For as long as he could remember, Keith had never had normal dreams. Other people, when they put their heads on their pillows, dreamt about places and things from their lives, about falling, being chased, showing up late to work or a test. Keith dreamed in colors and concepts. In abstractions.

That night, his mind was suspended in an unending undulation of navy blue. An opaque ocean that went on forever and somehow was and was not at the same time. The expanse was warm, welcoming. He could see all and none of it simultaneously—indescribably deep and incomprehensively high. Though it extended in every direction infinitely, he understood on instinct that he hung at its center—he was its heart but he was not the ocean.

Gradually, the color shifted. It grew brighter until it was the sky and Keith had his feet firmly planted on an invisible ground. He stood at the top of a hill he could not see and beheld the dome of the Earth above him and below him like a figurine in a snow globe. He was being looked at; his glass sphere lifted and the liquid and flakes inside swirled around him as everything turned upside down. Music from a music box, above him, below him. Gulls. Waves.

Sand.

In his mouth, but not at the beach. A box in the backyard. If he dug deep enough, he'd hit dirt. Weeds would grow in it and he'd have to dig them out, dig a tunnel all the way to the other side of the world—to Korea. To ask his mother if she was happy with her decision to leave, if she was really dead—and could he join her?

Green, grass and weeds, then water. Fear like claws that gripped his sternum from the inside because the claws were his own. He was drowning, but it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt because he couldn't feel, couldn't move, could only look in on himself as if from above, outside, all around. A three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view as that Keith lost consciousness and this Keith—unconscious—watched.

Black. Black forever. Black for always. Cold and comprehensive, but hot in the middle. Heat that grew until it consumed him and the forever in a fiery red that went from red to orange to white.

The white was a hospital and his heart was beeping. The flat surface against his back warmed, became un-flat, his heart beeped faster, and now he was in an embrace as deep and expansive as the blue in the beginning. In his hands were other hands. In his hands was a string. He tugged on it and somewhere, somewhere he could not see, a kite dipped.

Then Keith woke up.

He sucked in a breath. Had he been holding it while he'd slept? The breath huffed from his lungs almost immediately. There wasn't room.

Rolling over, he reached for his phone on the floor and pulled it off its charger cord. Sunday. Eight AM. Himself awake fifteen minutes before his alarm.

Keith collapsed onto his pillow and tried to catch his breath. It had been a while since he'd had a dream that intense. Staring at the bottom of the storage cabinets above his bed, he tried to make sense of it. As usual, he couldn't. Back when he'd first started getting into film, he'd made works based on his dreams, but every single one of them had come out a pile of steaming garbage that didn't remotely convey the emotion he'd been after. He'd given up trying to understand how his own mind worked shortly thereafter.

This dream, however. This dream bore—hold on.

He picked up his phone again and looked at the screen. The background was different. He'd had it set to the black wallpaper from the section of defaults that had come with the phone. Now it was the top of Pidge's head down to her nose, peeking up from the bottom of the screen, blurry and out-of-focus with the flash having washed out most of her features. The top two-thirds of the picture were black, which might have explained why he hadn't noticed until then, but how had he not noticed?

He unlocked his phone and the Notes app was open, as was a new note. "Your birth year is not a valid passcode," it said.

Keith chuckled, but the laugh choked in his throat when he closed the note.

Pidge had changed the inside background as well. To a picture she must have taken when Keith wasn't paying attention. It was him and Lance on Samoa Beach. Just him and Lance on Samoa Beach—the sun setting on the water behind them. Standing much closer together than Keith remembered and, shit, was that what his face looked like every time he looked at Lance?

Probably.

Definitely.

That face was the way he felt every time he looked at Lance.

He was mildly irritated, however, at how transparently gay the expression was.

His thumb tapped the Settings app and he scrolled down to Wallpaper. He clicked through until he found the straight black image in the defaults. When he hit the button to reset it as his background, though, he hesitated, thumb lingering in the air above "Set Lock Screen", "Set Home Screen", and "Set Both". It drifted toward both, then his heart pinched and his brows furrowed and he clicked just lock screen instead.

Then practically chucked his phone across the room.

Christ, Christ, Christ, he was in way too goddamn deep.

And Pidge knew.

How did Pidge know?

He flew to retrieve his phone again, and had opened both it and his messages before he realized he didn't have her phone number. Except for that he did. Now. The app opened onto a new conversation with a single message bubble—from him—reading, "Youthanasia". The recipient's name was the pigeon head emoji.

He typed a new message out.

when did my name get on your shit list

The response bubble popped up almost immediately.

When you set your effin' passcode to the next worst thing after 1234, compadre

Another bubble from Pidge, then: You like your surprise? with the emoji blowing a kiss.

Keith sent back stalker

And received Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeith in return.

He laughed. Sent:

what

Don't make me come over there and cut your dumb mullet off

I will

I know where you sleep

creep

Only when provoked

Keith didn't know what to say. Should he own up to it? Pidge already knew, she was only after confirmation. And whether he told her outright, stopped responding, or faked a denial she would have her answer. She wasn't stupid.

how about an exchange

Color me intrigued~

Quid pro quo

Name your price, gamemaster

He took a deep breath.

I like my surprise

would he

The thirty seconds that followed were agonizing. His heart hammered in his chest, going so fast he could barely breathe. It took too long for Pidge's response bubble to pop up, especially given how fast she'd replied before. Those three blinking dots almost sent Keith to his death while he waited for them to become words.

And he died when they did.

Oh yeah

Keith's everything short circuited. When he blinked back into conscious existence, he had several more messages from Pidge.

Don't tell him I told you

He'd wreck my whole shit

Keith

If you tell him

Your mullet won't be the only thing I cut off

Keith stared at the kissy face emoji at the bottom of those texts. More popped up before he could configure a response.

In fact, I'm deleting the texts right now

Bye-bye incriminating evidence

I hope Keith deletes you from his phone, too

So I don't have to delete certain parts of his anatomy

pidge are you serious

That I will physically harm you? Yes

But also

Yes

If he had thought his heart had been beating hard before, he'd thought wrong. He almost couldn't think or see straight with how quickly it was going now. Pidge was a tease, yes, but not this kind of tease. She wouldn't lie to him, fabricate an elaborate story to get a jibe in. That wasn't her style. No, if anything she was simply making use of material already in front of her.

oh my god

Pretty much

pidge oh my GOD

More texts for you to delete:

Seriously. Delete them.

Lance is a lost cause when it comes to follow through

It might be up to you

Keith drew in a deep, deep breath. Up to him? He knew what she meant, but up to him? There were massive implications behind that phrase, the largest and most intimidating being the idea that Lance wanted follow through.

Keith's mind raced—raced through recollections of the boy in question. Lance leaning into the frame of Keith's camera on the beach in Crescent City. Lance playing "Havana" on a borrowed guitar. Lance under the lights of the chair-o-plane, getting tackled by Pidge in the woods, watching Keith's films, following him out of the Denny's, landing a hit on Zethrid at the zoo, letting Keith bandage him afterward. Lance right beside him all the way on the Fireball. Lance on another beach, in another frame, looking at a hermit crab with those blue, blue, blue, blue, blue, blue eyes.

Christ.

A new message popped up on his screen.

I'm going to WinCo. Do you want anything?

no why

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

what the hell pidge

But she stopped replying after that.


Keith had a difficult time shaking off the resulting gay panic. He paced the length of his room for ten minutes until his alarm buzzed. He threw himself into a set of clothes for the day and left the trailer without saying a word to Shiro. He swept through the office, clocked in, checked the team leader schedule for no reason, and stood flipping through the papers for a length of time he couldn't determine because he'd noticed Lance's name on the employee schedule next to it and remembered how seeing that text from Pidge had made him feel. That had short circuited him again.

"Keith…?"

Startling, he turned to look at Allura, who was seated behind her desk.

"Are you all right?"

He swallowed, nodded. She returned him with an expression of disbelief, but didn't press.

"Thank you for allowing me to come along with you last night," she said. "It's been too long since I spent time with people my own age."

"Anytime," Keith replied.

"I'd love to see that footage you shot," she said.

"Uh-huh."

The two syllables went shrill. Most of that footage was of Lance. Lance on the beach, which seemed his natural habitat. Lance in the water, which seemed an extension of his body. Lance and sea. Lance and sand. Lance and sky. Christ.

Was Pidge really telling the truth?

He found himself wanting to doubt her as he left the office and made his way toward the fairgrounds to begin his shift. Then he found himself literally running into her behind one of the freezer trucks for food storage. She screamed, raising a hammer in defense. Keith jumped back, putting his hands up.

"Where did you come from?!" she cried.

"Where did you come from?" he replied. "Why do you have a hammer?"

Her eyes flicked to the tool in her hands, then she hid it behind her back, tucking it into her pants.

"Don't worry about it," she said.

The two of them regarded each other for a moment. Neither wanted to be the first to address the elephant, but Keith couldn't let the subject go. Just as he opened his mouth, Pidge spoke.

"Give me your phone," she said.

"What?"

She put her hand out and motioned with her fingers. "Gimme."

Stunned, Keith obeyed, fishing his phone from his back pocket and passing it to Pidge. She typed in his passcode, then rolled her eyes.

"How'd I know you wouldn't change it," she grumbled. She clicked through for several seconds before handing it back to him with a pointed grin. "Evidence gone."

Keith looked at the screen—open to the text feed between him and Pidge. Now it only displayed the conversation about her going to WinCo. She snatched the phone back before he could comment or question.

"Better delete this too…" she said.

The next time his phone landed in his hand, the text feed was blank.

"What the hell, Pidge?"

She shrugged, grabbing at the hammer before it could slip too far down the back of her pants. Again, they regarded each other. Now was his chance.

"Were you…um…" Keith's face flushed, and he turned his eyes toward his feet. "Were you telling the truth?"

Pidge was silent.

Keith held his breath.

He kept his gaze on his shoes for as long as he could bear before finally raising his head to look at her. The look on Pidge's face surprised him. She'd turned serious, stony. Solemn. It was the most adult he'd seen her look the entire time they'd known each other. She held his eye.

"I don't give a shit about most things, but this—" She gestured between the two of them with her hammer, then at their surroundings. "—is a line I wouldn't cross."

He didn't know what to say.

"Here's the thing, my dude," Pidge said. Folding her arms, hammer and all, she leaned against the side of the freezer truck. "Whatever is going on between the two of you, I've never seen Lance like this."

"Nothing's—"

"Zip it."

Keith pressed his lips together.

"I know my role as friend and secret-keeper," she continued. "And in spite of what you may view as evidence to the contrary, I take that role very seriously. He's my best friend." She raised her eyebrows as if to impress that point upon him. "And I am privy to…certain information…not everybody else is and I know that that's a big deal, capisce?"

Keith nodded.

"But being Lance's best friend, I also know that he's an idiot."

A helpless laugh fell from Keith's mouth. Pidge smiled.

"He's never dated a guy before," she said with a shrug. "I don't think he really knows what to do, and…given the way he interacts with you, I didn't want to see him let a good thing slip away because he was too afraid to do something about it."

Sighing, she turned her gaze to the middle distance and squinted.

"Though I may have officially overstepped."

Keith shook his head in a hurry. "No," he interjected.

Her eyes flicked to him and she offered a sly smile. Blushing, clearing his throat, Keith took a step back.

"I mean…thanks."

"Sure," Pidge replied, still smiling. "Don't forget though…" She brandished the hammer in a vaguely threatening way. "…if you tell him I said anything…"

"Bodily harm," Keith replied. "Understood."

"You catch on so quickly."

She patted his arm, then moved away, trotting down the remainder of the freezer truck like she hadn't just promised to hurt him. At the end, she turned around and hollered.

"And for god's sake make it soon! I'm dying over here."

Keith blushed, and Pidge disappeared around the end of the truck with a gleeful cackle.

Their second conversation only doubled the gay panic induced by the first.


He stayed out of sorts the whole first half of his shift. Between his dream and new knowledge, Keith struggled to process much of anything. He ate lunch with Romelle. They talked about things he couldn't remember. Then he went back to work. And Lance was there.

Shiro had stationed him on the chair-o-plane again, and when Keith looked, he saw for a moment a flash of that first night the carnival had been open. Darkness and lights.

Then Lance looked his direction and all he could see was blue.

When Keith resurfaced, he was standing in the doorframe of the operator's booth. Words were spilling from his mouth, but he was unconscious of them, whatever they were. Lance was so close and, god, so gorgeous. Like knowing he liked Keith back had somehow made him more attractive. Or like he knew that Keith knew and had decided to make himself more attractive. Or something. Jesus H. Christ. Lance's features were so sharp. Keith found himself fantasizing about running his tongue along the line of that jaw.

"Earth to Keith, come in Keith."

Keith snapped back to attention, and Lance laughed—a sound that made Keith's knees go weak.

"Can I, like, do my job?" Lance asked with a chuckle, pointing out the doorway. He needed to go let the next round of riders on the chair-o-plane.

Nodding, Keith feebly stepped to the side to let Lance pass and took a deep breath once he was gone. The guy seemed collected, totally nonplussed by Keith's presence. Not at all like how Keith felt. His mind flicked again through both conversations with Pidge, searching for a reason to doubt her. He couldn't find one. His eyes flicked to Lance, now checking everybody's seatbelts on their swings. His heart pinched.

He didn't deserve someone like Lance—somebody cheerful and kind. Not Keith with his metric ton of baggage and flair for the dramatic. He'd drain all that kindness in a matter of minutes, like pulling the plug on a bathtub. Good will only lasted so long, and Keith had bled more than one person dry with his shit. It was why he'd started keeping people at a distance. Not for his sake—but for theirs.

Suddenly, Lance was slipping by him, and he smelled so clean. Keith stared, overwhelmed, while Lance gave the ride start-up speech and pressed the button to make it go. He leaned against the stool in the booth and his lips moved again, but Keith didn't hear what he said until,

"You okay, man?"

"Huh?"

"Did something happen this morning?"

Oh, things had happened.

"I thought maybe Zarkon finally getting here would mean his crew would back off, but…" Lance shrugged. "Everything's just gotten worse."

Keith let his breath out. "Zarkon's the root of it all, really," he said, grateful for the cover.

Lance nodded. "Yeah. The energy's weird. More intense."

Keith had to agree with him.

"Do you think things will go bad for us once they open? Or will they be too busy?"

"Zarkon's never too busy to give us the finger," Keith replied.

With an angry laugh, Lance shook his head. "I wish I had it in me to, like, do something, you know?"

Keith's heart thudded. "You did."

Lance looked at him, brows raised, and it took everything in Keith not to get trapped in those eyes.

"Zethrid was pissed enough to give Lotor an accurate description of you," he said. "Usually she wouldn't pay attention to somebody she fought, but Lotor recognized you. Which means she must have talked about you a lot."

Lance had also done a decent amount of firefighting when it came to Keith-related drama, plenty of talking him down, so much listening. Nobody had ever really asked how Keith had felt following the fallout with Acxa. Nobody had ever followed him away from a group of people when he abandoned conversations, much less done so multiple times. It made Keith's heart constrict. Already he was bleeding Lance dry.

"Doesn't feel like enough," Lance said with a shrug.

Keith's heart constricted again. "It was."

Lance turned his eyes to Keith, and this time Keith did get lost. Those irises were bright, blindingly so. Keith couldn't see anything else—like lying in an open field and looking up at the sky. It hurt for a reason he couldn't explain.

"Let me know when you want to take your fifteen," he heard himself say, distant and muffled. Underwater.

"Cool," Lance replied. His own voice was vibrant.

Keith left before he could drown.


The revelation's intensity gradually eased. Keith spent the rest of Sunday in a daze, but woke Monday with his head less fuzzy. He was careful around Lance—observing everything and saying nothing. While he believed Pidge, he'd begun to wonder if he did because she was reliable, or because he wanted what she'd said to be true. Surprise, surprise, Keith had trust issues. And was far from an expert in any social situation.

Come Tuesday, he was desperate for solitude. A clear head. He packed his film equipment and asked Coran if he could borrow a car. Half an hour later, Keith pulled into the empty parking lot at Trinidad State Beach and sat in the silence for a moment, his head against the headrest, eyes tracing the lines and pines of the mound of land that jutted into the water and framed one end of the beach.

When he got out of the car and put the pieces of his camera together, he took himself to the hiking trail, which circled that mound, rather than going to the beach. He walked the trail, climbing in elevation, until he arrived at a bench with a view of the cove.

The wind blew through his hair and across his ears, filling his head with white noise. His breath was deep with exercise but not exertion. Keith sat, set up a tripod, trained his camera on the cove. Then he pulled out a notebook and wrote.

Scripts, when they did come, came easily. This was not one of those days.

Keith still didn't know what he wanted to say, what this new piece was even about. He'd told Pidge water, but that was more a visual motif. What about water? What did water mean?

A list of words populated on his notebook page.

Rebirth, purity, flow, rain, hurricane, ocean, river, lake, waterfall, force, power, blue, green, white, rapids, drowning, sailing, the unknown

He circled that last one. Readjusted his shot.

In frame: the ocean until it became horizon.

Keith kept writing.

Dear Dad,

I don't know why we start stuff like this with "dear" but it feels wrong to use anything else. Wherever you are, I hope it's nice. I hope you're happy.

I don't know if I think you're anywhere. I haven't decided yet. It's hard to let go of the idea of life after death because the second you let go, there's nothing. "Nothing" is more terrifying to me than the concept of heaven and hell. At least if you're in hell, you still exist. You didn't just wink out of the universe. If there is a hell, though, I'd have a hard time believing you were in it. That's not where higher powers send people who run into burning buildings to save other people's children.

I don't know if I've forgiven you for that yet. I think it messed me up a lot, but maybe I just want something to blame my shit on that doesn't have anything to do with me. If it's someone else's fault that I behave the way I do, then maybe that will absolve me of responsibility. Maybe I'll end up in heaven and they'll transfer you to hell. I had a foster parent once who talked about that incessantly—the sins of the children answered upon the heads of the fathers or something.

I don't know if that's the case, but if it is, I'm sorry. You'll probably have a lot of answering to do.

Keith looked up. The sound of the wind changed with the angle of his head. He stared over the water and the breeze stung his eyes. He swallowed, drew in a deep breath of salty air, and released it. Finished his letter.

Your son,

Keith

He sat still for a while after that, letting his thoughts drift across his mind without grabbing hold of any of them. He watched the waves in their never-ending procession to the shore—the crest, the crash, the recession. Waves had been beating against the coast for so many thousands of years, they'd turned rock into sand. Dust to dust, but beaches were beautiful. Nobody looked at a beach and saw slow destruction. Nobody but Keith.

Again, with the dramatics.

Rising, he hiked back down the trail, then across the beach itself, pausing here and there to frame and film whatever caught his eye. Unthinking, but focused—lost in the process of nebulous creation.

When he returned to the fairgrounds, something about the atmosphere was off. Part of him wanted to restart the car and maybe just drive it north until it ran out of gas, but then he caught sight of Lotor following Allura through the parking lot, the latter fumbling with a set of keys and looking ready to combust as she moved in swift escape, the former with his hands out in embarrassing supplication.

Keith got out of the car.

"Hey," he called—the first he'd spoken in hours. "Back off."

Both Allura and Lotor looked up with a start. Allura's face flashed with relief and she altered course to put herself alongside Keith. Lotor looked nervous for but an instant, covering the alarm up with one of his smiles.

"Keith, you're looking well."

"Go to hell."

Lotor's next step stuttered. Allura reached Keith, and together the two of them regarded the young man from a distance he no longer seemed keen to cross.

"He claims he learned what our meeting with Zarkon was about and that he wants to agree to Coran's terms," Allura said in a hissing whisper. "I asked him to leave, but he wouldn't."

It was rare to see Allura flustered, but if there was one person in the world who got under her skin, it was Lotor. He must have been at the carnival for some time given the state she was in. How far had he had to push her before she'd grabbed a set of keys and set off to find a car to escape him? Keith glanced at the keyring she was carrying. None of them were for vehicles.

"Here," Keith said, pressing the key for the car he'd borrowed into her hand.

"Thank you, Keith," Allura breathed. She climbed into the driver's seat without any hesitation. All of Keith's equipment was still on the passenger side, but it'd be safe with Allura.

"Wait—" Lotor said, taking a step forward.

Keith moved to block him, and Allura closed her door. She started the car, threw it into reverse, and left the lot in a cloud of gravel dust. Lotor and Keith stood staring at each other for some time after that.

"It was not my intent to harm her," Lotor said.

"Too late," Keith replied.

Lotor's expression hardened. "Surely you desire reconciliation as much as we do."

"Define 'we.'"

Unsurprisingly, Lotor ignored the imperative. He stepped closer to Keith and looked down at him, eyes full of something between disdain and superiority.

"This is not a battle your pathetic excuse for a carnival will ever win," Lotor growled. "It is not in your best interest to refuse me."

"Leave."

Lotor opened his mouth.

"Leave."

Keith knew how to be menacing when he wanted, and he channeled all of his energy then. Lotor's eyes flashed—afraid perhaps—and he fell silent. Keith wondered how he must have looked from the outside. He felt feral. The threat worked on Lotor for a moment, but the young man soon squared his shoulders and straightened his back. He stepped up to Keith and took hold of his face in one hand, pressing sharp fingers into Keith's cheeks.

"Such a pity to see a face as lovely as yours look so ugly, Keith," Lotor said.

Keith shoved him off. "Touch me again—"

Laughing, Lotor did exactly that, grasping Keith's jaw with his other hand. Keith slapped his arm away with a snarl. It only made Lotor smile.

"So much fire."

So much for a clear head.

Keith grabbed a fistful of Lotor's shirt and yanked the guy forward. Bearing his teeth, he glared into Lotor's face, now a mere inch from his own.

"Then you should leave before you get burned."

He released his grip and shoved Lotor back. Lotor smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt, never breaking eye contact. His smile had finally faltered, however. That was enough to let Keith know he'd won. Saying nothing, Lotor simply nodded and walked away. Keith kept his eyes on his back until he disappeared from sight.


Allura returned half an hour later and dropped Keith's equipment off to him. He could tell she wasn't in the mood to discuss what had happened with Lotor, so he thanked her. And she thanked him. And the two of them stood in silence in front of Keith's trailer for a moment before Allura sighed.

"I shouldn't have let him get the better of me," she said.

"They get the better of me all the time," Keith replied with a self-deprecating smile.

"We ought to try to keep contact to a minimum until we leave next week."

Keith nodded, but it was not to be. Lotor returned that night as well, and he brought company. Keith found out when someone rapped their knuckles on his window from outside and scared the shit out of him. The jumpscare was enough, but the words that followed had Keith's pulse spiking double.

"Acxa's here," Shiro announced. "With Lotor. Fair warning. They all are. You may want to stay in."

"What?" Keith called.

But Shiro didn't reply.

"Shiro, what? What the hell?"

Keith got up from his bed where he'd been reviewing the footage he'd shot that day and went to the window, but when he pulled the blinds, nobody was there. Another pulse spike. He peered around, wondering if he'd imagined it, morbidly curious, but also incredibly wary. If Acxa really was at the carnival…

Thirty minutes later, Keith had thrown a jacket on and swept into the fairgrounds, still having yet to learn some self-care.

The bastards weren't hard to find—in line for the Ferris wheel—all four of them with smug looks on their faces, Ezor shoveling a bucket of popcorn into her mouth. As paying guests, they'd be safe from getting kicked out of the carnival as long as they behaved themselves. Keith should have known they'd pull a stunt like this eventually, and had probably exacerbated the situation that afternoon during his interaction with Lotor. He nearly marched straight up to them to start some shit, Allura's warning entirely forgotten, but an additional surprise startled him into stillness.

Lance and Pidge and Hunk were in line for the Ferris wheel as well. With equally smug looks on their faces. Pidge flagged Keith down.

"Hey! Youthanasia! Come ride the Ferris wheel with us!"

Bewildered, Keith covered the rest of the distance and joined his coworkers at the back of the line. Lotor, Acxa, Zethrid, and Ezor all glared, but Pidge and Hunk and Lance made a big show of ignoring their irritation. Keith glanced between both groups, but neither seemed willing to acknowledge the other. Pidge clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"We decided to sample the Carnival of Lions' offerings tonight," she said. "After the Fireball contest, we realized that we really should be more familiar with the rides and games and whatnot."

"Okay…"

Keith lifted his gaze from Pidge, and his eyes fell on Acxa. She looked away with a glare.

Pidge rattled off a spiel about how it was their duty as employees to be able to recommend the best experience to their guests, and how there was no better way to spend their day off than in pursuit of better job performance. Keith didn't listen. He couldn't really hear her. Not over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. The situation was too volatile. Too much tinder. So many people willing to spark a flame. Keith and Acxa. Keith and Zethrid. Zethrid and Lance. Lotor and everybody.

Lost in the bad energy, Keith didn't notice the line had moved forward until he found himself one away from the loading platform and Lance somehow that one. He glanced back at Pidge in a panic, and she ducked behind Hunk with a grin.

So Keith wound up in a gondola with Lance, both of them seated with as much distance between them as they could manage—Zethrid and Ezor above them, Hunk and Pidge below.

"We've been following Lotor's posse around since they got here," Lance said once the ride was in motion. His voice was muffled by his hand, on which he'd propped his chin to pointedly focus in the direction opposite Keith.

"You what?"

Startling, Lance looked at Keith and shrugged. "We haven't said anything."

Keith stared.

"We just wanted to make sure they didn't, like, do anything, you know? And it also happened to be the perfect way to piss them off, so…"

Keith continued to stare. He couldn't stop. His heart beat so loud and hard in his chest he would swear the whole fairgrounds could hear it. Why? What right did this idiot have to be so wonderful? Why did he care at all? The fight with Lotor wasn't his fight. None of it was. The beef with Zarkon was old and stale and it didn't belong to Lance. But there he was, throwing himself into the fray of his own volition. Steady and loyal. Ready to bite.

Keith had scarcely drawn breath than his nose was inches from Lance's. He didn't know what he was doing, where this was going, but he didn't miss the way Lance's own breath hitched. It made a grin unfurl on his mouth.

Then something landed on his head.

Keith looked up in time to take the next piece of popcorn in the eye. Above them, Ezor snorted. She made little effort to be discreet as she aimed another kernel at the pair of them.

"Hi, Mr. Flippity," she chimed. "Hi, Mama Bear!"

Opening his mouth, Keith drew in a breath to shout at her, but Lance put his hand out, almost touching Keith's chest.

"Don't," he said.

Keith's eyes flicked to Lance's hand. Lance noticed how close his limb was and withdrew it with a blush. Both of them swallowed. A couple more pieces of popcorn dropped onto the seat between them. Ezor giggled.

"Cloudy with a chance of kernels!"

Their gondolas crested the Ferris wheel then and started down the other side, putting Zethrid and Ezor below them rather than above. Keith glanced up and noticed Pidge peeking over the edge of her gondola. She stuck her arm out and gave him a thumbs up. He shook his head at her.

He and Lance sat in tense silence until their gondola started to ascend once more, when their silence was broken by Ezor.

"You boys hungry?" she asked.

They ignored her.

"Hey! I asked you a question!"

Keith's hands clenched. Lance looked at him, brows drawn together.

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore people?"

An entire bucket of popcorn spilled onto their heads. The bucket itself was not far behind. It bounced off the side of their cart and continued to fall. So did some of the popcorn. The patrons in the lower gondolas shouted at them, and Ezor started to laugh. Keith couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"What the hell is your problem?!"

Ezor clapped her hands together. "Yes! Got him!"

"You're the problem, Kogane," Zethrid hollered. "Sending your little friends to babysit. Siccing your dog on us at the zoo."

They went over the top of the Ferris wheel again, so Keith had to lean over the front of the cart to shout, "I didn't do that! Why the hell are you here in the first place? What did you expect?"

"We're customers, we should be able to enjoy the carnival same as anybody else," Ezor replied with a pout.

Keith glared. "Oh, shut up, Ezor, we both know you're not here for the carnival."

"What is going on up there?" Lotor called from beneath Ezor and Zethrid.

Nobody gratified him with a response. Instead, Keith pushed the popcorn on the seat from the cart. His timing was off, however, and the kernels missed them, landing harmlessly on the ride platform as the cart moved past the loading area. He craned his neck to look above as the two of them looked down.

"Watch it, Kogane," Zethrid snarled.

"I didn't start this," Keith replied.

"Course you did," Ezor said. "It all started with you."

"Shut up."

Zethrid glared. "Don't tell her to shut up."

"I'll do whatever the f—"

The word died the instant a wad of spit and phlegm connected with the bridge of Keith's nose. His eyes snapped shut, shocked. Ringing in his ears. He dissociated for a moment while his hand reached up to wipe the spit from his face. When his eyes opened, they locked with Zethrid's—glinting and grinning victorious. Had his blood not already been boiling, that certainly would have done it.

"Oh my god."

He'd forgotten Lance was there.

"Oh my god," Lance said again. "Keith…?"

But this was the wheel's last cycle, and the second the operator had opened the door to their cart, Keith took off across the platform and hunted Zethrid down through the crowd like a wolf after a rabbit. He grabbed her shoulder and whipped her around. She went into defense mode, snarling and shrugging him off.

"Apologize," Keith barked.

"Like shit," Zethrid replied.

"Apologize! Now!"

She laughed at him, and the sound took Keith back to high school. Back to the one thousand and one times she'd taunted him then. Back to the helplessness and the fury. Christ, he wanted to do something—anything—to make that feeling go away. He was so goddamn sick of being helpless. His lip curled up to expose his teeth. That just made her laugh again.

"No," she said.

Keith almost let go. He was a hair's breadth away from relinquishing control and letting whatever was going to happen, happen. Dive headfirst into the unknown, let the invisible liquid of fate turn him upside down or inside out or tear him limb from limb. He didn't care.

Then something happened that he did not expect.

Lance stepped up beside him. Then Pidge. Then Hunk.

"I think you should leave," Lance said.

Lotor, Acxa, and Ezor appeared behind Zethrid, evidently having just noticed she wasn't with them.

"You can't make me," she snapped.

Pidge shrugged. "No, but if you start a scene that might change." She smiled when Zethrid narrowed her eyes. "I played comp soccer as a kid and I have an older brother. I know how to fake an injury."

While the threat wasn't particularly menacing, the way Pidge said it would have sent chills down anyone's spine. Frowning, Zethrid took a step back. Lotor and the others moved forward to flank her. A stalemate followed during which the two groups sized each other up. Waited. Wondered who would break first.

It was Acxa.

Keith's heart dropped into his stomach as she shifted away from Lotor and came toward him. She held his eye. As much as Keith wanted to, he couldn't look away.

Then there was a hand in his.

And his fingers closed around Lance's reflexively.

"Go," Lance said.

Whatever Acxa had been about to say, she swallowed it. Her gaze flicked to Lance. She nodded at him—once, curt. Then she turned around and walked away, hissing something at Lotor and the others as she passed them. With a few final glares, they fell away, trailing after Acxa and disappearing into the crowd. Keith let his breath out.

"Man, those guys are nasty," Hunk said, shaking his head.

"Grade A garbage," Pidge agreed. "Literal dumpster fires."

Lance dipped his head to catch Keith's gaze. "You okay?"

Nodding, Keith looked up, and his eyes connected with Lance's. The dawning weight and warmth of their hands finally came clear to the both of them, and they let go with a start. Lance flushed. Keith fought not to lean forward and kiss those bright red cheeks.

"We should go make sure they actually leave the property," Pidge said.

She started off, and Hunk followed suit, followed shortly thereafter by Lance. The latter gave Keith a lingering look as we walked away.

Keith stared at that picture of the two of them Pidge had set as his phone background for fifteen minutes before he went to sleep that night.


Zarkon's Family Fun Fare opened on Thursday. Attendance at the Carnival of Lions, which had been steadily declining regardless, dropped by half. Things were worse on Friday. The carnival managed to break even on operating costs, but failed to turn a profit. Saturday put them in the red. By Sunday, Coran had decided it would be more profitable for the carnival to pack up and leave for San Francisco early than to stay on and try to compete with Zarkon.

"I'd rather invest in last minute booking fees than risk another day like yesterday," he said at the team leader meeting that morning.

"Are our next fairgrounds even available?" Allura asked.

"I've sent word to the advance team," Coran replied. "We should hear back by this afternoon."

They did, and they were, so the Carnival of Lions prepared to strike that night.

"I don't know, man," Hunk said, chatting with Keith as the two of them dismantled the Gravitron. "It just kind of feels like we're turning tail. I think it's the right choice, but it does make me wish they weren't getting the last laugh."

"Even if we weren't leaving, they would have found a way," Keith replied. "Trust me."

"Can I interest you gentlemen in a bottle of water?" Pidge called, approaching with a basket of Dasani, which she chucked at their heads when they nodded. Climbing onto the ride, she sat down and made herself comfortable. "What are we talking about?"

"Zarkon getting the last laugh," Hunk replied.

Pidge grinned. "Oh. Don't even worry about that."

"Why?" Hunk frowned. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," she responded. "But speaking of planning, any chance I can talk the Best Driver in the Whole Wide World to drive me through a Redwood tree on our way to San Francisco?" Clasping her hands together, she batted her eyelashes at Keith.

He chuckled. "Only if you promise to drop the 'best driver' thing."

She opened her hands. "Consider it dropped. Like so many undeserving TV shows."

"What?"

"Don't, man," Hunk warned. "Or she'll never shut up about Dollhouse."

"That is Joss Whedon's best work and you can fight me," Pidge said.

Hunk drew in the world's deepest breath to respond, so Keith jumped in before the conversation could turn into an all-out debate.

"I think there are a couple drive-thru trees on the route to San Francisco. I'll make it happen."

Leaping to her feet, Pidge pumped a fist in the air. "Yes! God bless you, Keith."

He shook his head with a smile. "You're welcome."

She scampered off, and Keith exchanged expressions with Hunk before they got back to work. Quiet for a moment, then Keith asked a question.

"She really thinks Dollhouse is better than Buffy?"

Hunk just laughed.


The carnival finished packing around six o'clock, ready for departure the following morning. Shiro insisted on hosting a staff party at their trailer to boost morale, and Keith didn't have the heart to tell him no. He did, however, lurk in his room until he heard Hunk's voice outside. His pulse raced. Because Hunk undoubtedly meant Lance.

Rising, Keith went to his door, but lingered a moment with his hand on the knob.

How many days had it been since Pidge had let the cat out of the bag? How many days had it been since the incident on the Ferris wheel? Keith's stomach turned. How many more days would he waste dreaming about Lance instead of talking to him?

He forced himself to leave his room, then forced himself to leave the trailer. The gathering for Shiro's party so far was modest, but Keith knew the numbers would grow. He stood on the top step and surveyed the group for Hunk, but his eyes fell on Lance first. The sickening elation that twisted his gut made him want to strangle something. It hurt, looking at Lance. He didn't know how to make it not hurt anymore.

Pidge wasn't with them, so at least he had a decent conversation starter.

"You leave the kids at home?" he asked, trying to convince himself he was being funny by putting on a wry smile. The question earned a chuckle from Hunk, but nothing from Lance. The latter turned at Keith's approach and stayed silent.

"Actually, neither of us know where Pidge went," Hunk replied.

"Ominous," Keith replied. He swallowed, trying to ignore the way Lance was staring at him. A fruitless effort, honestly.

Hunk shrugged. "She'll turn up."

"She'd better. I spent an hour researching the stupid drive-thru trees."

That broke Lance out of his stillness. "We're driving through a redwood tomorrow?" he asked, face lighting up. The expression made Keith's heart ache.

"Uh-huh," he said.

Romelle arrived and rescued Keith from his lack of anything else to say. She had plenty, as she always did, and the four of them found a place to sit and settled into easy conversation. Keith contributed where he could, but was largely lost in Lance. He was so pretty. And so nice. And their hands fit together perfectly. And he liked Keith back. But… Keith was a disaster. A wildfire only partially contained. A change in the wind, another loose spark, and he'd burn mile after mile after mile. And Lance was water, yes, but was he enough? Keith was certain Lance would take the shape of whatever held him. Was that too much pressure? It was one vast, unknown expanse.

An ocean.

Keith wished he could see beyond the horizon.

The night wore on, and he watched Lance. The party grew, and he wondered what would happen if they had a moment alone.

It came when the party broke up at Shiro's behest. They needed their rest for the drive tomorrow, he said. The staff cleared off. A few stayed to help clean up. Keith found himself disassembling the awning with Lance, everyone else inside doing dishes.

They worked quickly and quietly. They'd set up and taken down plenty of rides together by then, and the awning was nothing in comparison. The confidence looked good on Lance—not the false bravado he sometimes exhibited, but a silent assurance that he knew what he was doing. It was silly, given the circumstances, but Keith didn't care.

"Thanks," he said once they were finished.

"Sure," Lance replied with a nod.

"No, I mean…for everything." Glancing at his feet, Keith swallowed. "You're…a really great friend."

Shit, did he just say friend?

With a start, he looked up at Lance, but however the statement had affected him, that effect was now gone. Instead, Lance had on a mask of a smile.

"Thanks," he said.

"No, no, no…shit, god. No. Damn it. That's not what I—"

The words died. Keith's face flushed. Close. Too close. Dangerously close. He had to play his cards right. He had to—

Christ, he knew nothing about playing cards.

"I just—I, I think you're a…cool. Yeah, okay, thanks, goodnight!"

He didn't give Lance the opportunity to respond, bolting inside, going straight for his room, hurling himself onto his bed, and burying his face in his pillow. His face was absolutely burning, and he groaned into the pillow. Why did he have to be such a dumbass?

Shiro knocked softly on his door a little while later.

"You awake?" he whispered.

Keith didn't respond.


At three AM, he woke from a dream he wouldn't remember to a text from Pidge that said:

Robin Hood strikes again!

New message dots, then:

Delete that


Author's Note: Apologies for the shit formatting on the text conversations, friends. FF's rich text editor is...not great. XD