A/N: I wrote some of this last year and realized I wasn't going to be able to finish the larger part of the fic, so I patched together some of my favorite scenes from it. So, it takes place sometime after Season 1/Season 2, in terms of when it should have been posted. What are timelines, again?
Only Spanish used is one (1) use of "¡¿Qué pinga?!" which is Cuban slang for "What the fuck?"
Every time Lance thinks he's found the most boring concept in the universe, his situation descends to new, unexciting lows. Example A: This "party." It's packed with politicians. The dominant species of this planet resembles a cross between an armadillo and a large moth. The tone of their exoskeletons and clothing are drab [read: beige], and each of this planet's inhabitants speak in a slow drone, with an incessant buzzing every time they breathe. Lance is attracted to many beings, some of which are too embarrassing to mention (intense violet eyes, a hesitant smile, shoulder-length black hair). But there's something about the combination of moths and armadillos that doesn't do it for him.
Tonight's hot topic: a 3% widening of the Southernmost caverns, a location in which no one lives, but apparently everyone cares about.
When Lance says that he wants a celebratory party, this isn't what he typically – or ever – has in mind.
Neither he nor Keith are much suited for the mission. Keith has little patience for diplomacy, and Lance, though charismatic and extroverted, would be bouncing off the walls right now, were they not coated in sticky mucus. But for some reason, he and Keith are perfect because, in Allura's words, "they love seeing young people with such a healthy romantic bond!" Keith had agreed immediately, and Lance had begun to protest before realizing that she came from a culture that taught children to read by attempting to murder them for incorrect answers, and had accepted that some cultural barriers cannot be crossed.
Besides, if Lance can think of no one more deserving of suffering with him than Keith. They're a team now, right? No greater bond exists than that formed between two people with the same frustrations.
He spots Keith over by a tray of disgusting-looking delicacies, and makes his way over to him. "Hey, man."
Keith looks up from the delicacy he's holding, a grey sphere that's oozing some kind of purple liquid. "I was just handed this," he says. "Here, you can eat it." Keith shoves his plate into Lance's hands.
"Yeah, no." He sets the plate down on a nearby tray and says this next part quietly. "I know the Princess said we have to play nice, but as long as we don't embarrass Voltron too much, we should be in the clear. I seriously cannot listen to any more politicians tonight."
"Definitely," Keith says. "I'm glad we saved their economy and all, but..."
Lance can see from the outfit that a Politician is approaching, so he grabs Keith's wrists and pulls Keith to him. "Care to dance, sweetheart?"
Keith's face spasms. "Since when do you call me sweetheart?"
"Since right now, honey bear. So what do you say?"
Keith makes another, more displeased, face at honey bear, but says, "Okay. But only if you never call me that again. I can live with sweetheart."
"Sure thing, honey-poo-poo-kins."
"Absolutely no –" Keith can't finish his protest, because he's too busy being dragged onto the dance floor by Lance.
"You know I can't dance," Keith grumbles when they reach the middle of the floor, but he's surprisingly compliant otherwise.
"I'll go easy on you," Lance says. Lance interlocks their fingers, touching his bare skin to Keith's. Lance hadn't allowed Keith to wear gloves on this mission, since they didn't match his formal outfit (chosen by Lance and Allura, as Keith lacks adequate fashion sense), and despite Keith's protests, Shiro and Allura had agreed.
Keith's hand is rough in places and soft in others; it's contradictory and terrible, just like Keith. Lance meets Keith's intense eyes for a moment, then lets his gaze travel over Keith's features. He supposes Keith is attractive, in a sense. If you squint your eyes and tilt your head just so. He's lean, built for agility, and his face is arranged in a way that isn't entirely bad.
They start off slow, feet shuffling slowly, remaining firmly on the floor, like they're afraid to step on each other's toes. Fortunately, Keith's a fast learner, so Lance picks up the pace, weaving his legs in between Keith's as they circle each other. At first, Keith's caught off guard when Lance tries to twirl him, but he pulls through, flashing Lance a smile. His teeth are a bit crooked and tinged yellow, the topography of his skin marred with jagged scars, burn marks, and fading blemishes. And yet. When he smiles, his whole face shines; his mouth goes crooked and his eyes sparkle brighter than any stars Lance has ever seen.
Lance's stomach twists itself into knots. It's like how he felt when he was compared to Keith back at the Garrison, though not similar at all, because something about the sensation is pleasant, like a jolt of adrenaline electrifying his veins. It's like taking a nosedive while being blindfolded, like catching a great wave while surfing.
It's terrible. Lance knows so many other kind, attractive people – Allura and Hunk and Shiro – but it's Keith who makes his pulse race.
Keith lifts their joined hands to his face, and Lance has a brief nightmare (fantasy) of Keith kissing his knuckles. "I would think with how obsessed you are with your appearance, you would have nicer nails."
"There's nothing wrong with them," Lance says, despite knowing that he often chews on them absentmindedly. Nothing abnormal about that. He examines Keith's nails more closely. Keith's pale skin stands out where it's pressed against Lance's own brown skin. His hands have started to sweat, and he detaches his hands from Keith's to loop his arms around Keith's neck. "Put your hands around my waist."
"Oh. Uh."
"Not like we're heterosexuals at a middle school dance. You're not going to break me."
"Right," Keith says, and tightens his grip around Lance's waist.
"Anyways, my nails are perfect. Unlike your cuticles. Do you want your nails to fall off?"
"Am I supposed to know what cuticles are?"
Why. Is his taste this bad. "Oh, sweetheart."
"Also, I don't see the point of calling me sweetheart." Keith grimaces on the last word, his face ruddier than usual, which Lance doesn't understand. The cavern isn't that hot.
"It's a pet name. We're supposed to be in a relationship." Keith is lucky Lance is picking up the slack.
"I got that. Why use a pet name?"
"It's special. It's something I call you that I don't call anyone else. You should be using a pet name for me, too."
"In the past two weeks, you've called your lion, my lion, Princess Allura, Hunk, a cleaning droid, and a door keypad sweetheart. Also, I don't call anyone else Lance," Keith says, emphasizing Lance's name in a way no one else quite does. Maybe Keith has a point, but Lance isn't about to agree.
"Well, look at it this way, then. Everyone calls me Lance. So tonight, you should come up with something to call me."
"Fine, then. Asshole."
"Something cutesy. Romantic. You're killing the romance here, sweetheart. Babe. Kitten. Samurai."
Keith turns bright red and moves his hands from Lance's waist to cover his mouth. "Fine, just stop. Kitten," Keith tacks on.
"Nuh-uh. You gotta come up with it on your own. Or else it's not special." It's not real, and Kitten works for the fake relationship thing, but Keith needs to understand pet names for when he gets into a real relationship, and Lance is willing to be a good bro and help him out. The thought of Keith finding someone doesn't sit right with Lance, but he does his best to ignore it.
"If you insist, Sharpshooter." Is the cavern getting warmer, or is it just Lance?
Keith reaches an hand to Lance's face, and Lance absolutely does not flinch. Keith brushes a strand of hair out of Lance's eyes that Lance didn't even know was in the way, and moves his hand to the back of Lance's head to gently tug at the brown curls, and leaves it there. Lance feels gooseflesh form on the back of his neck. Keith smirks, eyes bright with amusement. "Your hair's getting long."
"I don't trust any of you enough with scissors near my head, and we haven't run into a space salon yet. Maybe I should ask Allura and Coran, because if there are space malls, there are definitely space salons, right? Maybe we can get you a haircut too, Mullet."
"Maybe I should start calling you that, seeing that's what your hairstyle is turning into."
"You take that back! I would never shame my family - planet - Voltron - by letting myself become even an echo of this disaster!" Lance runs his hand through Keith's mullet to prove a point. It's surprisingly silky, and he can feel Keith lightly shudder at the contact as the already minimal space between them decreases.
"Whatever makes you feel better. I'm beginning to have a sneaking suspicion that you actually like my hair." Keith's hair has no business feeling this nice, and Lance tells himself that he's only lightly tracing his fingers over the back of Keith's scalp so his hair becomes greasy.
"Lies and slander."
"M-hm. I don't know why I like you." Keith's face moves closer, and he can feel Keith's warm breath against his cheek. He would pull away, but Keith's reeling him in, and a whirlpool in his gut swirls with anticipation until –
It's only a brief brush of lips, but when he pulls away, he can't think about anything besides the softness of Keith's hair, the light pink dusting Keith's cheeks, and the warmth radiating from Keith's skin. When he breaks out of the daze, he notices that the reception hall has immediately gone silent.
It's like a bubble bursts when a pair of armored arms wrap around his waist, pulling him away from Keith's embrace. "¡¿Qué pinga?! What's the big deal?!" He doesn't know who he's saying it to – Keith, who kissed him, or the guards, one of whom has lifted him and another of whom has picked up Keith.
"Yeah, what the hell?" Keith tries to fight the guard, who has him beat in bulk. Neither of them, even Keith, has weapons; they were checked for them at the entrance to the party. Only the guards are armed.
The guard carries him in an opposite direction than the one carrying Keith, and even though he doesn't want to start a diplomatic incident, he kicks at the guard; he has little effect on the thick exoskeleton. "I! Said! What's the big deal, dude?!"
The guard's dragged him off to the side cavern. The mucus-covered walls are lit by dim torchlight, and the guard's form casts a long shadow. The guard responds, "The indecent exposure!"
What. "We're fully clothed!"
"If inappropriately dressed, unallowed you would be to attend. It is your behavior to which I refer." They set Lance down, and step away. When they press a button, Lance hears a hum, similar to the invisible maze, indicating an invisible wall.
Lance presses his earing, but does not hear the static of the comm equipped to it. It would be just his luck that the comms wouldn't work down hear.
"We're – this is some way to start off an alliance," Lance says, glaring at the guard. "If you've harmed a hair on the Red Paladin's head, if there's even a scratch –"
"Unharmed is the Red Paladin. Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding, unfamiliar as we are with each other's customs. But you must remain here until the celebration has ended."
Lance huffs, and the guard walks away, leaving him in the damp, dimly-lit room. Even though he knows it would be bad for the alliance, he hopes Keith caused his guard some trouble.
It's an hour or so before a guard, accompanied by Shiro, comes to collect him. Lance doesn't want to meet Shiro's gaze. If it were Shiro and Allura, or Hunk and Pidge, instead of him and Keith, they wouldn't have messed it up.
The guard presses a button, and the hum disappears. Lance feels the weight of a human hand on his shoulder, and looks up at Shiro's face. He's sympathetic. "It was just a misunderstanding," Shiro says. "We should have briefed you more on what these people consider 'appropriate' romantic gestures."
"We were dancing!" Lance glares at the guard, who wilts underneath his glare. Perhaps Shiro or Allura had yelled at them. "Maybe it wasn't the type they do on this planet, but still. Other couples were doing it! The Cavern-Leaders started off the celebration with a dance."
"Apparently, you kissed." Lance flushes; he knows. He had a while to replay it in his mind. "So?"
"It's an intensely private gesture, here," Shiro says as they make their way out of the cavern. "So private, that they didn't even include it on the briefing we were given."
"We did not expect such a blatant mating display!" The guard says.
"Don't worry; Allura and I cleared up the misunderstanding."
"Is Keith okay?" He knows that he probably is, but still. He needs confirmation.
"He's with Allura, and they'll be back to the Castle shortly. There was an... Altercation."
Meaning, even without a knife, Keith managed to injure someone. Trying to get away. Or trying to get to him.
He finds Hunk and Pidge in the common area, huddled around a laptop. After he's given a brief description of the incident to Hunk and Pidge, they burst into laughter, Hunk slapping him on the shoulder.
"You guys are the worst." He kicks the side of the sofa, and immediately regrets his decision. He drops onto the sofa, cradling his foot. "Man down! Man down!"
Hunk's laughter dies down, Pidge's not far behind. "Are you… okay?"
"I'm never going to walk again," Lance says mournfully, although the pain is already fading.
"He's perfectly fine," Pidge says.
Hunk throws his arms up in exasperation. "I told you, Lance! This is why we don't kick things in anger!"
"Do you have no sympathy for a friend in his time of need? This could be the last straw, Hunk – I could have hit a major nerve! I could be dying, and you wouldn't even care." He slides onto the floor, and Hunk pulls Lance up.
"Stop being a baby," Hunk says. Lance wraps his arms around Hunk's neck and hangs off him like a sloth on a tree branch.
"I'm dying."
"Rest in pieces," Pidge says, and stands up on the couch to ruffle Lance's hair in faux sympathy.
Lance groans and buries his face into Hunk's shoulder. "Carry me to my room?"
Hunk sighs. "Fine. Don't touch that code until I come back, Pidge!"
"No promises," Pidge says.
About 15 Earth minutes later, Lance hears a knock on the door to his space bedroom (not his bedroom bedroom; his bedroom is messier and a bit smaller and numerous light years away, and somewhere below it his family is sitting in the not-space kitchen and drinking not-space milk) before the door slides open, revealing Keith. He's out of his formal wear, dressed in his normal casual attire, terrible jacket and all. He doesn't look too happy.
"How'd you get in?" Lance stands up as Keith enters. Keith's glare fades, leaving behind his natural awkwardness.
"Your access code wasn't hard to figure out. 8008135. Spells 'boobies' in numbers."
Lance nods. "A classic. It was between that and my sister's birthday." He places a hand on Keith's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Are you?" He reaches for Lance's face, and Lance allows him to cradle it and turn it gently from side to side, as if checking for bruises. Keith's leather gloves are warm and soft, his fingers rough with calluses. "Your face is warm."
Because you're touching it, Lance doesn't say. "It's warm in here, that's all. Shiro didn't chew me out, so. Not bad. I asked you first."
"I found the guard's weak spot, and they had to call for backup. Princess Allura scolded me for that, but at least not for the. The…"
"Kiss," Lance finishes. "Which, can I say: what?"
"Er. Well, I thought it was appropriate?"
Right. Fake Dating Mission. "I – I mean, we didn't discuss boundaries before the mission, which was pretty stupid."
"Yeah," Keith agrees. "We should have discussed them like, right when we started dating a month ago. I – maybe. This is the first relationship I've ever had."
"A fake relationship was the first you've ever – wait, you think we've been dating for a month?"
"What?" Keith looks as baffled as Lance feels. "We have been dating for a month!"
"Uh, no?!"
"Then – the Love Festival on R-79, what was that? You even called it a date!?" Lance remembers that day, about a month ago. The team had split off: Shiro and Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and Coran, and him and Keith. He had challenged Keith to every game the festival had to offer, and the image of Keith's smile after being handed Lance's prize from the sharpshooting game had haunted his dreams for the following weeks. Had that really been a date?
"As a – it was an expression, Keith!"
Keith laughs, cradling his face in his hands. Keith laughs with his whole body, throwing his head back and snorting at irregular intervals, his shoulders shaking. It's contagious, and Lance joins in. When it begins to die down, they meet each other's eyes, setting each other off again.
"Wow," Lance says when they finally stop.
"You never see things clearly, do you?" Despite the insult, Keith's expression is soft. "We should do something about all this miscommunication."
"You're hard to read," Lance pouts.
"I don't like lying –"
"Says the asshole who ran off with Allura because he refused to stop and think for one second!"
Keith ignores his perfectly valid criticism. "What does everyone have against straightforward communication? I say what I mean. I told you that I like you, and I've given more than enough hints that I value your existence –"
"In a friend way! How was I supposed to know it was in a boyfriend way, Mr. Straightforward?"
"I kissed you!" Keith's voice cracks in the middle of his exclamation.
"For a mission! A Fake Dating mission! Emphasis on the fake! We're not married – okay, except for the one time we agreed to never speak of again – but still!"
"I've tried to kiss you other times! When you said – the nicknames threw me off, but I figured you were just shy in actual relationships – everyone knows you have like, no game –"
Lance moves to get up close in Keith's personal space, their breaths mingling in the space between them. "That is a lie! An incorrect analysis on my entire – self! I have more charm in my p –"
Keith immediately covers Lance's mouth. "Nope. Not finishing that sentence."
Lance licks Keith's hand and Keith jerks it away, wiping the slobber on Lance's forehead. "I was going to say pinky finger! Why would you –" Lance starts laughing, and raises his brow at Keith. "I mean, I do –"
Keith groans. "Why are you like this."
"I think the real question you should ask is why am I like this, because apparently you're dating someone like this." The words leave Lance's mouth before he can stop them, and Keith grins like he just defeated someone in an election. But firstly, elections don't exist in space because space is primarily dominated by Monarchal Imperialists, and more importantly, Keith has the wrong idea.
"So you admit –"
"That was not an admission!"
"We've been dating for a month, whether you admit it or not."
"Convince me then, Samurai."
Keith huffs. "You asked for it." Keith grabs the lapels of his jacket, and he looks so frustrated that Lance is certain Keith's going to just try to shake the idiocy right out of him, but Keith just keeps a firm grasp on Lance's jacket and leans in close enough for Lance to see Keith's pupils dilate. Lance squeaks involuntarily, and Keith pulls back slightly to release a breathy laugh. Bringing his hands up to cradle Keith's jaw, hoping Keith doesn't notice he's shaking, Lance leans into the kiss.
It's objectively the worst kiss Lance has ever experienced. Keith kisses like someone who has no idea what he's doing, but has spent plenty of time thinking about it – his nose bumps against Lance's uncomfortably before Lance maneuvers their faces into the right position, his mouth is too firm as it presses against Lance's, instead of gently running his tongue along the seam of Lance's lips to deepen the kiss, he licks them sloppily before correcting himself, and their teeth clack together in the process – but knowing it's Keith – Keith, who likes his imitation coffee with entirely too much sweetener, who can keep up with Lance's witty banter and even fires responses back that leave him occasionally tongue-tied, who started with so little but managed to find a purpose and a family to care for – makes up for it in spades.
When they pull apart, Keith wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Lance's heart skips a beat. "You're amazing," Keith says, stars in his eyes and his cheeks flushed, and that's an expression Lance wants to see again – preferably for the rest of his life. Not many people have looked at him like that before. Lance feels warmth spread over him, like a mug of expensive hot chocolate on a freezing day; it starts in his chest and makes its way up to his throat, getting caught before he can no longer contain it.
"You – you're pretty great, too," Lance blurts out. "I mean, the kiss wasn't really that good – probably your fault, by the way – but you… yeah. Wow. Ditto."
"Ditto as in you believe me now? We're dating and have been dating for weeks?"
"Ditto as in you've been pining for so long, and I have finally decided to return your affections, and we are dating as of this very moment."
Keith looks at him with fond exasperation. "The important thing is we both know the truth." He's still so close that Lance can feel Keith's warm breath on his face, and he pecks him on the nose before Keith can elaborate. They're roughly the same height (Lance half an inch taller, which he made sure to point out to Keith when he'd realized), so Lance doesn't have to bend down to do so. It's nice, he thinks. They're on the same level.
Keith's nose scrunches up, the sight of it making Lance's chest perform somersaults, so he plants a trail of kisses all the way from Keith's flushed cheek to the bottom of his earlobe. He can feel Keith's intake of breath as Lance starts to whisper in his ear. "What do you say we take this to the bed? There'll only be seven planets left in the solar system when I'm done with Uranus."
Keith groans, but pulls Lance toward the bed. "One, that was awful. Two, we're not in the solar system, and three, there are nine planets in the solar system."
"Pluto isn't –" Keith pushes him onto the bed and kisses him, and it's worse than the first time, since he was in the middle of speaking. But it effectively shuts him up.
After a moment, Keith pulls away, laughing when Lance moves to follow his lips. "So is Pluto a planet?"
"No, it's –" he can't finish that sentence, since Keith's reached under his arms and started to tickle him. "You – ha ha ha – stop ieeek! Can't – hahaha – argue with NASA! Keith!" But Keith doesn't relent, and Lance does his best to retaliate.
"Hahaha – I'm not budging on this, Lance!"
The tickling eventually dies down, Lance and Correct Scientific Discoveries victorious (Ok, maybe Keith had discovered that his feet were especially sensitive, and in the interest of not dying of laughter, Lance had to agree that Pluto is a planet. But he had muttered "not" under his breath so quietly that Keith couldn't hear, so Lance is the real winner).
"Hey," Lance says, brushing a strand of black hair behind Keith's ear. His hair is tousled, sticking up at odd angles where it's cut short.
"Hey yourself." Keith brushes his hand over Lance's.
"It's getting kinda late… you wanna crash here tonight?"
"Ah –"
"No pressure; it you think it's too much – I know I can be a lot sometimes, and if you're not even sure you want this, since if you liked what we had before and it's different now that I know –"
Keith squeezes his hand. "Yeah, you're a lot. You're determined, friendly, and annoyingly competitive. Even if some of that competitiveness was because I didn't remember you, or something?"
Lance flushes. "Or something."
"Yeah, well. I really didn't remember you because I was focused on other problems so… I'm sorry if that hurt your feelings."
"You sure know how to apologize to a guy, don't you? Hurt my feelings? Pschht." Keith raises his brow at Lance. "Okay, it might have hurt just a teensy-tiny bit that my rival didn't even know I existed, or bothered to remember me. But not much, or at all, really!"
"I know who you are now," Keith says. His cheeks are bright pink, and he meets Lance's eyes with a strange intensity. "I won't forget you again. You're… you're pretty memorable, Lance. If I didn't want this, I would say so, so don't doubt yourself so much. Okay?" Keith kisses him gently this time, closed-mouthed and quick, like he's afraid of recreating the trainwreck of their previous kiss.
When Keith pulls away a brief second later, Lance, much too flustered from what could barely be classified as a kiss, answers, "Okay." He wraps his arms around Keith, reveling in his warmth. "You were saying something about boundaries earlier – this okay?"
"Yeah," Keith says, and when he adjusts to make himself more comfortable, something hard brushes against Lance's thigh, and Lance grins.
"Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
Keith detangles himself and pulls out his Blade. "You wish."
"Well, if we're gonna cuddle, the security knife's got to go. All the security knives. I'm not getting impaled trying to show some innocent affection."
"Fine. If you want someone to come in and murder us without any protection, that's fine." Keith reluctantly places the Blade on the bedside table, and removes his jacket as well. Good idea. Lance follows his lead, and throws his jacket to the end of the bed.
"We could just kiss again. Might scandalize any potential intruders." No sooner has Keith thrown his jacket on top of Lance's when Lance reaches for him again, burying his face into the crook of Keith's shoulder. Lance doesn't know if he wants to know the answer to this question, but that's too bad since he's already asking, "Did that happen to you? The someone trying to murder you in your sleep thing, I mean."
Keith leans back when he answers, "No one's tried to murder me while I was sleeping, but some other foster kids tried to steal my stuff. And when I was living in my shack, I woke up to something clawing at my face, and I ended up gutting a raccoon." Keith pauses thoughtfully for a moment. "The raccoon was pretty tasty, though. Not as good as snakes."
Now Lance is sorry he asked. "That's pretty sad, dude. Didn't you go to the desert grocery store once in awhile?"
"I don't see why you look so upset; we had alien lizard meat just a few weeks ago. You ate it."
"And it was pretty sad. I miss real food – not space lizard and space goo. My mama used to – makes – pretty good ropa vieja." Lance's stomach phantom rumbles with the memory of the smell of the criollo sauce his mama soaked the steak in. His heart twinges remembering himself entering the kitchen in the morning, his siblings already seated at the almost too-small table and his mama by the sink, peeling a ripe mango while singing along to the radio.
"I know how to make mac-and-cheese," Keith says, like mac-and-cheese is some kind of fine cuisine. "The secret is to add extra cheeses and milk and a bit of hot sauce."
"Still not real food. Once we get back to earth, you're coming to Cuba with me, and my mama will make you eat some real food. Good food, the kind you need an actual recipe for."
Keith flushes light pink and mumbles something.
"What?"
"I said, if we get back to earth. The war's not over yet."
"We're getting back to earth. It's not an if, it's a when."
Keith ignores that. "But whatever food you were describing… your family… sounds nice. Does this mean you want me to meet your family?"
Lance tries to imagine Keith in his house, interacting with his parents and siblings and niblings. He'd probably be awkward at first, like a lost goose in a group of swans (whatever a group of swans is called). But there's enough of Lance and more than enough of his family to make up for Keith's awkwardness. "My sister can give you a haircut." He reaches out for Keith's hair, but Keith catches Lance's hands with his own, and pulls them down in the space between them. He keeps his hands loosely intertwined with Lance's. Lance squeezes his hand and Keith tightens his grip, firm and reassuring.
"I think you just like talking about my hair when you want to change the subject."
"I am not changing the subject! This conversation is completely within the subject! My sister Isabel's a hairdresser. My family, I think ‒ They'd like you."
The look Keith's giving him is weird and oddly familiar, but it's missing something. It's too fond to be just teasing, and doesn't even have a hint of exasperation. "Thanks, Lance."
"I like you," he says into Keith's ear, enjoying Keith's shiver in response.
They lie next to each other in the bed, trading anecdotes and brief kisses that drag on before they fall asleep, Keith before Lance. Keith's hair tickles his face and they're positioned so Keith is lying on top of Lance's arm. Lance brushes a loose strand of hair from Keith's face; Keith's nose scrunches up and he subconsciously cuddles Lance closer like an affectionate koala to a tree branch. Cute. Lance isn't looking forward to waking up in an uncomfortable position, but it's worth it to have Keith beside him, solid and warm, the answer to every question Lance never thought to ask. Lance takes a moment to bask in the dizzy rush of emotions before pulling Keith closer still, and letting himself drift off into slumber.
A/N: Thanks for reading! This story is crossposted to AO3 under the username eriev.
Some credit where credit is due: The title is borrowed from Fastball's "You're An Ocean," which is more a Keith POV rather than the Lance POV I decided to use. It's also catchy as hell.
Also, have a Deleted Scene:
Lance knows he likes guys, and he refuses to relive that middle school existential crisis with Shiro (who may or may not have been the catalyst for said crisis). Lance may not like examining his current flaws, but he is willing to admit that middle school Lance was a Mistake, and that faux masculine overcompensating asshole died not long after his metal teeth prison was removed. Lance considers that progress. "I know," he says. "Bisexuality is a great, totally valid sexuality, and thinking girls are hot doesn't mean that guys aren't also hot. You're hot, not that I ever thought about that before, or will ever think about that again! So! What color goo is for dinner tonight?"
"Thank you for telling me that, Lance. I'm bi, too, and I support you, but I wasn't talking about your sexuality," Shiro says with a hint of a smile.