(Disclaimer: I don't own Voltron: Legendary Defender or any of the characters in it.)
Lance was crying again.
Nobody needed to see tears on his cheeks or the shiver in his shoulders to know that. He'd started to spend longer and longer periods of time in his room with his lights always off and the door usually closed. None of the others ever attempted to approach him about it, whether they were afraid of having another proverbial door shut in their face or if they just didn't know how to help him, they weren't sure. Save for Pidge, however, who was somehow able to pry those doors open to bring Lance food around mealtimes.
The team, save for Lance, would wait while Pidge took him a late of dinner to get the report they would undoubtedly receive. If he was crying, if he was sleeping, or if he was in his room at all, they would know. Pidge was the most skilled at subtlety, both able to practice it and notice it. If something was up, they would know. They were also, probably, the smartest.
As life carried on, Allura noticed Lance wasn't making as jakes of picking as many fights with Keith as he used to. It worried her. In a few futile attempts to lighten the moods of her friends, she'd asked them about their lives on earth, a seemingly endless topic to talk about. However, all she'd managed to do was get Lance to excuse himself from the conversation and return to his room with glistening eyes. She wasn't sure how to help him, especially since he wasn't telling anyone what was wrong.
Hunk missed his friend, the one that dragged him into crazy situations just to have some fun. He longed for the fear he felt whenever Lance would get a mischievous glint in his eye. He'd rather that over the tears. He was sure the old Lance was still there, buried under layers of trauma and depression. All of them had changed, even Coran. Their group seemed to have gotten more serious through their conflicts, but he'd hoped that defeating Zarkon would put them all in better spirits. He wasn't so sure anymore.
Always the mom friend, Shiro had tried to approach Lance while he was wandering around the ship. The hood of his jacket was up and his hands were in his pockets, which were the universal signals for 'Hey, not really in the mood to talk to anyone.' He looked as closed off as possible for Lance. Shire had asked how he was and if he was feeling okay, but Lance just faked a smile that didn't reach his eyes and said he was fine, just a bit tired. Shire decided against pushing it.
Pidge had volunteered to take him his meals when Lance missed dinner. They would have done it for anyone else, had someone else skipped the meal. They something was up with him. Pidge knew well enough that Lance thought ending the war would mean returning to his family. However, Allura had reluctantly asked them to stay to help out the peoples the Galra had spent millennia oppressing. They'd all agreed, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Pidge had noticed the change in Lance's attitude not soon after.
As did everyone else, especially Keith, who it pissed off the most. He saw the way Lance's lack of enthusiasm had lowered the morale of the entire team. Even Keith, who, though he would never admit it, missed their witty banter. Everybody got sad, but that didn't mean they had to drag everyone down with them. He didn't like it and he wanted to put an end to it.
A small part of him argued that he wanted to fix it for Lance's sake, too.
Maybe Keith resented Lance's depressive behavior; He was just upset that he couldn't go back to his family on Earth. Keith couldn't relate to him, he had no one.
Keith trudged down to the dormitories with a strong resolve to fix this problem once and for all, to help all of them. He was already brainstorming what he wanted to say to Lance. Maybe something along the lines of how dare you? or stop being a pussy. Either one sounded fine to him.
The hall was well-lit, but Lance's room was dark. It almost looked like the darkness was spreading, branching out into the corridor and reaching out to the castle. The sight only reinforced his resolve, though, and Keith confidently strode through the open door.
The difference of mood in the room seemed to slap Keith in the face and forced him to pause to remember what he was doing. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. The air was almost humid. No, it wasn't humid. It was heavy. It bared down on Keith's shoulders with an emotion that wasn't his own. If this was what Lance had been living in, it was no wonder why he had been moping around.
Indigo eyes turned up to the form standing in his doorway, shock and confusion playing out on his delicate features. Keith looked down at his friend. Lance was sitting on his floor, his jacket laying his lap and his hands grasping something under the fabric, hidden from Keith's view. What he noticed first, though, wasn't the necklace in his hands but the wet streaks over his tan cheeks.
All of the things he had planned to say to Lance suddenly vanished from his mind. If he was being honest, Keith had never seen Lance cry before. He'd seen the boy shaking, holding it back, but he'd never seen anything… come out of him. It was a jarring experience.
Before, Keith had imagined that Lance was an ugly cried. He'd imagined snot gushing out of his nose and his mouth contorting into weird almost-smiles of sadness. He'd imagined loud sobs of over-exaggerated sadness. In Keith's imagination, it had always been comical, like a rejection from Allura or from an ass-kicking from the one-and-only Red Paladin.
But now he was seeing it for real and it was nothing like he'd imagined. What he was seeing, slumped against the bed on the ground was pure, raw emotion. Lance looked up to him and Keith saw it all clearly in the light from the hall. It didn't fit the presumptuous idea he had of Lance before. The paladin wasn't ugly at all. On the contrary, in some morbidly depressing way, the boy looked beautiful. Keith might have gone as far as to call him gorgeous. Like some fallen angel.
Dozens of wet streaks marked Lance's cheeks, with fresh ones still being made. At the root of them were the reddest, yet bluesy eyes Keith had seen. Under the tears, the tan skin of his cheeks and nose had flushed an angry red from crying, accentuating the freckles scattered over his face. His lips, a deep scarlet and almost bleeding from the way Lance worried them between his teeth, quivered with an effort to contain his emotions. The raw emotions on his face struck Keith through the chest like a spear.
Before Keith could memorize the beauty on his face, Lance quickly wiped the emotions and tears away with his wrist and sniffled. He seemed to pull himself together in front of his former rival; a skill that was probably acquired from their times in the Barracks. God, that felt like decades ago, even if it had only been a year before.
Keith quickly realized that it was so wrong to find beauty in someone else's suffering, but the raw pain he'd seen in Lance's face was hard not to admire. For a few muddled moments, Keith wondered what could cause such a level-headed and enthusiastic person to break down like this.
Then, he remembered.
In an attempt to be free of the heaviness on his shoulders, Keith shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on Lance's surprisingly neat bed. Had he been sleeping? The weight remained on his shoulders. Lance's eyes followed Keith's movements as the boy sat down beside him, facing in the same direction: the door. Lance drew his knees up close to his chest.
Keith felt his plan start to fall apart before it began when Lance spoke up.
"Why are you here?" Lance questioned firmly, though his voice wavered slightly with effort. He sounded a little hoarse. "Come to make fun of me or yell at me and kick when I'm down?"
Keith was taken aback. He'd never seen Lance so submissive like this. It had always been Lance, in their entire sort-of friendship, who started their fights. And now, here he was, claiming Keith would provoke him for doing literally nothing?"
Except he wasn't really doing nothing.
"If I recall, it was always you who started those fights. I just didn't let you have the last say in it," Keith defended coolly, looking over at Lance.
The Blue Paladin didn't respond, but his hands shuffled over the necklace. Keith wasn't sure if the boy was paying attention to him anymore. Lance moved the necklace around to hole a bead right next to the one he'd previously been holding. Very slight movements in the amazingly crimson lips could have been assumed to be shivering from crying. Keith knew better; he was saying something. Silently.
"What is that?" Keith asked, stalling for time so he could think of what he would say to the paladin to get him out of this funk. It seemed his previous take on the situation wouldn't have done much good.
Lance gave him a sideways glance and lifted the golden necklace draped over his hand to show it to Keith. "It's a…" he trailed off and chewed on his swollen lower lip, probably deciding whether to confide in the other paladin or not. Keith tried to focus on the necklace instead of his lips. After a few moments, he continued, most likely figuring it didn't matter. "It's a Rosary."
It was a stunning piece of jewelry; a golden necklace with a tail on it. There were, maybe, fifty golden beads that were divided in five places by silver beads. Where the tail connected to the necklace, there was a shining medallion of a woman. Then, there was a silver bead, three golden beads, and another silver bead. On the very end was a cross. The artifact confused Keith. It looked much too fancy to be manhandled the way Lance had just been doing.
Keith reached forward and lifted the tail to study the woman on the medallion. He couldn't make out features on the small figure but something about the woman seemed heavenly. "What's it for? Are you praying to it?" he asked, accidentally sounding a bit more incredulous than he actually was. He let his hands fall down to his lap again.
Lance frowned a bit but nodded. Keith had known about the many religious that were spread across the Earth, but he hadn't seen Lance participating in them before. He didn't exactly seem very religious. He waited for Lance to say something. "Before I moved into the Barracks, my mother gave me this. She said it would keep me safe and help me do well in school," he explained and took a deep breath. "I never really believed in all this religious hocus-pocus before, but I also didn't believe in aliens before last year. Circumstances change, I guess. I don't know, it makes me feel closer to home."
"What do you do with it? Do you wear it?" Keith asked, gazing at the ornate piece of jewelry with admiration similar to what he'd felt when he'd first entered the room. It had to have ben expensive.
"No, it's not meant for that," Lance said. He sniffed again and rubbed his nose on his shoulder. "Look, you start here at the cross and you pray the 'Apostles' Creed,' which is really just a boring summary of the life and times of Cristo, who died for us and blah, blah, blah. Then, you pray the Padre Nuestro at the silver bead, three Hail Mary's, and the Glory Be. At the medallion of María, you announce the first mystery of the church and pray the Padre Nuestro." He looked up at Keith to see if he was listening.
Keith's eyes were intently trained on Lance's face, watching as his expression turned from pained to more melancholy. It seemed he had distracted him a little bit. That was pretty good, at least.
After Lane was sure Keith was listening, he continued, "After that, you pray a Hail Mary for each golden bead. At the silver bead, you say the Glory Be, announce the First Mystery of the Church, and pray the Padre Nuestro again. Then, ten more Hail Mary's, the Glory Be, the Second Mystery, el Padre Nuestro y so on. When you've finished, you pray this really long statement that I don't think I remember."
The Red Paladin nodded along, impressed by how fluidly he switched from Spanish to English in his explanation. If it were him in Lance's place, there was no way he would've been able to remember the entire routine. "You sure not a lot about it for someone who supposedly doesn't believe in it," he commented. He hadn't meant for the statement to be malicious, but Lane's expression implied otherwise.
With drying cheeks, Lance had almost looked calm, not nearly as upset. However, when Keith opened his mouth, the boy turned sour and dropped the Rosary on his lap again. At the sudden change of composure, Keith was confused. He had never been very good at talking to people, especially when they were less than emotionally unstable.
"You know what, Keith. I was raised with this stuff. It reminds me of when I was with my family and makes me feel better. I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that," Lance bit out in a cold voice, wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging his knees closer to his chest.
Keith's eyebrows drew together, the comment causing a hot stab of irritation and hurt in his chest. Despite it, though, he didn't let his temper flow freely. Yelling at Lance or fighting him wouldn't help either of them. He knew Lance was missing Earth and those he loved, Keith couldn't be mad at him for that. The Red Paladin gazed at his friend, whose tan cheeks had flushed a deep pink. Lance was avoiding his eyes.
Keith drew the knee further from Lance up towards his body to lean his elbow against it. When Lance wouldn't meet his eyes, he looked out into the hall. He hadn't planned well enough for this; now he had to improvise. Guess it was about time he started improving those improv skills. He had never been that good on his feet. "Look, Lance," he began, "if you're feeling homesick-"
Lance cut him off, "I don't wanna talk about it, Keith." The brunet shifted his body to face a little away from his teammate. Keith wasn't going to give up on him.
"That's too bad, because I do." As awkward and socially clumsy as ever, Keith managed to say one of the worst things possible to the vulnerable boy. In hindsight, he shouldn't have brought up the team at all, but hindsight's always 20/20, right? He continued, "it's affecting the team. Stop acting like a baby, dude."
Lance's eyes bulged with angry emotion, his brow pulled tight in exasperation. Keith wished he had found a better way to word his statement as soon as it tumbled out of his mouth. "How." His legs fell a little and he turned his torso to face Keith more. "The Hell." Keith's gaze flashed up to Lance as the boy braced a palm against the floor and leaned towards him. "Am I supposed to act!?"
Red hot tears sprung from Lance's eyes, uncontrolled and torrential. Keith resisted the urge to wipe them away himself. The tip of his nose was reddening and Keith couldn't stop himself from glancing down at his quivering lower lip. For a moment, Keith wondered if he should be worried about whether or not Lance's aggravation would manifest itself physically. He found he didn't care, he wanted to help his friends.
"We're all homesick-" Keith started but was cut off by Lance throwing a hand out and muttering something along the lines of you're serious? He kept his gaze level with the angry boy's glare. "Lance."
Lance was quiet, but gazed back at him with the same intensity as amount of fury as before. There was an underlying layer of grief under the rage. Keith continued, "We all deal with it in our own ways. You're the only one who hasn't found a way to cope with it."
Something seemed to snap in the Blue Paladin's mind, Keith could see it in his eyes. His eyebrows relaxed and his jaw went slack. He was a really expressive boy. It was like the realization was dawning on him that what Keith was saying was true. Warmth swelled in Keith's chest as he watched his friend.
Pidge had been crushed over their father and brother being kidnapped, but they'd coped with the grief by focusing the negative energy on finding out the truth. Hunk had found a home in Shay, who had stayed on the Balmera to rebuild her home, but he had a family on Earth just like Lance. Allura and Coran were the last two of a race that had died off then thousand years before. He wasn't even sure if Keith and Shiro had families to miss. At least his were alive and safe, especially with the Galra gone.
Lance let out an awkward laugh and hastily wiped the drying tears from his wet cheeks. He was still sad, Keith could tell, but he forced a light smile on his face. The sudden change surprised Keith. He'd half-expected Lance to keep fighting, telling him off for invalidating his depression or something. Keith wouldn't blame him, his words had been harsh, at best. "Right, sorry. Sorry. I-I promise I'll try harder," Lance said as he tried to stop the unstoppable flow of tears.
The Red Paladin wasn't sure what came over him, but where his words lacked meaning, he replaced them with actions. "Hey," he said as he reached forward and grasped Lance by the collar of his blue shirt.
"Ay, Dios," the boy bit out in surprise just before his words were muffled by Keith's mouth.
Keith wasn't sure what had motivated him to act on his feelings for his friend. He cared for Lance and wanted to help the boy. He just was helplessly unaware of how he could do that. Lance felt alone on the ship, despite being surrounded by friends that wanted nothing more than his wellbeing. Maybe if Keith could physically show that Lance wasn't alone, it would help the boy. That's what he told himself as he leaned into his friend.
The strength of the kiss pushed Lance's back against the wall on the other side of him and Keith found that the hand that was holding Lance's shirt had moved down to be against his waist. His other hand braced him against the wall by Lance's head. At first, the boy on the receiving end of the kiss was frozen, his shocked Spanish muffled by surprisingly soft lips. After a few moments, Lance seemed to melt into the kiss, relaxing against the wall and tilting his read to return the affection.
Keith didn't know why he hadn't done this before. All those times he'd defiantly admired the way Lance's lips stretched into a smile and how nice his butt had looked as he walked away. He'd chalked it up to frustration, but never attraction. Well, maybe he'd thought of it, but he'd firmly denied it. Keith? Being interested in the goofy, yet cool-headed Blue Paladin, Lance? His old rival from the Garrison? Never.
Lance was flexing. Lance was definitely flexing beneath Keith's hand. It was probably a reflex from all the girls he'd tried to impress. Keith wasn't sure if the idea made him feel better. His abdomen was tense beneath the touch, shifting every time he took a breath.
Keith felt Lance's hot tears against his own skin and it was enough to bring him back to earth, back to the situation. The situation where he was kissing fucking Lance. He slowly pulled back, blinking up at his pal. "You don't have to try alone," he said, his heavy breath mingling with Lance's. He was sure, at that moment, his own cheeks rivaled Lance's in color. Keith's hand lingered on his waist. "That's called distraction."
"Wa-Why not Keith-traction?" Lance responded, looking up at Keith with an expression similar to lovesickness. Keith guessed he wasn't alone in his feelings. His lips, swollen now for reasons other than crying, stretched into a timid smile Keith wasn't sure he'd ever seen before.
Keith let out a small laugh, not being able to hold back at the terrible joke Lance had just attempted. "Wow," he said, "that's-uhh… That's bad. Seems like I fixed you." He watched as Lance's expression became even softer that it already way. Had he said something wrong, again?
"From my experience, I don't think you can be fixed by other people. The only person that can fix you is yourself," Lance said, blinking his swollen, red eyes up at Keith, who was still comfortably close to him.
Thinking on the statement, Keith decided he would try to be more careful with his response. He really didn't want to fuck up, since he'd gotten that far. He raised his hand to hold Lance's cheek. Keith wiped the tears away from his cheeks and said, "Than I'll support you. We all will. Come on, the team's going to want to talk to you." After a moment, he said, "Take your time. We just want you to be okay."
Lance didn't respond, but gave Keith a meaningful look. Keith rose to his feet and held his hand out to help Lance to his feet. The Blue Paladin grasped it firmly, even though he didn't need it, but didn't let go once he was standing. His friend led him out of the room. Conveniently 'forgetting' his jacket, Keith figured it would be a good excuse to return to Lance's room. The two started out of the room, hand-in-hand. For now, everything was okay. Keith knew Lance was still going to be sad, but at least he wouldn't be as lonely.
All of a sudden, Lance stopped in the hallway. Keith paused, still holding his hand, and looked back at the boy. Lance's cheeks were, once again, a worrying shade of red and Keith wondered if he was going to cry.
Lance rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and turned his eyes to the ground. Keith had always encountered the confident and flirty Lance; he didn't know what to think of the shy Lance. Yes, he did: he was adorable. "Bésame otra vez," he said in a small voice, barely loud enough for Keith to hear.
The Red Paladin couldn't help from smile a little bit. How could he say no? He reached out to replace Lance's hand on his neck and leaned into him. He hoped that kiss was the second of many.
Lance walked into the training room, headphones over his ears. He was chewing gum that he'd swiped from Pidge's room and listening to some 80s Rumba music. He hadn't been expecting to find anyone on the training deck but was pleasantly surprised with the sight of Keith lounging on the floor, out of breath and sweaty.
Lance's mood had improved substantially. He'd found comfort in his teammates, confiding in them whenever he felt homesick and letting them try to make him feel better. He found that it wasn't so bad, he was starting to wonder why he hadn't done it earlier.
When Keith saw Lance, the boy seemed to smile a little bit and raised his hand to him in greeting. Since their kind-of confession in Lance's room, they'd found countless excuses to be alone together or just around each other. They'd also learned many new things about each other, like how muttering random words in Spanish against Keith's skin always seemed to cause a positive reaction in him.
"Keith!" another voice said. Lance pulled the headphones down so they rested around his neck and looked up as Shiro approached him, also sweaty and out of breath. Lance gave his dad friend a small smile and inclined his head in greeting. Apparently, Keith hadn't been alone.
"It's great to have you down here. Glad to see you're feeling up to training," Shiro said as he clapped Lance on the back with enough force to make him stumble.
Unfortunately for Lance, his mouth was wide in an obnoxious chewing motion as Shiro slapped his shoulder. With deep despair, he watched as his gum flew out of his open mouth and got ruined on the dirty training deck floor. In shock, he said, "Oy, mí chicle."
From the way his friends and teammates were laughing at hum, he wasn't sure he'd ever live that down. He wasn't sure if he cared.
Ok, I added that last part cuz I liked that vine of the lil girl.
I watched Voltron like a week ago and fell into the hell that is the Space Gays. Klance and Sheith are my downfall. I'm never getting out of this.
*inhales* I'M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR CUBAN LANCE.
I have very limited practice in Spanish, though, so I only used less than what I know. Also, since one of the largest organized religions in Cuba is Roman Catholicism, I figured it wasn't too far-fetched to use that. And since I was raised in a Catholic community, I used all those repressed memories to help this.
I used 'they' pronouns for Pidge, if it was confusing.
If there's anything wrong with this, just DM me or comment to tell me and I'll try to fix it without crying. This is like the first fanfiction I've ever posted, though so just be gentle.