, but when Keith turned that intense gaze on him, looking like he wanted to eat him up, Lance was a goner. He just stared into those indigo irises, not bothering with words because experience told him he'd be incoherent.

Without breaking eye-contact, Keith started to close the distance between them. "Have I. Ever told you. How much I. Love you?" He punctuated each phrase with a step until he was close enough to whisper his name. "Lance."

Lance's eyes dropped to Keith's shoes, and his lips turned up at the corners. He could feel his face warming at Keith's words, his proximity, his intensity . " Keith ." He brought his hands to his boyfriend's chest to push him gently away, because his parents were waiting, but Keith took hold of his waist and drew him closer.

"Because I love you," Keith continued. "So much."

Lance gave in. He always did. Because he always wanted to. He melted in Keith's hands, slotting their bodies together in an intimate hug. His hands slid up and back to clasp behind Keith's neck. "I love you so much too," he said in Keith's ear, and felt his arms tighten around his back.

IV

Keith paced the room idly in his bare feet. He'd been up for a good twenty minutes, but hadn't gone down for breakfast yet. He held his Marmora knife between his thumb and finger, twirling it lightly.

All these years and he was no closer to finding his roots. Sure, he knew he had Galra blood in him; but he still had no idea who his mom was, or whether he still had family in the galaxy, or if they were even worth finding. With a sharp exhale, he grasped the knife by its hilt, sheathed it, and tossed it into his bag that still laid somewhat packed on the floor. He was hit with a strong bout of déjà vu as he did so: all those nights in the Castle of Lions, sleeping with the knife under his pillow, taking it out and staring at it every time he felt a sense of otherness, of stashing it at the lightest footfall outside his door.

It was different now, he thought. He didn't have to hide anymore. The knife's origins were out in the open, and he wasn't any less loved because of it by those who mattered. And yet… He was still plagued by that same uncertainty.

Realizing he'd spent more time upstairs than was socially acceptable, he left the room and proceeded down the hall. He made it to the top step when he heard the voices floating up from the living room.

"I don't understand what you want from me!" Keith heard Lance say. Why was he so agitated?

"Of course you don't understand." That was Gloria, voice more controlled but clearly antagonistic. "You think you can just waltz back home after years of being… dead … for all we knew, with a boyfriend, and—"

"You have a problem with me being here, Glo?" Lance's voice was low now, unreadable. Except that Keith could read it: it was hurt masked by aggression.

Keith had made his way down the stairs one by one, unseen by the arguing cousins. They were in view now, and he saw Gloria scoff at Lance's question. " Problem ? You're the problem! Do you even know us anymore? You expect everything to pick up…"

Their voices trailed off as Keith slipped into the kitchen. As he bypassed the living room, far enough away from the action to remain unseen, he saw other family members gathering out of the corner of his eye. But he was walking with a singular focus toward the back door. His rational side told him he wasn't the reason for Lance's discord with his family, regardless of what Gloria's anger had led her to insinuate. But his more bitter side told him that he just didn't belong in a family. That families downright broke apart when he tried to be a part of them.

His legs sped up as he chased his thoughts, carrying him out the door in a haze of aimless irritation. The cool autumn air hit his face, grounding him in reality. With a glance back at the looming façade of the house, Keith turned and walked to the corner of the block, his feet focused on the path even though he wasn't. When he got to the curb, he could no longer see Lance's house. His mind didn't register how long he hung out there, hands in his hoodie's pockets, before a bus pulled up and he got on. At some point, he must've been asked to pay for a ticket, because he glanced down to see slip of paper being pressed into his hand by an incessant droid. He blinked at it before slipping it into his pocket, still thinking about family. His parents had to have loved each other, he figured, to have overcome the differences between human and Galra. Half-Galra? He didn't even know what his mom was. Then Keith had been born, and now the family was gone. He knew it made no sense. But he thought it anyway.

At some point, he closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and drifted off into a snooze, chin falling gently toward his chest.

Keith awoke to find the bus pulling into the terminal. At least he could think straight now. He drew a deep breath and ran a hand over his face, then looked out the window trying to orient himself. Of course , he realized, as he followed the only other remaining passenger out. The terminal . Of course that was where his subconscious led him; his instincts were pulling him home.

He stood on the pavement, overlooking the expanse of sand around him, wondering what to do. On the one hand, he hadn't told anyone where he was going—as he hadn't even known himself—and Lance would surely worry. But on the other, he'd been wanting answers his whole life . Maybe it was finally time to seek them out. He didn't even know what he would find if he went back. Nothing probably . Still, he boarded a waiting bus, and tried not to think about the anticipation twisting in his gut.

In half an hour, his muscle memory was bringing him to his feet. He got off, and the jolt he hadn't felt when landing back on earth finally hit him. This was the way to his house, the path he hadn't walked since his dad went missing and the Garrison had offered him early acceptance. He walked. And walked.

The road was smaller than he remembered it. Or maybe he was just bigger now.

He walked.

Even after getting booted from the Garrison, he hadn't been back, choosing instead to stay close to the energy that had turned out to be the Blue Lion. But now that he was here, and thinking about it, someone in his old town was sure to remember his parents, remember his mother. There had to be someone who had known her and who might help him find out what happened to her.

He walked.

The barren path started morphing into a haphazard neighborhood, with mismatched houses. The streets were empty, though a few kids hung out in the small stretches of grass outside their homes that served as front yards. Keith came to a stop in front of a rundown house, its white paint peeling in spots, and windows dark. He stood there looking at his abandoned childhood home, trying to decide how he felt.

All he had to do now was… walk around the neighborhood asking people what they remembered. Then piece the memories together to figure out if he still had any family left. And then if he did, go find them. His feet didn't move.

V

Half the day was over, and Keith wasn't home yet. No one had seen him leave, and when Lance tried calling him, his phone rang in their room. The hothead hadn't even taken it with him. Lance was worried. He paced in the living room, shooting angry glances whenever anyone told him to sit the hell down.

The front door opened, and Lance crossed to it in three long strides. It was Keith. Teresa was closing the door behind him, and when she saw Lance, she gestured toward Keith with her chin.

"Didn't I tell you he was fine?" Shaking her head fondly, she disappeared back into the garden.

Lance let the relief wash over him for a moment, then walked up to Keith, hands on his hips, and asked accusingly, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I was just—"

"Don't 'I was just' me! You were gone so long; you left your phone on the bed, and your mom's knife was lying at the top of your bag. I was worried sick! Do you have any idea?"

"Yeah, he wore a hole in the ground with all the pacing," Thalia called helpfully from the couch.

"Yes, thank you, Thali." Lance glared at her over his shoulder, then back at Keith. "She is right," he admitted, still upset.

"Lance I'm sorry, I…" He trailed off, eyes drifting to the lived-in surroundings before he met his boyfriend's gaze again. "I didn't mean to wander off. But then I heard you and your cousin arguing, and I know it wasn't—"

"Wait a minute, you heard that?" Lance looked concerned. "I'm sorry—"

"No! Honestly, don't apologize. I should be—"

"But listen, that was really—"

"I'd heard of couples who complete each other's sentences." It was Leon who interrupted this time as he entered the living room. "But this is the first time I'm seeing the exact opposite of that." In the time it took Lance to formulate a response to his brother's quip, Leon was at his side with a hand on his shoulder. "It sounds like you guys need to talk some stuff out… without Thali—and let's be real, me —listening in. So you might wanna take this upstairs." He winked at Keith, before leaving them alone in the foyer.

They looked at each other, Lance's eyes softening while Keith's remained apprehensive.

"I've been cooped up inside all day. So maybe outside instead of upstairs?" Lance suggested.

Keith nodded, lacing his fingers with Lance's, and the two stepped out the door together. They strolled in the lawn for a bit, hand in hand, taking in the sunshine.

"So, you heard that fight, huh," Lance brought up.

Keith took in a deep breath. "I know it's natural for there to be tensions when you're coming back to them after all this time. And I should be comforting you, not freaking out myself."

"No, I understand. My family is…" Lance breathed out a laugh, "a lot sometimes." He squeezed Keith's hand. "Glo and I were really close growing up, and she looked up to me a lot."

"She looked up to 16-year-old you?" Keith's eyebrows were raised in a teasing expression.

"Hey, 16-year-old me was already a stud. Don't roll your eyes; I landed you didn't I?" When Keith didn't respond beyond a becoming pink dusting his cheeks, Lance got back to the point. "So Glo was really upset when I disappeared, and she never got any proper closure. And now, all of a sudden, I'm home. It's just been a lot for her, and I guess I haven't been giving her enough time since I've been back. There's just…" he trailed off, looking for the right word.

"A lot," Keith offered. "Like you said, there's a lot of directions your attention is being pulled in right now. But you're doing your best."

Lance nodded appreciatively, but added, "That's not all of it. I guessed you missed this part, but my big sis Noe joined in too."

"She didn't take your side, I expect?"

Lance scoffed. "She basically piggybacked off what Glo was upset about. She started pointing out how I haven't been very responsible since getting back, that I could be doing more to help the family. She brought up the president's visit, saying I'm making the family look problematic."

"That's—"

"Listen I know she loves me and means well, but she's always been judgmental. Some people are, it's fine. Her good moments make up for it."

"Lance. You are doing great," Keith emphasized every word. "Noemí and Gloria will come to see that. They love you and it's probably a lot for them too; suddenly the guy they mourned and cried for is back in their lives, a changed person."

"I'm not all that different."

"You're more mature," Keith pointed out. "And more… ruggedly handsome?"

"Aw, thank you babe! I love it when you're the reasonable one. You're very hot too by the way; but you're not off the hook yet. Tell me where you went."

"To my old house," he said slowly; the words felt unfamiliar on his tongue. He'd never spoken of it with anyone except Shiro before. He looked sideways at Lance, who was watching his face, waiting patiently for elaboration. "I just walked away from the shouting. My thoughts were spiraling, and then I sorta just… zoned out."

When Keith's pause stretched on, Lance asked, "So how did you end up going to your old house?"

Keith blinked at Lance before his steps came to a halt. "The curb was a bus stop!"

"What?"

"I just realized. I was lost in my thoughts and somehow ended up on a bus. So the curb must've been a stop."

"Excellent deduction skills. Have you been watching reruns of Sherlock again?"

"Shut up."

Lance laughed as they resumed walking. "You worried me all day, okay? I get to tease you now."

The crease in Keith's brow softened at the words. "I was really out of it." He shook his head at himself, and told Lance how he came to stand in front of the house he'd spent his early childhood in. "I didn't end up talking to anyone though," he confessed.

"Why not? You finally had the chance to seek some answers."

"I know, and as soon as I realized all I had to do was start asking, I didn't want to."

"What do you mean? Don't you want to know about your mom?"

"Of course I do. But it hit me how small a chance there is of anyone knowing anything helpful. And I didn't know where to start. It's just…"

"A lot?" Lance asked with a smile.

"Yeah," Keith smiled back. They had circled around the house at a languid pace, and were nearing the front door again. "And I don't want to do it alone."

Lance stopped and pulled Keith to face him. "But you want to do it?"

Keith nodded. "I do. I'm just overwhelmed."

"Well Keith," Lance declared, his grin pure and infectious, "I am happy to tell you that we are going to find your family. Together."

Keith merely looked at Lance, his open gaze conveying the love and gratitude he felt.

"And maybe," Lance continued, voice uncharacteristically timid, "sometime soon, we can make a new family."

"Lance, you know you're family to me," Keith assured, a bit bemused at the future tense. "Our space family was one of the first times I felt like I truly belonged."

Lance sighed and dropped his hands from Keith's shoulders. "Yeah," he agreed, in lieu of explaining that he'd been talking about starting a family of their own.

Savory smells drifted to them from the kitchen window, and Keith's stomach growled in response. "Oh yeah," he rubbed his belly. "I haven't eaten today."

"Come on." Lance led them inside with a grin.

They were going to be okay. Readjusting to a normal life, relearning how to deal with family and politics, was all going to be an ongoing challenge and they were still working on it. But it was going to be fine, because they had each other.