How about that Coalition Handbook, huh? XD

It finally revealed the names of Lance's family, BUT I'm just sticking with the names I've got.

This chapter is full of fluffy, cringey tropes and nonsense and should be called: Everyone Ships It.

Not a LOT happens, but the next chapter is mostly written so I'll get that up in the next few days hopefully.

Thanks for all the comments/kudos! You guys are awesome.


Lance woke up, and the first thing he was aware of was his face—rising and falling.

The second was the warmth across his chest and down his legs.

He opened an eye, but his vision was blocked by a pale neck and chin. A tangle of dark hair. A familiar gray shirt.

Ah.

What the fuck.

Lance was sprawled on top of Keith, his cheek to the paladin's chest. Keith's legs rose on either side of him, one arm draped over Lance's back.

Lance didn't know which death would be quicker. Waking Keith, or slitting his own throat here and now.

He decided it'd be best to avoid death altogether and get the hell out of there before Keith stirred.

Furtively, Lance placed one hand next to Keith's head and slowly rose from the tangle. Keith made a soft sound of protest, and Lance stared down at him.

What.

What was that sound?

Keith's hair draped over his forehead and splayed against the pillow like a dark halo. Black lashes fluttered under heavy eyebrows. His cheeks and nose were a little sunburned from yesterday, but not too red—he looked good with a little color. Especially with his face so...unconcerned, so gentle. It stunned Lance how someone so aggressive and reclusive could also be so soft…and warm…and…

"Comfy?"

Luis grinned down at him from the side of the couch, and Lance yelped, falling over in a mess of blankets and pillows.

Somehow, Keith didn't wake up.

Miracles are real.

Lance stood, glaring at his brother as he smoothed out the creases in his shirt. "Hey…uh, you the first one up?"

Luis grinned knowingly. "Hardly."


OoO


Lance drove—and then carried—Diego to school with his sister. He did so as a favor to Liz. But also because he needed to clear his head.

He had too much Keith on the brain.

He'd slept in the same bed with Keith several times now. But last night, he'd witnessed the violence of his night terrors first-hand. He'd seen what they had done to Keith.

Were any of the other paladins going through this? They'd all seen him die, hadn't they?

Was Keith the only one still tormented by that day?

Honestly, Lance hadn't thought he even meant that much to Keith, not for him to be haunted like this anyway. They'd barely spoken to each other after Lotor. They'd hardly spent any time together until that night on Portux.

Lance had thought he wasn't important to him. Keith had left the team, after all. He'd left Lance.

But Lance's near-death experience had been a catalyst, and suddenly, everything was different.

Suddenly Keith was present in Lance's life, more than ever before. Keith wanted to be there for him—he'd said so himself. And he had been.

He'd also allowed Lance to see his vulnerable side, and he'd opened up to him about his past. Things Lance never thought he'd be privy to…

And suddenly Lance wanted to make Keith smile, not scowl. Suddenly Lance wanted to make him blush, not burn red with anger.

Instead of punching him, Lance wanted to touch him, hold him, lean in close and…

Lance hit the brakes, the old 55 Ford sliding to a rigid stop in the middle of the road.

Nope.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the image of Keith's bedhead, the warm press of his body…

Noooppppeeee.

He took a few more detours, driving down to his favorite beach spots, the pizza shack, drowning thoughts of Keith in waves of nostalgia. God he'd missed this place.

When he got home, Shiro was standing on his roof, shirtless and sweaty. He looked like an advertisement.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Lance inquired, very much confused.

Shiro grinned down at him. "I'm fixing a leak."

Lance glared at his mother, who stood in the archway with a dreamy look on her face. "Ma, Shiro is a guest. You can't put him to work."

"It's fine, Lance," Shiro said, raising an old shingle. "Got to earn my keep, right?"

Lance rolled his eyes. Shiro was such a boy scout.

"Be careful, Shiro. When you're done, go hide from my mom before she asks you to repair the bathroom sink, okay?"

His mother swatted at him with a wet rag as he passed her, murmuring Spanish threats.

"So…where is everyone?" Lance asked, knowing that the lack of screaming and thundering footsteps in the house meant one thing only—empty.

"They're all out, mijo," she said, turning around to clean the windowsill. "The girls took Allura to Havana. Krolia has been out with Liz since this morning."

"And…Keith?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"He's at the garage with Marco."

"Oh. Right." It was Monday. He'd told Keith he would take him there. Of course he'd gone on without him—because he was an asshole.

An asshole Lance did not have a crush on.

"Why don't you take him lunch?" his mother suggested, nodding her head at the brown paper bag sitting on top of the kitchen counter. A neutral expression on her face.

Too neutral.

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Is that for Marco and his coworkers as well?"

She blinked at him innocently. "No. Just the two of you boys."

Lance opened the bag and peeked at the contents. He looked at her again. Suspicious.

She smiled kindly, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eye. Lance didn't like it, but he wasn't about to pass up homemade food. Even if it was made with ulterior motives.

"Thanks, ma," he said, and he kissed her cheek on his way out, bag in tow.

He was all the way to the gate when she called, "Have a nice date, mijo!"

Aaand there it was.


OoO


Lance stood before the old garage, a building surrounded by piles of rusted junk metal and industrial garbage. It had been his playground as a child, much to his mother's chagrin. Lance had spent hours looking through the scraps, scavenging for useful tools for his dad. He even tried to build his own metal rocket out here.

But he'd never been the genius in the family, so he'd given up as soon as Luis and Veronica told him he'd need engine fuel and thrusters and all sorts of other nonsense. He'd leave the building to his siblings.

New cars were too expensive for locals, so most Cubans kept their old cars and continued fixing them up for as long as they possibly could. That meant Marco's business did really well, and it was actually responsible for keeping a majority of the fleet alive and running.

Just like most private businesses though, it was tough finding the replacement parts and tools to keep the business kicking. If Marco needed original or reproduction parts, he'd have to buy from a middleman in Miami who had an outlandish markup. Lance would always try and bring his brother home anything he could from the Garrison and American car shops. But it wasn't a long term solution.

Innovation was.

Marco often had to swap out parts of different car brands. Sometimes he even had to pick apart old lawn mowers and electric chainsaws for the equipment he needed. Rusting sheet metal was often replaced with washing machine or refrigerator shells. Creativity was critical down here.

And Lance missed that. In America life was just...easy. But in Cuba, his family had to constantly develop their problem-solving skills. They never had it easy—they probably never would. And something about that work ethic, that challenge to get by...Lance had grown to love it. It made him proud.

Lance stopped in the middle of the garage, staring up at the framed picture hanging on the wall. His father's face smiling down at him.

Lance remembered when his brother and father would watch U.S. auto repair shows on TV, learning what they could, admiring all the advanced and abundant technology in other parts of the world. His father used to pray for the day the sanctions were lifted and his shop could thrive under open trade.

Sadly, that day never came.

But his father had still left his mark. This place had kept their family under a large, sturdy roof. It had saved locals from making investments that would have thrust them into debt. It had taught Lance patience and imagination.

It was in this shop that he'd learned that the craziest, stupidest ideas were sometimes the best ideas.

A worker slid out from under the old Chevy truck beside him, and Lance started.

He did a double-take when he realized it was Keith.

He was covered in grease, and a white bandana kept his hair out of his face. He wore his fingerless gloves and a gray tank top that showed off his shoulders. A pair of worker's overalls were tied off at his hips, the bottoms tucked into Keith's stupid boots.

He blinked at Lance, sitting up from the creeper. "Hey."

Lance could feel himself spiraling into a very gay crisis. "Do you know what you're doing down there, Fonzie?"

Keith grinned. He fished around in his pocket and tossed Lance the keys. "You tell me."

Ohmyfuckinggod.

This was not allowed?

Who told him he was allowed to look like that while speaking in that baritone? Was the universe testing him?

"Why is my family putting all my friends to work?" Lance muttered, dragging his eyes away from Keith's body to search for his brother. "Marco? Explain yourself!"

The young man appeared out of the back, carrying an old tire over his shoulder. "Keith volunteered. And he's good! Knows more about these newer models than I do."

"Newer as in anything not made in the 1950s…" Lance said dryly.

"Yep."

Lance glanced back at Keith, who shrugged. "My dad owned a Chevy," he explained. "We used to work on it together a lot…so I thought I'd give this a shot."

Lance eyed him skeptically, but he walked around to the driver's side and stuck the keys in the ignition.

The truck coughed a few times before roaring to life.

"Guau! There she goes," Marco commended, grinning. "You sure you want to be a paladin of Voltron, Keith? I could take you on here. And my job actually pays."

Lance glared at him. "Keith's not for sale, Marco! God, you're just as bad as Mom."

His brother held up his hands, proclaiming innocence. He walked out the back door again with a broad smile.

Keith stood, wiping his hands on a greasy towel, and Lance tried not to let his eyes roam over his biceps again.

Keep your eyes up. Look at his stupid face. Just his face.

Just the smudge of soot on his cheek, parallel to the scar on the other side. Just the trail of sweat on his brow, the dark stray hairs falling over his face. Just his amused, pretty eyes, taking Lance in.

Bad plan.

"What?" Keith asked. "Am I gross?" He looked down at himself again, scowling at the grease stains.

"The grossest," Lance confirmed, hoping Keith couldn't detect the cognitive dissonance picking him apart. Panicking, he lifted the paper bag—his purpose for being here. "Hungry?"

Keith looked surprised. "Oh, yeah, actually. Unless…" He looked Lance over. "You didn't make it, did you?"

Lance slapped his hand to his chest. "Excuse you? I'm a fantastic cook, you Neanderthal."

Keith raised his brow like he didn't believe him.

"Don't look at me like that. It's true!"

"Then how come you never made anything for us when we were in space?"

"Uh one, because I am lazy. Two, because Hunk was our own critically-acclaimed chef?" Lance exclaimed. "Besides. I don't know how to cook with food goo or foreign spices. But I bet my chicken enchiladas would rock your socks off."

Keith smiled. "I bet they would."

Lance's eyes widened a sliver. He'd been expecting Keith to put him to the challenge. Not so readily accept his word as truth.

"Well…I'll make them for you sometime then," Lance decided softly. "If you want."

For once, he didn't feel the need to prove anything to Keith. He didn't need to impress him. He just wanted to make something he would enjoy. It was no Ropa Vieja, but Lance liked to think Keith would still appreciate the home-cooked meal.

Keith stared at him, mouth slightly parted, and Lance replayed the words over in his head.

Ah.

Quiznak.

"You know….like for you, and the team. All of us. Everybody. A big dinner with lots of people," Lance rambled.

"Right," Keith said, his expression already back to its auto-setting—sober disinterest. He took the bag out of Lance's hands and moved for the outdoor lunch table. He nodded for Lance to follow him.

"Right," Lance whispered to himself, wondering how he was possibly going to survive the rest of this trip.


OoO


Lance was good at being a brother. He was good at being a son. He was good at Earth things — playing music, surfing, partying, living life at its fullest. Those talents went unappreciated in space. But here, here they thrived.

Lance was in his element. He was happy.

And part of Keith loved seeing him like this. But it also hurt. Because Keith and the others couldn't make him this way. Voltron couldn't give him what he really needed.

And that stung.

Keith watched Lance sit on his board in the water and stare up at the sky, his body moving with the waves.

Keith's favorite thing about Cuba so far was its climate, and the fact that Lance hardly ever wore his shirt. Keith could admire his slim build and toned abdomen every day. He tried to memorize the hard planes of his chest, the way his back muscles contracted when he lifted his arms.

After this trip, he'd probably never see Lance shirtless again.

Allura sat beside Lance on her own board, trying to learn to surf as Keith had days prior. She was pretty good already. Apparently she'd done a lot of wind-surfing back on Altea as a kid.

Allura said something, and Lance fell onto his back, laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach in pain. Allura voiced her confusion, which seemed to make Lance laugh even harder.

"Is that look what I think it is?"

Oh no.

"Shiro, not this again," Keith complained, having come to expect his brother's torment regarding Lance.

Shiro hummed, smiling as he sat beside him on the beach. He was wearing his goddamn sunhat again. The thing was hideous. "You're just so obvious," he teased.

"I am not. Lance has no idea."

Shiro looked at him, amused. "Well yeah. Have you met Lance?"

Keith glared. He turned his attention to the white sand, digging his fingers into the soft grains. Maybe if he ignored him, Shiro would leave him and his unreciprocated feelings alone.

"Look, I know you're set on keeping these feelings inside. That's how you've always been," Shiro began. "But who knows how long this peace will last? In a few weeks, we'll be back in space. We'll be fighting a war again. Maybe you should take a risk and tell him how you feel. Now might be the best time. The only time."

Keith huffed bitterly. "Seriously, Shiro? You're going to lecture me about taking risks and telling people how I feel when your fiancé is out there and you won't even see him?"

Just like that, he'd snuffed out the light in Shiro's eyes. Burned them black. "It's not the same thing."

Keith narrowed his eyes. "It is, and you know it. What's the worst that could happen, Shiro?" The man looked away, pouting like a child. It was rare to see Shiro so irrational, so openly vulnerable. "You show up, tell him you still love him, and what? He either takes you back or he doesn't. But at least you'll know, right? You have a chance. And if it doesn't go well, you can go back to Voltron like before. You can both move on. I don't have that luxury, Shiro. If I say something, I have to live with that decision. I can't just run away like you."

Shiro whipped his head around, eyes flaring dangerously. "I'm not running away, Keith. I never did. I put the mission first, and Adam didn't get that." He said it slowly, firmly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself, not Keith. "If I go back to him now, tell him how I feel, and then wind up leaving him again for Voltron—you really think he's going to forgive me a third time?"

Keith grit his teeth. "I just want…I want you to be happy, Shiro. And I think Adam makes you happy."

Shiro shook his head, locking his hands together over his knees. "What about Lance? Doesn't he make you happy?"

"Happy. Confused. Angry. Exhausted. Annoyed. Furious…"

Shiro chuckled. "But he makes you feel, right?"

"Yeah. He makes me feel." A lot.

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Keith's eyes sought out Lance again. The paladin was riding a barrel this time, most likely showing off for Allura, who sat off to the side with a shit-eating grin on her face. Lance had underestimated the depth of the tube, and it tumbled over him, sending him under the breaking wave. When he surfaced, he was laughing his ass off and spitting water.

A genuine, boisterous laugh that carried down the beach.

He made Keith feel all right.

He made him ache.

"Listen, I know I'm not in the position to give you advice on love. But…before Adam and I got together, I was in the same boat as you. I didn't want to jeopardize our partnership by telling him how I felt. I was terrified of ruining what we had."

"…So what did you do?" Keith asked. How had Shiro gone from a state of complete terror to a state of engagement?

"I realized that just maybe Adam felt the same way. And that there was the slightest chance we were dancing in circles around each other. So I told myself I was going to confess—that way at least I wouldn't feel stuck. I'd be moving. Back or forward, I didn't even care. I just wanted to move," Shiro said, closing his eyes to the world, as if that would take him back in time. "The problem was that every time I had the perfect opportunity to say something, I choked. Every time I built up the courage to go through with it, we were interrupted." Shiro chuckled, shaking his head. "It ended up coming out when I least expected it. We were repairing a speeder. I was on the creeper, working underneath, and Adam was reading me the manual, handing me the tools I needed. We were in the middle of talking about ion thrusters when I rolled out from under the speeder and flat out told him I loved him."

"Just like that?" Keith marveled.

"Yeah. Just like that. Adam stared down at me in shock, so I rolled back under the speeder where I could hide." Shiro laughed, and Keith grinned, trying to picture Black Paladin Shiro cowering beneath a ship. "He started yelling at me to come out, and I didn't want to. I was too scared to see the look on his face. So he got on his knees and reached under the ship to drag me out against my will. He looked down at me, and he told me I was the biggest idiot he'd ever met. And then…then we were dating."

Ugh.

Shiro and his sappy stories. They were painfully, sweet. Tooth-rotters.

Too fantastical to belong in Keith's life.

"Yeah…but was Adam in love with someone else back then?" Keith asked.

Shiro fixed him with a look. "Do you really think Lance is?"

Keith stared at him, frowning, and he glanced back at the sea, where Lance and Allura continued to laugh at one another. "No. But it doesn't matter what I think, does it?"


OoO


Keith was waiting for Lance to drive down to Havana for the day. Apparently Keith was missing out on all the Cuban culture—something Lance hoped to remedy.

While Lance showered, Keith wandered around the house, looking at old pictures on the walls. Smirking at Lance's toothy grin as a little kid.

Apparently, he'd always been a beanpole.

Keith walked by the old, faded pictures of Lance's extended family to the large picture frame that featured all the different kids in various stages of their lives.

Lance and Jessica carrying Diego and Milena right after they'd been brought home from the hospital—Lance's pure joy at their little faces.

A young Marco and Mr. McClain holding up a "co-owners" contract in front of the garage.

Luis in his graduation gown—holding a cap that said I'm just as surprised as you are.

Lance, about six years old, clothed in a soccer uniform. Veronica lifting him up as he proudly raised his participation trophy in the air.

Mr. McClain playing a guitar, and all the kids surrounding him on the couch and the floor, listening. Lance sitting at his feet, just a toddler.

Keith hated his attachment to this family. Six days in, and he already felt like he'd known them his whole life. Like he'd been there to witness Veronica bringing her boyfriend home for the first time—Lance and his siblings' endless teasing. Like he'd watched Milena and Diego grow up. Like he'd been there when Lance's father passed.

It scared him how much he cared.

Keith drifted to the dining room, observing the brightly colored fabric draped over the desk, the old sewing machine sitting unused in the corner. A scrapbook lay open, revealing pictures of different garments and dresses, notes scribbled in the margins. One picture featured a black biker's jacket. Leather, with an inner cotton lining.

"Do you like that one?"

Keith jumped, turning around bashfully. Caught snooping, Keith. Nice.

Sandra stood there with a warm smile on her face, and he relaxed. "Oh. Yeah, I do."

She hummed, walking over to look at the album with him. She flipped a few pages, sighing wistfully.

Keith eyed her curiously. "Lance told me you're a seamstress?"

She nodded sadly as she ran her fingers over the picture of a wedding dress. "It was a hard business. High demand, but difficult to supply," she said. "When I was a young woman, the authorities outlawed the sale of imported clothing, so I had to test for my license in front of the Ministry of Labor."

He felt a grin tug at his lips. "I take it you passed the exam and haven't been operating under the black-market all this time?"

She grinned. "I passed. But raw materials are expensive here, so I mostly tailored old clothes, especially school uniforms and sports jerseys. A lot of the time I had to take the clothes apart altogether and remake them into something new."

She ran her fingers over the last page and a series of remarkable before-and-after shots. Rags to dresses. Beach towels to tank tops.

"That's…incredible."

Keith had always admired people who could fix things, who could make something from nothing—or something broken. It was why a mechanic position had appealed to him long before he'd ever dreamed of piloting.

Sandra chuckled, shushing his praise.

"Do you think you'll ever pick it up again?" Keith asked carefully, knowing it was a sore topic.

"Maybe someday," she confessed. "First I think I have to stitch myself back together..."

Keith nodded understandably. He knew all about finding himself, about healing as a person. He wasn't able to be a proper leader until he'd faced his past.

Sandra looked him over with a tender softness, and her brown eyes fell to his cheek. Slowly, she reached out, brushing her thumb over his scar, holding his chin. He held his breath.

"Space wasn't easy on you, was it cariño?"

He smiled a little. "Not always."

"No," she agreed, dropping her hand. "I fear Lance doesn't share the whole truth with us."

Keith swallowed at the hurt expression on her face. "I think he just wants to be here with you…in the present. He doesn't want to worry you any more than he already has."

"I know," she sighed. "He always tries to protect us. Just like his father did."

Keith watched her go back to cleaning, and his chest tightened. The words spilled out before he could stop them. "Look, I don't think Lance is going to say anything, but you should know he saved my life—all of our lives—countless times."

Sandra looked at him with wide eyes, and he bit his lip. He'd already dug his grave. Might as well put it to good use.

"He's an amazing fighter pilot and sniper, and he always keeps a level head, even when we're faced with an impossible situation. I couldn't have asked for a better right hand." And he meant it. Lance had put his jealousy aside to support Keith as the leader. He'd helped him navigate the responsibility of life-altering decision-making. He'd shared the burden of Voltron and the team's fate. He'd been there for Keith when he needed him most. "I just…you should know he's a hero. He acts like he hasn't done anything for Voltron, for the universe, but he has. And I…I wanted you to know you have a lot to be proud of him for…"

A slow smile lit Sandra's face, and she dipped her chin. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Keith." Her brown eyes reflected the warm glow of the room, shining like honey. "You sound very fond of him."

Keith heard Lance skipping down the stairs two at a time, singing one of his horrendous pop songs.

He shrugged helplessly. "I am."


OoO


The days passed too quickly.

Lance spent most of his time at the beach. He'd swim in the morning before breakfast, and then he'd take Diego and Milena to school. He'd do some house chores just to hang out with mother. Then he'd go visit his siblings at their work and eventually return to the beach to hit the waves.

He took Keith with him most of the time, but sometimes Keith elected to stay and work with Marco at the garage, or he'd go disappear for a while to recharge by himself. Which was good. Distance was good.

Even if it didn't feel good.

Because while part of him wanted to avoid Keith and his pretty face at all costs, the other part wanted to spend time with him as much as possible—soak up the moments they had left.

It was confusing. And Lance hated being confused.

One thing was certain at least: Lance did not want to repeat the cuddling incident. That catastrophe had activated this whole attraction thing in the first place and sent Lance down a slippery slope.

So Lance had allowed Keith to use his headphones at night. The music helped ward off the nightmares without any spooning or touching required. And it kept Lance from waking up with a heart attack.

The others seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their stay at the McClain household.

Shiro read a lot or walked the beach with a contemplative look on his face.

At one point it had come to their attention that the grown man couldn't cook, so Lance's mother had taken it upon herself to teach him everything she knew. At first, Lance worried that his poor leader was ensnared by the woman, but it turned out Shiro actually enjoyed the lessons. Lance supposed they probably bonded over running a household full of reckless teenagers or something.

Krolia popped in and out of the house often, and Lance honestly had no idea where she went. Sometimes he spotted her braiding Milena's hair. Once he caught a glimpse of her at a food stall downtown, chatting with the locals in disguise.

When Allura wasn't being stolen away by his sisters or hit on by Luis, she was at the beach or the pier, engaging with as many humans as possible to learn the language.

Lance's family had fallen in love with her instantly, unsurprisingly, and Lance had thought it would bother him more that he barely saw her around. But it didn't really.

He was learning to let go.

And it was getting a lot easier.

Tonight Lance was making his famous enchiladas, and Veronica was helping him chop the toppings, asking him questions about Voltron and the ongoing war, trying to gain a better understanding of it all. Lance knew she couldn't stand that he knew more about something than she did.

"There's one thing I still don't get."

"What's that?" Lance asked, dipping his finger into the pan and testing the sauce.

"When you sent us that message eight months ago, you were pretty angry with Keith. And it didn't sound like you were the best of friends. Now he's here instead of Hunk? And you're sharing a bed? What changed?"

Lance felt the heat rush to his face. He stirred the sauce idly. "Okay, first of all, someone had to share a bed."

"Yeah, and it could have been Keith and his brother and you and yours?"

Lance pursed his lips, refusing to meet her all-knowing gaze.

She stepped closer, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Hey. I'm not trying to tease you, Lance. I'm genuinely curious. You two seem really close is all…"

Lance sighed. Leave it to Veronica to be too observant. "Look, some stuff just happened up there that kind of changed everything."

She raised a single thin eyebrow. "Vague."

Lance turned so his back was to the dining room, and he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You can't tell anyone else, especially not Mom…but I almost bit it. That's why I have the scar."

She crossed her arms. "I gathered as much. Especially since everyone else had near-death experiences, or in Shiro's case, very real."

"Well, Keith was there when it happened, and he kept me alive, and the whole incident just kind of put everything in perspective," Lance admitted, watching his sister's face transform into something softer. "It really messed him up to see me almost die, and he's been having nightmares about it, so I'm trying to help him with it. And I'd been really homesick, and he was there for me, so yeah…we've grown closer I guess."

"I see. So you're friends now."

Lance snapped his fingers. "Friends. Yes. Exactly."

"Friends who blush around each other and stare longingly into each other's eyes?"

"Y—no. What's wrong with you? I don't—we don't do that." Lance paused. "Wait, are you saying Keith does that?"

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. "Would it really be so bad if you were more than what you are?"

Lance swallowed.

Bad? No. Being with Keith, that wouldn't be bad. It would…well…it would be pretty fucking awesome to call the Red Paladin of Voltron his boyfriend. But…

"It's not like that with us," he heard himself say.

Veronica scoffed. "Lance, you've been acting like an idiot around the guy. Blushing and stammering and not-so-subtly checking him out. Not to mention the fact that you haven't flirted with any girls yet. Not one. Even Allura."

"I…" Huh. He hadn't, had he? That was bizarre.

Was he sick? Was he dying?

She stared at him like he was a moron. Then her eyes flicked to the dining room, and she pinched Lance in the arm. "Look at him right now and tell me you don't feel something."

Lance grudgingly dragged his eyes to Keith.

The paladin was standing over the dining table, surrounded by Lance's family. Lance's mother was teaching him how to make her famous flour tortillas, cutting boards and ingredients strewn about the table, Milena and Diego being little shits off to the side.

There was powder on Keith's nose, and his face was scrunched in concentration. His arms were strong beneath his loose shirt, hair tied back in a knot of a ponytail. Twilight eyes drowning in sepia.

Keith looked up, as if he could sense Lance's gaze, and he smiled, warm and bright and easy.

Lance managed a tight smile in return, but his chest was racing. His blood was on fire.

Shit.

"Well?" Veronica drawled.

No, no, no.

This wasn't happening.

This couldn't be happening.

It was just physical attraction. Right? Just really, really strong physical attraction.

But when Sandra flicked another dash of white powder at Keith, and he expertly dodged her assault, only to smash his hand in the flour and press it flush against her cheek—his mother "oohing" in mock outrage—

Lance knew.

He had a big fat crush on Keith.


OoO


Lance couldn't stop staring at Keith throughout dinner, studying him, trying to convince himself he was not falling for the paladin.

When Keith took his first bites of the enchiladas, Lance watched, hoping Keith did something that annoyed him, something that hurt his feelings. Anything except what he did do.

Which was stare down at the food reverently, then at Lance. Smiling incredulously.

Bastard.

After dinner, Keith had helped him with the dishes, and Lance thought he might catch fire when they brushed arms. Burst into flames. Turn to ash and blow away.

Then later that night, Lance could barely lay next to him on the pull-out without feeling like he was going into cardiac arrest. Fidgeting. Flinching. Stealing looks.

How had this even happened?

How did he get here?

One second he was admiring Keith's sleepy face, and the next he was reduced to a stuttering mess?!

This was all Veronica's fault.

He got up and locked himself in the bathroom, splashing his face with water, trying to convince himself it was just a fluke. His brain was just damaged.

He'd loved Allura a few weeks ago. He still had buried feelings for her, didn't he? He couldn't like Keith all of a sudden. It didn't work like that.

Yeah, okay, Lance could admit Keith was hot. He'd established that.

And yeah, he had a pretty great smile.

And he was brave, and the best fighter Lance knew, and he listened to Lance's fears and concerns, and he cared about Lance, and his family already loved him…

And his mullet wasn't so bad

Lance stuck his head under the faucet.

Shit.


OoO


Keith stood on the pier, watching the fishermen gather around the sides, the tourists snap pictures in all directions.

He sipped his mojito, wondering when Lance was going to return with the ice cream—and why the delay.

Had he stopped to flirt with a stranger? Had he messed up their orders? Had he dropped Keith's on the ground and had to go back and get another one?

Keith had a hunch it was the last one.

"So Keith, you and Lance were rivals huh?" Luis said, leaning against the pier beside him.

"That's what Lance tells people."

"You didn't feel that way?" Jessica asked, brows high on her forehead.

Keith shrugged. "He's the one who always instigated things. I just fought back."

She hummed curiously. "Like a boy pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes."

Keith choked on the drink. "What? No." They were way off. "No I really don't think that's what it was. Is. He told me he was just jealous over my piloting skills and Shiro's attention…"

The siblings frowned at that.

"Yeah but Lance doesn't get jealous about that kind of thing," Luis said. He lifted a bony shoulder. "Over a girl, yeah, but over skill? Not really. He's competitive by nature, but he never takes it so far as to establish a rivalry. I mean, he never had that kind of relationship with Shiro or the others, did he?"

"No…"

Lance had been annoyingly docile with the others. Almost like he was throwing it in Keith's face that they couldn't—and wouldn't—be friends.

"Look, Keith, my brother is actually pretty smart when it comes to reading other people's emotions. He's intuitive that way. But he's horrible at understanding his own," Jessica said, raking her dark hair out of her face. "Maybe part of his attitude toward you was jealousy. But maybe part of it was something else. Maybe he wanted to impress you because he liked you. He just didn't know what to do with those feelings, so he lashed out and made fun of you."

Were they trying to imply what Keith thought they were trying to imply? Because there was no way.

"I don't think—"

"I mean you should have seen his video message," Luis said, grinning from ear to ear. "He told us all about the team and the lions, but then he spent five minutes straight ranting about you, how you pissed him off and left the team." He shook his head back and forth, chuckling. "The guy wouldn't shut up about you."

Keith felt his face burn. He looked between them. "Why are you telling me this?"

They grinned at him knowingly, and Keith wasn't sure he'd ever felt more unsettled.

He wasn't actually as transparent as Shiro said he was, was he? Keith liked to think he didn't go around wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

But if Shiro, Krolia, and now most of Lance's family had him all figured out…

Maybe he should dial it back?

The last thing he wanted was for Lance to catch on. They'd finally become close. He didn't want to spoil that by chasing him away with unreciprocated feelings.

And they were unreciprocated.

…Weren't they?

Lance appeared from the crowd, carrying three ice cream cones.

He offered two to his siblings, and then he handed the last one to Keith.

Keith frowned, taking the half-melted cone in his hands. "This is chocolate?" It was most definitely strawberry.

Lance sighed. "No. I dropped yours on accident. But I didn't have enough money to get another one. So you can have mine."

Keith grinned slightly. He'd called it. "It's fine, Lance. Take it. You're the one who wanted ice cream in the first place." He pushed the cone back in his direction.

Lance pursed his lips, shifting his weight to his other foot. "I mean…we could share? If you're not a germophobe or anything..."

Keith stared. Share an ice cream cone? That seemed a bit…

"Okay," he said, probably without enough hesitation. He licked one side of the melting scoop, savoring the taste of strawberry on his tongue against the cool mint of his beverage. He handed it back to Lance.

Lance looked a little pink, but it could have just been the rosy sunset. He watched Keith as he took his own bite of the cone, as if waiting for Keith to scrunch his nose in disgust or claim that he didn't want it anymore.

But Keith just offered him a timid smile, and Lance smiled back.


OoO


Lance clutched his chest, falling to the ground.

"No!" Milena cried, rushing to him with one hand on her head to steady her cardboard crown. "Leandro!"

Lance snorted, trying to fight a smile as he lay on the bedroom floor, dying.

Diego laughed evilly, flipping his "druid hoodie" out behind him for dramatic effect. "Now what will you do? Your Altean prince is dead. I have Voltron. You're doomed."

"Morbid," a voice said, and Lance went completely still.

Oh no.

Keith leaned against the door, his mouth quirking up at the edges.

"Keith!" Milena cried happily, breaking character for a moment. "Do you want to play with us?"

Keith kept his eyes on Lance, an impish grin on his stupid face. "I think I'll just watch and see how this pans out."

Great.

Lance was never going to hear the end of this.

Milena turned her gaze back to her brother, glaring. "It's not over. There's still hope. True love's kiss."

Diego faltered for a second, confused. "But Mil, I electrocuted him with the Quintessence. It's not a magic spell."

"It's still magic."

Diego threw his arms up as if to say "I guess."

Milena fell to her knees beside Lance. "Don't worry, Prince Leandro. I'll save you." She bent down to Lance's ear. "Don't wake up, okay?" she whispered.

Lance closed his peeping eye and nodded obediently. Whatever. Playing dead was chill.

He felt a quick peck at the edge of his mouth, and he lay still, wondering where the heck the plot was going now.

"It didn't work," Diego said with another dark snicker, and Lance frowned at how well his nephew played his evil persona. Should he be worried?

"That must be because I'm not his true love," Milena said slowly, as if she'd had an epiphany. Lance peeked again, watching his niece sadly shake her head. "I should have known. It's Akira. It's always been Akira."

God. Where did she get these names?

She looked up suddenly, her gaze flying to Keith. "Akira! Is that you?!"

The amused expression on Keith's face vanished. "What?"

Lance tried to sit up to protest, but Milena shoved him back down with a force that surprised him. "Quick, Akira. It's our only hope of saving the universe," she pleaded, activating her Puppy Dog LookTM.

Both of Lance's eyes were open now, and he was staring at Keith, who was staring back at him. Frozen. "Uh, Milena…" Keith tried, but she turned back to Lance and slammed her ear to his chest. Gasping.

"I don't think he's breathing! You have to hurry. Before it's too late!" she cried, actually willing tears to her eyes. Diego's face lit up in the corner, like he'd just discovered his sister's plan.

Lance rolled his eyes. What, was his whole family plotting against him now?

"Milena, Keith isn't playing, remember?" he muttered. He was not going to make Keith the bad guy by refusing to play a stupid—

"What do I have to do?" Keith asked.

Lance's eyes shot wide, and he lifted his head to peer at Keith's grave expression.

What…what was he doing?

Milena brightened. "You have to break Diego's spell. The only thing that will save Leandro now is true love's kiss."

"Milena!" Lance whisper-shouted. No fucking way was that happening.

"I think that's where you're mistaken…princess," Keith said somberly, kneeling before her. "I'm afraid I'm not Lan—Leandro's true love. It wouldn't work."

Ohh, nicely played. Lance gave Keith a thumbs up.

"Leandro may not be your true love, Akira. But you're his," she revealed. "And that means you're his only chance. It's up to you."

Keith glanced over at Lance with a help me expression.

Dammit.

Why were these gremlins putting Keith in this position? Didn't they realize people weren't props?

Maybe Lance should just rise from the dead and make up some bullshit. Milena would be mad, but not for long. If he could get her to laugh, she'd cut him some slack…

"Okay. I'll try," Keith decided, and Lance stopped breathing.

Try what?

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

He felt Keith's footsteps through the floor, and then the paladin was crouching beside Lance. He wore a mask of calm, and Lance had to give him kudos for his acting skills—Lance was about to die from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Keith's gloved hand slid to the side of Lance's neck, his thumb resting on his jawline.

Warm and calloused.

"Uh…Keith?" Lance murmured hesitantly, his heart racing wildly.

He wasn't seriously going to do it.

…Was he?

"For the universe," Keith told him with a small smirk. And he leaned down and pressed his lips to Lance's.

No.

Scratch that.

He pressed his thumb to Lance's lips and kissed his digit.

A stage kiss.

A fake kiss.

It was chaste, but Keith drew it out, and Lance could hear Milena screeching, unaware of the ruse. Diego howled in laughter, and Lance could feel Keith's breath on his skin as he chuckled at their reactions. Lance smiled too, opening his eyes.

Keith grinned down at him, dark eyes crinkled. Hair falling over his face.

Hand still cupping the side of Lance's face…

Then heavy footfalls came from the stairway, along with an annoyed, feminine voice. "Hey, you two, Grandma's been calling you forever now. It's time to set the—"

Jessica froze as she gazed upon the state of the room—Keith hovering over Lance in a compromising position, Diego and Milena watching on with red faces.

Lance banged his forehead against Keith's as he lurched forward. Keith cursed, falling back on his ass and rubbing his head with a scowl.

"What's…going on in here?" Jessica asked, staring right at Lance, her lips lifting at the edges.

Lance laughed shakily. "Noth—"

"Akira just kissed Leandro and brought him back from the dead!" Milena disclosed with big, excited eyes. "It was like a scene from a princess movie."

The brat was dead to him.

Lance was going to feed her to the chickens.

"Is that so?" Jessica leered, raising her thin eyebrows at the two boys. "I definitely want to hear more about that."

Lance opened his mouth to clarify, but she cut him off, motioning to the kids. "Seriously though. You guys can pick this up later. Mom wants you downstairs, hands washed."

His niece and nephew groaned, but they didn't complain. They pushed past their aunt and thumped down the stairs like little gossip bombs, one question away from detonating.

Lance was so screwed.

Jessica gave him a pointed look. "A little more discretion, boys," she chided, and she shut the door behind her on her way out.

After a few seconds of sitting there in awkward silence, Lance glanced at Keith, who hid behind his hand, completely red in the face.

His state of mortification made Lance feel much better, and he couldn't help it. He laughed.

Keith looked at him, his own embarrassed smile pushing through.

"For the universe?" Lance repeated, grinning.

"Shut up. I was trying to play along the best I could."

Lance felt a fuzzy sensation replace the nervous adrenaline in his chest. Keith had just let his guard down. He'd let himself be silly for once. He'd put his ego aside to entertain Lance's shitty niece and nephew, even at his own expense.

"Don't worry," Lance found himself saying, "I think you were plenty convincing."

In all honesty, when Keith had leaned down, breath ghosting over Lance's mouth, he'd been sure Keith would kiss him. For real.

And Lance hadn't…hated the idea.

Veronica's words came back to him now, tugging at his chest. Would it really be so bad if you were more than what you are?"

"Sorry," Keith said suddenly, freezing up.

Lance smiled, shaking his head dismissively. "Dude, stop. Did you see their reactions? It was hilarious. Totally worth it."

Keith's brow furrowed, and he nodded, looking away. "Yeah. Hilarious."

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, and Lance decided that maybe having a crush on Keith wasn't…the end of the world.


OoO


Before Lance knew it, the trip was over.

It was the last day before the team had to go back to the Garrison and regroup with the others. Before Lance had to say goodbye to his friends.

And to Keith.

Lance was beginning to come to terms with the fact that he was falling for the Red Paladin. That it had less to do with Keith's pretty face and more to do with his horrible personality.

A personality that had grown on Lance.

And after several days, he'd decided he needed to tell Keith exactly what was plaguing him.

Hopefully, Keith would reject him, tell him he was just going crazy after the whole Allura thing, and snap him out of this trance. Then Lance could go back to flirting with hot Cuban girls.

But another part of Lance wanted…well he wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted to explore these feelings. He wanted to see where this could go. If it could go anywhere.

Either way, he had to get it off his chest.

That afternoon, Lance found Keith on the grassy hill, hands in his jean pockets, staring out over the water. It was picture perfect really. His slim silhouette in the sunset. His stupid hair flowing in the wind.

Lance wanted to remember that image of Keith above all else. He wanted it imprinted on his brain, so it was the image he recalled every time he thought of him.

Lance moved to stand beside him, sending Keith a sidelong glance. "Hey."

Keith grinned softly. "Hey."

They both watched the sky turn a deeper shade of orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Lance dared to look at Keith again, and he could see the colors swirling in Keith's eyes. His irises matched the ocean right now, its reflection of the dying sun. It's yellow and indigo waters.

"Keith?" Lance said nervously.

Keith looked at him fully, inquisitive.

"I…just…" Shit. What was the plan? He forgot the plan. "I wanted…"

Keith frowned. "What is it?"

Lance wet his lips. "I guess…I guess I just…never thanked you."

Okay.

That wasn't what he'd planned to say. At all.

Keith looked just as confused as Lance felt. "Thank me for what?"

"A lot of things," Lance improvised, but it wasn't hard. He meant everything he said. "Saving my life. Coming back to Voltron. Being a good friend. You've really come a long way as a leader, you know."

Keith stared at him, tilting his head. "Where is this coming from?"

Lance opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head. "I don't know. I just felt like saying it."

Keith looked at him suspiciously, but then he glanced away, and he lifted his shoulders. "You infuriated me from the beginning. You always tried to one-up me, and I hated being around you."

"Wow. I'm touched, Keith."

"But that changed. Especially when Shiro went missing. You helped me lead, Lance. You were there for me. You were honest, and you told me when I was being a shitty leader. But you also cheered me on. I never thanked you for that." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't know what words to choose. "So, I guess just…thank you…too. For everything."

Lance felt his lips pull into a wide grin, and Keith smiled back at him.

Neither one of them pulled away from that gaze. And Lance didn't want to. He wanted to stop time. He wanted Keith to stay here with him in this moment, smiling at him like that...

"Keith," he said again, staring at his friend. You can do it. You can say it. Say it. "I think I…."

But as he looked at Keith and his curious gaze, he remembered two very important things.

The first was that Keith loved someone else. He was pining for some guy up there in space. He was in love with him. By catching feelings, Lance was just digging himself another grave.

He already fell for Allura. He didn't need to fall for another teammate who had his heart set on someone else. Especially not before he was leaving the team.

And that was the second half of it.

He wasn't going back to the team. He couldn't develop feelings now, less than 24 hours before Keith disappeared. He couldn't dump this all on Keith right before they separated. And even if he reciprocated his feelings, there'd be no point.

Lance on Earth, Keith in space? This was never going to work.

So...it could never begin.

"Lance?" Keith whispered, eyes wide in anticipation.

Idiot, Lance thought sadly. You've been such an idiot. How could you let yourself get this invested?

"I think I…hear my mom yelling for us," Lance got out numbly. "We should go back in."

Keith stared at him for a moment longer, and Lance couldn't help thinking he looked disappointed. But he nodded anyway, and they wandered back to the house in silence.


If you want to see a sketch of the garage scene, you can find the art here:

post/177282819999/a-preview-for-the-next-chapter-of-coming-to-terms

Next time: The last night at the McClain household and so much angst omfg