Written as part of a challenge prompt set, for the prompt 'Frame'.
I don't speak Spanish, but it felt natural in a few places for Lance to slip into it, so I did some research and my best with it; translations are at the end.
"Dancing is very important to the Vaktaj, and as we are being welcomed as honoured guests, there will be a ball, of sorts, this evening." Allura informed them as she brought the Castle down to a gentle rest on the planet. "Make sure you are ready for it, Paladins! And dressed appropriately!"
Her tone was almost sharp with that admonishment, but she smiled as she turned away from the steering platform. "We must be ready to meet our hosts." she encouraged.
Keith stared at the doorway she'd disappeared through, and then looked helplessly for Shiro. He . . . didn't dance. Not even entertaining concerns about it being a ball held by utterly unfamiliar aliens, he'd never learned to dance on Earth.
"How does she expect us to dress 'appropriately' for a ball?" Pidge asked, grabbing the hem of her shirt illustratively, and Keith rubbed his face. There was also that.
"Is our armour not acceptable for a diplomatic meeting?" Keith asked, frowning. He would feel much more comfortable at this 'ball' in his armour, for so many reasons.
"No! Not in this instance, anyway. The Vaktaj place a great deal of importance on their balls, and we must all be dressed appropriately to show our respect." Coran explained, tsking. "Wear armour? To a Vaktaj ball? Ha," he shook his head sadly, "oh, you all have a lot to learn."
"I'm sure," Shiro said peaceably, resting a hand on Keith's shoulder, "that we'd all be happy to learn whatever we need to for this. But we are a little short on time. . ?" he trailed off leadingly, watching Coran.
"Ah, yes! I believe we have just the things, follow me!" Coran declared brightly, and Keith looked up at Shiro. He shrugged slightly, and Keith groaned, rising and obediently following after Shiro along with the others.
The ball was held in a huge hall with airy spaces passing through to the outdoors between soaring columns. It actually wouldn't have been a terribly uncomfortable place if it hadn't been absolutely filled with people - well, aliens. All of whom had skin in varying blue and lilac shades, and wore clothes in similar shades with a few greens, deeper purples, and silvery greys thrown in.
The Voltron team stood out incredibly, and Keith in his crimson shirt - vest? it didn't have sleeves - and silver-black pants felt like he did even more than the rest of them.
At least their taste in drinks was better than Alteans - or better than Coran, anyway; Keith was never sure if the Altean food Coran made was supposed to be like that, or if Coran was just . . . really bad at cooking. He sipped his not-wine carefully, enjoying it but taking Shiro's warning to heart and not willing to risk being drunk here. Even if they were on friendly ground.
"Have you actually been tucked away in this corner the whole time?"
Keith looked up to see Pidge a moment before she settled, with a flutter of her light green blouse, in one of the big, cushioned and cup-like seats near his own. "No." he answered.
Pidge eyed him, and his lips twitched. "I've been tucked away in several corners this whole time." Keith corrected, and she laughed. "I don't really," he paused, "I don't dance."
"I don't like it either." Pidge admitted quietly, picking a something-pink-on-a-stick off the tray on the table and nibbling it. "The Vaktaj are nice, though, at least."
"It looked like you did all right with Shiro, earlier." Keith pointed out. He'd seen Shiro approach Pidge and actually bow, startling her, before coaxing her out onto the dance floor with him. She'd seemed even tinier than usual, in the light, gauzy layers of her blouse and skirt, slim, dark green leggings under them instead of cargo pants, even before she had moved to stand in the circle of Shiro's arms.
Pidge leaned closer to him and Keith's brows rose. "I stood on his toes." she confided, and Keith hid a laugh with difficulty.
"You didn't." Keith shook his head in disbelief, and Pidge gave her slightly goofy crooked grin.
"I did." Pidge shrugged. "I know how to dance, but I don't like it." She huffed. "And there's so many more interesting things we could be doing. . . Did you know that this city has the biggest library on the planet? And the Vaktaj combine books and holograms and recordings of sounds and smells and something they call 'ilan vityi' that's some kind of other sense that humans and even Alteans don't even have?"
"No." Keith said honestly. He'd understood - roughly - when Coran talked about the combination of tech they used in their libraries here, but other than a bit of vague curiosity he hadn't paid very much attention. Pidge seemed fascinated though, and disappointed not to be there instead of here.
Keith nodded as Pidge told him a little more about what she'd found out. Some of it went over his head, but Pidge was fun to watch when she was excited, and Keith didn't mind listening. She never really expected anyone else to offer too much detail in response, unless if she was talking about an interest or something - like when the two of them had talked about propulsion methods and prime angles last week and gotten into a fierce debate.
Engineering wasn't Keith's bag at all, but if it had anything to do with flying, he was there. And Pidge had been mistaken, in his opinion.
He smiled slightly and sipped a little more of his not-wine as he looked for the rest of his team in the crowded room. He found Shiro first, the almost harsh silver-picked black of his shirt - Coran had tried to push one like Keith was wearing on him, but Shiro had gone quiet and refused to wear something without full sleeves - standing out in the sea of blue-lilac shades. So did his build - the Vaktaj weren't small, but they had what Keith's mind couldn't help but read as 'too many' arms and their bodies bent in very not-human ways.
Broad-shouldered, straight-backed Shiro drew the eye among the small group of them he was talking with near the edge of the dance floor.
The dance floor took up most of the room, really, either by design or because so many people were using it all the time. Keith suppressed a shudder and sank a little deeper into his cup-chair. The Vaktaj did know how to do chairs, Keith thought - it was more comfortable than most of the furniture on the Castle, including the couches.
Hunk took a little longer to locate, and it was actually Pidge who pointed him out. "I think the princesses," she hesitated over the term, then pressed on, "are coming about this close to fighting over Hunk." She gestured in demonstration. "Especially when we try and take him with us when we leave." she added wryly. "I don't think it's occurred to them yet that he'll be leaving with the rest of us in the morning."
Keith eyed where three of the Vaktaj were clustered around Hunk, who was dancing with . . . all of them, Keith guessed? He wasn't entirely sure, but dancing was so far from his realms of expertise as to be baffling, and all three of the Vaktaj around Hunk seemed delighted. "Has he actually stepped off the dance floor since we got here?" he asked.
"He tried once." Pidge said wryly. "And they begged him to come back and you know Hunk can't say no to pleading. Especially since they were all so impressed with him."
Keith found Coran dancing as well, near the edge of the dance floor with a glass of not-wine in his hand. Allura blended in much more but she was nearby, moving smoothly and very like the Vaktaj she was dancing with. Keith spared a few moments to admire the grace required for the task - Alteans were mostly built like humans, and far less flexible than the stiffest and most aged Vaktaj. He didn't think their chameleonic abilities stretched quite that far.
"Hey, Keith, buddy!"
Keith startled and Pidge jumped beside him. Lance grinned and gestured with the glass he held in one hand, emphatically enough that Keith drew back, expecting to be splashed by its contents. "Uh, Lance." Keith replied, dipping his head for a moment to return the cheerful greeting. "Hi?"
"Hey Lance." Pidge said, tucking her feet up into her chair, her skirt pooling around her.
"Have you actually gotten out on the dance floor with our so-dance-minded hosts even once tonight?" Lance asked, wriggling his hips.
Keith blinked, leaning back in his chair and shrugging.
"I saw Pidge out there," Lance grinned and bowed slightly towards her, and Pidge snorted, "even if I did not get a chance to engage you in a dance. But you, Keith. . ."
"I don't dance." Keith said flatly.
Lance put a hand to his chest, mouth dropping open. "You don't dance? You don't dance?" His voice rose with feigned shock and distress as he repeated himself, and Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Weren't you listening to our illustrious Princess' explanation? Dancing is very important to the Vaktaj." Lance's tone shifted, mock-serious now. "You might cause offense." He paused. "Plus if you don't get out there on your own, Allura will probably drag you out herself."
Keith stiffened at that possibility. Allura might. "Er. . ."
"So come and dance with me." Lance said, tipping his head to one side and smiling slightly. "I promise I'm a good dancer; I'll help you."
Keith blinked and he heard Pidge make a quiet choking noise into her glass beside him. "I. . . You?" he said uncertainly.
Lance frowned at him, eyes wide. "Don't you trust me? I-"
"Of course." Keith said, and Lance stuttered and stopped talking for a moment, looking surprised. Keith didn't know why; of course he trusted Lance.
"Well then," Lance straightened, holding out a hand, "come and dance with me. I'll take care of you, I promise." he said with an earnest smile.
Keith hesitated, looking out at the dance floor. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and he sipped a bit more of his drink. He looked back up at Lance.
"He really is a good dancer." Pidge offered. "And Allura - or Coran - probably will make you if you don't go on your own." she added with a laugh.
"Come on. Please?" Lance asked, stepping closer, and extended his hand a little further. "I promise, dancing is fun."
Keith took another drink and then put his glass aside, taking Lance's hand and rising to his feet. Lance squeezed his hand reassuringly, but Keith could feel his shoulders tightening as Lance drew him towards the short row of steps leading down to the dancers.
"Have fun." Pidge said, and when he glanced back she was twisting sideways in her chair, watching him with a funny little smile.
"Right. Fun." Keith mumbled, and Lance squeezed his hand again.
"Don't worry. It'll be fine." Lance assured him, catching his eyes. "Look, dancing isn't that hard, and you're . . . you have great awareness of your body already. If you can be graceful while you're trying not to be killed by a possessed robot and use your sword to open airlock doors while still avoiding impalement, there's no way you can't do this."
Keith smiled slightly. "Okay." he said. "But I really don't know what I'm doing. So you'll have to tell me - I'm sure you won't mind that." He snorted wryly.
Lance swallowed. "What? No, of course not." He cleared his throat. "Okay. Face me," he stopped; Keith was already facing him, they'd moved around each other when they reached the fringes of the dancers already on the floor, "put one hand on my shoulder," he squeezed Keith's hand and held their linked hands out, "and remember; graceful like fighting but no kicking." he teased, and startled a laugh out of Keith.
"I don't know if I can remember that. . ." Keith said playfully, stilling as Lance's hand came up to rest on his waist.
Lance muttered something under his breath, but Keith only caught a few syllables and they didn't make sense. "What?" he asked, leaning back slightly.
"Nothing. You- You'll be a beautiful dancer if you just relax." Lance told him, tugging him close again. "Come on; hand on my shoulder. This can't be scarier than charging behind enemy lines with no one to watch your back, and you volunteer to do that."
"I get to hit people when I do that." Keith muttered, but he put his hand lightly back on Lance's shoulder, letting himself be brought a tiny bit closer again. "And no one's watching me."
"Of course." Lance said, shaking his head. "Look, these people have never seen humans before today, and they already adore all of us after this week; anything you do out here will be fine. You said you trust me, right?" Keith nodded. "Just move with me, Keith. You might even have fun." he said lightly.
". . .if you say so." Keith said, unconvinced, but he tried to relax anyway.
"Listen to the music. Everyone likes music, right?" Lance asked, bouncing on his heels.
Keith smiled. "I like music." he confirmed. "Never heard any like this before, but. . ."
"But you've been listening to it for like, four vargas. You know sort of what it feels like by now." Lance said, giving him what was maybe supposed to be a stern look. Keith raised his eyebrows, but didn't argue. "Anyway, you'll be following me for now, and I know what I'm doing; it's super easy. For you anyway." he teased, and took a step.
Keith followed after him, then bumped into him when Lance moved towards him again. He mumbled an apology and Lance squeezed his hand, nudging lightly at his hip. "It's fine, it's going to take a little practise to get smoother at it." Lance said patiently, guiding Keith into following his movements with those little nudges or tugs at his hand.
It was easy enough, although Keith had a sneaking suspicion he should be doing something other than basically walking in a weird pattern. "Uh. . ." he began, then was forced to stop as Lance pushed him backwards and he had to focus so he kept moving at the right pace and didn't let Lance run into him.
"Relax, Keith." Lance said softly, his right hand sliding up and down Keith's waist in a light stroke. "I won't let you run into anything. And while I would love to see you make a fool of yourself usually - aside from that hair - I would never misuse dancing that way."
"You keep letting me run into you." Keith pointed out, lips twitching.
"That's different." Lance protested. "I haven't let you bump anyone else or tripped you up at all, have I?" he asked, and Keith had to admit that he hadn't. "So relax." he said happily. "You'll be fine. Loosen up a little!" Lance's whole body . . . slithered, and Keith blinked, leaning back to eye him.
"I can't move like that." Keith said promptly, and Lance snorted.
"Well, I think you could learn, I've seen you working out," Lance said, then lifted his chin as he met Keith's eyes, "but I was more thinking . . . move at all, hermoso." he suggested gently.
Keith's brows drew together. He focused on keeping up with Lance's steps as the music shifted with a strange almost discordant dual-melody for a few moments. He was moving. Although, he supposed, compared to Lance, whose whole body somehow seemed involved with every step he took here. . .
"Nothing's going to happen to you, and you don't need to be tensed up waiting for anything. Loosen up, relax, have fun - move a little." Lance encouraged, and pressed at his side again. "Start with your hips and shoulders. Take a step and let your body flow with it," he said, tugging Keith towards him by their clasped hands, their upper bodies almost bumping into each other again except that Lance had already leaned back along with the movement, "listen to the music."
"I am listening." Keith muttered, focusing on trying to 'move' when he took a step only for Lance to make a chiding noise at him. "What? I- I moved?"
"You- It's not a training exercise, you don't have to focus to just hit the mark and then move on," Lance said gently, "here, come on, just . . . maybe if you try and feel the way I move, okay?" he suggested, lifting Keith's right hand to his shoulder as well and holding it there as he rolled his shoulders.
Keith tensed for a moment, but he quickly made himself relax again. Lance smiled at him and wriggled almost . . . playfully. Keith gave a half-smile back without thinking about it.
He took a deep breath, feeling Lance's muscles flexing beneath his palms and gripping a little tighter. He reminded himself he wasn't trying to throw Lance - he'd be in a great position for it if he were, actually, and Keith would also be much more comfortable with the situation - just. . .
Feel him.
Riiight.
Keith . . . bent, a little as Lance turned them again, and Lance grinned at him. "Yes! There you go, just move with me." he murmured, sliding his hand down from Keith's hand over his bare forearm. Keith's fingers tightened on his shoulders, and Lance smiled, moving to rest both hands on Keith's waist, gently guiding him with each step.
"Lance?" Keith asked after a few moments, when he thought he had the new addition settled in his head. He met Lance's eyes - they were very, very blue this close; usually when Keith was this close they were being shot at and also both wearing their helmets.
"Mm?" Lance hummed, waggling his eyebrows. Keith snorted, pressing his lips together as he stifled a laugh. "What?" Lance asked, pulling Keith a little closer. His breath caught at the movement, but he didn't fight it.
"Why did you . . . do this?" Keith gestured around them with one hand, then returned it to Lance's shoulder.
"Drag you out onto the dance floor, you mean?" Lance asked, and Keith nodded, then shook his head.
"Not just that. I don't- I mean," Keith shrugged, "I don't know how to dance. This can't be. . ." he trailed off.
"On the contrary, this is quite fun." Lance said warmly. "Also, you looked super uncomfortable dude - at a ball, one being held in our honour! Only one step down from a parade! That's just not right. I figured I could at least get you to loosen up . . . and I really did wonder if you'd been out on the floor at all. I've only seen you sitting around the periphery all evening."
"How is this fun?" Keith asked, perplexed. "Even if you would enjoy dancing with me," his nose wrinkled; hardly likely, he thought, "I don't even know how to dance, and instead of," he gestured around them again, at all the other dancers, "doing whatever, you're . . . dancing with me?"
"I am, and you do know how to dance now. I mean, you won't be winning any awards - for once - and I wouldn't say you're quite ready to take the lead," Lance teased, dipping his head closer to Keith's as he spoke, "but you are dancing with me and . . . is it so hard to imagine I'd enjoy dancing with you? Or even teaching you?"
Keith shrugged again, and Lance tsked, one of his hands sliding to the small of Keith's back, startling him. He pulled Keith closer still, until their bodies really were almost pressed together. Keith's eyes widened.
"New lesson." Lance said easily, and held Keith's hips as he moved, pulling Keith along with him. It was . . . way closer than Keith had been prepared to be and he almost jerked backwards as their hips dragged against each other. His hands tightened on Lance's shoulders. "Keith, it'll feel less weird if you let me move you. Our steps are supposed to match, that's why it's not working." he said patiently, his lips turned down at the corners.
Keith opened his mouth, then closed it, embarrassed. "Sorry?" He tried to focus on letting Lance's movement translate more directly through his own body.
"Don't be sorry, I should have warned you." Lance dismissed. "Although, you probably wouldn't have let me if I did, so . . . never mind." He laughed to himself. "Okay again. Step and lean into me, let me do the rest."
Keith wasn't entirely sure what 'lean into me' translated to in this context, but apparently he did it right, because he earned another of Lance's brighter smiles. "There you go! See what happens when you trust me?"
"I'd still rather be storming an enemy base." Keith told him dryly, but it was coming easier as Lance kept moving, apparently having no difficulty - not that he had been before - orchestrating his own steps, keeping Keith in step with him, not to mention both of them moving smoothly and avoiding any other dancers, and chatting at the same time. "And then I wouldn't be quite so . . . close." he finished lamely.
"I am wounded!" Lance said, lifting one hand to his heart as he made an exaggerated face. "Wounded I say!" He quickly returned his hand to Keith's hip as he faltered. "Hey, easy. I'm still here." Lance assured him. "You are doing better, though. Don't you feel it?" he asked earnestly, and Keith couldn't quite brush it off, looking into those eyes.
"Yeah. It's . . . better." Keith agreed, nodding. It was certainly better than Keith had thought he'd get at this, assistance or not. Not that he'd really planned on trying, honestly.
Lance's body was slim and strong against him, and when Keith faltered Lance coaxed him through the smooth movements easily, carrying him along. "See?" Lance said happily, and it wasn't the triumph of having proved Keith wrong or gotten one over on him - or claiming he had - but just . . . happiness, like he was pleased to be sharing this with Keith. "I bet you're even maybe . . . having a little fun." he teased.
"Maybe." Keith said with a frown that was much harder to keep on his face than it should have been. "Don't count on it or anything."
Probably it wasn't terribly convincing as Lance's exaggerated sad face made Keith laugh, and he was still moving in tandem with Lance - he was maybe even getting a little better at this. He still had no idea why they were moving the way they were, though. Or why they changed sometimes. He could hear the difference in the music but it didn't speak to him the way it seemed to be easy as breathing for Lance.
And, he thought wryly as Lance hummed, hand sliding down Keith's back a little, fingertips curling in against his spine, he didn't think he could move his body this way at all without Lance guiding him. Lance's hands kept him close, hips pressed together with nearly uncomfortable pressure, and as his hips moved Keith's followed.
As long as he was relaxed and he focused on moving with Lance, and letting Lance direct his movements. It was difficult to remember to keep relaxed, but not as much as he would have thought - Lance's light hold on him helped, and, strangely, Lance's generally-obnoxious steady chatter and easy smiles did too.
Keith startled and came to a stop when he felt Lance's hands pulling against him instead of nudging him along - Lance had stopped moving already, and he was pulling Keith to stop as he . . . hadn't. Lance's lips twitched up into an odd smile. Keith tipped his head, and felt his face warming. There was no longer any music being played, and he had no idea when it had stopped.
"I guess our dance is over." Lance said, his smile tilting down at one corner. "And," he cleared his throat, straightening fully, "we . . . may have taken longer about it than I thought." he added.
Keith looked beyond Lance and felt even his ears heating up. There was- "We're the only ones still out here!" he all but hissed, ducking his head and eyeing the completely abandoned dance floor around them with disbelief. "What happened?"
"We were enjoying ourselves?" Lance suggested, and Keith covered his face with one hand. Then he realised that he was still holding onto Lance's shoulders and promptly yanked his other hand back as well, stepping away from Lance.
Lance's own hands were still wrapped around his waist, but he twisted sideways as he pulled back, losing the clasp easily, and Lance released him without a fight anyway. "But we are the only-" Keith choked a bit as he looked up and saw quite a few of their alien hosts watching them, and, at the front of the crowd, all their friends. "The ball is over? And we-" he broke off. "We danced through all of it?" he asked plaintively.
Shiro was smiling at him, but there was a curious light to his expression. Pidge was smirking, that was rarely a good sign. Hunk was apparently still talking to one of the Vaktaj princesses, but he was watching them too, with a broad smile of his own.
"Ah, Keith," Lance said, shaking his head slightly, his smile returning, "eres un tesoro. Thank you for letting me help you, hermoso." he added, clasping Keith's hand again, as he had to lead him onto the dance floor. Which they had somehow wound up in the middle of without Keith noticing at all.
"Uh, thanks for- for teaching me, I guess." Keith said, his voice faltering as Lance playfully kissed his hand. ". . .eh?"
Lance grinned. "Siempre, hermoso." he said, and Keith's brows drew together. "It was fun." he added, squeezing Keith's hand before releasing him.
Keith flexed his fingers, feeling oddly chilled. He paced Lance towards Shiro and the others, newly aware of his blush.
"Hey guys!" Lance said with a winning smile.
"Are you sure you're ready to go?" Pidge asked with a sly grin when they approached. "You looked pretty comfortable out there. . ." She waggled her eyebrows.
Keith felt himself growing hotter, and wished faintly for his armour again - for the first time since Lance had drawn him out onto the dance floor, he realised.
"Pidge." Shiro said, with a tiny smile, and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, it was enjoyable." Lance said lightly, and glanced at Keith. "And I got to push Keith around." he teased, and Keith glared before he caught the playful rather than mocking cast to his face. "I'll look forward to the next time."
Keith's eyes widened, and Lance gave him an almost tentative smile. Then before he could respond, Allura was striding off, leading them out of the airy ballroom back towards the Castle, and Shiro gently urged Keith into following.
They split up as they wound through the Castle, off to their rooms, but Lance caught Keith's hand before they could part ways. Shiro flicked a glance down to their hands, then caught Keith's eye and smiled at them both, continuing on towards his room and leaving them alone.
"You- Did you have fun, Keith?" Lance asked, cocking his head, his fingers curling gently around Keith's.
Keith blinked. "I. . . I suppose so." he admitted. "More than I thought I would." He smiled wryly, and Lance grinned.
"That's good." Lance said, with a quiet laugh. "So. . . Think you'll dance with me again sometime?" he asked, tugging Keith towards him.
Keith frowned, and was surprised when he saw Lance's jaw tighten, his body tensing a little. Then he was surprised at himself for noticing - he supposed . . . being pressed so close to Lance for so long had made him a little more aware of the other boy.
"I . . . might." Keith said, the smile he'd suppressed spreading across his face. "Maybe especially if Pidge isn't there." he added dryly. He liked Pidge, really he did, but. . .
"I'll see what I can do." Lance said, laughing again. "And I'll look forward to it." He brought Keith's hand up - he hadn't noticed Lance was still holding it, the contact had felt so natural - and this time kissed his palm. Keith felt himself flushing again, surprised at the gesture. "Te deseo suenos bonitos, hermoso. Good night."
Keith was left flexing his hand - he could still feel the soft brush of Lance's lips against the almost tender, usually-covered skin of his palm - and watching as Lance disappeared down the hallway to his room.
"Good night." Keith said faintly, then shook himself, rubbing his cheek, and strode off towards his own room. Things would make more sense again in the morning, he told himself, shaking his head. He was tired.
He wasn't necessarily . . . unhappy with the confusion Lance had left him with, though. Somehow.
Translations:
A varga is roughly an hour in Altean/galactic time-slices.
Hermoso - Handsome
Eres un tesoro - You are a treasure
Siempre, hermoso - Always, handsome
Te deseo suenos bonitos, hermoso. - I wish you beautiful dreams, handsome.
(Keith didn't catch it, and wouldn't have understood it if he had, but what Lance mumbled under his breath just before they started dancing would have translated to 'beautiful, idiot boy'.)
This bonus comes from my friend mikkimouse, set shortly before the music stopped:
Hunk: "How long do you think it's gonna take them to realize they're the last ones out there?"
Pidge: "I've got five bucks it's at least another five minutes."
Shiro: "Pidge, I can't believe you would do something like that. It's going to be ten, at least."
Pidge: "I'll take that bet."
Hunk: "I shouldn't bet on my best friend. I SHOULDN'T BET ON MY BEST FRIEND."
*Shiro and Pidge both raise eyebrows*
Hunk: "...okay five bucks on fifteen minutes LOOK AT THEM."