Four times they talked and one time they didn't
1.
The stars never looked the same as they did on Earth. Lance hated looking at them; they reminded him far too often that he was galaxies away from home. It was unavoidable when they were piloting the lions, or fighting out of orbit. He could push it down then, focus on the fight then. The adrenaline smothered the homesickness. It was after the fight, long after, when the castle was quiet with sleep and fatigue that he really felt it.
Lance pulled his knees tighter against his chest, and pressed the shirt closer to his face. He could barely smell the scent of artificial flowers anymore, could barely conjure it anymore, but ift gave him some comfort to know that he had something at least of his mother. The door opened behind him, and he pushed the shirt bungle behind him, into the crevice of the room where the wall and vent met.
"You're here again?" Keith spat as he kicked the door shut.
Lance turned himself to face the window on the far side of the room. He hated that there was one here, in the one room that none of the others went in; after all, who else would bother with a servant's quarters?
"I dunno, Keith. Am I here, or are you having a conversation with an illusion?" Lance replied wryly, forcing a smile onto his face. He was tired. He didn't want to save face, but he tried anyways.
Keith leaned against the window and stared at him. "We all get homesick too, you know. You're not some special snowflake in all of this."
Lance dropped the smile. "I never said I was, Kieth."
"Then act like it!" He flung his hands into the air, then crossed them again as he crossed the room. "We have work to do. We're the Paladins for god's sake! We've got the whole universe to worry about. Don't be selfish."
Lance stood up, and brushed off his pants. Keith watched him warily as he crossed the distance between them. The stars spun in the window behind him, and for a brief moment, it looked like Keith was celestial. Lance pushed him back, once twice, until his back hit the window. It happened so fast, Lance didn't think about it. He didn't pay attention to where his lips landed, and was half surprised to find that their lips met. He pulled away. "Shut up."
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2.
2.
2.
Taking off their armour was a tedious task. It required at least one other person to release the clasps on the back and shoulders. Allura or Shiro usually helped Pidge, and Pidge would help Shiro. Hunk would rely on Lance, and Keith would pick any one of them to undo his.
He hadn't appeared in Lance and Hunk's shared changing room in a while, Lance noted, so it was somewhat surprising when he quietly passed by Hunk as he left the room. Lance was halfway out of the under suit when he walked in, and he had to stifle the urge to pull it back on.
"Can you unsuit me?" Keith asked, back already turned. Lance abandoned his under suit, and got to work unclasping the suit at the shoulders, on the back of the knee. He could feel Kieth's back move as he breathed, subtly shifting beneath his touch. Lance stepped away.
He turned his back to Keith and pulled the rest of his suit off. He folded it neatly, put it back into it's slot, along with his armor. The slot closed, and they were whisked away, back to wherever they were washed and mended at. He pulled a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from another shelf. Armour clattered to the floor behind him.
Keith grunted.
Lance pulled his jeans on, buttoned them.
Keith breathed in sharply. The clank of armor paused.
Lance turned around, shirt on his arm. "What's your issue-" Kieth's arms were covered in bruises, hand shaped bruises. They made a purple and blue pattern across his shoulders and neck, then colored his stomach with nasty yellow splotches. "What happened?" He asked, voice softer than before.
Keith didn't look up from his thigh. His fingers were fumbling to find the flaps that hid the clasps, but missed the thin seam each time. He stopped, and pushed the armour. It didn't budge.
"Do you need help?" Lance asked, pulling his shirt over his head. "I can help, you know."
Keith looked up at him, hair sticking to his forehead with a sheen of sweat. "I don't need your help, or your pity."
Lance knelt down beside him, and started to unlatch the remaining pieces. "Well, friends help you anyways, even when you don't want it." He placed the knee armour on the ground. "And I don't pity you. I never have."
Keith's breaths came in ragged intakes, as if he was in battle, rather than sitting down in an air-conditioned room. Lance finished, and gathered the pieces in his arms. He set them down in the armor slot, and turned around, only to find Keith blocking his exit from the room.
"Don't look at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like...like you-" Keith cut himself off. His fists tightened, unclenched. Lance didn't say anything. He could run his mouth like the best of them, but he knew when to be quiet.
Keith didn't meet his eyes once as he leaned forward, pressed a hand against the wall and pressed his lips against Lance's. He was warm, feverishly warm. He stepped back, not looking back at all as Lance hurried out of the changing room, a blush coloring his face.
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3.
The battle was hard won. The Galra had anticipated the lions, and caught them off guard, which led to two of the Paladins fighting hand to hand against a heavily armed squadron. They were lucky that Pidge's EMP worked, otherwise they would have been dead before they even had a chance to fight back. Luckily, the soldiers guns had been rendered useless by it, and had to rely on hand to hand weapons. Keith had practiced hand to hand before. He could handle himself just fine with his sword. Lance was another story. Although he had deadly accurate aim with his bayard, it wasn't as useful in close combat. A few strikes from a Galra soldier, and it was useless. His bayard took a few hits, and refused to reform, leaving him with nothing to protect himself with. Keith managed to pass him his Galra blade, but not before one of the soldiers had managed to hit him.
The only reason Lance was alive when the others arrived was because the cave that they fought in had a small opening, preventing more than three soldiers from getting through at a time. If Lance had fallen, or stepped away, there would have been no one to stop the Galra from overrunning Keith.
Looking back on it, Keith could see exactly what went wrong. He could've prevented it all if he hadn't fallen for their bait, if he had been less impulsive, less hasty in his actions. And it wasn't like Lance's injuries would heal quickly either. The healing pods were broken, unrepairable for at least a few weeks, until they could stop to gather parts for repairs. Lance would have to deal with them until then.
Keith raised his sword as another practice droid appeared. "Level 34." The AI system announced. The droid unfolded from itself, guns appearing on its shoulders as it rose to full height. It was at least fifteen feet tall, and with the wheels on it's feet, would move much faster than him. Two of it's arms were sharpened into intentionally jagged points. Finally, He thought, A challenge. The droid lowered itself into a defensive stance. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Keith," Shiro called. The door slid shut behind him. "Enough training. It's time for dinner."
His breath heaved as he followed him out of the training room. It was only in the silence of the hall that he became self-conscious of the way his breath heaved, and the way he breathed.
As they rode the elevator upstairs, he could feel Shiro's gaze on him. Keith refused to look back at him; it's only encourage conversation, most likely a lecture on not pushing himself too hard, or about how it wasn't Keith's fault. But it was.
If he hadn't cared that they had called him Galra, that they had called his mother scum for being with a human, then they wouldn't have stumbled into the trap. That was all there was too it.
"Keith," Shiro began, as Keith walked past him to the kitchen. The door opened, and then it was too late for whatever Shiro was going to say. He shook his head and sighed as he sat down.
Lance sat across from Keith, beside Hunk. One of his arms was in a cast, the other bandaged halfway down his forearm. His hand shook as he dipped his spoon into his goo, causing most of it to fall off before it reached his mouth. Hunk kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn't offer to help; he probably knew that Lance would've refused, and then not eat anything at all. One of his eyes was bandaged, but his face was relatively clear of bandages, if only because the cuts on it were too small to require any. The edge of a bandage poked out from his collar, and Keith wondered how much of his skin it covered.
He lifted another spoonful to his mouth. Ate another half spoon of goo.
Keith pushed his chair back, breaking the nervous silence of the table. His own plate was untouched; he had been concentrating on Lance so much, he hadn't bothered. He turned and walked out of the kitchen without a word.
He had only made it halfway down to the training room when Lance caught up with him. He was panting worse than Keith had been during training, as if there was no air for him to catch. Lance didn't stop running, even when Keith stopped, until he reached him. He wraps his hands around Kieth's arms, and doesn't let go as he catches his breath. Keith doesn't move until he recovers, and straightens up. He drops his hold on Keith and takes a step back.
"You didn't finish your dinner, Keith." He grins. "Does that mean I can have your serving?"
Keith stares at him. The cuts on his hand are bleeding again, and the bandage on his shoulder is starting to be tainted pink. Lance follows his gaze, then looks back the Keith. "I'm fine." He smiles, as if he wasn't covered in bandages, as if he was perfectly fine, as if he didn't almost die today.
"Stop lying." Keith growls.
Lance finally drops the smile. "Keith, I'm fine. Will you please come back to dinner? You've got Shiro worried."
"It shouldn't be me that anyone's worried about. You're the one who almost died today. You're the one covered in bandages. And you're not fine." Kieth is suddenly right in front of him, less than an inch separating their faces. And then suddenly, there's nothing. Keith can taste the blood on his mouth, and feel the slight indent of a cut on his lips. It suddenly seems like a bad idea to kiss an injured person.
He pulls away.
"You're not fine." He repeats. Keith turns around and starts the trek back to the elevator. He doesn't hear Lance's footsteps behind him. "You coming or what?"
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4.
"So, you've kissed three times already and haven't talked about it once?"
"...Yes." Lance replies reluctantly. He drops his head into the plush blanket of Hunk's bed.
Hunk laughs, and stands up. The bed lifts slightly, and Lance lifts his head. His neck aches slightly, reminding him of the injuries that still had to heal. "Is he your boyfriend?"
Lance rolls onto his back, and stares at the ceiling. Hunk had plastered posters of the sky onto it; they were the closest thing he got to and Earth sky. "More like… a supreme enemy you can make out with sometimes in secret. That sounds more hardcore."
Hunk grabs a tupperware container from his drawer and tosses it onto Lance's stomach. He cautiously pries it open. They're square and purple, but smell just like sugar cookies, fresh from the oven. He grabs two and closes it.
"Personally, I think you two would be great together.' Hunk says, a cookie muffling his words. "Fire and Water. You'll balance each other out."
"Pssh." Lance replies, although the thought of being able to kiss Keith whenever he wanted was pretty tempting. "Whatever."
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Keith hasn't slept in nearly three days. It wasn't for lack of trying. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw Lance. Saw his smile, the way his eyes crinkled. Saw tears running down his face, saw fear in his eyes. Saw the bruise, the scars, the-
He turned over, and pulled his pillow over his head. He didn't want to think about Lance anymore. His door opened behind him, and the lights flicked on.
"You and Lance, this fighting you've been doing, is affecting Voltron." Shiro began, "So get over it and make up already."
Keith threw his pillow at him, and he easily deflected it. "We're not an old married couple. We have nothing to 'make up' over."
Shiro sat down on the corner of the bed. "Sure. But that's not to say that you can't be a couple. And I bet it would certainly help Voltron." Keith could practically hear the smile on Shiro's face. He grabbed the second pillow and chucked it at him. This time, it hit him solidly in the face.
"Oomf."
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It's on the way to find each other, that they collide. Lance falls to the ground. Keith catches himself. He offers Lance a hand, but doesn't apologize. They stare at each other for a moment. Lance studies his eyes, wonders if he can read Keith's intentions. Keith watches the way he stands, the way he angles his body as if to say, have a good look. They must have come to the same conclusion, because they lean towards each other at the same time. Their lips don't meet perfectly. Lance doesn't bother to correct it.
Keith doesn't know where to put his hands, but Lance does; he's not exactly inexperienced. His pulls him closer with one hand, the other squeezing his butt. They fumble, and Keith almost pulls Lance to the ground. It's then that he remembers that the castle has cameras, in just about every hallway. But not in the rooms. Lance backs against the wall, pulling Keith with him. Lance lets Keith lead, lets him kiss his way down from his eyes, his cheekbones, his ear, to his lips. Keith tastes like fire, hot and angry against Lance's pliant lips. It's a flavor that's all at once familiar, and yet brand new. They had tasted each other in fleeting angry moments before, but nothing like this. Nothing this deep.
Lance grabs his waist and the back of his neck and pushes him to the side, so that it's Keith who is against the wall. He raises his knee between Keith's parted legs, presses their lips together again, over and over. He doesn't want to stop for air, so he's breathing hard and he knows how loud it is, but he can't stop.
Keith doesn't know where to begin. He's never been one for relationships, never one to let others get close. It's all new, all different than what he imagined. Lance isn't hard and rough but isn't non-resistant beneath him either. He's something in between, like water; he changes, he has no set shape. Keith reaches up, tangles his hands in his hair, pulls him even closer so that he won't leave him. He bends his head down, nips at the softness of Lance's neck. It still smells faintly of that soap he uses, the once that reminds him of summer rain.
He likes the way Lance tastes. How it reminds him of Earth, of how he should miss it. He kisses his ear, tries to bite his earlobe, when Lance pulls away.
He pants. "I- I think I'm falling love with you."
Before silencing him again with a barrage of kisses on and around his mouth. Keith can feel his nervousness, beneath that facade of experience. He pulls back, and shifts his hands so that his head is lying against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around him.
"I think I'm falling in love with you too,"
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5.
Everytime that they walked down the hallway together, they blushed, even if the most that they were touching was hands. Shiro had called it. So had Hunk. Pidge wasn't surprised by it. Only Corran had been oblivious to it.
It wasn't that Lance was embarrassed by it. If anything, he was proud to have scored such cute dude. It was Keith who was nervous about having a relationship. He barely had any, familial or platonic, and having Lance as a boyfriend was a first in the romance category.
Keith wondered if his face matched his jacket in color. By the time they reached Lance's room, he was sure it did. Lance opened his door and Keith pushed by him as fast as he could. Maybe Pidge wouldn't notice it when she looked over the security cameras. He doubted it. Lance locked the door behind him, and smiled sheepishly at Keith. Keith tried not to blush harder as he sat down on Lance's bed, covered in an embroidered bedspread with elemental designs similar of water and waves. It was just like him to have bought something like it.
Lance joined him on the bed, and turned onto his back, resting his head on Keith's lap. "Keith?" He asks, as he reaches around his waist to bring him into an awkward hug.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we'll ever go back to Earth?" Lance's voice is quite, small. A big contrast to his usual loud, happy personality.
"Of course." Keith answers automatically.
Lance sits up and looks at Keith seriously. Keith finds it hard not to blush when they hold eye contact. His eyes are just too intense. They draw you in so that you get lost, with no way out. He's drowned in those eyes too many times to count.
"With you, I mean. Will we go back there together?"
Keith starts to play in his hair. "Yeah."
"Because it seems like you're in your element, out here. The rest of us, we do just fine, but you, you really shine."
"I'm not leaving you, Lance."
And in that moment, they both can almost believe it.