It's OK

by DeetsViBre

Lance is not OK. He needs to reach out to his teammates for help, but hes afraid. Rewriting yourself cost something, a deep pain with every edit. When Keith walks in on Hunk and Lance talking late into the night, things begin to change. Space is dangerous. (written during season 3, canon divergent after that) COMPLETE!

6. Rain

A/N- I DID IT! I UPDATED! So, here's the dealio… This isn't the end of the fic. Sorry. When I broke 40,000 words I switched to a new document for convenience, and once I was 14 pages into THAT doc… I realized I had to break this up. Sorry again for accidentally lying to you all… But since this part worked out so well as its own chapter, I decided to post it. I guess I'm REALLY bad at estimating word counts... Beware of errors, I tried to edit the best I could, but I'm bad at it.

Anyway, I also wanted to post this because it had my backstory of Shiro and Keith's meeting. It was mentioned in Part 1, but Keith explains more this time (and you get a small bit of Keith POV in a flashback!). I wanted my version out before my brain gets flooded with the canon version that's teased to be in season 7! Plus you guys will have something to tide you over till the release :) Also, this fic is SUPER AU after the bomb dropped at the comic con panel (Which I love, and have immediately boarded the train for).

PLEASE READ! I have made some adjustments to previous chapters, mostly small things, little additions, except a short scene added to part five. When Keith is bandaging Lance's arm in the ship's medbay, I added a small flash back to the actual fight, just a little insight into Lance's mind at the time. It's up to you if you want to reread, but I don't think it's necessary.

WARNINGS- Please read before continuing. Warning: some underage and dubious content in flashbacks (non-graphic). Grief, anxiety and panic are heavy in this chapter, including more implied suicidal tendencies. Child abuse (non -graphic). Bit o' that sub dom action.

Keith and Lance go on a mission to get an important ship part, and reveal their pasts.

Part 6- Rain

The dim, incandescent light, strained to reach the corners of the small bathroom. It hummed. Lance's eyes followed the copper wires that trailed from the bulb, until they wandered out the door and faded into the dark bedroom. Pidge's makeshift generator couldn't hold a candle to a Balmera crystal, but it was better than nothing. A small frustrated noise pulled Lance's eyes to the mirror, but he wasn't looking at himself, instead it was Keith. A stiff, cold, ball of fear settled deeper into Lance's chest, as he watched Keith try to examine the purple mark in his reflection. It was difficult for him to twist around, and he pulled on his skin with his fingertips, just barely able to touch the blemish.

"What does this mean? What if it spreads?" Keith whined, sounding more like Lance, while his fingers grazed the edge of his purple skin. The bond throbbed with anxiety, it was nauseating, and it took every bit of Lance's control to hold it together. His own panic was quickly stacking on top, building a tower fated to tumble down. He scrambled to get a grip, Keith needed support.

"We can just keep an eye on it. It took months for it to happen… so maybe we can get off this planet before it spreads too much?" Lance closed the distance between them, and pulled Keith close, forcing him to drop his arms and stop twisting around. "Maybe if we get out of this dead space, it will revert?" Lance tried to sound confident, but the bond gave him away.

They slowly rocked back and forth, pushed by Keith's deep, even breaths. Slowly his fear dimmed to a distant thrum, but his back remained tight, and he hugged Lance harder. "We can't tell anyone until after the mission. We need to focus, get the last part for the ship, and then get out of here," he stated firmly, for both of their benefits.

"Together, we got this." Lance could back these words with solid belief, because they could get over anything, united. The tower of fear tumbled, but gracefully, as they stood in a comforting moment. Then, Lance's mouth opened… "Do you…" He started, but stopped. He had a bad habit of breaking the moment, but he didn't cut himself off fast enough.

Keith pulled back to look him in the face. "Do I what?" He tipped his head in question, and smirked at Lance's responding affection.

Lance looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment despite the futility. "Nothing," he muttered.

Keith released the hug and crossed his arms. He shifted his weight to one side and looked at Lance suspiciously. "No, no, no. You can't start to say something and stop. You know that drives me nuts," he accused.

Lance sagged, and let his arms dangle with regret. "I was just wondering… if I would look good with white hair?" he admitted, with a sheepish smile.

"What?" Keith let his arms drop, exasperation and endearment pushed at the bond.

"Well…" Lance rubbed his shaggy hair, currently loose around his ears. "I was wondering if I would change too, because of my Altean part… then I thought of Allura, and her hair… and wondered if I would get white hair…" He tapered off, and his face flushed as he whispered, "and worried if you would like it?"

A heavy sigh heaved itself out of Keith, almost forcefully. "I might turn completely lilac, and you're worried I might not like you with white hair?"

A jab of annoyance poked Lance hard, but it was followed by pale, red words. 'Of course I would like it.'

"Sorry..." A weak smile tugged at Lance. "My mind wandered, and my mouth just sorta... does what it wants." He pulled Keith back into a hug, ignoring the lack of participation. "But I will love you even if you're purple," he assured.

Keith didn't raise his limp arms, still irritated, but he leaned in closer. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Lance forced some cheer into his voice, hoping it was enough to keep them afloat in their chaotic sea of troubles. "And, I wouldn't complain if you got a pair of those cute cat ears!" He teased, and held on tight against the wash of annoyance.

"LANCE!" Keith struggled wildly, but couldn't break free. "Let me go! You jerk!"

Lance laughed, and it sent a wave of joy between them. "But I'm comforting you!" He yelled, and squeezed tighter.

"You're an asshole!" Keith barked, but it morphed into a helpless laugh.

"You love me!" Lance cooed, beginning to loosen his grip on Keith.

With one hard push, Keith brought them both to the floor. Lance's stomach swooped as they tumbled, and he landed on his back with Keith draped over him. "I do, you buttface." A smile fought against Keith's frown, his amusement mixed with annoyance.

Lance chuckled, "Good, I love you too."

A flash of bright affection bloomed between them, but the light in the room dimmed and wavered. The bare bulb buzzed, and the joy leaked from Keith. A familiar, but still confusing fear welled up, and Lance knew that Keith was thinking about the mission. Shiro was yanking Keith around by something in his past, again. Pain echoed in a deep emptiness that had formed in Keith, but it was surrounded by a steel shell of duty and determination.

"Rojo, you don't have to do the mission. I'm sure we can find another way," Lance whispered, threading his fingers through Keith's hair. They remained on the tiled floor, rising and falling with their breaths.

"I have to. We need to get back to the war, it's too important." Each word stung, Keith recoiled even as he committed to them.

Lance sighed. "But it's hurting you, I can feel it."

Keith gripped the front of Lance's shirt. "That doesn't matter, we have-"

Lance sat up so abruptly, it silenced Keith as he slid into Lance's lap. "It does matter! You're important!" Lance wrapped a wide eyed Keith up in a hug. "Even if you decided to go through with the mission, it doesn't make how you feel any less real! You should have a say in how this goes down, NOT Shiro, and NOT Allura. You. This is affecting you. It has something to do with your past, right?"

A small nod, hardly a movement, confirmed Lance's suspicion. This was the same issue Shiro brought up in dead space. Somehow it was all connected. He pushed down the bond every drop of Keith's value, as Lance saw him.

Keith pulled away and stood up, and for one terrible moment, Lance thought he had pushed too hard, but Keith held out a hand with a loving smile. "Let's go back to bed," he offered. The bond was a mess of emotions, but fear no longer dominated, and Keith felt a little less empty.

oOoOo

Lance was a mess.

The impending mission was a sharp reminder of this, and it only compounded with Keith's purple little problem. Every hour that passed left a film of anxiety over the bond. Six days remained, and Lance wasn't sure what to do. Meditation wasn't working, the distance it put between them would send Keith into a free fall, and so he wandered the Castle and shack, relapsing into old habits. On every circuit he marked his team's location, and prayed for the obsessive ritual to peel back the heavy weight on his heart.

Pidge was in the engine room.

Hunk was in Gi-shu.

Shiro was in the scrap yard.

Allura was at work.

Keith was at work.

Fen and Coran were in the scrap office.

Ja-Berk was in his bedroom.

Luse was in the Castle storage…

Luse thought no one knew he would sneak in there sometimes, pillaging this and that, but Lance noticed. He let it go, because the young thief never took much. It seemed to make Luse happy to rummage through the Castle, and Lance didn't want to take that from the kid.

Lance repeated his patrol, over and over. He followed the path of worn rust through the shack, and the timely trail of dirt tracked onto the white floors of the castle, but the waves of anxiety still eroded his peace. Peace he had worked hard to build over the last few months. The anxiety wasn't all his own, and it pooled between him and Keith, a puddle on the road of their bond. Both of them needed a distraction… On his fifth lap, Lance caught Hunk just as he removed the Gi-shu gear.

"Hunk, my man," Lance called, shifting his feet in a nervous shuffle, grinding away the crumbling rust.

The distressed pull of his voice was hard to miss, and Hunk immediately looked worried. "Lance, everything OK?"

The familiar concern slid over Lance. A smooth surface that called back to long nights, warm hugs, and strong years of friendship. It was comforting that Hunk was the same. After everything they had gone through, and how much Lance had changed, the core of this wonderful friend held strong. He wanted to cry, to throw a fit and yell about how unfair all everything was, and to be angry for Keith. Instead he shrugged, and pushed everything down. Cold, it dropped to his stomach. Lance shivered. "I'm fine, I just wanted to talk about something…" He sighed, it was a lame excuse, and he could see it in Hunk's placating eyes.

With concern coating his every movement, Hunk slowly approached. "Sure buddy," he soothed, slipping an arm around Lance's shoulders.

He was being treated like a wounded animal, but Lance couldn't be mad. In the past, he had lashed out, or broken down on a dime. If Hunk was being this cautious, then Lance must look like hot shit. He rubbed the back of his head, shuffling the shaggy hair. "I… ummm- I asked Keith if I could tell you what's going on, and he said it was OK."

Hunk perked up. "Really?" Interest burned bright in his eyes.

Lance felt a smile pull, and his heart reached. "Yeah, let's go somewhere private." He grabbed the arm over his shoulder and used it to lead Hunk away.

Lance kept his eyes down, and didn't look back. This was harder than he thought it would be. Despite the hot excitement that curled in his chest, watery fear trickled down to dampen it. He wanted to yell to the universe how much he loved Keith, most of all he wanted his best friend to know… But would Hunk be angry? Would he understand and accept them? Lance fretted, despite knowing his worries were likely unfounded.

They arrived at Lance's room, and slowly with a small stutter, the door slid open. Hunk went in first, waved by Lance. The door closed behind them, and with a quick slap of the control panel, it locked.

"Lance, Buddy?" Hunk questioned. His large frame shifted from left to right, and back again as he twisted his hands.

A solid wall of silence fell between them. Every moment that it existed, Hunk became more tense, until his back was rod straight and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Lance didn't know where to start, but nervous laughter bubbled up and leaked past his clenched teeth. It didn't sound like a laugh once it broke free, it was a dying, desperate whine. Some stupid joke was trying to claw its way up as well, but Lance bit down on it. He already seemed crazy, he couldn't spew out some off color joke.

Hunk opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly at a loss. If this stretched out any longer, Hunk might try and broach another subject that they left unfinished in dead space. Things Lance most definitely didn't want to talk about. Only, now all he could think of were wildly inappropriate things. His mind kept screaming dirty thoughts, and if he tried to speak he might end up screaming something embarrassing like, 'I HAVE HAD A DICK IN MY MOUTH!' or 'KEITH IS A GREAT FUCKING LAY!'.

Hunk opened his mouth again, this time with determined, furrowed brows. Lance knew what was coming, because Hunk didn't trust meditation as a solution, and he was about to push the past into Lance's face. Panic, pure and uninhibited, grabbed the least unsavory thing going through Lances head, and it burst from him at full volume.

"Lan-" Hunk began,

"I'M IN LOVE WITH KEITH!" Lance's yell echoed in his own ears. Rolling red laughter washed over him, but Lance ignored it, too absorbed in his own mortification.

Hunk blinked, shocked, and wide eyed. His shoulders slumped as all the confidence he must have built up fled his body like a gust of wind. "Uhhhh… OK." He cleared his throat. "Ummm, do you know if he swings that way?" he asked, forlorn.

Lance stared at Hunk, confused. What kinda question was that, of course- oh wait... Lance's brain caught up, context, he needed to give context… Lance raised his hands for a pause. "Let me rephrase." He took a long, slow breath. "Keith and I are in a relationship… have been for a while. We're in love." A hot flush rose up to Lance's cheeks. "Like, we said it to each other and everything…" He managed to explain, with his voice only cracking a little. Passion and embarrassment bubbled in him, and rolled to Keith and back.

Hunk stared at Lance, hand covering his mouth, like he was unsure if this was a joke; he waited for any sign of a prank. A chuckle slipped from between his fingers, but when no returning laugh came, he coughed. His hand dropped from his mouth, which hung open. "OK, wow…" he breathed. "Are you sure? Cuz I was pretty sure you hated him at one point…" Like a true engineer, Hunk went to the beginning and worked forward. "The very first time you saw him at the Garrison, you immediately hated him, and complained about his hair. Then you declared yourself his rival, and yelled at him, and followed him around to pull pranks, and complained about him all the time. I mean ALL the time. You went on about how dumb his hair was for like, three hours once, I was trying to sleep and…" Hunks rant tapered off, as the dawning realization clipped his words short. "Oh my god, you love him." His hand shot up to his mouth again, and he whispered from behind it. "You love him, and his dumb hair. You actually like his dumb hair don't you?!" He accused.

Lance was struck with a realization as well. He had always wanted Keith, but was denying it all along. It felt right, admitting that his old anger was just a cover for his feelings. "YES! I love him and his dumb hair!" Lance chirped, confirming for Hunk. A small red barb poked him, unhappy with all the hair comments, but he ignored it. The feeling of fate, and acceptance washed in. It smoothed the sands of Lance's concerns, because he was rapidly becoming certain that he and Keith were meant to be. He waved his arms around, riled up by affection and excitement. "This is like some destiny shit or something. Our bond is nothing like the paladin bond, you felt that, right? When you were connected to me." He bounced a bit. "I wanted to tell you so bad."

Still shocked, Hunk slowly nodded, but as his face relaxed it also dropped, causing his kind features to be askew. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. It was an unavoidable question.

A flicker of fear and guilt forced Lance's shoulders down. He was worried about this reaction. He had to explain, but didn't know what he could say about Keith and Shiro's situation… He didn't even know the whole truth himself. Lance clung to his fluttering nerves, and spilled everything he wanted to tell Hunk all along. "Listen, it's not as if I realized I liked him, and then like a normal, rational person, walked up and told him! I went from thinking I hated him, to dying inside from a massive crush!" He threw his arms up, swinging them wildly, and let his bubbling anxiety drive him. "I didn't know what I was supposed to say! Should I have walked up to him and said something like, 'I don't know if you're into guys, and I know we hated each other, and we just sorta became kinda friends, but I wanna put my face on your face?' and he would be like, 'oh sure, go ahead and do that, I'm totes into the face smashing with dudes.'!? No! Of course not! I agonized over it, ran from it! Part of running from it was denial, and that included not telling anyone!"

Lance let his arms drop, he should have told Hunk a long time ago. He tried to catch his breath, but the words wouldn't stem their flow. "This is some horror movie type stuff! Like no matter how fast we ran it would catch us, except it didn't run, it walked, but still kept up… the bond was forming no matter what! But it wasn't bad, it was like a good horror movie. Final Destination without all the dying.. Or something…"

Lance's breath finally caught. The emotions he wanted to share were all bundled up in his throat, and his voice was thick with them as he confessed. "I was scared, but happy, and so was Keith…" He looked Hunk in the eyes, and took a strong stance, because he wasn't ashamed. "We hid the bond because we wanted it, and worried that if Allura knew she would investigate, and Shiro would probably think it was some enemy plot… and… I just wanted to keep him, and against all odds, he wanted me too." At some point in his rant Lance lost the thread of the conversation, but that didn't stop his words from being true.

"I love him." Lance shrugged, and let his arms fall heavy at his sides. His mind was encompassed by a warm, red embrace. It kept him calm in the stretched moment between his words and Hunks.

Hunk stared at him for a long time, or at least, it felt like a long time. Then, his shoulders shifted, and he let loose a long breath. "OK..." he relented easily.

"OK?" Lance repeated back. At first he was relieved, and a tiny bit disappointed by how anticlimactic it was. Then Hunk leaned forward, curling in on himself just a tad. It was the classic posture of a Hunk who was hiding something. "But…?" Lance drew out the word, prompting him to explain.

"But…" Hunk hugged himself. "You went on about fate, and stuff. Doesn't that seem a little over the top? Maybe your bond is just a really strong paladin bond?" He sounded more guilty with every word. He obviously didn't want to hurt Lance, but felt obligated to voice his doubts.

"Buddy, I want you to understand, but I don't know how to explain it." Lance scrubbed at his hair, frustrated. Hunk had only brushed the edge of their bond before.

"I want to understand," Hunk said, and it rang with honesty.

A metallic sound spread between them, warbling like a slack cord. A yellow link brushed it's smooth surface over Lance. Their bond snapped into place, pulled taut, and both of them stumbled at the force of it, stronger than ever before. Hunk skimmed the top of Lance's blue waters, curious. He was asking to understand, and Lance complied.

'Rojo?' He reached out.

Keith responded, rising up, breaking the surface of Lance's mind. A crimson creature stirring from the depths, as impressive as his vast ocean home. He softened, flowing into silk ribbons, gracefully gliding through Lance's thoughts. Wherever their minds touched, they blended, the bond morphed, and they were purple.

Hunk simply hovered above them, unable to breach the tight weave they formed. "Holy crap…" he muttered.

"Yeah," Lance agreed.

"Holy shit, Lance!" Hunk exclaimed this time.

"Understand now?" Lance couldn't help snarking, this was a little cathartic.

Hunk nodded, slowly, his eyes far away as he looked inward at their connection. "How do you stay… well, you?" His eyes focused, and locked with Lance's.

"We're not alway this closely connected, unless we try to be, but he's always there… and there are times, when my thoughts don't feel real, until they've gone through Keith." Lance knew they were closely linked, but saying it out loud, and seeing Hunk's reaction, made it that much more real. Lance needed Hunk to keep this quiet. "You can't tell anyone about us, not yet. I don't want- If they-"

"I get it, buddy. I really do," Hunk interrupted, his entire position flipped, and his smooth corners renewed. "Anything that might threaten this-" he gestured vaguely at Lance, indicating the bond. "Has to be taken seriously. I assume it has something to do with Shiro, from the way Keith and him have been treating each other?" He deduced, as perceptive as always.

"Yeah," Lance replied quietly, blown away by Hunks capacity for understanding and caring.

"Do you think this bond has anything to do with both you and Keith not being completely human?" Without missing a beat, Hunk began to theorize about why this bond formed the way it did. Lance relaxed, this was familiar, and he had missed it.

oOoOo

Two days passed, strained, and uncomfortable. Keith had refused to be in the same room as Shiro. It made finalizing their mission plans… difficult. Lance had thought about talking to Keith, maybe convincing him to back out of the mission. They could always find another way. But whenever they did manage to work on the plan, Keith's mind was a steel trap, completely determined. Lance couldn't blame him, They had been away from the war for far too long.

A cold, and heavy weight had been draped over Lance, like a wet blanket, it sagged and suffocated. It was something that he had shrugged off months ago, and now was back. Without meditation, and with the added stress of their situation, The blanket only grew with every passing moment. But, another, warmer weight on his lap helped keep him from unraveling. Lance ran his fingers through Keith's hair, a low comforting hum vibrated between them as Keith drifted in and out of sleep. Lance was lounging on his bed, with Keith's head in his lap, in a rare moment of peace.

Long, tan fingers slowly pulled the blue headband from Keith's hair. Sleepy purple eyes fluttered when Lance began to slowly braid the hair on one side of Keith's head. When he reached the back, Lance playfully prodded his boyfriend to roll over. Keith groaned, but fuzzy affection laced the sound, and he complied.

Lance was tying the two french braids together with the headband when a sharp knock pierced the calm moment. Keith sat up, and moved an appropriate distance from Lance.

"Yeah?" Lance called out, since they were in his room.

Keith had reached up to pull the braids loose when Hunks voice came through the door. "It's me, buddy."

Lance grabbed Keith's hands. "Leave them," he whispered, with a line of excitement in his voice. A thrill went through him at the thought of not having to hide, at least from Hunk. He slipped from the bed and unlocked the door.

Hunk wandered in, and came up short. The door slid shut with less than an inch of clearance from his back, and he leaned against it. "Uh, hey." He waved at Keith, awkwardly. His eyes snapped from Keith to Lance and back again, then they trailed to the braids, and widened. "Oh…" He made a small sound, and it encapsulated both surprise and understanding. The sight of the braids was more impactful than even feeling their bond, and Hunk knew it.

"Whats up?" Lance asked, and slid back onto the bed, closer to Keith than he would normally dare with company. Deep silence rained in the room, and Lance refused to let tension grow. Hunk accepted them, but obviously didn't know how to behave around them. He slipped his hand into Keith's, a small motion that broke the awkwardness. The bond vibrated like a plucked cord, but Keith squeezed Lance's hand.

Hunk blinked, and pushed off the door, as his body melted into a more familiar, casual stance. "I was sent to tell you guys that we are having a team meeting in half a varga." He looked at Keith as he delivered the message. Everyone noticed the cold air between Shiro and Keith become frigid in the last few days.

Hot anger spiked, and it was abrasive against Lance's calmer mind. A long sigh escaped him, and he flopped to the side against Keith, allowing his head to rest on his boyfriend's shoulder. The contact doused the flames of Keith's temper to a more manageable degree.

Reluctantly, almost as if without consent, Keith tipped his head to rest on top of Lance's. The dampened anger settled into resentment, and slipped into Keith's words. "Shiro sent you on purpose, didn't he?" He gestured at Hunk in a forlorn way. Everyone had trouble saying no to him. The rounded edge of Hunk's kindness, gently rolled over the people around him, and smoothed them out.

Hunk sagged a little, it was a small drop of his shoulders, but it made clear how he felt about being used. "Yeah… he didn't say it, but I know he sent me on purpose." It was hard to disobey Shiro.

Hot needles pricked against Lance as resentment became irritation. 'Shiro shouldn't have dragged Hunk into this,' Keith signed into their bond.

Lance raked his eyes over Hunk's downcast posture. The scuffed up surface of his shining friend bothered him, a lot. 'Maybe, you should go to this meeting,' he suggested gently, in a blue wave of encouragement.

Keith stiffened, and their thread pulled tight. 'You don't understand-'

'I know I don't, but…' Lance rushed to interrupt, and then pulled up short, leaving only the sentiment of 'I would if you told me'. The bond pulled tighter, and Lance tried to explain. 'I just don't want Shiro to throw the others at you… he started off with the big guns, but what if he sends Pidge, Allura, or Coran. Imagine Coran coming and being all uncley, and you say no to him. Shiro isn't going to let this go.' His logic was working, and Keith's pull on their bond went slack. Their connection became slik in the wind, fluttering between them as Keith turned inward to mull over the situation.

Only snippets of Keith's thoughts came through. Mostly disgruntled rumblings. Lance looked at Hunk, an intense and confused gaze looked back, twitching to Keith every few seconds. It occured to Lance that maybe they should work on keeping their conversations off their face, since Hunk easily picked up on it. Lance smiled at Hunk, a little sheepish, and shrugged.

A few more seconds of silence passed, and then Keith turned his head enough to let out a frustrated breath into Lance's hair behind the pink clip. The slightly curled ends of his ruffled, and Keith placed a light kiss there. "Fine…" He muttered.

"Wha?" Hunk was flushed. He didn't seem uncomfortable, only nervous. He looked down at his hands, and picked at his fingernails. Lance, wasn't sure what was making his friend so embarrassed, but he had to assume this was all very weird for him.

Keith looked at Hunk, so his mouth wasn't muffled in Lance's hair and repeated, sharply, "I said fine, I'll go."

Hunk jumped, and quickly put his hands at his sides, like he just noticed his own fidgeting. "Oh! Good, good…" He was very flustered, but took a fortifying breath, and clenched his hands. "Listen, I need to say this before I lose my nerve," he began, but hesitated. He glanced at Lance and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "why'd you have to pick someone so scary?"

Hunk stood tall and switched his serious gaze to Keith, and spoke directly. "I love Lance." His words were solid, not even a little waver, despite his earlier comment.

Lance felt Keith stiffen, prepared for whatever came next, but he stayed quiet. An over the top, warm and gooey, flood of emotions poured from Lance, and it kept Keith in check.

The line of Hunk's body straightened, conveying how serious he was. "Lance is my best friend, my brother. I care about him more than anyone… except maybe my mom… and I feel like I have to tell you…" He hesitated for a moment, as if his next statement grated against his natural kindness. "If you hurt Lance, I'll… I'll…" He wavered, searching for the words. "I'll do something bad to you!" Hunk made mashing motions with his hands. "Imagine this is your head, I'll crush it or something!" He finished, not sounding confident in his own threat, but his heart was there.

The swell of affection in Lance only grew with every endearing moment of Hunk's speech. He turned his head without lifting it so he could smile at Keith. "See babe, Hunk is threatening you because he's taking this seriously." He placed a kiss on Keith's neck.

"Ace," Keith chuckled, as the tide of amusement rising in him suddenly doubled.

Apparently that small display of affection was too much for Hunk. From his hairline to the base of his neck was bright red. Lance smirked, and for the first time in days he felt some relief from his constant worry. Without a second thought he lifted his head, cupped Keith's face, turning it, and engaged in a closed mouth kiss. It was small, and innocent.

Hunk squeaked. He spun around, and slapped the door panel to flee. But before he fled, he looked over his shoulder. "You guys are cute!" He admitted, and ran.

oOoOo

"I'm just saying, he hasn't been OK with you for a while. Now you've sent Hunk to get him to come to this meeting? What exactly did you do?"

Pidge sounded aggravated. Their words trailed faintly down the hall outside the control room. The various responses were all spoken at once and melted into an indistinguishable mumbling that rolled over the shiny floors and bundled wires. Lance and Keith crossed into the dim line of light that leaked from the open door. The makeshift electric bulbs hardly reached the edges of the control room, leaving a dark abyss between them and the high ceiling. Lance glanced around the room. Although the new lights were warm and yellow, it felt wrong for this room to not be bathed in the cool blue glow of the Bulmara crystal, which remained dormant.

"He won't even be in the same room as-"

"He's just holding a grudge-"

"Shiro, have you tried to talk-"

"Both of them need a chill pill, or some Rira's Song…"

"Who says 'chill pill' anymore?"

The cross stitch of conversation stopped, and everyone looked towards the doorway. Their guilty eyes set a weight on Keith, that he held up with stiff shoulders and a high head. Trembling red tendrils snaked deeper into Lance, pulling on him for support, and Lance gave everything he had.

"Keith," Shiro sounded surprised. "You came." Guilt dragged him down. Tired, dark eyes roamed over Keith, assessing him.

Keith didn't look at Shiro, but crossed his arms and glared at the floor. Hunk came up next to him. "Hey," he greeted. Keith looked up at him from under his bangs. "Hey," he offered, letting Hunk know he wasn't mad at him.

Allura cleared her throat. Everyone struggled to drag their attention away from the drama. When their eyes focused on her, she looked nervous. For the first time Lance watched Allura flounder as a leader, because she was trapped between duty and her love for Shiro. Her roll had become especially uncomfortable, but she tried to remain unbiased. She looked at each team member, lingering on Keith's braids, then she trained questioning eyes onto Lance, obviously confused. He smiled, soft and encouraging, and shrugged in response. In all the stress about coming to the meeting, he had forgotten about the braids, but Allura didn't know their deeper meaning. She smiled back, and lightly ran her hand along the slick french braid he had done for her that morning. Recentered, she pulled her shoulders back, and started strong. "We have a mission," she announced.

The slowly drifting focus of the team was sharpened to a point. Allura paused for a moment, letting the idea settle. Then she continued. "I'm not talking about our upcoming escapade in Yeppeo one. I'm talking about the war with the Galra. It is our true mission, and we need to successfully secure the parts Pidge needs, so that we can return to helping the universe." Allura became a shining beacon as she spoke, and Lance felt calmer, even Keith was smoothing over...

"Allura's right," Shiro stepped forward, and the peace was spoiled. Keith curtled, and it seeped into Lance.

Shiro didn't falter, unaware of the shift in mood. "We have a rough outline of the mission. We know what time Vii will be in the bar, and that Keith will be the one making contact-"

Coran slid up next to Shiro with impressive grace, and stroked his mustache. "Are we sure that Keith should be making contact? I was thinking, if we had Keith follow him instead, we could maybe get some intel without risking-"

Shiro rejected the idea before Coran even finished. "No, We can't delay this any longer, we need-"

"I agree with Coran." Pidge spoke up, responding to Coran. "Not that I don't have faith in Keith, but have you seen him talk to people?" They tossed Keith a smirk and a side glance. "No offence," they offered.

Keith shrugged, but Lance noted the fast hold he had on his emotions.

"I know Keith can-" Shiro tried to take control of the meeting, but was drowned out by Hunk.

"I see Pidge's point. Remember that planet with the big hole, like everything they did was about the big hole. People would go in it and never come back. You guys remember?" Hunk asked, making a circle with his arms to represent the hole. "All the people there were some type of small tree people, and one of them was fascinated with Keith. Followed him around asking a million questions, and all Keith did was nod. No matter what the little guy asked he would just nod. We all thought Keith hated the tiny dude." Some chuckles rolled around at the memory. "But when that bird thing scared the mini tree man, Keith went berserk and almost murdered it…" Hunk shrugged. "I'm just saying, he's not great with words."

Lance smothered a laugh. Keith always got prickly when this story was brought up, but it was funny. It also served as a good example, and Hunk was trying his best to get Keith off the hook. Lance opened his mouth to agree, but a sharp jab down the bond stopped him.

'Don't.' Keith's request slipped down red strings. 'I can't stop Pidge or Hunk, but don't help them. I hate to agree with Shiro, but he's right. We need to get this done as quick as we can. We have a war to fight.' It was the logical response, and it butted up against a wave distaste. Keith didn't want this, but he felt like he had to do it.

'Rojo, you don-' Lance tried to argue, but an avalanche of red determination overshadowed his concern.

They weren't looking at each other as they communicated. They stood an appropriate distance apart, and the sound of the team arguing over the details of Hunk's story surrounded them. Yet, Keith managed to hold Lance. The avalanche touched down gently, and covered his mind. 'I need to get off this planet. I want to get back to being me. I can't stand being a Yep-nari...' The rest was a wave of feelings and impressions that made up who Keith was, but it was twisted, forced into a mold he didn't fit.

Lance understood. He felt similarly, as much as he liked being a Zuko, he missed being the guy that had everyone's back. It was in his nature to be the protective eye of a sniper, and it was in Keith's to be on the front line. Not standing around looking pretty. Whatever it was that Keith hated about this mission, he was fighting it for his freedom.

'OK,' Lance agreed, hesitantly. The slide of icy doubt still ran down his spine. There was something he was missing.

The bond had draped over their minds, muffling the world, but now they noticed the conversation around them had escalated.

"I want this to work just as much as everyone else, BUT I have doubts about this plan!" Pidge snapped at Shiro.

Hunk yelled hype man phrases from behind. "Yeah, they have doubts!"

"I just don't feel like you're listening, or there's something you're not telling us!"

"Secrets are bad, Shiro!"

Pidge whipped around and jabbed Hunk in the chest with their finger. "You're not helping, Hunk!" With a pout, Hunk rubbed his sore abdomen. Pidge turned on Shiro, with their feet in a solid stance for yelling, and their finger posed for a good telling off.

Shiro jumped on his chance to cut in. "Pidge, I understand you're frustrated, but I need you to trust me when I say Keith can do this. He has a skill set-"

"SHIRO!" The name ripped through the conversation. It was more than a yell. Keith roared. An inferno spread down the link, and Lance was consumed by wildfire. He was so shocked by Keith's sudden temper, that he let the anger dry him up, and didn't react.

Shiro took a step back and away from Keith. His eyes wouldn't settle on Keith's face, and instead were fixed on his chest. The lines around his mouth deepened with a shameful frown. "They're going to find out eventually, Keith. I just want to reassure everyone that you can do this," he reasoned, with a level tone. Shiro sought justification, through his eyes and the unsure line of his body, he begged for it.

Keith growled, sharp, and bordering on inhuman. "It's not your place to tell them! You keep holding my past over me!" He fumed. A choppy sea of emotion drowned each deep breath Keith took, his rage washed away to reveal a deep disappointment. "Things I don't want to include as a part of who I am…you used them against me," he whispered.

Shiro finally looked up into Keith's eyes, drawn in by his quiet voice, then flinched away. "Keith, please," he pleaded at the floor. "If this is about what I said in dead space, that was just a misunderstanding. I asked Lance to tell you..."

A hole opened between Keith and Shiro, a separation that echoed down the bond to Lance. From across the chasm Keith spoke."I know why you confronted me back then, and it's not an excuse." Keith grasped at the bond for support, waking Lance from his shocked stupor. His volume rose as he gained confidence in his defence, and stood tall. "You want me to forgive you. BUT you keep throwing my past in my face! I trusted you, and you're doing it again!"

"Keith! The war won't wait for us. We need to get off this planet!" Shiro dawned his leader mantle, and defended himself with it. "I'm just trying to do what's best for everyone. This mission is important-"

"I'M IMPORTANT!" The scream dominated anything Shiro tried to say, and everyone stared at Keith. His head was down, and his fist clenched at his sides. With a stiff spine, and tight words, he whispered. "... I matter." In the bond Keith was reaching for Lance, the person that kept him and the love that helped him realize the truth. Lance offered it all, and Keith looked from under his long bangs at Shiro, holding his eyes. "you can't just use what you know about me however you like, I get a say in this," he declared.

Attention shifted back to Shiro. The air vibrated in anticipation of his response, and the expected step back that would be taken. But, Shiro didn't back down, and for a second Lance hated him. It was obvious, even if you didn't have any context, that Keith was hurting, and it was Shiro's doing. Even Allura looked torn between her love and her dear friend as Shiro's shoulders rose up in preparation of his defense. "This mission needs to succeed, and if explaining your experience with these situations helps raise our chances, by giving the team confidence in you, then that's what I will do," he doubled down on his stance, like an idiot.

A long, quiet sigh stretched from Lance. What should have been a resolution, dissolved into endless, hateful bickering. Lance could understand on some level why Shiro was being so stubborn. Ever since they got into this mess they all felt stranded, helpless, and useless. But those qualifiers applied more so to Shiro. Without his arm, Saeg's respect, or the Black Lion, he had fallen to the bottom of the pack, and it was unexpectedly Lance, who had risen to the top. Shiro was having trouble letting go, and still struggled against the circumstances, while someone he probably viewed as nothing but a goofball, easily stepped over him. Lance didn't want this to be the truth, but all signs pointed to the issue being nothing but a damaged ego.

Bickering, quickly dissolved into shouting as the argument picked back up, and it ran in circles.

"The mission has to happen!"

"I never said I was backing out, I just want a say over how it goes down! The team doesn't need to know the details!"

Lance didn't know how to interrupt, and stood back with the rest of the team. All of them uncertain about how to break up the fight. Allura tried to speak up, but her common sense was tapped down by the yelling.

Irritation, that was only Lance's, began to burn in his chest. He mentally prodded Keith, hard. 'ROJO!' Other than a quick glance, there was no reaction.

"I'm leading this mission, stop arguing with me!"

"Well, since I'm so experienced according to you. Maybe I should be leading the mission!"

The argument deteriorated, becoming petty and childish. Irritation grew into anger. Lance supported Keith, and was glad that he stood up for himself, but the point was becoming lost, and this needed to end. 'Rojo,' he tried softer this time. 'Things are going a bit off the rails,' he pointed out.

Not even a flinch. Keith barrelled forward, irrational and stubborn, like only he could… and apparently Shrio could as well. What started out as valid points, and misguided attempts to rectify the situation, tumbled into meaningless insults. The brotherly nature of their relationship reared its head in an ugly way.

"You're an idiot, Takashi!"

"Very mature, Keith!"

"Says the guy that got drunk when his highschool girlfriend dumped him and cried while trying to paint his bedroom black. Poorly, with Sharpies you stole from me!"

"You said you would never tell anyone about that!"

"Don't be such a hypocrite! Plus I liked those Sharpies!"

"All you did with them was color your nails black!"

"I was thirteen! And emotional!"

Suddenly, Lance felt like he was in his living room while his siblings argued over the remote. Any moment his mamá would burst into the room and tell them what's what. Lance was losing grip on his control, and part of him wanted to let loose and end this right here and now, like he would with his younger siblings. The pressure on his chest mounted, and his thoughts were consumed by his desire for it to stop. Stop, STOP!

Then Keith and Shiro moved towards each other, with an edge to them that screamed fist fight, Lance went into action on instinct alone. With the reflexes of a boy that had dodged countless spatulas, and spoons, he snatched Keith's wrist as his arm was rising for a punch, and planted himself between the two men, facing Keith.

"!No lo hagas!" Lance barked. The familiar situation drew the Spanish from him, without his notice...

Keith noticed. He froze, the fight knocked out of him by surprise, and concern. He stared with wide eyes as Lance, obviously distressed, repeated, softer. "tiene que parar."

Lance was so wrapped up in the situation he didn't register what he had done, until Keith lowered both their arms and responded. "tienes razón," his spanish still a little stunted.

Panic didn't ensue, the walls didn't crash down around Lance, crushing him. A silent pause hung for a tick. Some of the team looked at Lance, confused, while most of them looked at Keith and Shiro in shock. Spanish didn't seem to be at the top of anyone's priority list.

Hunk stepped towards Lance and Keith. Slow and easy, his friendly nature rolled over the room. "Good catch, buddy. We can't be fighting among ourselves right now." He carefully wrapped his large hand around Lance's much smaller wrist, and pulled his hand off of Keith's arm.

How long had they been standing in silence? Lance hadn't realized he was still holding onto Keith. It would look odd if had hung on, and more so if Keith let him. Hunk was covering for them in this mess of a situation. "Right, right," Lance conceded easily, and let himself be pulled from between the arguing men.

A chair scraped the metal floor, loud and unpleasant. Shiro had grabbed the closest chair, and plopped into it, tiredly. He placed the elbow of his good arm on his knee, with his galra arm still strung up in a sling. He looked damaged. "Hunk's right. Maybe we should all take a breather, if it's alright with everyone." It was blatantly a request and not an order.

The fight drained from Keith. Lance felt it like pulling a plug from a bath, it spiraled down and away. "Yeah," he agreed with Shiro for the first time in months, and took a seat in the chair Saeg used when she was in the shack.

Murmured acceptance ripped over the room, and everyone else found a seat. It was awkward. Keith and Shiro's impetuous display of their combined stubbornness left everyone hesitant. No one wanted to set either of them off again. Unfortunately that left Lance and the recent display of his mother language.

Pidge was next to Lance, and leaned into his arm. "So…" They left the question suspended in the viscous atmosphere.

The wandering focus of the team centered on Lance. Curious, confused, and interested, all things he could handle. After everything that had happened, and all the darker secrets he held, it seemed silly to be scared of this. He was more annoyed than anything. "So, what?" He asked innocently, not intending to make this easy.

Pidge huffed and leaned against him harder. "Spanish?" They asked, like it was obvious, because it was.

Lance smirked. "Oh, that?" Again he refrained from actually answering their question. Keith snorted, and slapped a hand over his mouth, but his amusement leaked from between his fingers. Lance slid a sly glance over his beautiful boyfriend and their delight mingled between them. A little mischief would do a world of good for the tense situation.

Pidge adjusted their glasses, more aggressively than necessary, visibly annoyed. "Yes, that! When did you learn Spanish?!" They snapped.

It was too easy to push Pigeon's buttons. Lance was going to continue his innocent act, dancing around their questions, but Hunk ended his fun. "Spanish is his first language, Pidge," he explained offhandedly. Pins of irritation deflated Keith and Lance's fun, but Pidge's reaction was possibly better than if Lance had continued his game..

With true disbelief Pidge leaned away from Lance in order to look at him. The tilt of their body, and the wide set of their eyes communicated how ridiculous this all was. "How did we not know about this?" Pidge asked. The very idea that Lance could keep a secret seemed to take the wind from their sails.

Laughter bubbled up in Lance, and he held it down forcefully. He shrugged. "I am Cuban, you know." His heritage was never made a secret, and had come up at least a few times in reference to his family.

"Yeah, but you always seemed so…" Pidge faltered, and shifted awkwardly. Their lips twisted as they swallowed their words.

Lance pondered their lack of social skills, it was sometimes glaringly obvious and was comparable to Keith's level of ability. He ignored Keith's small jab of annoyance, and quickly snapped back, "So, what?" The offence in his tone was mocking… mostly.

The tiny bit of tension that might of unwound from Pidge, twisted tighter, as their shoulders rose up to their ear in defence. "Well you never act like-" Their retort began sharp and ended abruptly in their mouth.

Hunk's even voice muffled anything they were going to say, all of which they would likely regret. "He grew up in Cuba, I didn't meet him until we were eleven." The small amount of light shed on Lance's past sent a ripple through the room that disrupted whatever high strung argument might have been brewing.

When the ripple settled, and the room was smooth as glass, it was surprisingly Shiro who spoke up. "Really?" He asked.

Shiro's curiosity was clearly genuine, but that only exasperated Lance further, even though it was his own fault. He had hid, pulled the parts of himself he thought made him vulnerable behind a curtain, but he was still disappointed. They noticed when it counted, he reminded himself. They had seen strength in him that he didn't believe was there, and followed his lead. A red whisper slipped up his back, and supported him, vindicating him. His friends had faith in him, now he just needed to fill in the blanks. It was a solemn, but not unhappy conclusion.

Corran materialized from the forgotten, to the forefront of everyone's attention, with a question that illustrated how completely ridiculous Lance's worries really were. "What's a Cuban?" He asked.

Allura leaned forward in her seat, clearly interested now that she might get a real explanation. "Yes, is Keith a Cuban? He also spoke the language Lance did." She looked for an answer, innocently.

Lance laughed, sudden and loud. All of his concerns were absurd, they were in space, fucking space… and he was worrying about such petty things. He was Cuban, and proud, so fuck anyone else's opinion on it. A tight ball loosened in his chest, he could be Cuban, and be himself, no rules. All the rapids in his heart died down along with his laughter. He glanced at Pidge, and their words from so many months ago skimmed the surface of calm waters. "When we go back to earth… Let's stay the same." Lance couldn't imagine reverting to his old self, and the sentiments of that moment with Pidge warmed him.

Everyone was looking at Lance, he shrugged, and waved off their questioning eyes, allowing the conversation to move on without him. Keith was the only person who continued to stare, sharing Lance's amusement, and letting it dance in his eyes.

"Keith isn't Cuban," Shiro supplied. No one attempted to explain how Earth's many cultures worked, that was a conversation for another day.

Pidge locked onto the most interesting tidbit as always. "But Allura made a good point, Keith did speak Spanish."

Shiro immediately jumped on board with them. "Last I knew, Keith only spoke some Korean." Suspicion was clear in his eyes, but Lance wasn't sure what he was suspecting Keith of.

"Lance taught me." Simple, short and blunt, truly it was the most Keith answer. It was also wholly unhelpful. All the raging fire from the earlier argument with Shiro had burnt out. It left Keith tired, and with zero craps to give.

Irritated by Keith's behavior, Lance was left to sweep up the mess. "Yeah, I just didn't have anyone to speak it with, and Keith volunteered." He smiled at Keith, pretending he didn't just roll the ball back.

Everyone looked at Keith. He sighed, then shrugged. "I was bored." He explained, putting no effort into his defence.

Hunk smiled, looking from Lance to Keith and then back to Lance again. Hunk nodded, as if everything was finally in the right place. He knew it was a big deal for Lance to teach anyone Spanish, it all made sense. Everyone else took Keith's explanation at face value, except Shiro. He was still eyeing Keith, almost leering.

"What's with the braids, Keith?" Pidge lifted the dip in conversation.

Keith ignored the question, his mood still dragging on the ground, rubbing Lance the wrong way. Instead he changed the subject. "We should start actually planning," he insisted.

The team was still off balance, and some of them unsure about the assigned roles, but no one argued this time.

"If we can get Vii comfortable, he might drop some info."

"I don't know, seems a bit far fetched."

"Listen, Vii's got a real weakness for Yep-nari, if Keith can get close, Vii might do him a favor. Otherwise we go with plan B"

"Plan B?"

"Keith leads him on, gets him out of the bar, and Lance takes him out with the dart gun."

oOoOo

Lance pressed his hand to his own chest, covering where Keith's name resided. He rubbed the spot softly through his tank top, and pulled his hand away, brushing his fingertips over the Altean words as he did. He looked at his hand, lingering in the air between himself and the dismembered parts of his rifle on the floor. Lance was sitting in the middle of the loop of couches in one of the lounging areas.

Almost no one came here anymore. This area was abandoned, devoid of any copper pipes and bundled wires that invaded the rest of the Castle, like roots through the dirt. It calmed Lance, this place was untouched, a reminder of before they ended up trapped on Yeppeuda. He couldn't say it was better times. It was before Keith and him were together, and before he grew into his role as Blue Paladin, but in many ways it was simpler, and easier. Lance needed things to be easier.

The battery to his left hummed, as it powered the single bulb that lit Lance's work. A bubble of light in a cold and desolate reminder of the past. Lance slid his hand out of its limbo, and ran it over the freshly cleaned parts of his gun. The metal was cold, unlike his bayard, he missed his old weapon. This rifle was primitive, and savage, it tore into people, not like the graceful sweep of lasers he was used to. This gun brought to his attention the death as he committed it, no more playing pretend. He let those thoughts slide away. The amount of people he had killed was something he didn't think about often, and wouldn't think about now. He did it for the team, for the universe, and especially for Keith.

The writhing turmoil, like red snakes in his mind, never stopped. Keith was always there, always upset. Nothing would be OK until they were off this planet. Only two days until the mission, then it would be over. Lance tapped his old earth phone that was on the floor, and frowned. Pidge had figured out how to charge the devices shortly after getting lost in space, so they had the date and time back on earth at their fingertips, as if it mattered. Tomorrow didn't matter, he lied to himself. Just another day, a frame of time dictated by the orbit of a planet light years away. It didn't mean anything, he tried to believe.

With a small growl Lance pushed the phone away, and turned to his work. With practiced ease, Lance began to reassemble the rifle. The scrapes and clicks of each piece falling into place was hypnotic. He tried to lean away from the pressing chaos in his bond, without blocking it out, using the rhythmic motions of his hands, and the repetitive sound of his assembly. Then he took the gun apart, put it together, took it apart. He could almost sink into the task, and let it sway him like a cool wind.

The sound of someone slipping through the gap he left in the door, disturbed his cyclical actions. He knew who it was. The churning pain in his mind was tethered to it. With a slide of cloth, and the warm press of a chest to Lance's back, Keith held him. Arms around Lance's middle, forehead against the back of Lance's neck, legs folded on both sides of his body. He was trapped with the rifle parts he held.

"I'm sorry…" Spoken out loud, with the wash of a breath against Lance's skin, the apology sagged at the end with futility.

Lance dropped the parts he held, and hugged the arms around him. 'I understand,' he pressed back with body and mind, using the bond to speak. He really did understand. Keith couldn't help the pain and fear, or the nervous anxiety he was feeling. He couldn't control the panic he went into when Lance blocked him out. More than anyone else, Lance could empathise, even if it was hard to deal with.

"Say it," Keith whispered, longing for more than thoughts.

Lance squeezed tighter. "I understand."

"Thank you," Keith accepted. Above a whisper, his voice cracked. He moved away enough for Lance to turn around and truly hold him.

Keith's face was pressed to Lance's collarbone, where he placed a soft kiss on the tattoo that came from under the tank top. He took a deep breath, lifting Lance's arms with the size of it, and opened up. "I hate what this place has made me. I hate that you're fighting without me, while I stand around and pose for rich assholes. I've had enough rich assholes," he growled at the end to cover his whine. Lance ran his hand through Keith's dark hair and kept quiet, allowing Keith the time to speak.

"I hate that I feel like I'm losing myself, going backwards. You've become so strong, and I'm just sitting on the sidelines." Keith pulled back, and looked into Lance's eyes. He ran a finger over a light scar that ran across Lance's cheek to his mouth and the one on his upper arm. Then he touched the earrings on Lance's right ear, and tapped the new one on his lip. Lastly he slid his open palm over Lance's chest. And around his shoulder that was tattooed. "You've changed," he concluded.

Each touch sent a shiver through Lance that ran down and bundled together. "For the better I hope." He smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

Keith smirked back. "I would love any version of you." He tipped forward, and lightly kissed the metal ball of Lance's labret piercing, then whispered onto it. "But some changes are particularly appealing."

Just how appealing Keith found it drifted down the bond. Lance was reaching up, ready to pull Keith in, but his hand met air. Keith had backed away, and looked at Lance with serious eyes. "But what I hate the most…" He tried to finish, and tumbled over the words with choppy breaths. The tortuous and confusing feelings that Lance associated with Keith's past, took hold. The fear that Lance didn't understand ripped the words from Keith. "I hate what I'm going to do on this mission, and that you're going to see it-" He choked at the end, on anger or pain, it was hard to tell.

Lance rushed forward, slamming Keith into the couch he was in front of with the force of his hug. It all came to the surface. Shame, fear, disgust, all things Keith felt, and was afraid Lance would feel about him after the mission.

"No, no, no… never," Lance spoke into Keith's ear, pushing away the layers of awful emotion that tried to suffocate them.

Keith clung back, breathing hard. Something was trying to escape, words were pushing for freedom. Lance could tell that Keith was trying to explain, to fill in the gaps about his past. He was fighting the years of restraints and walls he had built so that Lance would understand. They held each other until Keith was calm enough to sit back and speak.

They didn't move apart, only ended the hug. Keith's shoulders were down, and he looked up at Lance from under his hair. "A while ago, I told you that I met Shiro in the Big Brother program, and after, we continued to hangout."

Lance nodded. He remembered their first real conversation from all that time ago.

Every part of Keith tightened up, bracing himself. "Well that's true, but it… it doesn't really explain what happened." He looked down at his hands. "I don't think I can go into detail, but…" His voice wavered and he cleared his throat to cover. Lance ran his hands up and down Keith's arms, and waited. The pressure in their bond reached a peak, and then broke. The story came rushing out.

"When I was twelve Shiro became my Big. I was living in foster care, and he was the only kind person I saw. My foster family was awful, there were at least eight kids at any given time, and the mom was overwhelmed. The dad… he wasn't nice." Keith left the unspoken hanging for Lance to grasp. "Even when Shiro first became my Big, he was already in the Garrison, so he only saw me after classes and on weekends."

Keith paused, looked up, and smiled something crooked. It tore at Lance, but he nodded for Keith to go on. He didn't look away this time, and held Lance's gaze...

There were a handful of moments that Keith would never forget. Some of them were burned harshly into his memory, and others, he held onto with warmth and purpose. One memory he clutched close for many years was the day Takashi Shirogane walked into his life.

Keith was 12, small for his age, and weighed down by more troubles than most accumulated in a lifetime. The pressure of his childhood pulled him to the ground more often than not, but today was one of the few where he could stand. Even while on his feet, the weight sagged his shoulders, and tugged his head down. He stared at the dingy, speckled rug. It was a tight weave meant to withstand for many years, industrial, and not for style or comfort. He scuffed it with his old sneakers, one size too big. They had once belonged to one of his many foster siblings, but he wasn't sure which one. He glared at the pink flowers on the sides.

Today Keith had managed to stand under his premature troubles because he wasn't in his foster home. The mother of his home enrolled him in a program, he didn't know what it was, but it got him out of the house, which is probably what she wanted. He was the most troublesome of all the kids. He didn't complain, he wanted out as well and was willing to go almost anywhere. An ember of hope awoke in Keith's heart when he had clambered into the back of the old sedan that would take him to the community center. The orange glow permeated his limbs with energy that had been missing for two years, ever since his father disappeared. Keith tried to keep the embers from igniting, he didn't want it smothered by cold reality when everything would surely fall apart, just as it always did.

When he had arrived, his foster mother left him on the street with no instructions, and Keith walked into the community building blind. The bustle of social workers and other children surrounded him. A woman with kind brown eyes asked if he was there to meet the Bigs, he wasn't sure what that meant, but nodded anyway.

Now he stood alone in the corner of a large room, looking at the practical, but ugly rug under his feet, waiting for… something? The din of voices around him was muffled by his detachment, an intentional separation he had cultivated. He tried not to pay attention to the activity swirling through the room full of children and scattered adults, but he couldn't ignore the sudden hush that fell.

A stern looking lady entered the room. Keith would have dismissed her as some generic authority, except her clothes caught his attention. Rather than the pantsuit of the average social worker, this woman was in a severe gray pencil skirt. Below the skirt she had tall black boots, and above it a white and orange top that was cut by a black belt. The entire motif tickled Keith's memory, but he couldn't trap the thought in his mind. Behind the woman was a group of adults, or almost adults. Keith wouldn't have called them kids, but the tilt of their bodies as they awkwardly held themselves gave away their youth… except one. Near the back of the crowd, one older boy stood tall, his confidence was clear in the line of his back.

"Littles!" The lady in the skirt called out.

Keith was caught off guard by the word. Littles? The stern lady looked around the room over her red rimmed glasses, meeting the eyes of every child, including Keith. If the kids were the Littles, then the haphazard gathering of older teens must be the Bigs that Keith had been told about. A sharp drop of fear streaked down his spine, he wasn't sure what was going on, and that never ended well for him. Keith pulled his eyes away from the front of the room and went back to studying the rug. He fell into his Don't-Notice-Me tactic, hoping for the best.

When the lady with the red glasses felt she had sufficient attention, she explained. "These first year flight students of the Galax Garrison mission program will be your Bigs, they have volunteered their free time for credit. Today is just for mingling, you do not have to choose a partner, but you can if you want. Anyone who is not paired off by the end of this meeting will come back at the same time next week, enjoy."

The Garrison, that explained the woman's outfit, the large building was on the edge of town and was hard to miss. Keith peeked up to watch the woman wave her arm at the teens behind her, ushering them forward. He quickly looked back down. Hopefully no one would notice him. He was small, and ratty looking, engulfed by a large red hoodie. Like a stray in the kennel, the one in the back will be ignored, because people think the shy one's have behavioral problems, and they aren't wrong.

Keith's plan was foiled almost as soon as it began. His inspection of the horrible rug was interrupted by a clean pair of sneakers. He noticed his own shoes looked twice as shabby next to the bigger ones, and it forced a shard of irrational anger between Keith's ribs. He focused on the burn as it cut deep, and was startled when the older boy spoke.

"Hey, there!"

He sounded chipper, and it pressed on the jagged anger. Keith looked up. The straight backed confident boy from the rear of the group was smiling at him. His shoulders were broad, but lacked definition that would come with age, it made him seem unimposing. His hair was as black as Keith's, cut short, and it gave away his asian heritage, which seemed mixed with something western. With a quick inspection of his features, Keith knew he wasn't Korean like him.

The extended silence didn't seem to bother the older boy. He continued to smile and accepted Keith's study as he introduced himself. "I'm Takashi Shirogane, but people call me Shiro." He extended a hand.

Japanese then, Keith concluded while ignoring the hand. Shiro showed the first signs of being deterred, his neglected hand dropped and he laughed with a nervous edge. He rubbed the back of his clean cut hair, and flashed his white teeth. He looked well rested, carefree, and well mannered. He probably had parents who loved him. Keith hated him.

Shiro leaned forward, and placed his hands on his knees to be eyes level with Keith. "Come on, we should chat, get to know each other, what do you say, buddy?"

The condescension twisted the anger in Keith's chest, and it scraped against his ribs. With a swift kick to the shin Shiro was on the floor, and Keith made a break for it. He didn't make it far, a large security man snagged him by the back of his oversized hoodie. Keith struggled for only a second, and considered slipping from the sweater and trying again, but this was his only hoodie. He sagged, and glanced back at his victim.

Keith expected a lot of things. Anger, irritation, maybe even sadness, but he found none of the above. Shiro pulled himself up, with the help of a social worker who was apologizing profusely, and he looked at Keith with a wicked smirk. "He's got spunk, I like him," Shiro announced , shocking the social worker into silence.

"And we paired up at the end of that meeting," Keith shrugged.

A small and quiet snort interrupted the flow of the story. Lance didn't try and hide how funny he thought it was. The bond rang with laughter. This was a serious moment, very serious… Lance tried to smooth out his smile into a straight line of ambivalence, but he couldn't hold back completely. "Did you really kick him?" He asked, voice wavering with a suppressed chuckle.

Through all of the shame, and fear, a bit of happiness surfaced in Keith. He chuckled, and sighed. "Yeah, I did," he admitted.

The small break in the heavy topic gave Lance a chance to pull Keith close again, wrapping him in a loving hug. Their minds brush together, closer, and Lance knew there was more to tell. Tragedy waited in the wings of this story. Keith released a soft sigh, and pressed his hands to Lance's chest, pushing back enough to continue his tale. "Shiro didn't visit me once every couple of weeks like most Bigs. He would set up outings two or three times a week." Affection for Shiro that had been absent for the past few months, welled up in Keith's voice. "He started bringing me around his house, his parents loved me. They gave me a spare room that I used a couple times a week, but it was all unofficial…"

The warmth slipped from Keith's voice, as color drained from his cheeks.

"When I was fourteen, Shiro went on his first mission, he was gone for two years."

Keith cried. Horrible, aching sobs that moved his body. All his foster siblings had left him alone in their small room. He was on a bed he usually shared with two other children. The screams of his foster mother were trapped between his ears, and he couldn't pry them out. They burrowed a new space in him where darker things could be harbored.

Pathetic, useless, suck it up, boys don't cry, what was wrong with him? Who would want such a vile, useless boy? Nobody cared about him. Shut up!

She had yelled close to his face, as if she could scream into his body and make it true, but Keith still couldn't stop crying. Takashi was gone.

His foster mother took a part of him every time she yelled, even though her screams were empty, like her. Keith could tell that she had been gouged hollow long ago by the way she stared at the T.V.. He knew she screamed to try and fill herself with something, even sound, but it only echoed for a moment. Her soul was concave, bent with every blow she had taken, and every moment of life she had wasted. Her husband scraped at the dregs of her life, and she thrashed, but he took until she was limp. She might have been a nice lady once, but he had ruined her, and when he was gone she blamed the children.

But it was still better when he was gone.

Where the mother would force her frustration down the children's throats with words, the father pressed his anger into their skin with force. All his lessons sat black and blue inside them, and became green and yellow as the children learned.

Keith cried silently now. Enough had been taken for him to be still and let his sorrow slide down his face. There wasn't anything he could do. Without the Big Brother program, without Takashi, the Shirogane's had no reason to keep him. Keith had thought about telling Takashi about the abuse, but something stopped him. He had an irrational fear that the mother's hateful words were true, or that the father's hand could reach over any distance. This fear had kept him quiet in front of Takashi, and in school.

Day to day, Keith went on. He may not have been smart, or strong, or any number of things, but he persisted. Perseverance was his greatest talent. Without his mother, after his father, and through so many homes, he went on.

A week passed. The first full week in his foster home in the last two years. With nothing to look forward to after school, Keith dragged his feet down the street from the bus stop. Fridays were the worst. Two days with no place to go, trapped with all the other forgotten children. He longed for the day he didn't count himself among them, but had stopped hoping for it. Four of his foster siblings trailed behind him, three girls and a boy, near him in age. They went to the same middle school, and so they rode the same bus. Down the street Keith could see their house, small and similar to the ones around it.

Something wasn't right. Even from this distance Keith could tell the house was empty. All the lights were off and both cars were gone. He began running, and didn't look back to see if the others followed. He took all three steps up the stoop in a single leap, and stumbled to the front door.

A large and imposing padlock covered the door handle to keep it from turning. It was grey, with a number pad, and the logo of a local bank covered the entire front of it. Keith stared blankly at it until the sound of footsteps broke his shock. The other kids crowded behind him, looking over his shoulder. No one spoke, and it began to rain. Cold, heavy drops coated the even colder ground, sending a damp chill into the air. The children all huddled under the small overhang of the stoop, and waited.

Lance reached out for Keith. His long fingers went through dark hair, and he traced his thumb over Keith's pale cheek. The sense of abandonment was striking, and suffocating. Like an unexpected pillow to the face, that was never lifted, and instead ruthlessly pressed harder. Keith leaned into the touch of Lance's hand, and reeled back his emotions as he explained. "The foster family was gone, and we had slipped between the cracks. We had become those kids you hear about but never thought were real. We spent the night outside, None of us had a phone, we didn't know what to do, and we trusted no one. The next day a social worker found us, apparently a neighbor spotted us and made a call. We were separated, all the homes were over filled, I was the only one sent to an orphanage farthest away. It was across the school district line, so I was being transferred. It was crowded, and awful. No one took me to register for my new school on monday, no one remembered my name, so I ran."

Lance's hand slid from Keith's cheek, to his neck, and then gripped his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. Keith smiled, tight and reluctant, conveying that the story was far from over. "I hopped turnstiles and took trains, drifting. It was hard, and I was hungry for the first few days… then one day I noticed a man following me…"

Keith stopped suddenly and pulled away, grabbing Lance's shoulders, pleading. "You have to understand, Lance, I was desperate, and young… and…" He was at a loss for a moment, and then gathered himself before Lance could answer, and pressed on.

The worst parts of town had become Keith's home. Giving up had crossed his mind only days into being a runaway, but Keith was stubborn. He slept under a bridge during the day with a few other kids, and roamed free at night. After only a couple of months Keith had a firm grasp of pickpocketing, and spent his nights trying to get in peoples way on the street. It wasn't easy, people avoided dirty looking kids, even in the bad parts of town.

Keith was hungry, and tired. His red hoodie was faded, and hung off his thin frame. The nearby shelter he sometimes crashed in was out of meals, and no one had dared trip over Keith for fear of their belongings. His small band of runaways had gained a reputation, and changing cities was a possibility that was fast becoming the only choice. Keith didn't want to start over. It was hard enough to find a place depressed enough to overlook street rats, and even more work learning patrol paths to avoid getting caught out of school.

The sky flashed, and a long, rolling rumble of thunder broke the air. Keith didn't look up. He watched the first drop fall on his old shoe, and continued to shuffle down the sidewalk. His sweater became heavy with water, and his hair was stuck to his face, it was so long now that it touched his nose. Even in the downpour Keith felt eyes on his back. After months on the street he had grown the ability to be aware while seeming distracted. He hadn't missed the tall man in the dark coat that had been following him for the last two blocks.

Keith had seen this man before. The red light district was the one place all the kids avoided, but sometimes when things became desperate, Keith would go there to pick a drunk person's pocket. He had only done it twice, and the second time he had seen the man currently on his trail. Sheets of rain slapped the streets, but it didn't deter the stalking man, and for a second, Keith was scared. His fear was pushed aside by deep gnawing hunger, and a weariness that went even deeper. The hole inside of him that was gouged out by hateful words and forceful hands had expanded, now it was a tunnel into his heart.

Ahead and to the left was a dark alley. Each step closer made the hunger stab, his heart ached, and his resolve crack a little more. Keith didn't know how to ask for help anymore, but he had also forgotten how to give up. Keith stopped next to the alley, and looked back at the stalking man. Not from his peripheral, or from under his bangs, but directly at him, and he turned to walk into the dark.

Keith hit the brick wall with unexpected force. His back ached and his head throbbed, but all he could focus on was the man's hands on his chest, his neck, and down to his hips. Keith's entire view consisted of the man's black coat and damp white shirt. His world came to a point, and he froze. Hot, clammy skin slid under his shirt, cold rain, warm breath, and he was pressed harder into the wall, engulfed by the larger body. Then he was numb, he couldn't breath, and his heart stopped. His chest was an empty cavern, vacant without his will.

Keith hadn't expected it to be like this. He thought it would be easy to let the man close, lift his wallet, and fight. It was so fast, or maybe his thoughts were slow. The adrenaline that pushed his heart, and starved his lungs, also chained him down. He didn't scream, even though he was scared, the cry was locked in his chest.

The man grabbed Keith's hair and yanked down. The pain hooked something inside Keith, pulled, and freed his limbs. He ignored the sharp stab of the pavement on his knees as he dropped, and instead focused on the man's pants. The square outline of a wallet was visible in his front pocket. Keith reached up with both hands, as if to open the man's fly, but one hand reached for the wallet, while the other jabbed forwards in a swift punch.

Keith ran, leaving the man clutching his groin.

With honest eyes, Keith pleaded again for Lance to understand. Like he had said, he was desperate, hungry, and worn from life. "He didn't get anything from me. I let him close, stole his wallet, and ran. I almost didn't get away before he… I was so scared," he whispered. A vale was pulled back from the only part of Keith, Lance had never seen. It was raw, and unaccustomed to the light. It thickened Keith's voice as he spoke. "For a little while that's how I lived. I lured men in, stole from them, and ran before they got anything from me. It was dangerous, and I almost didn't make it out sometimes. But, when I was almost fifteen… I met the first mark that offered me more." Keith looked down again, still holding Lance's shoulders. "I had a reputation for picking and running, and the guy told me that some men planned to corner me and... I had seen him around a few times, so I knew he was probably telling the truth. He offered me protection, and a place to stay, as long as I did what he wanted and didn't leave until he said so… I took his offer." The confession was so quiet it was almost a breath, only the edge of tears gave it substance and sound.

Lance tried to speak, or to touch Keith through the bond, but he was rebuffed. Keith held him away, physically and mentally, determined to finish his story before he changed his mind. With a shuddering breath he went on. "He took me home, cleaned me up, and kept me for a couple months, until he was bored. Then I found another, and another, for almost a year I just hopped from mark to mark. About five total… That's how Shiro found me. He was furious once he tracked me down."

Keith stared at the wall opposite from where he lay. The bed was short, but wide, covered in white sheets and a white down comforter that was pushed to the end in a pile. Keith was on his stomach, sprawled over most of the bed. The white wall was as good a thing to stare at as anything else. His eyes trailed over the line of clothes strewn across the floor, from his boxers by the bed, to his old red hoodie by the hallway to the front door. He didn't think about it. He never thought about anything, not anymore.

Slowly, a finger trailed up Keith's bareback. It slid over bruises, bites, and scratches, black, blue and red on his pale body. His current companion was a little rough, but he had a nice loft. A loft, a car, a decent bank account, and a decisive personality. Why would Keith ever need to think about anything again when this man did it all? Keith hated it. He never left the loft alone, he wasn't allowed to drive the car, so he only went where he was taken. His life was paired down to a much smaller world.

The trailing finger flattened out to a hand and slipped back to cup Keith's ass. A warm body pressed to his back, and hot breath skimmed his cheek.

"Pálido," the man breathed the nickname into Keith's ear. "una vez más," he ordered.

This one didn't speak much english, just enough to give basic orders, but Keith understood 'más'. He wanted to pull away, to take back his body and his life, but he didn't. A defeated part of himself had become dead weight on his fighting spirit. It convinced him that this was survival, this was how it had to be, and it was strangely comforting as much as it was upsetting.

Keith thought about leaving, trying again at life. It was an uplifting thought that was quickly followed by the smothering fear of decisions. He was tied down by his blank mind, restrained to the point of being incapacitated by dependency, but at least the ropes were velvet.

The man's hand began to explore more forcefully, and Keith gave in with a resigned sigh- A loud knock at the door interrupted.

With an irritated groan the man rolled off the bed and threw on some slacks.

"Stay," He ordered Keith with a heavy accent, and wandered to the front door.

The entrance to the loft was in a hallway around the corner, out of sight. Shiny hardwood covered every inch of the floor, including the hall to the front door. It facilitated the echo that allowed Keith to eavesdrop. If he stayed very still and took shallow breaths, he could just manage to make out most of the conversation.

"Hola, Officer…"

"Have you seen this…"

"No, no. I no see that boy."

"Thank you for… time."

When the man came back he was pale, and he surveyed Keith critically. The longer he stared the more fear overtook his expression. "You need to go," he hollered suddenly, grabbing Keith by the arms and hauling him off the bed.

Keith toppled to the floor. Before he could scramble upright a bundle of clothes landed on his chest. The man was rambling in spanish, and Keith didn't understand a word, but a rough hand pulled him to his feet and pushed him towards the exit. Keith was struggling into his pants while being herded across the room. When he finished fastening his jeans the man began to drag him more insistently, shirt be damned apparently.

Another knock on the door surprised them, this one was sharp and loud. The man suddenly began pushing Keith back into the room. Confused, Keith pulled his shirt on quickly.

The knocking increased in volume. The door was shaking in its frame with every pound, and a loud, commanding voice insisted the door be opened, only slightly muffled by the wood.

"Open up! We know he's in there!" The voice yelled. It sounded like the officer from before.

The man ignored the order and continued pushing Keith to the window. "GO!" He yelled, pointing to the fire escape.

Was he insane?! Keith was not going to climb down the escape, it was ten floors down!

The officer continued to yell. "Open now, or I will use force!"

Keith knew that was unlikely, his time on the street had educated him in the do's and don't of the police. If they had probable cause they would have broken down the door already, they were bluffing. The officer stopped yelling, and a semi loud argument broke out between him and someone else. Their voices weren't discernible through the door.

The man was struggling to open a large warehouse window with the roman shades, and warm pine trim. Keith watched apathetically, and didn't offer to help. Whatever trouble this man was in, it had nothing to do with Keith, and he felt nothing for him. He often felt nothing lately… then another voice came through the door, as if to contradict him.

"Keith!" His name was yelled with concern and thick emotion.

It punched Keith in his chest and knocked the prevailing numbness from him with brutal force. He was twelve again, lost, sad, and reaching for stability. Someone had come back for him, for the first time in Keith's life, someone was looking for him. A fire roared in his chest. It was longing so powerful that it moved his limbs, and shriveled his doubts and fears.

"Takashi!?" Keith called out, as he ran for the door, ignoring the man screaming for him to stop.

He ripped the door open and all the breath left him. He had heard the voice, but he hadn't believed it, not completely. But now Shiro was there next to the policeman, and very real. Shiro pulled him over the threshold and into his arms, before the first tear fell. Takashi's larger frame enveloped Keith, it was comforting, and scary… Shiro had grown.

He was angry. Keith could see it under layers of concern and relief. It was tightly contained, but it was in Shiro's eyes and the tight tilt of his lips. Heat flooded Keith's body, dried his lungs, and made it hard to breath. Shame overcame him. For the first time since that dark alley where it all started, Keith was ashamed. He never wanted Takashi to see this, but he also never expected to see him again, just like everyone else who left.

Later, Keith was shirtless on a kitchen stool in the Shirogane home. Mrs. Shirogane was fussing over the scratches on his back with some ointment. Nausea rolled Keith's stomach. He didn't deserve this care, he was disgusting, and this wonderful lady was wasting her worry on him, and her guilt... He could see it on her face, every time she passed in front of him, it was heavy in her eyes. He wasn't worth it.

This wasn't her fault and he wanted her to know.

"It's not your fault." It was the first thing he had said since he'd yelled Shiro's name. His voice cracked, and he ducked his head.

Mrs. Shirogane's hands stilled. "It's not your fault, Keith." She was quiet, but vehement.

She could have said any number of things. Denial, or confirmation were what he had expected, but the firm and earnest absolution was a surprise. Of course it was his fault, his choice, he had done this to himself with his own actions. He felt the truth like a stone in his chest, but he couldn't cough it out. Instead, for some reason, he cried.

Hours later Keith was in bed, in the spare room he once hoped would be his. Shiro sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing Keith's hair down.

"How did you find me?" Keith whispered. He allowed himself to indulge in the comfort and tried to ignore all the bad thoughts the touch invoked.

Shiro sighed, and pulled his hand away to Keith's reluctant relief. "Honestly, it was half luck," he admitted. He shifted to lie next to Keith, and looked at the ceiling as he spoke. "When I discovered your foster family was gone, I went to social services. They told me what orphanage you'd been sent to, but you weren't there, and there was no record of you. So I went to the police." He glanced at Keith without turning his head, trying to convey how he had felt, and then he looked back at the ceiling. "The police didn't have a missing persons record of you, but one officer suggested that you might have run. He told me about a slum a couple towns over where runaways gathered. It was a long shot, but I had no other leads." He let silence settle, as if reluctant to explain more.

"But how did-"

The words died in Keith's mouth when Shiro turned his head to look directly at him. "You have quite the reputation in that area." Shiro couldn't hide his disappointment, or the tinge of disgust in his voice. It struck Keith, but he took the hit.

Shiro looked back up at the stucco ceiling and took a breath slowly through his nose, calming himself. "I asked around, and easily found out where your current… conquest lived. When the officer knocked and showed that man-" He spat the word. "-your picture, I saw your hoodie on the floor in the hall-"

"So you yelled my name, because if I responded it would give you probable cause," Keith concluded for him, putting it together himself. "What's going to happen to that man?" He asked. Morbid curiosity got the best of him.

"He's going to jail, his laptop was full of…" Shiro let the silence answer.

Keith nodded, his face was blank, and his eyes far away. The separation he had cultivated had become a chasm without an end. "I can give names, if the cops want…" he offered.

Shiro nodded, a curt movement. "I'm going to pull some strings at the Garrison, I know some high up people there, they can push through the paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Keith didn't understand.

Shiro smiled for the first time since finding Keith. It was small, but genuine. "My parents are going to foster you, and you're coming to the Garrison with me," he stated, it wasn't an option.

Keith's heart jumped. "What?" the question slipped from his mouth.

Shiro turned his head, the smile dropped, and his eyes narrowed. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again," he said firmly, and looked back at the ceiling.

Keith watched Takashi's jaw muscle twitch and his teeth grind. It hurt something in his chest to be the cause of that expression, but he couldn't deny he was excited to be Takashi's foster brother. It was selfish, Takashi's life would be so much easier without Keith, but he wasn't willing to give this up.

Shiro was obviously still angry. Keith understood. After all the time and effort Shiro had invested in finding Keith, only to discover what he had become, he would have been angry too. Keith was lucky that he was allowed to stay, and he didn't want to give Takashi a reason to leave him behind, so he would work hard. It was important that Shiro not waste his time anymore, and that he achieved his goals, because Shiro was important, and Keith wasn't.

"Shiro brought me to the garrison as live-in family, the paperwork was a bitch, but after, I spent the next year getting caught up on my education and having combat and flight skills drilled into me by Shiro… Then I enrolled when I was almost seventeen. And a couple months after I joined the Garrison..." Keith looked up and smirked the best he could with glassy eyes.

"I showed up," Lance finished.

"You showed up," Keith agreed.

Lance didn't know what to say, but he let his feelings speak down the bond. Cool, soothing water of Lance's love washed over the raw, exposed parts of Keith. Lance still loved him, still wanted him. It was a lot to take in, but he couldn't fault Keith for his past, that would be hypocritical. Truthfully, Lance didn't really care what Keith had done, only what the events had done to Keith, and it was a lot. There was damage that Lance couldn't fix, this was bigger than him, than the two of them together. There was a canyon Lance had to cross, and had been slowly bridging since he met Keith, and now he understood why it was there.

"I was such an ass to you when we met, and it wasn't long after everything you went through… I'm sorry," Lance sighed. The strange, comforting fear that bound Keith and had confused Lance, made sense now. He understood so much more. Why Keith didn't like people touching him, why he reacted to a sexual relationship the way he did, why he hated his job, and even the mention of slaves made him so upset... why he thought no one would keep him…

Keith looked bewildered. "Is that all you took from this?" He shook his head. "I didn't mind, you didn't treat me like I was made of glass, or special, it was kinda nice," he assured.

Keith was reassuring Lance. After everything he had been through, he was trying to make sure Lance felt good, that Lance was taken care of. Keith wanted to make sure his past wasn't hurting Lance. Such intense empathy, It burned and rose to the surface. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Lance cried. Thick and lined with tears.

"Wha-" Keith tried to ask, but Lance pulled him close and held on tight.

Keith had explained his past like a story about someone far away, but Lance knew better, he could see it on Keith's face, and feel it in their bond. He had pushed the pain so far down that it forced its way out through Lance. Keith should have been crying, but with soft sobs, Lance did it for him. He pulled back and rambled against Keith's lips between tears and kisses. "You are so good, and so strong. I love you, no matter what," he praised and promised, coating Keith's pain with his affection.

With a shove, Lance pushed back against Keith's repression. He kissed Keith again, with a hard press of lips, and pushed just as hard through the bond. He reversed the flow of emotions, allowing Keith to have his pain back. Lance leaned away and held Keith's face, running his thumb over pale cheeks. "Shiro knows…" He whispered as the pieces came together. "He knows, and he volunteered you to…" Never has so much anger sprung up in Lance at once, so much that it clogged his heart, and left him muddled in it.

Keith shrugged and tried to look down, but Lance held him in place. "Ace… its…" He was going to say 'it's OK', but it wasn't. Keith wasn't OK.

Lance felt something warm slide over his fingers. The jammed up anger washed away in Keith's tears, leaving him clearer, free to feel righteous and indignant. He wiped tear tracks with his thumbs and pressed his forehead to Keith's. Tears ran again, and Lance left them. "You don't have to be OK, Rojo," he whispered.

Keith shook his head, rubbing his forehead against Lance's. "I thought Shiro understood-" He took a shaking breath. "But in dead space he-" The disappointment and betrayal ran hot, and closed Keith's throat.

Lance wanted to make this better, send his own emotions down the bond and nudge the pain out of place, But he couldn't. It was only a bandage, and Keith needed to heal. Lance fought to keep himself grounded, despite the echo of Keith's feelings, and nodded. "Shiro figured out you had feelings for me, but thought I was with Allura. He told me he tried to warn you away from me," Lance supplied.

"Yeah," Keith rasped against his tears. "He told me you weren't one of my marks. He thought I was just going to use you or I was trying to get something. I tried to tell him this was different, but he didn't believe me… and the worst part is, he thinks he's protecting me… and doesn't trust me." It hurt more than explaining his past, it was too close, too recent, and Lance felt it dig deep. "I wanted you to know about this before the mission… what I'm going to do- be like- I won't- but I just…" Keith held Lance's gaze, even as fresh fears welled and his breath hitched.

Lance hugged Keith close. He had suspected abuse in Keith's past, but this was worse than he had imagined. "I understand. I'm glad you told me."

Lance would tell Keith about Maritza, but not now. This wasn't the time.

Not yet.

oOoOo

Lance knew what happiness was, he knew better than most people. The long shadow of his life was cast in the low hanging light of happiness. Being happy was fleeting. Like running to your bed in the dark, covering your feet with a blanket, and being absolutely sure that the monster's clawed hand just missed your ankle. It was intense and tiring. Contentment was the soft paisley blanket pulled over your head. It deflected all the terrors that would snatch you into the night. Easy to hold up, feather light, and a comforting darkness.

But it would be a long time before Lance could close his eyes in the dark.

Then, Keith came along, and he was an enigma. intense and soft, a blanket and a rush. Lance wanted to run with him, hide with him, close his eyes and be brave with him. Later he learned that not everyone lays under their contentment, and some people never close their eyes. Keith never had a bed to run to, or a blanket to hide under. He stood in the dark and didn't know what a shadow was. It made Lance wonder if contentment was something meant to be held up, or if maybe, it was meant to hold him up instead.

They were the blind leading the blind, trying to navigate the terrain of existence.

Tomorrow was close. The mission that might get them off this rusty planet was only hours away. Lance hid from his team, and even from Keith. He had dragged a battery pack all the way to the hanger, and managed to haphazardly hook up the door.

Now he sat alone, on a shell that had once housed a great beast. Blue sat cold and empty. Lance had crawled up her paw and pressed his hand to the unresponsive metal. Ragged ends of his old bond with the Lion ached, drifting loose, caught in a current of rapid thoughts. Without meditation Lance had been slipping backwards. The only thing that had grounded him before Keith, was Blue, but Blue was gone and Keith was adrift, lost alongside Lance. So he came here looking for something to keep him from staring into the mirror. He needed to keep it together until this was over.

Lance rubbed a scratch in the blue paint. An unwanted sensation simmered under his skin. It eroded healing pathways in his heart with a familiar acidic disgust that Lance had tried so hard to leave behind. He twisted the new piercing under his lip and let the sting ground him. Lance's contentment soaked up his despair, becoming a burden to hold up. Somewhere else, Keith rained down insecurities and fear through their bond, adding his own weight onto Lance's shaking arms. They couldn't distribute the weight between so few supports.

All this time, Lance and Keith had been pressing their hands to each other's spidering gaps, holding each other together. They had been stemming the leak in the weakest part of a dam. The cracks grew everyday, a constant threat of a fracture, and Lance felt like a failure. Broken people couldn't fix each other, Lance couldn't even be completely open, even after Keith had been. Learning about Keith's past actually made it harder for Lance to open up. He couldn't expect Keith to lift Lance's burdens when his own were so heavy. Not now, right before the mission he was so distraught over.

The ocean welled up in Lance's chest and he wanted to let himself drown. To surrender his failing existence to the forces of his own inability. He would fracture, disintegrate into dust, and dissolve in the anxious waters of his own self deprecation. The pressure was immense, and he couldn't breath… But, he loved Keith. Loved him despite their inability to fix each other, because that's not what love was for. It was a foundation to build on, and something to fortify self improvement. Without effort, love is just an empty parking lot. Solid, but barren and uninhabitable.

Air ruched back and some of the worry drained away. Lance had to believe that they could get through this, that they were more than their pasts. He would tell Keith everything after the mission.

Slowly, Lance ran his hand over Blue's large paw beneath him and attempted to relax. No one would be looking for him. Keith and Allura were at work, Pidge was with their mentor, Coran was with the scrappers, and Shiro avoided Lance and Keith. Hunk wouldn't look for him either, because he knew better than to bother Lance on his birthday.

He had survived one more year. He was alive, and Maritza wasn't.

Lance wanted to meditate and isolate himself, but Keith's grip in the bond reminded him he needed to remain. He couldn't shrug off what Keith had asked him to support, even as his mind wavered, and his knees buckled with the very idea of it. Without him, Keith would crumble. It was almost over, then they could rest.

Lance fell back, stretching out over the cold metal. What a shitty birthday.

Hours later Lance pulled himself up and climbed down from his perch on Blue. His fingers trailed over her cold body as he stepped away, and he lamented the bubbling energy that used to warm the metal. One more step back and he lost contact. His skin tingled with the memory of the Lion's quintessence, and he anticipated it returning when they left this planet. Every cell in his body reached out for Blue, longing for the day she could reach back to him.

oOoOo

"Where have you been?" It wasn't an accusation, Keith could have found Lance. He could have followed the gossamer thread their bond had become under the strain of their mutual melancholy. It was pulled and stretched on the rack of their unfortunate situation, and neither of them wanted to test it's fortitude. So Keith had waited in Lance's room, and Lance pretended he had real solitude.

"With Blue," Lance answered. His body eclipsed the light from the still open door, and the shadow obscured his view of Keith on the bed, but he felt the frown he couldn't see.

He crossed the room, allowing the door to stutter shut. He didn't change into pajamas, didn't trust himself in the bathroom with the mirror. Instead, he removed his shirt, sat on the edge of his own bed, and looked at Keith's face in the bloom of the tablet he held in his lap.

"So tomorrow?" Lance muttered.

"Lets not think about it," Keith ended the topic. He turned off the tablet, leaving them in the dark.

Lance was relieved, he didn't actually want to talk about the mission. He heard the click of the tablet being set on the floor, and the smooth slide of blankets as Keith made room for him. No matter if they fought, differed in opinion, or were stressed by events outside of their control, Keith would never withhold or reject affection. There was never a period of silent treatment -not that it would be easy with the mind link- and he never shied away from Lance's touch, not anymore. Only on occasion -very rarely- would one of them request alone time, and the other would comply. It was a testament to their devotion, and their love, but also to their pasts. Sure, they had their problems, pretty big ones if Lance was being honest, but respect wasn't one of them.

Lance, honest-to-god loved the man for it. With every moment of his existence he appreciated Keith, and would return as much as he received. It didn't mean they were perfect, or that Lance wouldn't have to fess up one day, but that wasn't relevant for right now. He removed his hair clip, and crawled under the covers.

Keith called to Lance with red velvet touches to his thoughts. All the troubles between and around them washed away, just for now, only for each other. Keith ran his hand up Lance's chest, over his neck, and into his hair. They were side by side, facing each other, and Lance could barely see the shine of Keith's eyes in the dark.

Keith grabbed a handful of hair, firm but not painful, and pulled until their foreheads touched. With the breath they shared, he whispered, "I love you."

Lance loved him too, but his mouth was suddenly occupied, and his thoughts cloudy. It was alright, Keith knew.

With a light push, Lance was on his back, with Keith on all fours above him, still kissing him. Lance wanted more, and Keith opened his mouth, tilted his head and offered more. Their intentions mingle, but Keith's flew by like a flip book, quick and needy. Before Lance could grasp one direction or the other, Keith's hand flicked open the button of Lance's pants and slipped inside to grab his already hard arousal. They moaned together into the kiss, as both took pleasure in the firm pulls of Keith's hand. Again, Keith's intentions flickered by, wanting and unsure, but he let go of Lance's erection and his hand slid around to his ass. Shaking, Keith's finger crept between Lance's cheeks and pressed lightly.

Lance gasped and Keith froze. Their kiss broke.

Not since that disastrous night months ago, when Lance first suspected Keith's history, had Keith tried to top. They never talked about it, only felt out what was comfortable. Now, with their lips almost touching, Keith asked with the press of his finger. He rubbed small circles around Lance's entrance and waited.

"Yes," Lance breathed, completely certain.

"Are you su-"

"You know I am," Lance interrupted, because he knew Keith did, it was clear in the bond. "I'm not afraid," he assured.

Lance grabbed Keith's hair -that dumb, beautiful hair- and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Then in the same breath he stole from Keith, he hissed, "Take me."

The floodgate unlocked. A broiling heat swept out from under Keith's skin, and Lance was filled with it. The aggression was inherent to Keith's core being, but full of hunger and lust, and a hard, biting love that wanted to sink its teething into the softest parts of Lance. He had glimpsed this side of Keith from behind the bars where he kept it locked, and had tasted it in the small room of the shack when Keith and him were first intimate. Then he'd feared it, the first time it had truly been freed, but now he embraced it. It was a part of Keith, and Lance trusted him, wanted all of him. The aggressive -possessive- behavior tugged at Lance, digging deep for something, and finding it.

Keith quickly reached under the pillow and pulled out a small bottle. Lance tried not to recall the very uncomfortable conversation he had with Dam-Saeg concerning its use when he'd first asked for it, he wanted to stay aroused. The embarrassing memory was ripped away when both his wrists were suddenly above his head in one of Keith's hands, while the over hand pulled his pants and boxers down to his knees.

Lance struggled a little, but instead of fear, the resistance sent a curl of heat down his body. Keith was pleased, Lance could feel it in his mind and the hard press of Keith groin into his thigh. He pushed his hips into Lance's again and kissed him, hard. The pleasure, and mild pain, echoed between them, and Lance relinquished control. At the slightest sign of fear, Keith would stop, he was sure of it.

The kiss traveled down Lance's jaw and neck, along with little bites and loud moans. A slick finger slowly pressed until it entered Lance, and it was a swift push up to the knuckle. He gasped, and then yelped when Keith bit down at the junction of his neck and shoulder. It hurt, but Lance was ridiculously -and surprisingly- turned on by it. Learn something new everyday, the stray thought almost made him laugh.

Keith shifted, without releasing Lance's wrists or removing his finger. He settled between Lance's legs, and used his foot to push Lance's pants down from his knees until they were removed. He loomed over Lance, fully clothed between his legs, and added a second finger. Lance arced off the bed in surprise and pleasure and Keith bit the same spot as before, muffling his moan from their combined pleasure.

"God, Rojo-" Lance tried to plead, but it ended in a choked scream when Keith bit down harder.

The fingers slid out of Lance. Keith released his bite, softly kissed the forming bruise and nipped at Lance's collarbone. He could hear Keith undo his pants single handedly, just enough to release himself, as he sucked a hickey into Lance's skin, over and over. The click of the lube cap was loud between their gasps and moans, then Keith reached out and pulled the pillow from behind Lance's head. He understood, lifted his hips, and allowed Keith to slide it under, wrapping his legs around Keith's waist

A feather light touch of lips met Lance's labret stud, as Keith gently pressed against Lance's entrance. He pulled back and pushed forwards again, a little harder, but still not breaching. With very small, slow, and repeating thrust, Keith opened Lance.

Lance hissed into Keith's mouth and tried to push back, but Keith held his hips still with his free hand, swallowing all the sounds he made. Agonizingly slowly, Keith stretched Lance with shallow rutting. His fingers were going numb, his wrists ached, and Lance was starting to lose his mind with want. He knew Keith could feel it, but it only seemed to drive his determination to torture Lance.

One more thrust and Keith's head was inside him, and he held still. Lance burned, his cock throbbed against his abdomen, and it was so good. Keith pulled back a tiny bit, broke the long suffocating kiss, then jerked his hips forward completely and bit down on the blooming bruise from before.

Lance screamed, thanking the ancient Altean that decided to make the castle walls soundproof. They blurred together as all of Lance was encompassed by Keith, and the tapered end of Lance's scream was full of his name. "Keith, Keith, Rojo, Babe," he chanted softly.

Keith remained still, panting against abused skin. He released Lance's wrists and grabbed his hips. Lance immediately put his arms around Keith, holding on, digging into the skin of Keith back unconsciously. "Rojo, baby," he pleased.

Keith responded with a growl as he ran his nose under Lance's jaw and placed a soft kiss. The growl was low, but loud, and reverberated through Lance's chest. It brough one word to mind, Galra. Lance wasn't repulsed as expected, he was enthralled. He wanted Keith more and pushed his hips forward.

The growl intensified, Keith's hands tightened on his hips. He pulled back and snapped forward. Lance screamed again, it ended with a sob of pleasure that Keith muffled with a kiss. He set a hard, and fast pace, and Lance could only hold on, clawing at Keith's back.

As usual the combined sensations through the bond were overwhelming, but this time it was so much more. Lance felt like he was being claimed, as if Keith was making up for all the times Lance had topped, and he loved it. His body rocked, and Keith was relentless, and for a second Lance wondered how aware Keith was as he kissed, and bit, and fucked Lance into the mattress.

Then, when release was nearing, Keith slowed down. Although a part of Lance was disappointed, another part was a little relieved, because as Keith's strokes slowed, he seemed to come back to himself, and Lance wanted to experience this with him.

Keith's hips rolled, slowly, but just as hard. Each thrust brought them closer to the end and Keith began whispering, almost praying to Lance.

"Ace, Ace, Lance, Baby, yesyesyes."

Lance grabbed Keith's hips, pulling him deeper with every push. "Yes, Babe!" He called out. They were on the edge, and Keith sped up again. In a few fast, hard thrusts, Keith bit Lance again to muffle his yell. His hips stuttered, and he grabbed Lance in his hand, stroking him, as they came at the same time.

The thin line of their strained bond bloomed, and the edges between them blurred. There was no blue or red, only a flaming ocean of purple as they completely overlapped. Some more missing bits connected. But this feeling of the bond growing, changing, wasn't new, and they would accept it without comment, whatever it might bring.

Keith collapsed on top, and Lance held him close.

Breathing hard, Lance felt spent, claimed, covered in bruises, and completely loved. "Best. Birthday. Ever," he huffed between breaths.

Keith jerked back onto his elbows and looked down at Lance, shocked. "It's your Birthday?!"

Lance burst out laughing. He probably shouldn't have, the annoyed look on Keith's face made that clear, but he had looked so affronted by the idea that it was Lance's birthday and he hadn't known, that it was hilarious, especially given the situation.

"It's not funny," Keith insisted, sitting up completely, buttoning himself up, and slapping the light control on the wall.

Their bond was so seamless at that moment, that Lance was almost sure Keith's irritation was his own. He wondered at that for a moment, they were often closer after sex, but this was a tad more than usual. It would probably slacken as it usually did, so Lance Ignored it for the moment. He was about to tease the crap out of Keith, when the prickly red irritation churned with guilt.

Keith's eyes roamed over Lance's chest, pausing on each red welt and bruise. Lance sat up quickly, and cupped Keith's face, weaving his long fingers into soft black hair. "Hey," he smiled softly into the word.

Keith's eyes snapped to Lance's and he opened his mouth to speak, but Lance held the apology in with his hand. He heard it in his mind long before Keith tried to say it, and he really didn't want to hear it again.

"Don't," he ordered.

Keith tried to pull his face away, but Lance trapped it firmly between his hands. With his mouth free Keith tried to speak again, but stopped when Lance's objection crashed into him as a cold wave, before he even made a sound.

"No, don't Rojo," Lance warned. "You don't get to feel bad about this, because I loved it." He tried to impress upon Keith that he meant it, but guilt still rolled between them.

Lance signed, over dramatic, as if he was put upon by having a wonderful, loving boyfriend that worried about him. "Listen, babe. Do I feel upset?" He tried to reason.

Keith shook his head slowly in the cage of Lance's hands.

"OK, good. Do I feel scared or angry or anything else bad?" Lance continued.

Again, Keith shook his head. "You…" he faltered. "You feel…" he stopped again, trying to define the emotion.

"Wanted," Lance filled in. It was true. He had never felt so wanted by someone in his life as he did tonight, and it was so much better than needed. He shrugged and rubbed the spot Keith had bit the most. "Also, it was hot," he amended with a smirk.

There would be a mark for a while, but it really wasn't any worse than a particularly aggressive hickey- with teeth marks. With Keith's past, Lance understood why he might think he had done something wrong, especially when it had scared Lance in the beginning, when their relationship was young. When Lance topped, it was different, softer. He wouldn't behave this way with Keith, unless he wanted Lance too, then all bets were off. But, it wasn't what Keith needed, he needed to feel treasured, which is exactly what Lance did. In this way, he was sure they could be what the other needed, with some work.

The shine in Keith's eyes, coupled with a deep sense of belonging -red and silky under Lance's placid waters- was the acceptance he had been hoping for.

Keith blinked the tears away, and slapped Lance on the arm. "Why didn't you tell me it was your Birthday!?" He snapped, completely flipping the script. Apparently the subject was resolved, and closed.

Lance guarded himself against another smack, and chuckled unconvincingly. "I don't know what you mean! Come on, Babe. Get naked and cuddle with me."

"Don't try and distract me," Keith glowered, but the exasperation wasn't there to back him up, he was still sleek as silk in the bond.

Lance smiled, suave and persuasive. "You know you want to." He opened his arms and waited.

Keith let out a long breath through his nose. Now he was exasperated, but also endeared toward Lance. He quickly shed his clothes and fell into the circle of Lance's arms. "That smooth mouth of yours will be the end of me," he confessed, and leaned in to ghost his lips over the labret piercing. Keith seemed particularly taken with it, and Lance couldn't wait until it was done healing.

They kept eye contact as Keith carefully ran the tip of his tongue over the stud, avoiding the healing skin. This was a side of Keith that rarely made an appearance, sensual, and almost detached from his seductive behavior. As usual, it felt out of place on Keith, but not any less attractive.

When Keith realized what he was doing he blinked it away, and instead pressed and chast kiss to Lance's lips, then pressed their foreheads together. "I still want to know why you didn't tell-" He stopped, and stared, pressing their heads together harder as if he could get closer, like he was looking at something interesting. "Your eyes…" he whispered.

Lance blinked in response. "What?" He was glad Keith wasn't pushing about the birthday thing, but now he was just confused, and so was Keith by the feel of it.

Keith squinted. "Your eyes are bluer," he delaired.

"What?" Lance repeated, not any less confused with that explanation.

Now Keith was holding his face, and tipped his head, closing one eyes to get as close a look as possible. He turned Lance's head towards the light, letting it shine on his eyes from an angle. Keith released a small gasp and let go. The jump of surprise fluttered in Lance's chest as well.

"Your pupils are blue, that's why your eyes look bluer," Keith explained in wonder.

"What?" Lance said for a third time, still confused.

"It's not that noticeable, but your pupils are navy blue now," Keith clarified. His reached behind himself and ran his fingers over the edge of the velvety purple skin.

Lance covered the galra skin with his own hand, and threaded their fingers. "Guess we have something else in common now."

"Aren't you worried? Don't you want to look at it in a mirror?" Keith asked.

Lance let himself sag to one side a bit, the weight of that explanation made him feel unbalanced. The mirror held even less appeal now, because it had even more sway. "No," he answered simply, foregoing any further excuses.

"But-" Keith tried to argue, burning with curiosity.

"No," Lance repeated. "It's not as big a deal as yours, and if everything goes well we won't be on this planet much longer anyway," he offered, and opened his arms for Keith again. Through the bond he begged, not with words, but with long lengths of watery pleas of emotion. He didn't want to explain his body issues, or his self esteem problems, most of which Keith intrinsically understood. Lance didn't trust his own feelings on those subjects to begin with. He just wanted to hold close the way he felt earlier, sleep with it, and leave this chaos as soon as possible.

Keith accepted Lance's embrace, slapping the light off as they lay themselves down. His pressed his face into Lance's neck, and let himself be held, treasured the way he liked. 'This isn't over,' Keith thought at Lance, as bold red words, and Lance knew he meant the eyes and his birthday.

'I know, but we need sleep,' Lance reasoned, as calm and blue as could be.

Keith gave in, resigned. Only because Lance was right. The mission was tomorrow.

Before they drifted off, Keith whispered. "You're beautiful."

Lance, compelled to pay him back and make them square, cuddled Keith closer.

oOoOo

Large, rust framed windows let in the sun, thick bars of light that set fire to the dustmotes. Lance ran through the heatless embers. Anticipation dripped up from his toes into his chest, and curled inside the fear that filled him, like ink into water. He traveled through the broken light, down a long hallway. It was an abandoned path used by the Zuko to travel between Yeppeos unnoticed. Not even Pidge knew where these pathways were located, it was a tightly kept secret of all Zukos.

Lance rushed to get into position. The path slipped underground, and the sun was smothered by the decent. Lance maneuvered through the dark by memory, no electronics could be activated under Yeppeo one. It was a safety precaution to ensure the tunnels remained hidden.

Keith was above ground, in the land of chrome that housed the highest ranks of Yeppeuda, but his thoughts ran through Lance's mind. Red static, that would zap him from time to time, with fear, or anxiety. They offered each other minimal support, afraid of throwing off the mission, they needed to focus. Lance took comfort in the smell of Keith that linger on his skin, warm rain and salt.

From the ceiling a needle of light pierced the dark. Lance stopped, and dropped his bag. He took a breath, long, slow, and full of dust. With practised hands he felt for the ladder on the wall, and climbed to the source of light. It was a small vent hole in a large hatch. Lance turned a wide wheel, and pushed the heavy round door up and away with ease gained from repetition. He recalled the first time he traveled these tunnels, Kal had to open all the hatches. He glanced at his bare arms. Maybe he should get a tattoo there? He had the muscle to pull it off now, tight and wiry, to complement his slim build.

He shook the thought away. Focus, focus, focus, he looped it in his mind… Hunk was probably making something good for dinn- nope! Focus! Lance huffed as he hauled himself into the strangely clean basement and shut the hatch. He waved his hand as if to dismiss his mind's nervous rambling, an old habit he thought he had overcome. Apparently he'd only raised his stress tolerance.

Compartmentalize, Lance told himself, he was a pro. For the first time in a week he allowed his mind to slip into a place between meditation and awareness. Only for a moment he let Keith slip away, and submerged his emotion, leaving placid waters behind. Keith didn't seem to notice the laps, he was too distracted.

The storage room Lance emerged in was bright. Only two lights hung from the low ceiling, but the polished walls and floor were blinding. Yeppeo one was both sleek and ostentatious, like some sick joke on juxtaposition. Lance scoffed, he hated this place. It was nothing but a shrine to the rich built by the rich. They entombed themselves in the name of containing the poor, created their own gilded cage, unaware. He climbed the stairs and cracked the door open. The corridor was empty, so he slipped out with his bag over his shoulder.

Lance crept slowly, but his footfalls still skittered over walls so polished he could see himself. The sound slither up to the cathedral ceiling, and arched across the corridor. His heart jumped with every step until he arrived at his destination.

Lance recalled the schematic Pidge had pulled from the Gi-Shu. He placed his hand on the far wall, and slid it left and right, up and down, feeling for the catch he knew was there. His fingers slipped into a crack his eyes couldn't see… it was eerie, as if his fingers phased into the wall. He pulled, and a hidden door popped open. The entrance to the servants stairs. He slipped inside, and shut the door behind himself.

"You in?"

Lance held his yelp of surprise in his mouth with his hand. Deep breaths through his nose slowed his heart. He took a quick look around to make sure he was alone, and grabbed the large coppery box strapped to his chest, pushing the button to respond.

"Damn it Pidge, you could have gotten me caught! Over!" He snapped back and released the button.

"But are you in?" The metallic quality of the transmission didn't dampen Pidgeon's sass.

"Yes I'm in! Over," Lance relented.

"Good, let me know when you're on the roof," Pidge ordered, unaffected by Lance's surly mood.

Lance leaned against the polished wall. His shoulders lifted with his calming breath, but he still growled when he responded. "I will, and say Over, OVER." His finger was sore with the force of his press, and it ached when he released the button.

"No," Pidge refused, the word edged in petulance.

Lance continued running down the narrow pathways, but refused to concede the argument. "How am I supposed to know when you're done talking? Over." He tried to be reasonable.

"You seem to be doing pretty good so far," Pidge reasoned. They were being snarky, but the hard reluctance in their voice softened.

Lance couldn't stop the small smile, Pidgeon's offhanded sass wormed its way through his bad mood as he tried to persuade them. "Just say Over, it's what you're supposed to do on a radio, it's like one way, or a single band or something. Over."

A long, over dramatic sigh came through high and metallic. "Shitty old tech, I feel stupid saying it," Pidge admitted, in a tone that told Lance exactly how much they hated admitting it.

"Well you have too! Ov-," Lance tried to tease, but his com made a loud squeak, his adrenaline spiked, and he almost dropped the com in surprise. He paused with his hand over his heart, trying to center himself, and pretend he hadn't squealed like a child.

"What?" Pidge called out when the static cleared. "I didn't hear you, I was trying to talk when you were," they admitted, sheepishly.

Recollected, and on the move again, Lance reveled in his vindication. "This is EXACTLY why you say over. OVER." He rubbed it in, like only a brother could. Older or younger, it didn't matter, it was just how siblings behaved.

Pidge skwaked and shouted. "Shut up La-"

The interruption was sudden. A scuffle, some overlapping yells, a moment of silence, and then Shiro came over the com. "Lance, get to the roof. Over and out."

It was a no nonsense end, and Lance was left with only his own buzzing thoughts and worries. Despite the volume of the buzzing, Lance was completely focused. He couldn't mess this up, it was too important. He scurried the rest of the way to the roof without encountering another soul.

The building Lance had climbed was one of the tallest in the area. A phallic, chrome monstrosity, that served as a monument to the privileged residents of Yeppeo One. Lance looked out over the sea of buildings below, less shiny, but no less pristine, white, and pretentious, as the one he was perched on.

The bar Vii frequented was less than a block away, and Lance had a perfect view of the large front windows. He dropped his bag near the edge of the roof, just in front of a small wall, and ignored his own reflection in the glossy top of the barrier. He went to his knees and pulled out the two halves of his rifle, and the halves of his dart gun, quickly assembling both. Despite the plan, and being told not to bring his real guns, Lance wanted his rifle ready. It only took minutes to set up, he double checked everything, and patted the hand gun at his hip to be sure he was set. When he was finished, crouching in front of his well worn equipment, Lance looked at himself in the mirror finish of the wall.

It was him looking back. Lance with the piercings, with the long unruly hair clipped back, and the scattered little scars over his skin. Lance with the hard eyes. Under all of that, he could still see the cobbled together pieces of a broken puzzle, with smooth skin he worked so hard on, short hair like his Uncle wanted, and eyes endlessly looking backwards at his own mistakes.

His absent stare was broken by the crackle of his radio. "Lance, are you in position?" Pidge asked, and after pause they uttered, "Over."

Lance pulled himself away from his reflection, and smiled. "Yeah, I'm in position. Over," he responded, only a little smug.

"Vii was last spotted by the camera's heading your way. He should arrive at the bar shortly. Over." Pidge was in full mission mode. Lance could picture them in their tech cave with the team crammed in behind them, watching all the monitors. It turned out that upper Yeppeos have a fairly weak Gi-Shu, so hacking their feeds was child's play for their little Pigeon.

Lance pulled two scopes out of his bag, and snapped one on each gun, then he settled down in front of his real rifle. He would wait and see if they needed the dart gun, unwilling to risk Keith's safety. Lance rolled up the sleeves of his old baseball tee and got comfortable. His shirt was a little stretched out from age, and Lance hated covering his tattoo, but it also covered the majority of the marks Keith had left on him. Only the very edge of the bite mark showed when Lance moved around too much. Honestly, he liked the feel of it, and wished he didn't have to hide it. Not for the first time, he wondered if they should just tell the entire team about their relationship, Shiro be damned. The decline of his and Keith's relationship with Shiro was paralleled by the incline of Lance's relationship with everyone else, and he wouldn't trade his new bond with Pidge or Allura for anything, not even Shiro's approval.

A shiver shook Lance's thoughts loose, and the grim topic slipped away. He refocused on the street, the people were stark against the white and silver city. All of them striking, slim, with color schemes that caught the eye. But none of them could compare to the rare, shining gem of a Yep-Nari. They cut through the crowd, a stone in the rushing waters of the common people. Everyone stopped to stare. Each Yep-Nari's body was proportioned a little closer to the beauty standard, their hair and skin a shade further apart, their eyes a bit brighter and bigger.

The sun began to set, the sparkling buildings were russet and ruby, and Lance became tense with mounting anticipation. Then it snapped with the crackle of the com.

"I have eyes on Vii, camera Alpha-Charlie-6. Over," Pidge whispered, warbly and metallic.

Lance turned his gun to the camera position, and there he was, the man of the hour. He was easy to pick out. A common man packaged in a remarkable outfit. The finest clothes, sharp, but loose in the right places, and all white. A pretty cover for a person verging on Don-iro. Brown eyes, red hair that was cropped short, and blended smoothly into the pink tone of his skin. Common colors, too closely related to be considered beautiful in Yeppeo one, but by Lance's standards -and Zuko- he was attractive. Smooth features, almond eyes, and a lean figure, he bordered the line between beautiful and handsome. Vii's stylish, asymmetrical shirt was sleeveless on one side, with a large collar that dropped off the other shoulder. His exposed arm was covered in a circuit board patterned tattoo, common among Gi-shu and Zuko, inked in brown.

A chime rang out over the entire city, calling for attention. Lance groaned. Damn upper Yeppeo announcements. These stuck up assholes needed every bit of their lives to be scheduled, and "beautiful".

A soft voice echoed over the buildings. "For today's weather event, we will experience a splendiferous pearlescent rain shower. It will commence in 15 Doboshes." A chime in a lower register closed the announcement.

Lance growled in frustration, damn RNG weather in this damn shiny pile of trash Yeppeo, hopefully the rain would be light. He wanted to scream, but remained calm and eyed his prey. Vii strolled along the clean road, as if he fit in, but he didn't. Despite his fine clothes, he was a flashing beacon of the lower Yeppeos, and Lance found it sort of refreshing to see. Through the scope Lance followed Vii's moments as he made his way to the expected location. The muzzle of the rifle trailed Vii until he took a seat at the bar, and a drink was placed before him without request.

"Mark is in position. Over," Lance relayed.

"Roger. Keith you are a go. Over," Pidge directed, a tilt of nerves to their voice.

The current of the crowded street wavered, and parted, when Keith appeared from around the corner. He cut through like a blade quenched in water, and the people bubbled around him. Keith ignored the pointing and almost reverent whispers, he looked directly ahead, and continued down the street.

Lance knew Keith hated being a Yep-nari. But man, did Lance love looking at Keith when he was dressed for work. The skin tight black pants were painted on, and paired with knee high heeled boots. His top was black, but open in the front all the way to Keith's waist, where it was buttoned once. The sleeves were long at the elbow, almost brushing the street, the only thing keeping the shirt on Keiths shoulders was a decorative chain that attached the silky material and swept across Keith's chest like a livery collar, it was the mark of a Yep-nari. Keith's collar was black to match his aesthetic, three chains, each dipping a little lower than the last, one for each Yeppeo he had moved up from. Every three inches the chains were bundled together by a black gem. His skin almost glowed through the gaps in his attire, and his eyes were bright, the only splash of color in the black and white pallet.

With his chin raised, Keith continued down the road. He looked at no one, and floated above the commoners. None of the red disgust that coated Lance's mind showed on Keith's face. There were nerves, irritation, and an eerie, deep longing, simmering under the surface, and Lance could feel it all, even if he couldn't see it.

Then it was gone.

Every trance of Keith was gone. He had withdrawn form the bond, leaving empty corridors where red walkways once lived. For one crazy moment Lance panicked. It had been so long since he had been alone with his own thoughts, he was insecure. Without the ruby tinted lens of Keith's perspective, he suddenly felt inadequate. He was left with only the residue of Keith's shame, and the distinct feeling of something that couldn't exist alongside Lance.

Without a doubt, this is what Keith felt when Lance would meditate, it was awful, and cold. Guilt welled up, but Lance forced it down into the pit of his stomach to solidify, he would save it for later, along with all his other regrets. For now he would stand on his own and watch. Even if he hadn't expected it, he understood why Keith needed to pull away to do this.

Keith entered the bar, and changed, morphed before Lance's eyes into a stranger. His body relaxed into a casual line that Lance had never seen, and he moved gracefully, like a predator, until he was across the bar in Vii's line of sight. Then he stopped, and ignored his mark.

"What is Keith doing? Did he freeze? Over." Pidge sounded irritated and worried.

Lance's thoughts were rain against a windshield, scattered. He was only capable of watching Keith, who felt so far away. Shiro spoke up in his absence.

"No, he's got this." Shiro sounded confident, but even through the static of the com, there was a sense of loss in his voice. Lance wondered if he mourned what Keith lost by participating in this mission, or if he still regretted the loss of Keith's innocents all those years ago. Either way, Shiro's regret was only driven by some ill conceived notion that any of this made Keith less, which it didn't.

"The games only just started," Shiro whispered, before realizing he was still on the com, then the static cut off with a click.

It really was a game. Pidge didn't see it, young and inexperienced as they were, but Lance picked out the signs. Keith pretended not to see their target, and allowed Vii to think he caught first sight. He lulled Vii into a false sense of dominance, before meeting his eyes in a casual glance and then looking away. It could have easily been an accident, Lance would have been fooled if he wasn't privy to the situation.

Vii watched Keith for a moment longer, then he waved his hand vauguly towards the bar, and another drink appeared. Vii swept up the new drink, turning his back to the window as he slid from his seat. He paused for a couple of ticks, then turned back to the bar to snatch up his own glass, and skulled across the room.

A puffed up kitten stalking a lion.

Through the unfamiliar, Lance began to see Keith. He had noticed the weak echo of this persona before. Flashes of the smooth movements, predatory aggression, and well practiced smiles, then Keith would wipe them away. Lance saw it their very first time together in the small extra room of the shack, he saw it the first time Keith had tried to top, and in so many other small moments that were shrugged off. Keith didn't want to be this, not with Lance, so Keith shut him out.

Vii arrived in front of Keith with a quirky smirk, and a charming, casual stance. He leaned against the round, high, table Keith stood near, and slid a tall glass across the surface. It stopped only an inch from the edge, directly in front of Keith. The beverage was light, almost pink, and bubbled. If they were on Earth, Lance would have said it was Prosecco, or something similar. Either way, it looked expensive.

Keith shifted, turning to face Vii. His body was open, his face bored, and his fingers grazed the top of the glass in consideration. He conveyed nothing but haughty superiority. Vii's smile widened, and he leaned forward to speak at an intimate distance. Without modern earpieces none of the team could hear the conversation taking place.

Vii boldly placed a hand on Keith's arm as he spoke. Uninvited contact with a Yep-Nari was considered unacceptable, but Vii looked unconcerned. Keith's face pulled disapprovingly, but his body leaned into Vii's touch, as if it was unconscious. Lance knew it was a deliberate and well calculated move. Keith didn't want to seem eager, but didn't want to drive Vii away. Many Yep-Nari were sheltered, and inexperienced, and Keith played the perfect prey.

Finally, Keith leaned away from Vii's hand, lowered his eyes to the table, hiding a small, shy smile, but not well enough. Vii looked confident, and pushed the sparkling drink a little closer as their conversation continued.

"How did Keith… He didn't- What the fuck?" all the rules of radio communication were lost in the confused awe of Pidge and Hunk's overlapping voices.

Lance knew how. Keith had tried to erase this from himself, the pain of every edit seemed in vain as Lance watched the scene play out, and it made him sick. He was sick for Keith's sense of self being tossed aside for some greater good, and he wanted to throttle Shiro. His rage echoed in all the space left in Keith's wake, scalding water filling his chest, and it intensified without anyone to temper it. His hands white knuckled around his gun, but his finger stayed steady, and his scope was well aimed.

Keith brushed the delicate glass with his fingertips, and smiled at Vii. it was well rehearsed, beautiful, and completely empty, nothing like how he smiled at Lance. But Vii's eyes lit up, and he pointed at Keith's drink, said something, and began to gesture enthusiastically. Apparently he was the equivalent of some sort of wine snob on this planet. Keith laughed, and nodded along to Vii's explanations.

The com came to life, and Lance's tense body twitched in surprise. "Keith's got game," Pidge commented, genuinely surprised. So surprised that they forgot to say "over".

No one responded.

Vii was closing the distance between himself and Keith. All Lance could hear was static, his eye fixed on the scene through the scope. He could feel his own heartbeat. In his legs, his arms, hot, just under his skin, it was shallow, but fast with fear and jealousy. Vii was only inches away from Keith, their faces close, almost able to kiss Keith's lips, the lips that belonged to Lance, and only Lance. His finger tightened on the trigger, his crosshairs fixed directly over Vii's smug face. His heartbeat rose into his ears, drowning out the static, and pulsing with the burn behind his eyes.

"Lance, buddy. You're being unusually quiet, heh…Over," Hunk prodded conspicuously. Pidge could be heard in the background, asking curious questions. "Why does it matter that he's quiet?"

Lance's finger loosened, and his jaw unclenched. Sound rushed back as his heart retreated to his chest. As much as he wanted to snap at Hunk for being obvious, Lance couldn't blame him considering how close he'd just come to murdering their target. He took a steadying breath, and responded. "Yeah, I'm good. Over." Maybe he should move to the dart gun… but he didn't.

Keith and Vii were still very cozy, and whispering to each other in their corner of the bar. Lance bit down on his lip while this continued for a couple of minutes. His rage hardened, and filled him with ice, cold and suffocating without Keith to melt it, but he endured. His laser-like concentration was interrupted by a small cold drop on his forehead. He blinked, and another landed on his nose, then his hand. He looked down at the milky rain drop and cursed.

"Fuck."

The drop on his hand rolled down the back of his fingers, leaving a glittering trail. Stupid fucking yuppie rain. Luckily the shower remained light for now, and Lance's view of the bar was only a little blurry. He tipped his scope down just a bit, protecting it from the rain.

"Lance, you still got a visual? Over," Pidge asked, likely concerned by the weather.

"Yeah, I'm good. Over," Lance assured them. Then his heart stopped, the ice in him expanded, threatening to tear him apart.

Vii leaned in towards Keith with clear intentions. For a moment, it looked as if Keith was going to commit, lead Vii into their trap as intended. His eyes were open, and sharp, while Vii's slowly closed, but Keith's facade cracked with the slight widening of his eyes.

Lance fell from the cliff of his empty bond, and in a rush of emotion he hit the solid ground of Keith's distressed mind. There was no slow trickle of a breaking dam, but complete catastrophic failure of the wall in their link.

Lance gasped, trying to keep his head above the sea of guilt, and shame that cascaded over him. Below it all was fear, and it wasn't fear of what was happening. Finally Lance understood. Keith was afraid of finding comfort in the familiar, of enjoying the velvety constraints of having your choices made for you. Just a little, Keith wanted to give in and let the current take him. Lance choked on it all, but he didn't judge.

Through all the chaos of the bond snapping back in place, Keith managed to calm down, and his wide eyes relaxed. Lance felt Keith grab him like a railing for balance. He pulled back from Vii right before they kissed, he couldn't do it while Lance was in his mind. Keith lifted his untouched drink between them, and said something with a charming smile, trying to distract Vii.

Rather than being insulted or put out, Vii looked pleased, and nodded. He shouldn't have looked so pleased. Keith lifted the glass to his lips, and took a sip. Vii smirked, and Lance's breath caught.

Everything went wrong. The way his skin felt was wrong, his tongue, his lips, the air he was breathing, all of it was wrong. He was dizzy, and light, as if he was dreaming. All of the strange new sensations were spewing in from Keith's end of the bond, obscuring Lance's mind, and dampening Keith's natural fire. He was a cloudy puddle.

"LANCE! Something isn't right with Keith, do you have a visual?! Over!" Pidge yelled through the radio, causing the already tinny quality to squeal.

Lance couldn't focus on the words. They were swimming in his ears, like the sight of the bar was swimming in his vision. Keith was swimming too, floating on his back, just like in the castleships pool. He had little care for anything, and that was nice, Lance thought Keith worried too much.

"LANCE, FUCK, LANCE!" Pidge was frantic, for whatever reason… Things were just dandy.

No, wait. Things weren't alright. Suddenly everything wasn't ok. He didn't want to go that way, not that, no, no, no. Terror poured into Lance, and tasted like blood in his mouth. There was blood in his mouth. Someone was yelling, Their voice wavering underwater. Water was running through his hair, down his face, coating him. Chilling rain came down in white sheets, over his gun, and his face. Nothing good ever happened in the rain. Why did he always miss it?

The yelling grew louder, but it wasn't over the com. 'LaNC-' Slurred and incomplete. 'LANC-' again, but muffled by all the rain.

'LANCE!' It was clear, and full of fear, and Lance took a gasping breath as if he'd been holding it.

Keith! It wasn't the radio, it was Keith. Lance blinked. He was biting his lip so hard his piercing was bleeding.

"Lance, buddy, we lost visual on Keith!" Hunk yelled through the com, and Pidge was screaming for the radio back.

Lance was still dizzy, but he tried to focus. With quick meditation techniques he cleared his head a little, blocking most of his bond, it helped. He looked through the scope, but everything was shiny and white. The rain covered everything in a pearly curtain. He fumbled with the com, hoping it wasn't too waterlogged to work. With shaking fingers he managed to press the button.

"What happened?! Where's Keith?! I can't see anything through the rain!" Lance tried not to yell, but failed. He was sure his panicked tears came through clearly.

"Lance, Keith was acting strange then Vii dragged him off somewhere, we have no cameras on him, Over." Shiro's calm and collected voice came through, But the rain was making it hard to understand.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Lance scrambled back to his gun, and tried to see anything he could through the scope, but all he could make out was the outline of the bar window. From the bond he felt fog, through that he felt fear… and a struggling spark of anger. Keith was fighting, of course he was fighting. Keith wasn't capable of going down without fighting, but he was still scared, cloudy and pink.

Lance wasn't thinking of the mission, or getting off this damn planet, or of anything else except helping Keith. All his senses hardened into cold determination. With only the bar window in view, Lance fired his rifle, regardless of the danger to the patrons. If Keith was off camera, then he wasn't in the shots line of sight, and that's all that mattered. The shot rang through the white rain, and the crash of the bar window reverberated through the streets. People screamed, and chaos ensued.

Lance had already thrown his gun aside, and sprinted to the door. His team was yelling through the radio.

"WHAT THE HELL LANCE!- what's happe- LANCE!?"

He ripped the copper box from his hip then threw it to the side, his team's voices tapered off as he left them behind in the servants hallway. Lance burst into the basement where he entered and clambered into the secret Zuko tunnel. It only took minutes for him to arrive with this shortcut, he came out behind the bar and circled around to the front, getting soaked in the rain. He pulled his pistol from his belt and lept through the broken front window. Everything was quiet, deserted, all the guests had run off. He could only hear the milky rain falling outside, and dripping from his body. He inched forward, the glass cracked under his feet, and made wet, glittery paste.

Then there was a shuffle, and a muffled scream from somewhere in the back. Lance took off. In the back of the bar there was a flat white wall, another yell came from the otherside. Frantic, Lance began to feel around, and just like with the servants hallway his fingers slid into the wall and he grabbed a lach. He pulled, and ran through the small opening. On the other side he found a narrow hallway full of doors. Lance's heart sank in his chest, as he began to walk slowly, and the hidden hatch closed behind him. Each door had a number, and a small window that could slide open for easy viewing. The handles had dots on them, some were black and some were white, and they seemed to indicate vacancy. Lance went numb, he knew what this place was; the bar was just a cover.

A loud thump had Lance running again, he didn't hesitate, not any more. He kicked door number five open, and ran in pistol first. The room was medium sized, with only a mattress on the floor in the center, lined up perfectly with the viewing slot on the door.

Keith was thankfully on his feet, but crouched low for balance, eyes wild, surrounded by three men. But his legs were shaky and his pupils were blown out. What was left of his irises were fluorescent orange. The bright burning edge of an eclipse.

All three men whipped around when Lance broke down the door. One of them was Vii and the two others were strangers. Larger, thug like, and both completely yellow, hair, skin and eyes. Lance ignored them, transfixed by Keith's orange eyes. But Keith only looked at Lance for a moment, then used the distraction to jump the closest yellow thug. With a feral growl he leapt onto the man's back and his arms circled the man's neck. With a single hard squeeze, and more strength than Lance thought possible, Keith brought the thug to his knees.

In the seconds it took for reality to catch up, panic receded, and in a blink Lance's adrenalin was to the brim. He couldn't think about what might have happened if he were only minutes later, because now was unfolding quickly. He pushed his mounting fear and bile down for later, and it mixed with the guilt from the rooftop.

The second thug shook off his surprise, pulled a large and slightly rusty firearm from his belt, and began to aim at the immediate danger, which was Keith. Without taking his eyes off the frankly terrifying image Keith presented, Lance turned his weapon on the thug, and shot him. Then, with a sweep of his arm he was aiming at Vii, who was backing cautiously away as if Keith was an angry bear.

"You. Stay," Lance commanded clearly, without looking. Vii stilled in his peripheral and raised his open palms to chest height in surrender, but never took his eyes off Keith.

The thug Keith had jumped stopped moving within moments of being taken down, but Keith remained on his back, clinging to his neck. "Keith," Lance called, but got no response. He didn't dare let down the wall in the bond, not until they were safe.

He pulled his eyes away long enough to confirm the thug he had shot was down, and then turned on Vii, who still wasn't looking at the gun threatening his life. "What did you do to him?" Lance's voice was cold with rage. It filled every crevice of his mind, and left no room for mercy or remorse.

Vii shook his head, and thinned his lips in protest. His breathing was quick, and his eyes wide, fastened on Keith.

In a few large strides Lance was pressing his gun to the pink skin of Vii's temple. "Tell me, NOW," He roared the command. Keith didn't even flinch from his single minded focus.

"It was just a little Rira's Song!" Vii blurted, his voice raw with fear, and his breath hitched as if Keith was going to suddenly notice him and attack.

Lance had heard of the drug, he even used a little once with Kal. He remembered the strange dream-like state it had induced. With his free hand he pointed at Keith. "That is not what Rira's Song does!" he observed in a low and dangerous tone. Lance ignored the implication of drugging someone without their knowledge, for now.

Vii swallowed, and licked his dry lips. "I- I didn't- know- then he- his eyes," he stuttered, clearly becoming overwhelmed with terror.

Lance was done. His adrenalin was draining, and he was beginning to feel sick. He poked Vii's temple with the muzzle of his gun, hard. "Speak. Clearly," he enunciated slowly.

Vii gasped in pain, but the words tumbled out in a fit of self preservation. "I didn't know he was Glara, if I had I- But, he reacted normally at first. Then we got back here and his eyes changed, The reaction must have been delayed because he's not full- but he doesn't look at all-" His words were strangled by a squeal.

Keith was finally moving, he unwound his arms from the thug's neck, and sat up. His unsettling gaze landed on Vii, and he growled. His lips pulled back, and Lance was shocked to see fangs. They weren't huge, but they were noticeable, and intimidating.

"We're going to die," ViI whispered, and it quaked. Lance snorted quietly. This guy was hyped up to be some big bad, killer… just goes to show, murderers can be cowards. Pathetic.

"He won't hurt me," Lance assured, even if Keith, slowly standing with glowing orange eyes peeking from under his fringe, was one of the most menacing things he had ever seen.

"He's going to kill both of us!" Vii yelled, becoming hysterical. "Unless he's got a Noye, we are fucked! Cuz I don't see any other Glara around, DO YOU?" He cracked wide open and the remains of his cool persona fell away.

Lance had no idea what a Noye was, another fucking word with no direct translation, but he was still sure on some base level, that Keith wouldn't harm him, probably. Orange irises shined from the shadow of Keith's hair, like cat eyes in the dark and he began to slowly approach. Vii tried to step away, but Lance grabbed his arms and pressed his gun harder into Vii's skin. He wasn't sure what to do. Keith was obviously not in his right mind, he could have died or worse, and Lance was trying his best not to freak out. But all his repressed emotions were beginning to bubble unpleasantly and the rain water soaking his clothes was threatening to reach into his bones, to remind him why nothing good ever lasted.

"Listen, Mister…" Vii tried to plead, but faltered on the name and then gestured at the gun to his head. "Scary-gun-man, your buddy is part Galra, they are the only race I know that has the orange-eyes-going-crazy reaction to Rira's Song, and we need to run." Vii was sweaty and his eyes were unfocused as his breathing quickened, but Lance's gun kept him from doing anything rash.

Lance took a deep breath and used the last of his will power to refrain from shooting Vii in his stupid fucking face, they still needed him. "Why would you slip anyone that drug if there is an entire race that goes crazy when they take it?" Lance kept his tone falsely calm, but lost his grip near the end.

Keith was still walking towards them eerily slow, and both Vii and Lance started the back away. Vii kept trying to step back quickly, but Lance kept him nearby with a forceful pull.

"Do you know how long it's been since a Galra has been on this planet? I only know because I'm one of the few people -besides scrappers- who leaves this fucking rock!" Vii hissed back. Apparently he was over the hump of his fear and fell straight into annoyed and angry. Keith crept closer, and a low rumble was rolling from his chest. "We are so fucked," Vii whined, flopping from anger into self pity like flipping a coin.

"I said he won't hurt me," Lance insisted with less confidence, as he took another step back. He meant what he'd said, but Keith was really freaking him out.

Vii barked a laugh. "Sure, go test that out. I'll be running while he kills you with freakishly singular intent," he jabbered, running through his emotions faster than a flipbook. He tried to back away some more, but Lance held him in place deciding to stand his ground. Vii tried to pull away frantically, but Lance was stronger and the presence of his gun halted Vii's struggle rather quickly. But that didn't stop him from rambling. "Are you nuts?! I told you nothing will stop him from murdering us where we stand!"

"No, you said a Noye could stop him," Lance retorted, feeling particularly obstinate, mostly because it was better than feeling anything else.

Vii tried to pull himself out of Lance's grasp again. "HIS Noye, A Galra's Noye can only be another Galra, so we are still screwed! Unless a dead race comes back for the sole purpose of saving us!"

"What are you talking about?!" Lance snapped, irritation spiking. Keith was almost within arms reach, looking particularly murderous and Lance could only feel a strange pressure in his mind.

Vii was laughing again, in a way that conveyed no humor. "The only other race known to be a Glara's Noye is extinct. Wiped out -ironically for us- by the Galra!" he punctuated with another laugh, like this was all some big joke.

Lance almost stumbled in the wake of a heavy slap of realization. He was an idiot. He didn't exactly know what a Noye was, but he had an idea. He had to open the bond, but he knew the moment he did, the drug was going to influence his mind through Keith. Things were about to get weird.

"OK, I got this," Lance muttered to himself. "Rojo," he called out and let the tiniest trickle of red come through the bond. He felt it like the first glass of wine, and Keith looked at him, finally acknowledged him, but he was still far away in his orange eyes.

Vii's tense muscles relaxed under Lance's hand when Keith's focus shifted, but he kept a careful eye on them both. Lance slowly lowered his gun, afraid that he might do something stupid once the bond opened completely. He put it back in its holster, and glanced at Vii out of the corner of his eye. "No sudden movements, got it?" He hissed.

Vii nodded and stayed perfectly still. But from the side of his mouth he whispered, "Whatever you're going to do, do it quick, before the authorities show up."

Shit, Lance hadn't even considered that in his panic. "How long?" he asked, while Keith eyed him curiously.

Vii shrugged, a tiny lift of his shoulders. "Depends on if they find the hidden door."

"Great," Lance sighed. He was finding it hard to hold onto any worries. He began to take slow steps away from Vii, and Keith eyed him the entire time. He stopped a few feet away, and braced himself for what was going to happen.

It was faster than Lance had expected. The bond wanted to snap back into place, longed to be whole. So when Lance dropped his block things escalated quickly. The room spun, and Lance's limbs went numb, but at the same time Keith's eyes cleared a little. They were still orange, and his canines still sharp, but there was recognition.

"Ace?"

As the question left Keith's mouth he was already rushing the short distance into Lance's arms, his face covered with relief and fear. He stumbled and they collided in a fierce hug. Lance hung on as the floor shifted, and the walls rotated around them. His bubbling stomach of disregarded emotions rebelled. The hard stone of guilt sloshed around in his worry and pain. Keith was still high, but the aggression and fear, mellowed into an affectionate whimsy with the reconnection of the bond.

Soft lips rubbed against Lance's sensitive neck. Keith nuzzled him, taking deep breaths of his scent. For a fleeting moment it was enough, and Lance didn't need to acknowledge his growing discontent. He pressed his face into Keith's shoulder and was glad to have him, safe and whole.

But it couldn't last. The woolen blanket of Rira's Song wasn't enough to muffle the urgency of the situation. At least not for Lance, who was only experiencing the drug second hand. He detached Keith, and held him at arm's length. "We have to go before the cops find this back room, and Vii-"

Lance turned to call for Vii, but he was gone. How long had they been hugging for? Time didn't seem to be flowing correctly.

"Fuck," Lance cursed, but is wasn't heart felt. He was having trouble grasping any single emotion. Everything rushed by as if he was clinging to a rock in the current of a raging river.

"We should go back to the ship, this is boring," Keith complained, light hearted and a little giggly. He ran his hand down Lance's chest suggestively.

Lance was still craning his neck, looking for Vii. "Yeah," he agreed, distracted.

"Come on," Keith urged. He grabbed Lance's wrist and pulled him into the long hallway of doors.

A commotion could be heard from behind the hidden entrance, as Keith started to drag him in that direction. Lance planted his feet when he realized where they were going. "Not that way."

Keith frowned, but listened, and Lance took a quick glance around. At the opposite end of the hall there seemed to be another way out. "This way," he directed, and started to pull Keith.

Lance's stomach complained the entire way, and when they started to jog, anxious for freedom, he wanted to vomit his shame and fear onto the floor. But the floor kept moving, sliding under his feet as he struggled to stay upright. Keith didn't resist at all, or question Lance's decision.

They burst out into a back alley, the rain was heavy. Lance didn't slow down, he dragged Keith as he ran. The milky rain was in his eyes, and he struggled to figure out exactly where he was. The cops at the front of the building were yelling, and their footsteps were wet as they started to circle around back. Just as Lance thought they were cornered, he found the grate that hid the Zuko tunnel. He stumbled and dropped to his knees in front of the entrance. With a grunt and a heave he pulled the grate up.

"Come on!" Lance went for the ladder. He slipped on the wet metal of the rungs and almost fell all the way down, but caught himself at the last second. Carefully he lowered himself underground. The police were getting louder. Lance looked up, but Keith wasn't climbing down. "Rojo?! Come down!" He yelled up.

Keith's face from the nose up peaked over the edge of the hole. "I don't really like being underground." Keith shrugged as if he had a choice in this.

The beat of Lance's heart throbbed through his entire body, and his frustration zipped down the bond. Keith's eyes widened. "OK, OK…" He relented with a pout and clumsily stumbled onto the ladder.

Lance didn't wait for Keith to get all the way down before reaching up to pull the grate back in place. As soon as Keith's feet touched ground with a wet slap, Lance was dragging him along again. He couldn't stop until they were safe, if he stopped he wouldn't be able to hold back the tsunami of emotions. He was also afraid he might fall over and not be able to get back up.

oOoOo

"I said they went underground, I don't have visuals, there are no cameras in the Zuko tunnels!"

Pidge sounded far away, and dispersed by frantic typing. Their voice leaked from the tech cave as Lance and Keith approached. They were wet, tired, and still high. Every impulse in Lance's base functions told him to get to that voice, and they would be safe. The long white halls of the castle were uncomfortably similar to the awful place they had just escaped. But the bundled cords and copper attachments were a relief, even if Lance kept stumbling over them.

Side by side, Lance and Keith tumbled through the door to the tech cave, into a sudden hush. Everyone was crammed into the small room, including their three alien hosts. Batteries and monitors towered over them, stacked to the high ceiling. Pidge's fingers stilled over their many keyboards. Not a breath was taken.

Movement rushed back with a single cry, and Allura was running to Lance with a tearful smile. "We thought the worst when we lost contact!" She threw her arms around him. "I'm so relieved you're both OK," she cried, voice cracking. She pulled back, her silver hair was loose and haloed her head in the light of all the monitors. Lance had imagined a moment like this, an alternate reality where Maritza found him, relieved, but safe...

A growl, loud and threatening, rumbled. Allura's teary eyes widened, and she turned to Keith. Her entire body tensed. "Keith I-"

Smoldering rims of orange stifled Allura's words on sight, and a tremor of fear visibly shook her. With inhuman speed Keith grabbed Allura's shoulder and yanked her away from Lance. She stumbled back, but Coran caught her before she could hit the floor.

"Keith!?" Lance and Shiro yelled.

Ja, Fen, and Luse pressed themselves against the wall when they caught sight of Keith's orange eyes. "He has Galr'ah, in 'em!" Ja-Berk warned.

Keith placed himself between Lance and the rest of the room, slowly backing up until he was flat against Lance's chest, facing everyone else. The growl continued. His eyes narrowed, and his fangs bared. Thick and suffocating protective instincts tried to smother Lance, and he had to continuously keep himself focused.

"We know he's Galra," Shiro assured them, but he kept an eye on Keith.

"But someone gave him Rira's Song!" Luse snapped and tried to inch farther away.

"Oh, dear," Coran whispered, inching away, while still gripping Allura's upper arms, dragging her back with him.

Fen bodily blocked Luse from Keith's view, closing the space between himself and Ja, taking Ja's hand. "We won't make it outt'ah here alive, unless-" Ja tried to explain.

"It's fine!" Lance interrupted, reaching for reassuring words through the stifling fog, but it was becoming harder to think. When he spoke Keith's growl immediately stopped, but he pressed harder into Lance's chest and the bond widened into a gaping maw that consumed all Lance's senses.

All three scrappers relaxed minutely. "You're his Noye," Luse observed through a small space between Fen and Ja. A silly little smile pulled at his mouth, like this was a teen romance movie, a reminder of how young he was.

Coran let go of Allura and pointed at the pair with an expression of dawning realization. "Oh… OH!"

Lance couldn't find his words, lost in the murky puddle of his mind. He nodded slowly, but even that small movement sent the room spinning. He stumbled back, but Keith whipped around and grabbed his arms, keeping his upright. "Ace?"

Lance was still standing, but the room flipped. His stomach swooped and he was submerged. His vision greyed, sounds muffled, but he could hear his friends yelling.

"What's happening?!"

"Keith was drugged by Vii, that's why he was acting weird!"

"Lance?! Then what's wrong with Lance?!"

"Lance, my boy?!"

"ACE!?"

"STAY BACK!"

A familiar ache in Lance's knees sharpened his perception. He was on the floor, but he didn't remember the fall. Keith's face was all he could see, his worried orange eyes were searching. He moved closer, and ran his nose along Lance's cheek, before nuzzling into his neck, holding him close. Lance's arms were too heavy to lift, and remained limp at his sides. Over Keith's shoulder the image of his team weaved. They all looked worried, but wary. They were closer than before, as if they had tried to run to him, but Fen blocked their path, and now they kept their distance. Allura was fighting tears along with Hunk, as they tried to piece together what was going on.

"What's wrong with Lance?" Hunk shuffled in place, his large frame compact with concern.

"It's just the drug, he'll be fine when it wears off," Fen explained, crossing the room and placing a comforting hand on Hunk's arm.

"But he didn't take any of the drug, did he? And why's Keith being so- possessive?" Pidge was riled up with so many unanswered questions.

"I can't believe no one noticed they were Noyes," Luse scoffed.

No one answered Pidge's question, and they puffed up with irritation, fist balled at their sides and shoulders up to their ears. "What the fuck is a NOYE!?" They fumed.

Lance felt Keith jolt and the room's air shifted. The growl began again, sharper, protective, crushing Lance. Fen moved from Hunk to Pidge, and placed a calming hand on their shoulder. "Everything's fine. Right? We're calm and non-threatening," he said slowly, bending his every movement and word into something rounded and soft.

"I wa-" Pidge tried to complain, but Fen's hand tightened.

"Calmly," he warned.

Pidge nodded once, slow and shallow. Their eyes were wide, pupils dilated with fear. The growl that emanated from Keith's being was pure threat, and everyone could feel it on an instinctual level. The tension began to drain from Pidge's tight stance and at the same time the growl tapered off.

"We must stay calm," Fen repeated.

Lance couldn't parse what was happening. He could only feel Keith, and a horrible ball of emotions that rose from his stomach to his chest and took root. Everything else was foggy and swaying. He finally lifted his lead arms and clung to Keith. He white knuckled the shirt on Keith's back, trying to hold himself still. The floor was tilting, and he was scared of sliding back. His life was tilting and he could feel the pull of panic, calling him to relapse. A cold hand squeezing his heart.

"Everything's fine, Ace," Keith mumbled, light and with a small chuckle. With no threat perceived his mood flipped like a switch.

Lance squeezed harder, almost too hard. "You could have died," it was the only solid thought he could grasp. The blinding fear and wretched guilt. All being pressed under Keith's reaction to the drug.

Keith laughed. It wasn't loud, but it was dismissive. "But I didn't." A fresh wave of mellow disregard flowed down the bond. "I'm just glad you're OK," he admitted with more intensity.

Lance knew it was the drug, but he was still scared and angry. How could Keith shrug it off like that? He was falling again, but through time. He landed in a version of himself he had tried to leave behind, he tried so hard that he almost succeeded. A lie so well worn he almost believed it. It was a story he told himself everyday about who he was.

Keith almost died on Lance's watch and it broke his fairytale. Everything he kept locked away, all the damage he feared showing Keith was clawing its way to freedom.

"Stop, Ace." The command was warm. Love and affection rolled off Keith, but it brought Lance only pain.

"I can't," Lance wanted to, so badly, but he didn't know how. He was coming undone. The bindings of his meditation were stripped away and he unwound, fully aware of what was happening, but powerless against it. Lance sank, but this time he didn't struggle with a soden facade that he refused to let go of because he was stripped bare. Chained by his fear to his anxiety, a cinder block that dragged him down until the pressure crushed his burning lungs.

Lance hyperventilated, light quick gasps. He gripped Keith's shoulders and tried to heave himself back to the surface, but Rira's Song wedged itself between them. Lance looked into Keith's huge orange eyes and could see him trying to help. Trying and failing to cross the gap the drug created between them.

"Ace, I'm fine, you saved me. I need you to listen to me," Keith begged as he fought his artificial bliss.

Lance couldn't hear Keith over the voice in his mind. It yelled at him, failure, stupid, Keith almost died. Someone he loved would be dead, and it would be his fault, again. Old channels in his heart, partly healed, flooded.

"I'm sorry," Lance whispered, broken. Finally the last of his control snapped and all the things he refused to confront rushed forward, and fell on him like an avalanche.

Keith jerked back in surprise, blindsided by the intensity. "It's OK," he tried to reassure.

Lance shook his head, his quick breaths shivered as a swell of shame rose and formed a sob in his mouth. "It's my fault," he confessed.

Keith was shaking his head, confused, but still smiling under the influence. He chuckled light heartedly. "No, babe," he protested and took Lance's face in his hands. "Nothing is your fault," he insisted gently.

Lance reacted violently and ripped himself from Keith's grasp. "NO!" The wail seemed to propel Lance backwards, and he stumbled, then fell to his hands and knees. "You don't understand! I- What I did-" he whispered harshly using the last of his short breath, and it left him heaving. "I can't lose you- I can't- you don't know what I did!" He pushed the words out between his desperate gasps.

"Thats a bad trip," Fen whispered from the back of the room, uneasy. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, except Hunk, who inched closer to the scene.

Keith remained on his knees and didn't try to get closer to Lance. He was tangled up by the mess in their bond. "Explain it to me, nothing you can say will shock me," he insisted. His face was waring between concern and a wistful smirk.

Frustration gripped Lance's heart and disgust pulled it down to his feet. Lance followed it down, and cried. His arms gave out. He dropped from his hands to the length of his forearms and his forehead kissed the ground. The only sound that came from his open mouth was his despair, high, keening, and almost silent. From between his sorrows, he managed to speak. "I killed my sister," he confessed to the floor. The words ripped him up and left him tattered inside. He was dying, he must have been, it hurt so much.

Keith opened his mouth, and closed it again. His drug addled mind couldn't find a way to spin that. He dropped back from his knees to sit on his heels. "OK, I didn't expect that…" He idled, dazed and disoriented by the impact of Lance's panic.

"Lance, no." Hunk's firm voice came from Keith's right. He had managed to sneak close and was almost between them now. Keith's growl started again, and he looked surprised with himself, as if he hadn't realized he was doing it before.

In his chest, Lance felt the muddled confusion and fear in Keith and it tangled with his pain, creating a mess that coated his ribs. Every breath in and out was a cry, the sound of grief and regret. Lance didn't acknowledge Hunk, and Hunk ignored Keith.

"Lance, you have to forgive yourself, you didn't know." Hunk pressed forward and kneeled next to Lance.

The familiar warmth of Hunk's large hand cut through the tight ache of panic, his cries quieted, and Keith's growl stopped. Large arms wound around Lance's chest, and he forgot where he was. He could have been in his bedroom on earth, his dorm at the Garrison, or the last place this had happened, the bathroom of the castle. His back met Hunk's chest, and he didn't fight it, but he couldn't look at his friend. He rested his head on Hunk's shoulder and stared upward.

This was normally the part where he felt empty, hallowed of everything after the flood waters receded. But he had admitted his greatest guilt and it hung in the air around him, forcing him to breath it back in.

"What happened wasn't your fault," Hunk insisted.

He finally got what he wanted, Lance had nowhere to run. "How so? I left when I wasn't supposed to, and when she couldn't find me she…" His breath hitched and he let it out slowly, resigned.

Lance didn't move when he heard someone shuffle up to them, but he knew it was Keith. A strange new calm radiated from him, but it was no less filled with love, only gentler, and mournful. "You've done this before." Keith was talking to Hunk, allowing Lance a moment to himself, which he was grateful for.

"Yeah, I… he…" Hunk hesitated.

"You don't have to explain, I felt…" Keith placed a hand to his chest. "I felt it, it was… horrible." His voice cracked. Lance felt Keith's glance, just a slight tip of his head, but it was so full of heartache.

Lance was limp, his face turned away from both of them, but he could imagine Hunk's nervous twitch before answering. "You didn't know? About his panic attacks?"

"I knew about a lot. That he got nervous sometimes, depressed, had trouble with…" Keith paused, but meaningful eye contact got across the things he knew about Lance's self-esteem issues. "I could feel the edge of it sometimes, but I didn't know, this hasn't happened since we-" He bit off the end of his explanation, but Hunk nodded.

In the long pause, Lance wished everyone would just fall away, he would wake up, and all of this would be only a dream. Keith ripped his repreve away when he finally spoke directly to Lance.

"Ace?"

Lance couldn't turn and look at him, the shame kept his neck locked and his eyes tightly shut.

"Lance?" Keith asked for him again. When Lance still didn't turn, a soft hand cupped his cheek and turned his head for him.

He could feel how close Keith was, he didn't need to open his eyes to know they were face to face.

'Baby?' the question was only a little red whisper, but it rang with a note of doubt and fear of rejection. Lance's eyes snapped open like he'd been slapped.

Right in front of him were Keith's eyes, beautiful, and violet again, filled to the brim with concern. Keith brought their foreheads together, and closed his eyes, but Lance left his open, watching the tears slide down Keith's cheeks. 'I love you.' the solid red intention in the thought was so inexcusably Keith.

"But I just told you that I-" his argument was cut short by a kiss. It was innocent, soft and sweet, but judging by the volume of the gasp it drew from the otherside of the room, they might as well have been making out.

"Yeah, I'm still here," Hunk mumbled to himself, red to the tips of his ears.

'I know you, and I know there's an explanation.' Keith's certainty lined each word he sent down the bond as he broke the kiss and wiped Lance's tears away. "And you will explain. Everything," he ordered firmly. Straight forward and comforting.

Lance nodded, but couldn't stop crying. He didn't deserve this level of devotion, and he hoped he still had it after he explained. Of course he would, this was Keith, his Keith, who loved him, and opened up to him. Keith with his stupid hair, and dumb beautiful heart. He never minced his words and always said what he meant, and Lance needed that like he needed air.

With the drug out of Keith's system, and the bond fully restored to order. Lance was able to grasp reality firmly, and his body wanted to curl around the embarrassment that was building in his chest. Keith was trying to reassure him with a caress in his mind. 'No one's judging, they're all just worried.'

Lance leaned back and looked behind Keith. He was right. Everyone was watching with uneasy concern and a lot of confusion. Especially Allura, who looked only a moment away from running over and throwing herself on all three of them. Keith felt his intention and moved to the side to make room. Lance opened his arms and before he could speak, Allura was rushing to him and enveloping him in a hug. As soon as she released Lance, she was replaced by Pidge, who collided with him so hard Hunk almost tipped backwards. Coran didn't wait for Pidge to move and tried to wrap his arms about all of them including Hunk, he didn't succeed, but it was a good effort.

Surrounded by his friends, Lance felt for the first time like he was strong enough to face his fear. To face himself, not the lie, but the him he tucked away behind it.

With a whisper of cloth a shadow fell over all four of them. Lance looked up at Shiro. He didn't join the hug, but he smiled. "I'm glad you're OK," he said earnestly, but his eyes flickered to Keith, and pinned him with a dark look. It yanked on something in Lance, or maybe it was in Keith, he wasn't sure.

Before he could analyze it, Fen, Ja and Luse gathered around. Fen put his hands on his hips and sighed. "That could have been a whole lot worse," he murmured, eyes sliding shut in relief.

"Worse?" Pidge asked, a little incredulous.

Ja'berk shrugged and pointed to Keith. "We could'ah all bin killed by dis fell'ah. I say a bad trip s'ah prett'ah good trade." He was laid back, as if he hadn't been cowering moments before.

Pidge pulled their eyes off Keith, who everyone was looking at, and glanced up at Ja. "Bad trip?"

Fen chuckled. "Yeah, Rira's Song can go down a bad road, it can pull some nasty things out of a person. Keith was dosed with a good amount, so it probably just nudged Lance here a little too far." he gestured at Lance. Everyone looked at him, confused. They were all likely still wondering why the drug affected Lance at all. Except maybe Coran, who met Lance's eyes knowingly… and wiggled his eyebrows?

"Come on, Lance. You should get some rest, " Hunk urged, helping him to his feet. The oddly lewd eye contact with Coran was broken and Lance processed what was happening.

Hunk's smooth personality worked wonders on the group, herding everyone along, but Lance resisted. "No, I need to explain," he argued. Keith's hand slipped into his for support, and he stood just behind Lance, ready to back him up. It propped him up taller than he could have stood alone.

Hunk unfolded his shoulders, the picture of reasonable authority, and shook his head. "No, you need to rest." He tried to corral Lance along with Keith towards the door.

Lance wanted to cave into Hunk's demand. He could curl up in bed with Keith, and the next morning go on as if this never happened. But he couldn't do that, not this time. He put his hand on Hunk's chest to stop him. "Hunk, I need to explain, or I might lose my nerve." he tried not to whine, but it worked best on Hunk. "everyone probably has questions, and I don't think I can avoid it after… you know." He made a hand gesture to convey 'I freaked out on drugs and told everyone I killed my sister.'

"Yeah," Pidge interrupted and looked from Lance to Keith, and back again, before glancing at their joined hands. "Please explain," they snarked, crossed their arms and smirked.

"First, you two should get into some dry clothes, even if you refuse to rest," Hunk insisted, and began ushering Lance and Keith out the door again, like a mother hen.

oOoOo

The ghost of Maritza was at Lance's back. From time to time, through the muddled echoing steps of his team in the Castle hallway, he thought he could hear Maritza's familiar footsteps. Over Hunk and Pidge's muted conversation, Lance would imagine Maritza's voice, humming to herself, like she did when they painted their nails together.

The warm hand in Lance's squeezed and he expected to see his sister smiling at him, but it was Keith. His small, supportive smile only paled in comparison to the loving devotion in their bond. Lance focused on Keith, and tried not to fret about what was going to occur when they all arrived at the Castle's lounge.

"Show me your teeth," Lance asked, curiously. They both slowed their walk, dropping to the back of the group.

"What?" Keith asked, but pulled his lips back in a mock snarl without waiting for an explanation.

Little fangs still framed Keith's four center teeth. "I think those fangs are permanent," Lance observed in a soft whisper.

Keith's hand snapped up to touch his canines. "The what?!" He hissed, and flinched when he poked one a little too hard.

Thick, crimson distress pushed its way into Lance's mind. He could see it forming in Keith's eyes, and jumped to reassure him. "I like them," Lance confessed, and the distress began to thin.

"Really?" Keith tipped his head, a mischievous fang poking out of his smirk, and he became the picture of a naughty puppy.

Lance's heart sped up and he nodded.

Keith's smirk widened. With their bond blown wide open, he was clearly receiving everything Lance felt. "I guess it's not that big a deal then, he teased, and pulled Lance in for a quick kiss. Keith was still worried about his changing body, but it was resting below more urgent events, for now.

The conversation in front of them had quieted, and their friends were peeking over their shoulders from time to time as they walked. Lance felt heat rise to his cheeks, but continued to hold Keith's hand. Curious eyes continued to glance back, but Hunk just smiled at them, soft and happy.

They arrived at the lounge Lance used most often. The door was powered down, but stuck in the open position. The room was dark and Lance stumbled past everyone. He let go of Keith and clambered over the back of one of the curved couches to reach the battery powered lamp on the floor.

When the soft yellow light flooded the room, Lance got back on the couch. Keith hopped over the back and landed next to him. Everyone else filed around the furniture and sat on the couch across from them, until there was no room left. Then Coran and the three scrappers perched on the arms and back of the couch.

Lance felt like he was in some strange improv show and everyone wanted a clear view of him and Keith, waiting to be entertained. An awkward silence settled. Lance didn't know where to start, his resolve had begun to fade as they walked here. He swallowed thickly.

"Sooo…" Pidge drew the word out, leering at the pair in a way that made Lance feel dirty. "How long?" They asked.

"Uh, what?" Was Lance's intelligent response.

Pidge crossed their arms and let their body slide a little lower in their seat, leaning against Hunk as they did. "How long have you two been an item? I have had a suspicion for a while that you two were into each other, but I didn't know if you had done anything about it." They weren't accusing, but their eyes were intensely curious, and a little disbelieving. Pigeon always had trouble accepting something they hadn't predicted.

Lance blinked, trying to register the question. He looked at Keith, who was looking back at him and shrugged, then he turned back to Pidge. "That's what you want to know?" He was truly bewildered.

Not just Pidge, but everyone answered in a combination of nods and quiet verbal confirmations.

"You know," Pidge began, leaning forward, elbows on their knees, and resting their chin on their laced fingers. "We don't actually believe you killed your sister," they explained, trying to project a casual air, a cover for their feelings. "We know you better than that," Pidge elaborated with a flippant hand gesture, as if this was no big deal. "You're Lance. Goofy, caring, hardworking, Lance. I don't think any of us thought there wasn't a reasonable explanation." Pidge cleared their throat and rubbed their eyes, hiding the evidence that they cared. But then their hands dropped and they smiled at their knees. It was a little bent, and sad in a meandering way. Sad for Lance, who had to take the long way around to realizing the truth, that his team believed in him.

Again, everyone agreed with Pidge, even Shiro. Hunk was sending the strongest I-Told-You-So look he could muster.

Lance was floored, the outright faith his friends had in him rang clear as a chime through his body. It left him feeling detached, as if this wasn't possibly real, but also full of appreciation. He waded through the heavy emotions and whispered a watery, "Thanks…"

Pidge nodded once in understanding, sweeping the mushy feelings part aside, as was their way. "So, how long," they asked again.

Lance almost felt guilty allowing the conversation to veer in this direction, but was willing to avoid the topic of his sister for now. He looked at Keith and they locked eyes. 'So, do we spill all the beans?' He thought down the bond.

'We could…' the words had a sassy red edge, and Keith smirked. 'Or we could play dumb. Give them one bean at a time.' Keith was playing it up a bit for Lance's sake and covering for his own nerves.

Lance didn't mind, the distraction was welcomed, he smiled and enjoyed the feel of Keith's playful thoughts. They turned back to the group and answered.

"A while," they said simultaneously.

Pidge's face went flat. "Really, guys?"

Keith shrugged, took Lance's hand and held it between them. "Well your question is kinda vague. Do you mean, first hug, first kiss?" he retorted casually. "How about first fu-"

Lance felt the words coming and jabbed Keith so hard in their bond he felt it reverberate back. "First time you climbed into my lap like a needy cat?" he retaliated.

Keith's head whipped around. 'You ass hat!' his thought snapped with a spark of irritation.

Lance just looked at Keith unimpressed and lifted his unoccupied hand in a Whatcha-gunna-do gesture. 'You said one bean at a time, not talk about our sex lives,' he thought back, calm and blue.

Keith huffed, and his shoulders dropped in defeat. 'Fine,' he conceded.

"Does anyone else feel like they're having a conversation of their own?" Pidge grumped in a stage whisper.

'We should probably answer the question, Pidge looks more ornery than usual.' Lance pointed out. 'I would say our first kiss in the black out,' he suggested.

'Really?' Keith's irritation faded, leaving his thoughts softer, but also a little sly. 'I would have said the conversation we had after the first time I sucked your-'

"Keith!" Lance yelled out loud unintentionally, face completely red, but it succeeded in disrupting Keith's line of thought.

Pidge jumped to their feet and pointed at the couple. "They ARE having a conversation!" they accused, keen as usual.

"What?! No!" Lance denied, lying poorly.

"Yeah," Keith confirmed with a shrug, at the same time.

Pidge flopped back into their seat. "Well now I'm not sure, that wasn't very in sync…" They pondered, quickly glancing back and forth between them.

"You surprised us!" Lance argued, completely invalidating his own denial. Flustered at his mistake, he slapped a hand over his mouth like he could shove the words back in.

Keith took a long, slow breath in while he rubbed his face with his free hand. "Why are you like this?" He whispered with his exhale.

While Lance continued to flail internally, Keith took a moment to collect himself. Then he cut through the chao in Lance with a decisive thought. 'We should just tell them.'

Lance hadn't really included the bond in his mental list of things they were going to tell the team. It still felt so personal. Letting Hunk in on the secret had been a big step, and Hunk was his closest friend. But they wouldn't be able to keep it a secret forever, especially if you calculate in how bad they were at hiding it…

Lance relented. "OK, we tell them."

The hush from the couch across from them buzzed with anticipation. With a single glance, Keith conveyed he would begin the explanation. "Lance and I- we- well…"

Keith's resolve had been strong, but when he reached for the words they became tangled in his mind. Lance felt it happening and decided to start from the very beginning. "We had been training for a while, just us, before the paladin bond began outside of Voltron," he supplied.

Keith nodded, finally catching the thread of thoughts, and expanded on it. "When we first felt the bond, we thought it was what everyone else experienced, but… It kept growing."

Lance jumped in, a welling of excitement pushed him onward. He should have been exhausted, but strangely wasn't. "Yeah, The bond I formed with Pidge the first time was weak, and it faded, but the bond with Keith was stronger and never completely stopped?"

It was beginning to feel freeing, finally letting his friends in on their secrets, even as familiar doubt crawled into his chest. It was a feeling that would sit heavily in him the next morning as if he had lied, simply because the truth was so foreign. It was a special type of anxiety, the last time he battled with it was when he had come out to Keith.

"Yeah, like I said, it grew... really fast," Keith repeated. "At first it was as if we always knew when we were near each other-" he abruptly stopped. His eyes slid over Lance, a faint echo of a memory trembled between them. The first time they had truly acknowledged that something was connecting them. A strange new awareness, a tentative affection, and Keith quietly admitting he wasn't afraid of the bond because it was with Lance. "because it's you." He had whispered. Lance remembered it so clearly, all he had been able to say back was, "Why?" because he had been insecure and tired from all the weight he had borne alone. But he had grown since then, and wasn't alone anymore.

Lance and Keith smoothly coordinated their conversation without words, simply unconscious indications of who was going to speak next. Lance took his cue. "Over time we were able to feel some of each other's emotions, then it changed, and we could feel… intentions?" He stumbled. The bond was so abstract, and at times he had no words for it.

"Yeah," Keith confirmed, his gaze drifted back to his teammates, a little uncomfortable with their rapt attention. "And not like in battle, but specific intentions. Sort of like how we talk to our Lions," he clarified.

Lance felt a little uncomfortable admitting to the next part. The level of their connection was scary, even for himself sometimes, but he didn't back down. "Then it was words. One, then two, until we could just have entire conversations in our minds."

Keith undoubtedly felt Lance's unease. With one glance he confirmed they were continuing, and pushed forward. "Now… well, now it's like everything we think and feel travels through both of us in a loop. I mean, there's still a sense of privacy, sorta. If we avoid thinking about something the other won't know about it, or we can choose not to explain our emotions, leaving it up to interpretation." Keith leaned towards Lance as he finished, pressing their arms together.

Truthfully they had moved beyond privacy. Their bond had transcended the previous night, and Lance didn't need to feel Keith out to know his intentions, he was pretty sure he also didn't need to interpret Keith's emotions anymore either. The line of communication between them was as seamless as his own conscious and unconscious mind. Everything was so clear… "That changed," Lance commented. The realization left his mouth the moment it had formed.

Keith tipped his head in consideration. "I guess it has," he agreed. He was unbothered by their new level of closeness, like it was what he expected all along. But the lines blurring between them had never bothered Keith, he seemed to revel in it.

Allura was on the edge of her seat, covering her mouth as if to contain her excitement. But her fingers weren't strong enough and she blurted out from between them. "What's changed?!"

"They must have reached the final level of their bonding, complete trust was formed," Coran offered, with a certainty in his voice that caught Lance's attention.

"You know what the bond is?" Lance stared at Coran, and he could feel that same stark disbelief in Keith.

"Well, yes." Coran was being very matter-of-fact and stroked his mustache. "I probably wouldn't have figured it out if your Altean heritage hadn't come to light, but it did, and then when you calmed Keith earlier…" His admission trailed off, unwilling to dredge up more serious topics just yet.

"I knew it!" Hunk hollered. Everyone jumped in surprise, but their focus sharpened and took aim. Hunk didn't pay any attention, he was wrapped up in his own thoughts, brimming with excitement, the way he did when he was proving a theory.

Lance rubbed his unruly hair, his fingers catching the pink clip he always wore. "Care to elaborate?" he asked, recognizing that Hunk was lost in his own realing thoughts.

"Huh?" The montage of possibilities cleared from Hunk's eyes, as he realized he hadn't been speaking, but thinking instead. "Oh! Sorry. I meant I was right when I theorized that Lance and Keith not being completely humans was a factor." He shrugged his large shoulders in a casual roll.

Coran's finger was in the air, ready to lecture, before Hunk had finished speaking. "Why yes, you are absolutely correct. You see-"

"You knew about their mind meld!?" Pidge shouted.

Everyone startled again. Lance rubbed his eyes, a small pain was forming behind them. The strain of the conversation was skittering down the bond, red and blue, pulling at Keith as much as Lance.

Hunk slid as far from Pidge as possible. He rubbed his arm nervously. "Uh, yeah?" He averted his eyes, staring at the wall. "Not for long…" he muttered, guiltily.

Pidge slumped back, arms crossed, indignant, and petulant. "I can't believe this, I had my suspicions about them boinking, but I can't believe I missed-"

"Pidge," Shiro interrupted, using their name as a warning, and Pidge begrudgingly went silent.

It was a classic dad move. Lance was torn between commenting on it, and trying to overcome his embarrassment, either way, the stress behind his eyes was swept aside. He couldn't handle the thought of Pidge theorizing about him and Keith… "boinking". It was so awkward, and he felt it tumbling around in his chest. Oh god, he couldn't stop thinking about it, and his intrusive thoughts went wild. Oh god! Pidge wrote reports on everything, did they write one about… OH GOD!

Keith snorted, loudly and unashamed. He was trying to contain his amusement, but it was building, and tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. When the pressure became unbearable he broke into peals of laughter. "You- You- oh man! Lance!" he tried to explain but he could hardly breathe.

"It's not funny!" Lance snapped and pulled his hand out of Keith's. He turned away and crossed his arms. He could feel his face becoming hot. The almost palatable amusement rolling of Keith didn't lighten Lance's irritation, it was at his expense after all.

Keith only laughed harder, wheezing and crying, fueled by Lance's indignation. Strange looks were being sent his way, many of their friends were unused to this Keith that Lance was so familiar with. His laughs were tapering off, and he wiped his eyes as he explained. "Lance is embarrassed about-"

"Don't tell them!" Lance hissed over his shoulder.

"-Pidge thinking about our sex life, he's worried she kept notes or something," he continued as if Lance hadn't interrupted. "And it's adorable," he added with a smirk at Lance.

With an over exaggerated huff, Lance turned away from Keith a little more, but didn't actually move farther from him. Their sides remained pressed closed together as Lance sulked. He stayed strong in his resentment, even against the growing tide of Keith's affection, but the red edged fondness was fed by Lance's annoyance, and he felt his resistance eroding. Only a few moments later, Lance glanced at Keith, their eyes caught, and a small smile brightened his face despite his resolve to be angry.

"Oh, my god…" Pidge groaned, they slid their hands under their glasses and pressed them firmly to their face. "They're like a married couple!" They bemoaned into their palms, then quickly flung their hands forward, gesturing at the couple, almost ripping their glasses right off their face. "I mean LOOK at them, I can't believe we didn't notice!" They yelled, absolutely astounded.

"I think we all had our suspicions," Coran pointed out. "But yes, their relationship is a little more advanced than I had anticipated…" he professed.

Allura nodded, "I was sure Lance had feelings for Keith, I just didn't know they had already… you know." She waved a hand at them.

In a quieter voice than usual, Shiro also put in his own suspicions. "I knew Keith was interested in Lance, for a while… But I also had no idea that they were already so close." He shrugged one shoulder, the other refused to lift his Glara arm, and tried to catch Keith's eye.

Anger, like shards of glass, breached the bond, and Lance grabbed Keith's hand. "So, what do you know about our mind meld situation, Coran?" He asked louder than necessary to force the conversation back on track.

Coran ignored the hostility present on Keith's face and smiled with feigned ignorance. "Well! I should probably start by explaining Glara mating-" He began, chipper.

"WHOA!" Lance threw his arms out, letting go of Keith. "We don't need to get graphic, I already got the talk. It's actually a funny story, because the twins were hiding outside my room, and Mamá didn't realize it. They were only ten at the time. Oh man, the questions they asked afterwards… hehe," Lance's nervous rambling trailed off. Some scattered chuckles followed.

With a blank and unimpressed expression, Coran ignored Lance. "Glara mating is more than a physical act. For them it is not about reproduction, it is about finding their other half, their life mate." Coran paused and gave the couple a significant look. For a tick, Lance and Keith acknowledged the confirmation of what they already knew, that this bond was for life. It passed between them without words, and settled into the cradle of their love.

When neither bondmate freaked out, Coran nodded as if confirming his own suspicions, and continued. "The Galra are capable of forming strong mental bonds. For a time it was believed that only Galra could bond to other Glara, but all that changed when an Altean named Honerva, met Zarkon."

Lance registered Keith's surprise, and his reaction to Lance's lack of surprise. Their eyes met, and Keith questioned him with only a passing feeling that didn't even form words. Lance pressed into Keith the notion of 'not now', and they both turned back to the team.

Other than Allura, everyone else had gasped and began mumbling quietly with each other, but Coran ignored their reactions, and moved on, cutting through the din. He kept his gaze focused on Lance and Keith, very noticeably not letting his eyes stray to the Princess.

"Honerva and Zarkon's relationship was the first recorded instance of a Galra bonding with another race. When it happened, both societies were shocked, but it truly solidified the alliance between Alteans and Glara. Over time it became a normal occurrence for Glara and Altean to come together, the bond was possible due to the similarity in life energy, and many Altean's enjoyed the security of the bond which they couldn't have with their own kind. A Galra chooses a mate, in part, by how their energy resonates with another. Much like how a Lion chooses a pilot, Although some believe there is something deeper." Coran concluded, with a soft but sad smile. His eyes drifted over the bonded pair and he sighed, a sound filled with regret. "The Galra were a secluded race for a long time. They kept trade and interactions to a minimum, until Voltron was built, then everything changed. When the Galra learned that they could bond with Alteans, there was a drastic increase in hybrids…" Coran finally glanced at Allura, but she steadfastly refused to look back, and continued to glare at the floor. Coran took a deep breath, and sorrow seemed to settle into his bones. "The first generation of hybrids was born only a few years before the Princess. Among them was Zarkons son, Lotor."

A small sound, a choked whine of anger punctuated Coran's explanation. And although the sound clearly came from Allura, she remained distant, and Coran fell silent for a long moment. Lance stared at Allura for the duration of the lull, and he knew she had intentionally left this information out when she confessed to Haggar's identity. Some of the Mage's in the Galra forces were certainly Altean, but some were hybrids, and that might have been the greatest shame in her eyes. Her people were betrayed by a race they embraced so thoroughly that they tied themselves together mentally and physically. Lance understood the power of the bond, and the chink it must have been in the armor of Altea's loyalty to their own kind. Allura was ashamed, she must have felt as if her people handed the Galra their own demise in the form of power over quintessence. Lance could relate to the shame of wanting to hide a mistake so large it cost you everything, even if it wasn't her fault.

Keith brushed Lance's mind, curious, but Lance shook him off again, gently, and Keith let it go, for now. He trusted Lance to fill him in, without even a hint of doubt. With a small shift, and an even smaller distance to close, Lance leaned over, and pressed a kiss to Keith's temple. He hadn't fully formulated the desire to do it before it was over. Lance blushed, but refused to be embarrassed. He looked at his friends, daring them to comment, but was met with soft looks and small smiles.

Even Coran, through his layers of grief and sadness, spared an affectionate smile, it pushed against the weight of his frown. Then, it collapsed in the shadow of what he said next. "This isn't the end of the story," he confessed. "Once the first generation of hybrids reached maturity, a new discovery was made. The mixing of Altean with Galra opened new doors for the bond. The hybrid's discovered that they were capable of bonding with a variety of race's, creating new and powerful alliances." Coran looked down at his own hands, hiding the shame in his eyes. "Before Zarkon's initial betrayal, he already had many strong allies due to bond's between the races, and after, he continued to use bonding to bring societies to heel."

Pidge, ever the realist, pointed out the first flaw they noticed. "But we haven't seen any societies with bonded royalty."

Coran nodded. "From what I have gathered on our journey, it seems people only remember myths of Alteans and Galras bonding, and knowledge of the bond between Glara and other races was lost… well not lost, but intentionally, and forcefully forgotten..."

Hunk, spoke up next, only a fraction before Pidge. "Why?"

Coran looked at Hunk, eyes accusing, as if he could have avoided answering if no one had asked. Then his gaze slid to Allura, who remained silent. His eyes slipped over her, unwilling to linger. Coran refocused on Lance and Keith, resigned. "Zarkon's and the Glara empire's power grew, they manipulated quintessence and built weapons, and ultimately… destroyed Altea." He paused, a silent remembrance, and then moved on. "From what I've gathered, destroying a planet didn't go over well. When the power given by Altea was turned against it, many bonded to those outside the empire had a change of heart, and opposed the oppression that followed. Eventually, bonded pairs didn't pull loyalty to the Galra as they were meant to, many betrayed the empire and sided with their mates' species. In light of this, and having already accumulated a large amount of power, Zarkon began a campaign to reject hybrids. He claimed them weakened by the thinning of Glara blood as they became more and more mixed. To show his commitment to his cause, he began his campaign by banishing his own son, the Prince." At a loss for what to say next, Coran shrugged, a tiny forlorn movement.

The silence that fell was short lived.

"So, Zarkon is a space Nazi?" Pidge blurted, and looked around for back up. "Like, literally a Nazi," they reiterated.

Every earthling in the room agreed with nods, or murmured words, but everyone else looked a little baffled, and Allura didn't raise her eyes from the floor. Coran and Ja were immediately curious about Nazi's, and Pidge dove into a history lesson, backed by Hunk, and even Shiro.

Lance remained quiet, eyes on the Princess, while a ruby rush of confusion surrounded his mind. The bond was swimming with questions from Keith, but one in particular floated to the surface. "So, I'm also part Altean?" He asked through the din of chatter, dropping the room into silence.

Hunk tapped his chin in thought, and shrugged. "You must be at least a little bit," he concluded, a little baffled.

Keith crossed his arms. "Then why can't I open doors…" He grumbled, then muttered, "that doesn't seem fair," he pouted.

Coran joined in, his curious mind working out the math. "You are dominantly human, but much more Glara than Altean. You have enough Glara in you to control their tech, and not enough of our DNA to control Altean. Even if your mother was half Altean, and she likely wasn't considering how long it's been since Altea existed, you would only be a fourth Altean. But your mother likely has Altean somewhere in her lineage if she mated a non-Galra like your father."

"Yeah, we don't even know how much Altean Lance is, but we know it's more than you," Pidge pointed out.

The room dissolved into disjointed conversations.

The yellow light from the lamp painted the white couches, and blanketed the floor. Everyone was wrapped in warm tones, comforting, and smiling, except Allura. She remained distant, and melancholy. Keith continued to be disappointed by his inability to control the Castle, and Coran was still pestering everyone about what exaclty Nazi's were. Lance allowed it all to fall into the background, and pulled a shroud of meditation around himself. A small red string was threaded through a pinhole in Lance's mental barrier, allowing Keith to keep tabs on him, and to provide a comforting presence.

The commotion in the room slipped around Lance, and his thoughts wandered aimlessly. His memories surfaced, but he didn't focus on them, only allowed them to play out as events separate from himself. Stained carpets, colorful nail polish, moonlit beaches, and hot rain. The memories Lance tried so hard to lock away were released, and he organized them, preparing. But each moment he filed in order, tightened a band around his heart, squeezing. He wasn't sure if he would ever overcome his guilt, it felt monumental and impervious, too large to wrap his hand around and lift.

When Lance thought his heart might stop, compressed beyond hope of beating, suddenly something soft and light brushed his barriers. Surprised, and curious, he stopped meditating. Empathy, fluffy and pink, placed itself on the shore of Lance's mind. He met Allura's eyes, and they were wide, but understanding. Slowly, her plush presence skimmed the surface of Lance's waters, and he felt a core of steel under her many layers of compassion. They shared their guilt and shame, recognizing the similarities. They weren't alone.

Lance wanted to assure Allura that she had nothing to feel guilty about, but he could hear Hunk's words echoing back at him, telling him the same. His mind stumbled, but Keith's warm current surfaced from below and steadied him. He slid through Lance, like a serpent. Graceful, powerful, creating barely a ripple. He licked upward as unquenchable crimson flames that heated Lance all the way through.

Red and loving, Keith's mind spread, reaching out to curiously skim Allura's soft intentions, he accepted her kindly, as a friend, and as family. A small gasp drew the room's attention. The Princess placed her hands gently over her mouth, and her eyes grew shinny. "You two are beautiful," she breathed, amazed.

"How are we… you're not," Lance muttered, tapering off, as their connection came to an end, and the pink cotton drifted away, more peaceful than when she arrived.

Allura blinked a few times quickly, clearing the tears from her eyes. "I've always had a connection with the Lions, so I'm involved in the paladin bond, even if only loosely. But we…" She glanced at the floor between her feet, and clasped her hands tightly. "We had a moment of completely synchronized emotion." She unwound her fingers, and waved a hand dismissively, as if to fan her bad feelings away.

"Did you just connect with them? It's wild, isn't it?" Hunk asked excitedly over Pidge's head.

Pidge threw their hand over Hunk's face and pushed him out of their personal space. "Wait, you connected with them, Hunk?" They demanded with a smidge of jealousy. Their connection was before the bond really formed.

Hunk swatted Pidge's hand away. "Yeah, once… well twice. But the first time I only felt Keith a little, like he was hiding or something." Pidge eyed Hunk as if they wanted to climb into his brain. He ignored them and spoke to Allura over their head again. "So, you felt it, right?"

Pidge whipped around and beared down on Allura. "What's it like?"

With a nervous chuckle, Allura leaned away from Pidge, as they continued to encroach. "It's amazing, as if… well-" She tried to explain, raising her hands to ward Pidge off.

"It's like they're completely in sync, right!?" Hunk blurted.

Lance watched the odd conversation unfold as if he wasn't in the room. With all the over enthusiastic flailing -mostly from Pidge- Shiro had been dislodged from the couch, and leaned against the wall on the right. Corran had wandered off, and all three scrappers retreated to the safety of the floor between the two couches.

A small, and awkward sounding cough pulled the attention of the room. Shiro pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, and pulled his shoulders back. "Come one team, it's getting late, and we should proba-"

"Refreshments incoming!" Coran bellowed as he trotted into the room, balancing three trays, one of which was covered in cups and bottles. His trays swayed and he leaned to the side, trying to rebalance his burden.

Ja jumped to his feet and ran to Coran, righting his tipping tray. "Whoa! Watch'ah, bub!" he cried, and relieved Coran of the heaviest one.

In short order, everyone had food and drink. Lance looked into his very full glass and raised a brow at the brown liquid he had never seen before. He sniffed it, and reared back. It smelled fermented. He searched out Coran, and gave him a significant look, and tipped his head down at his cup. Coran shrugged, and then winked.

It seemed that everyone else also had alcohol, even Pidge had a small glass. Lance took a tiny sip, slightly concerned it would be nunvill all over. But his mouth filled with a sweet, fruity flavor, that ended with nutty tones. Another mouthful later, and Lance could feel a tingling warmth in his chest. He glanced at Keith and found his boyfriend staring back.

A gentile, ruby wave washed over Lance, and it whispered. 'Ready?' it asked.

No amount of breathing could calm Lance's heart. He took another large mouth full of his drink and Keith followed suit. The burn in Lance's chest reverberated between them, and the inside edge of his lips became numb. "Sure," he mumbled back, and ran his tongue along the seam of his own lips. The sensation felt distant.

Everyone was chatting and eating. Trying not to think about today's failure of a mission, and what that would mean for their future, Voltron's future, or the outcome of the war. Shiro was still alone against the wall, but he was staring at Keith, and being ignored for his efforts.

Lance inhaled, slowly, focusing on his expanding chest pulling the air into his diaphragm. Then, he used his exhale to begin a story that had never passed his lips before.

"My sister's name was Maritza, and she was my best friend."

Dead silence followed his statement, and Lance broke it himself.

"She was wonderful. My parents had her before they were even married, so she was twelve years older than me. But we had a special relationship, and were closer than my other siblings." Lance took another sip of his drink and closed his eyes, tracking its progress down his throat. When the burn faded, he continued. "My oldest memory is of her. She was beautiful, and kind, and shouldn't have died when she did." He took another sip and bit his quickly numbing bottom lip, holding back the 'it should have been me,' that tried to slip out, but the ghost of the thought haunted his story. Keith slipped an arm around Lance, supporting him as he moved on. "I didn't know it at the time, but everything started on a rainy day, when I was thirteen."

Absolutely nothing could be worse than today. They were supposed to go to the beach, but it was raining. Lance was tempted to sneak off to the beach alone, but the rain was so heavy he probably couldn't see the ocean anyway. They were supposed to have a picnic and go swimming. The beach wasn't far from his house. The arcade Lance liked to go to was on the boardwalk only two blocks away, and the beach was on the way there, you could see his house through the fence, mostly. He went to the Ocean often, but this trip was special.

Lance dragged his feet around the living room, glancing at the glass sliding door every few seconds, as if the rain would suddenly let up. Normally Lance loved the rain, but not today. Maritza had just graduated college, the first in the family, and she moved back home. It was rare to have all his siblings in the same place, and today was supposed to be that day, once Ritza got home from work. The atmosphere in his family had been down since their abuela passed a few months ago, and he hoped that today would lift everyone's spirits.

Lance heaved a sigh and flopped back onto the couch. His awkwardly long limbs were thrown haphazardly around.

Angella trudged through the entrance, her face was sour, and she looked around as if the room was below her. Ever since she started college she acted like she was better than the rest of the family. Lance sneered at her, but she still joined him on the couch with a lazy stride.

"Whats up, small fry?" she asked. Her tone was friendlier than her face and she threw an arm over his shoulder. They had an odd understanding between them, a hateship of sorts. She was the "bad" daughter, and even snuck Lance some tequila once.

Lance tried not to smile, today was supposed to be terrible. "The rain," he muttered back.

Before Angella could answer Emma wandered in. Her chin was raised, and her black eyeliner was perfect. With a little smirk she surveyed the room. "Hey bitches," She greeted.

Angella snorted. "Nice."

Emma took the seat on Lance's other side, slouching, and crossed her arms and ankles. She snapped her gum and looked out the glass door. Her eyes were pensive, and her red lips were a thin, thoughtful line. She didn't talk as much since she graduated high school. She was starting college in September, and Lance wondered if she was nervous. Emma was usually the opinionated, know-it-all with an attitude, but it was a front. That habit ran in the family.

Loud footsteps, like someone was carelessly dragging their feet in sorrow, announced Arlo's arrival. He sullenly walked into the room, ignored everyone, stopped in front of the glass door, and smacked his forehead into it. He pressed his face to the glass and glared at the rain. "This sucks!" he lamented loudly, and slid down the glass to the floor as if the world were ending.

Lance ignored Arlo. He was always like this, Mamá said he was at "that age." Something about tweens, and hormones. Lance liked to think he never went through that phase, he was thirteen already, and was sure he had never been that dramatic.

The house rumbled, and the floors shook. It was a sign of the harbingers of chaos. Their stampede like approach was a clear indication of their mood. The twins, Jules and Julia tore into the room at top speed, screaming, and carrying a pail and shovel each. Jules' was orange, and Julia's was blue. They circled the room twice, but the sound of their uncle's Spanish cursing scared them off. He ran into the room, yelling up a storm and followed after his youngest niece and nephew, trying to reign them in.

The house activity was just short of a natural disaster, as usual. Lance rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated beyond his years.

The front door opened and closed with a sharp snap. Lance's eyes flickered to the living room entrance, and he dropped his hand. She would come this way to avoid their Mamá, who was in the kitchen. The mudroom opened to the kitchen in front, or you could slip through the arched entryway to the living room on the left. Sure enough, Maritza appeared, sopping wet and miserable. Most people would attribute her downcast face to the weather and her shivering shoulders to the unusually cold day, but Lance saw her red rimmed eyes, and the tears trying to hide in the rain water.

Maritza didn't stop to talk, and avoided eye contact on her way through.

Lance didn't hesitate to wiggle out from under Angella's arm and run after Ritza, ignoring her indignant grunt. Angie and Ritza always had a strained relationship, and sometimes Lance felt like Angie resented how close he was with Ritza. He tried to not linger on the thought as he reached the bedroom. He was about to go in, but a phone rang and Maritza answered. The door had failed to latch, leaving a crack for him to peek through.

"I said NO Benny!" Maritza yelled with a ferocity Lance had never heard from her.

He held his breath, afraid she would sense him snooping, but she only sobbed, and yelled.

"We are OVER! Get it through your head!... NO… you can't do that to me and expect me to stay! … why won't you just leave me alone… that's NOT love!"

Her anger dissolved into fear and sorrow. A shattering crack shook the door and Lance jumped away, frightened. But Maritza's scared cries drew him back, and he slipped into the room. The door scraped when he pushed it open as it swept aside the remains of Ritza's phone.

Lance crept to the bed, and climbed up next to her. Without question, she threw herself into his chest and hugged him tight. "Chiquito," she cried into him.

Lance wrinkled his nose at the nickname, but reached for her bedside table to grab her hairbrush and a few colorful ties. With his sister's face pressed to him, he began to brush her hair. Maybe a four strand braid into a bun would cheer her up.

"I didn't really get it at the time. I thought it was just a bad breakup, her first real heartache. Something I was too young to understand." The regret was a solid punch to the chest. It fanned out to the very tips of Lance's limbs and bounced back to his heart where it lived. He took another long draw from his glass. His fingers were numb, and at the same time sensitive to his every heartbeat. "Almost a year later, things were not going well for me. I wanted to escape, and I always wanted to go to the beach at night…" He confessed.

"NO, Mijo, and that's final!"

Lance glared at his mamá. He was fourteen years old, plenty old enough to go to the beach at night like the other kids, but his mom treated him like a child! She wouldn't even let him go with Ritza. His uncle said that because she was a girl it was dangerous, but Lance was willing to protect her! He said as much, and his uncle's mouth fell into a crooked little frown. Lance knew what that look meant, and it wasn't his fault that Arlo was already as big as him…

"FINE!" Lance yelled back at his mamá. He hardly dared to raise his voice at her, unless he wanted a permanent spatula mark on his ass, but he was worked up and anxious. He hated the way his uncle looked at him, commented on his mannerisms, and even scrutinized how close he was with Ritza. He was too old to be coddled, shouldn't paint his nails, braid her hair… he was just a pansy- Lance squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts back down.

When he opened them again his mamá was glaring at him, but showed mercy. Maybe she understood on some level how he felt. She lowered her wooden spoon and sighed. "Just get your sister and go to the arcade or something. Get out before your uncle gets home, you know he's not happy with you right now."

Guilt, that why he was spared, it was written across her face. She would never defend him, only hide him. Lance looked at his feet, as if he was trying to set fire to them with his mind. After his suspension a few months ago, his mamá demanded an explanation and he told her the truth. Ritza had been right, she took it better than expected… but she told his uncle, and he didn't take it well...

Lance gave a small nodded, relenting, and he ran to Maritza's room to ask if they could go out.

"I was so angry. I felt rejected. I-" Lance choked on his words, his throat tightened, and they couldn't push through. But Keith was there, filling him, and holding him up. No one spoke as Lance collected himself, and he was grateful. "I wasn't completely accepted by my family. My uncle had certain ideas about… a lot of things, and I didn't fit in. After I came out, I spent a lot of time with Maritza, or at Hunk's house." Both Lance's hands wrapped around his drink, his knuckles were white, and the drink trembled. "That day, I was at the end of my rope. So I did as my mamá asked, and went to the arcade with Ritza."

Flashing lights, chimes, songs, and bells. Smelly VR head gears, and touch worn controls. The arcade never changed. Lance and his sister had been there for hours, but she never complained. He wanted to lose himself in the games, and moved from one shooter to the next, dominating the scoreboard. Maritza watched him sometimes, and other times wander off to a rhythm game of some sort.

A moment ago, Lance was sure Maritza had been behind him, but after he blasted a Zombie, and double tapped to be sure, she was gone. He had flipped up his VR visor, and looked over his shoulder to see if she had been watching him on screen, because let's be honest that was awesome, but her spot was empty. Lance pulled the helmet off and tried to seek her out through the glare and din. She wasn't at any of her preferred games, he checked the prize counter, and awkwardly snooped around the door to the ladies room for a few minutes.

He didn't spot her until he wandered to the front of the arcade. Through the huge front opening of the building, he saw her on the wooden planked boardwalk, she was on her phone. A little wrinkled between her eyes conveyed her annoyance, but it smoothed over when she spotted Lance. He could tell her words were clipped by the sharp movement of her mouth, she couldn't hide that behind her smile.

She ended the call abruptly, and glared at her phone, only to pull on a cheery smile when she turned to Lance. "Lance!" She called and jogged over to him. Her eyes were full of mischief layered over worry. "Can you do me a favor, manito?" She asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

A smile tugged at Lance, despite his concern. Maritza always trusted him when she was being sneaky, it was one of their things, among many. He leaned forward as if someone was trying to eavesdrop. "Yeah!" he stage whispered. This was a perfect opportunity, he could sneak off to the beach for a few minutes, and no one would know. He just wanted to feel free and see the stars in the ocean, and this way Ritza could claim ignorance if he got caught.

Maritza's smile widened, and If there was a tightness around her sparkling eyes, Lance thought it might have been his imagination. "OK, Hot Shot, here's the deal," she began and then leaned even closer. "I need to run off for a few minutes, maybe twenty at most. So I'm trusting you to not get into trouble, understand?" She raised a brow, as if considering whether he was trustworthy or not.

Lance pretended to take his time deciding, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know, what do I get out of this?" he asked.

Maritza leaned back and crossed her arms, putting one hand under her chin, she copied Lance's thinking pose. "How about, first movie choice for the next three movies?" She offered with mock caution.

Lance stroked his chin again and counter offered. "Five."

"Four, and that's final," Maritza closed the deal, and they shook on it very professionally.

"She ran off, and I only waited five minutes before I left the arcade. I knew it was wrong, but I was so angry… and-" Lance gripped his empty glass so hard it began to crack. He couldn't feel any pain, his hands were disconnected from his wrist. Keith carefully pried the cup from his fingers. "Heh, I guess I don't know my own strength," Lance covered with a fake chuckle.

Keith put the cup on the floor and took Lance's hands. "Yeah," he mumbled, but was shooting Allura a significant look.

Lance laced his fingers with Keith's. "Anyway," he picked up. "I ran to the beach. It was closed so I had to climb the fence."

Lance was an explorer. He wanted to discover, to walk until there was no road left, as far from disappointment as possible. The air had a different quality when you crossed a new boundary, it smelled like excitement, and of someplace uninhabited. The empty beach was quiet and the silence settled between Lance's ears. It was serene, blanketing the adrenaline coursing through him from climbing the fence.

The wind had swept away all the footprints in the sand. Leaving it as it should be, smooth, with the illusion of abandonment. Lance walked to the water's edge, and kept going. It was up to his knees, brisk and refreshing. He was surrounded by the stars of the ocean, but Lance wanted to go farther. He left the arcade, and risked punishment to be here. His mama would never let him go in the ocean when it was dark, but Maritza would understand. She always did. Right now she was off doing something secret too.

Lance didn't stop walking until the water was to his waste, and he was surrounded by the universe. It rippled around him, endless, cold and perfect. His lungs wanted to seize from the cold, to take a breath and hold it. He knew it was dangerous, he could get pulled under, drown right here when no one knew where he was, but he didn't care. If he died right now, at least it would be in a moment of quiet contentment.

Maritza would be pissed if she knew what he was thinking. Lance wasn't sure how long he stood there, but he couldn't feel his toes. It was definitely longer than the few minutes he told himself he would stay. With reluctant steps he dragged himself out of the water and back over the fence.

"When I got back to the arcade, Ritza wasn't there." Lance could hardly grasp the thread of his story, but he held on tight, he was almost finished. "I had been gone longer than I thought. I knew she was going to be worried, so I ran home. Only, Maritza wasn't there either." Tears came, unending, but not disruptive. Just quiet streams. "I immediately told my parents, and they went to the arcade. The manager said my sister had come back looking for me, that she had been upset, and when I wasn't there she ran off to search for me." Lance wished he had another drink, but squeezed Keith's hand instead. "My parents called the police, but they blew us off, they said an hour wasn't long enough to worry. But later that night when she never came home..."

¿por qué dejaste el Arcade?!" Lance's uncle screamed, accusingly, and Lance trembled under his fury. His mamá stood to the side, caught between stopping her brother, and agreeing with him.

Lance looked up at his uncle. He didn't have an answer they wanted to hear. "Pe- pedir- pedir perdón," Lance stammered through his tears.

He didn't know what else to say, all he wanted was to go look for his sister. But his apology stoked the fire in his uncle, and after all the tension of the last few months since his suspension, he lashed out with the unspoken truth. "debería haber sido usted!"

"André!" His mama yelled, but it was too late.

The words had cut deep and Lance recoiled. Even if they had all thought it, and his uncle didn't want him around anymore, he had never expected to hear it.

Lance ran. His uncle tried to grab him, but he ducked and made it to the sliding door, pulling it open and fleeing into the night. He ran until he reached the fence of the beach, and looked over his shoulder, only half surprised that no one followed. None of his siblings had been around to hear that fight.

He jumped the fence for the second time that night. It was hot and muggy, the air coated his lungs. All the stars in the ocean were gone, wiped away by the clouds since he was last here. Thunder rumbled. he looked up as the first drop fell, and it landed on his face. He let the rain cover him in a shroud, and soak his clothes.

In the distance, through the rain, red and blue flashed. The lights bloomed in the hot mist on the moonless night, so bright Lance could see it from the beach. He shouldn't have broken the rules. His freedom, his adventure, it had too high a price. The damp air carried the scent of salt, and nothing else. Lance breathed deep, and watched the curling mist rise from the cooling sand, until it dissipated into the dark sky, just like him.

They would find her, he was certain. He made a promise to himself, one that would be broken on this same beach, under the hot sun.

Lance fell into robotic retelling. Only his tears broke the facade. Inside he was a building storm, and Keith tried his best to soothe it. Everyone in the room remained silent, afraid that speaking would break the spell that gave Lance the strength to speak. Even if the truth was that it was probably the alcohol, but even that was quickly fading. "We didn't find her that night, and a week passed."

The long grain carpet was rough beneath his bare feet, its original color lost to time and traffic. The metal bar that ended the hallway and began the bedroom was cold where it pressed into the skin of his arches.

Lance stood in the doorway.

Nothing had changed. The air vibrated with the anticipation of her return to this room, her room. Everything was exactly as she had left it, a beacon of hope that they would find her. It was comforting for Lance, who was currently living in hot panic and watery anxiety. He could feel every inch of his body. He was trapped in meat, bone, and fibrous nerves. It was his prison and his only portal to the outside.

Without his hands, he couldn't touch every brush on Maritza's vanity and every nail polish on her dresser. Soft bristles and smooth glass. Without his nose, he couldn't smell her perfume, her hair spray, or the powder she used on her face. Without Maritza, he couldn't hear her soft humming with his useless ears.

Lance just wanted to see her.

Three days ago he had jumped a fence, exhilarated and free. He stood in the ocean, under the moon, and knew his sister would understand. And while Lance had thought of her with certainty, she vanished.

"Mijo," his mamá called. Her voice was fragile and distant.

She stood down the hall, but didn't approach. The bedroom wasn't a comfort for her, but a painful reminder, and so was he. Lance ignored her. He thought no one could blame him more than he blamed himself, until he had looked in his mamá's eyes. She would never say it, and clung to dwindling hope, but his uncle had screamed it, then gone silent and remained silent ever since.

"During that week no one in my family spoke more than a few words to me, and my Uncle pretended I didn't exist." Lance braced himself for the next part, the worst day of his life. "On the seventh day, Maritza was found."

Dawn crept in with little conviction. The sun was already baking the sand, and a wave of clouds crept up ready to hold the heat in. The humidity formed a film on Lance's mind while he stood on the beach like he had everyday that week. It was day seven since Ritza vanished. The police took Benny into custody yesterday, they had found his sister's phone, and he was the last person she had spoken to.

He might confess to what he did at any moment. Any second the police could arrive, and he might have his sister back. Benny could have locked her in a basement, or a shed… Lance hoped. He watched the ocean fade into the humid mist. The higher the sun rose, the more he could see, but the clouds were coming fast, ready to hide it all away again.

Lance looked to his left at the rapidly approaching storm, a field of grey bowing down to the ground. Thunder clapped, a warning to move aside, but Lance ignored it. He didn't want to leave, he didn't want to be home when the police came. But even from this distance, he was forced to endure the inevitable.

When the Police arrived and his Mama's scream rent the air apart, It struck him, like a knife that slashed against his heart. A sobbing sound of anguish, and muffled yells in the distance from his house. The sun was almost at its peak, and the storm practically on top of Lance. He looked up as the sky cracked, and denied the truth, even as it poured down like a cold awakening. Thunder rolled with his scream, and the rain came down in sheets. It fell with his tears, and he let it soak into his clothes. His skin became numb from standing in it, and he imagined his body fading away into the mist that it created with the hot sand.

Pain like this isn't expressed in screams. It's too big. The sound can't fit through his mouth, and his lungs aren't strong enough to push it out, so he choked. He gagged on a keening whine and tried to breathe, but it couldn't get around the tortured sound trapped in his body. The sand was in flames, and his feet were on fire. He wanted to hit the sun warmed beach and evaporate. But his body remained solid. On his hands and knees he made his despair known to the sand.

"It was Benny," Lance revealed, hiding his tear streaked face, and then he elaborated in a small voice. "Maritza had gone to see him. He had started bothering her again, or I guess he never stopped. After she ran from him, she couldn't find me and went looking. He snatched her between the arcade and the beach. She was out there because of me, she knew where I had snuck off too, and if I hadn't left the arcade she might be alive." He admitted. He was the missing piece that crumbled the tower of events that night. "I haven't spoken to my uncle since Ritza went missing, and my relationship with my mom was never the same. She focused on Arlo and the twins, and I worked hard at school to get away." Lance looked up from the floor, and at his friends for the first time since he started talking. He didn't bother to hide his red eyes, and looked at Hunk, offering a small teary smirk. "I enlisted Hunk in my grand scheme to escape. Eventually we both applied to the Garrison high school and transferred when I was sixteen. Until then, no one really bothered me, or cared where I was. My siblings checked in, but that was it," he shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but he couldn't hide the pain from Keith. The warm hand in his shifted and Keith used his thumb to rub small circles in Lance's palm.

Keith didn't blame Lance, not even for a moment. His belief in Lance didn't even waver. Now Lance waited for the condemnation from the others. Maybe a dirty look from Pidge, disgust from Coran, or a disappointed dad face from Shiro. He couldn't look away from Hunk, the only person in the room aside of Keith that Lance knew would accept him. Hunk held his eyes, supportive and caring.

The silence dug deep into Lance's heart, gouging a bloody pocket for the pain he feared was coming.

Surprisingly, it was Shiro that spoke up first. His voice was soft, but in the dead silence it was loud. "You didn't know what to do with all your guilt, did you?" He asked, rhetorically.

Lance's gaze dragged across the room, drawn to Shiro by pure astonishment. There wasn't a trace of disappointment on his face. He looked younger, softer, and a little lost. But his lips tried to form a smile, and it was a little broken, like a limb bent in the wrong direction, and he continued explaining. "When you have so much guilt, and you don't know where to direct it, you lash out, and spend time trying to act like you aren't guilty. You pretend to be something you're not, and do more things you regret, because you're afraid of repeating your mistakes." Shiro's eyes drifted to Keith, and this time Keith looked back.

It might have been the completely vulnerable expression Shrio wore, or the quickly mounting understanding in Lance, but either way, something clicked. Like a fluorescent light, black flickered in Lance and then remained. He wasn't sure who bonded with Shiro, him or Keith, possibly both. But he was there, large, and imposing, but also reliable and protective. His dark shield arched over Lance's ocean, and Keith's angry, rising fire.

Shiro looked between them and in them, at the flaming sea, and the powerful creature Keith became in Lance's waters. "Holy shit," he breathed.

Lance looked at the strong shield Shiro used to protect his loved ones, and traced every crack. He was battered, and beaten, and it was just as much on the inside as the outside. The familiar fissures of self loathing matched the ones in Lance. Allura understood guilt, but Shiro understood making a single, irreversible mistake. He had left, just like Lance had left the arcade, and the person he left behind paid the price. Keith suffered, Maritza died, and Shiro and Lance never learned to cope.

Lance was starting to understand...

"This doesn't make it OK," Keith insisted, but the edges of his words were dull, even while the blade was solid.

Lance tightened his grip on Keith's hand. "He knows," he whispered, and beckoned Keith's with their bond, meeting his gaze. "Just like I know," he pressed the cool, blue concept directly against Keith's anger.

Shiro heard it too. The sharp breath confirmed it. Then a crack resounded through the bond and Shiro's shield retracted.

"It's not the same!" Keith barked. His will was a wild blaze, and it roared against Lance's implications.

"It's similar, Keith," Lance insisted.

"No…" Keith whispered. "It's not the same. I'm not dead, and Shiro... he never really accepted me after, and he threw it back at me!" His argument rose with his volume.

Lance knew Keith's anger was valid, but it was also raging out of control. He didn't want Keith to let it go, but he also didn't want double standards. Lance restored to raising his voice, almost yelling in order to cut through Keith's stubborn walls. "And he knows it was wrong, Keith! That doesn't make it better, and you don't have to forgive him, and I'm not sure you should, but he knows he messed up!" Lance grabbed Keith's upper arms and shook him lightly, bearing down on his own pain as he forced the next words out. "And if my sister had survived, I don't know how I would have handled it either! The only difference is that Maritza didn't survive to see me coping poorly. She wasn't there for me to lash out at! And I think I would have!"

Lance paused, still holding Keith, but his emotions broke free and were bared to Keith. He took a broken breath. "I think… I know, I would have lashed out at her. I wasn't dealing with the guilt, and I was angry. But she died and I attacked my family just as much as I attacked myself. Other than my Uncle, the rest of my family left me alone, partly because I was unbearable. Sometimes I get so mad at Ritza because she left me alone." The confession was difficult, it was something Lance lied to himself about. It was easier than admitting the truth, that sometimes, he blamed Maritza. She shouldn't have met with Benny, she should have stayed with Lance, gone to the beach with him. He knew it wasn't her fault, but it was difficult not to be angry with her. Instead Lance doubled down on his self hatred, but that wasn't the answer.

Keith's anger stopped in the face of Lance's confession, and the tangle of conflicting emotions. He grabbed Lance's forearms and squeezed. "It's Benny's fault," he affirmed.

Lance nodded slowly. He didn't realize how much he needed to hear that from Keith in particular, but only blaming Benny wasn't the answer either. Lance let his hands slide off Keith, and told him the only thing that made sense. "I know it's Benny's fault, it really is. but I can't stop thinking that one small difference could have stopped him, if I hadn't left, or she hadn't answered the phone... Bad things don't just form from nothing!"

"But there is a difference between taking responsibility for mistakes and taking all the blame!" Keith railed against Lance's guilt, obsitant to a fault.

"EXACTLY!" Lance shouted back. Their emotions slotted together, quieting Keith. "Shiro fucked up, he tried to control you and your choices, to prevent another situation like before, and that was wrong. But I assume you never talked about what happened either, and you should, because you still have your brother," Lance tentatively nudged the topic. Keith's first reaction was to get angry again, but it quickly faded into irritated resentment, and that confirmed Lance's suspicion.

Out of the long silence that followed, Hunk emerged, brave enough to speak up. "We can't control people, we only have so much information and so many choices at any given moment, and we do the best we can. But it goes both ways, you gotta take what's offered." He gave Lance a significant look. It held all the weight of years and years of Hunk trying to get Lance to talk.

The same irritated resentment rose up in Lance, and he was rewarded with Keith's smug satisfaction, but he rose above it and agreed with Hunk. "Yeah, you're right buddy." Lance looked at Shrio, and passed him the proverbial significant-look-of-shame.

Shiro dropped his head, accepting, but he looked up from under his bangs and smiled at Lance. It wasn't completely broken, and it was a little thankful.

A silent understanded formed, and Keith and Lance's emotions aligned. It wasn't perfect, but they would work things out together.

The soft moment was interrupted by Coran. "Evils not made in a vacuum. As my great grandfather used to-"

"Wait! Did Shiro just bond with them too?! This is so not fair!" Pidge hollered, irate. They looked around at the group in question, finally putting together what had just happened.

Shiro wedged himself into the crack in the heavy conversation. "I think we should call it a night, we have to regroup tomorrow for plan B," he asserted, taking the leader role from an obviously worn out Lance.

Nobody moved. The role of leader was still a little delicate, and new relationships shook up the balance. Then Keith stood up and looked Shiro directly in the eye. He didn't smile, and a tight heat pulled on Lance through their bond, but he nodded. "Shiro's right," he agreed. There was no forgiveness, but it was a start.

Allura stood, and Coran shifted, ready to begin cleaning up, but the majority of the room -including Keith- looked at Lance. He sighed, lamenting his unwanted authority, and nodded

Pidge grumbled, but didn't push the bonding topic. Everyone began standing and stretching. Shiro tucked a tired, and emotionally drained Allura under his arm. Lance took Keith's hand and watched his friends file out. Each one looked at him and Keith as they passed. Some with reassuring eyes, others thankful, but all of them were genuine. Lance tried to store those looks away, for later when he would doubt, and worry. He had to remember this moment.

Ooo

Lance collapsed, inside and out. His body crumpled onto the bed, as his chest caved in. He rolled onto his back, allowing his hollowed out body to sink into his mattress. The enormity of what he had just done, the things he had admitted, filled the cavern of his chest with uncomfortable feelings. He bared himself to his friends, and it left him doubting and guilty. He felt like a liar, after all the years of pretending it felt wrong to be honest. This was exactly how he felt after coming out to Keith, only multiplied by every person he confessed to. The freedom he had experienced paled in comparison to this discomfort.

The conversation had been full of revelations, to many to properly absorb, it was a mess, but it was over, for now. They would probably revisit see topics later, when they escaped this planet maybe, and Lance wasn't looking forward to it.

The bed dipped, slow and soft. Keith climbed over Lance, and settled down straddling his hips. His pale hands slid up and under Lance's shirt, and he pressed his palms to Lance's chest. It was saturated with anxiety, and Keith's hands pressed it out. It dripped from his heart, and curled into his stomach, then unfurled into uneasy tendrils that snaked through him, down to his toes.

Lance stretched into the bond, reaching for Keith, looking for commiseration. But he met with calm ribbons that wrapped around his anxiety, binding it.

"Aren't you scared?" Lance whispered, confused.

Keith leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose over Lance's cheek. "Of what?" He whispered back.

Lance's eyes slid closed, and he shared a breath with Keith. "Of everything our friends found out today?" he asked, suddenly unsure of how irrational his feelings were.

Keith softly kissed Lance's neck, muddling his thought further. He sighed against Lance's skin and leaned back enough to look him in the eyes. "They seemed to take everything well enough, even Shiro." He shrugged and tried to kiss Lance, but a hand on his face stopped him.

"But we left everything so open ended. No one got to really talk about it. Plus Shiro and you didn't-"

Keith shoved the hand away and pressed a hard kiss to Lance's mouth.

Lance turned his head, freeling his lips. "And I butted into your and Shiro's business! Why aren't you mad abo-"

Keith trapped Lance's face between his hands and kissed him again. When the kiss broke Lance opened his mouth to speak, but Keith cut him off. "It's fine that it's open ended, Lance. What were they going to say that they didn't already tell us? They either understand, or they don't, they accept us, or they don't. The type of shit we went through isn't something you can explain, and people that didn't experience it will always be a degree separated from us, but they can still love us. Just like we love them, even though we can't completely understand each others pain."

Keith tried to kiss Lance again, but was blocked once more by a hand over his mouth.

"But-" Lance attempted to argue, a tangled of turmoil still brewed in their bond, broadcasting Lance's concerns without words.

Keith grabbed the hand over his mouth and pulled it away, pinning it to the bed. "No, nothing is wrong. They don't think you're a murder, and they don't think I'm a whore, or whatever other conclusions they could draw from today's mission," he insisted.

Lance didn't even make a sound, but the next wave of worries flowed into Keith, and he tackled them as they came. "Yes, I will talk to the team about my… history, someday. And yes, I will talk to Shiro… also someday," he grumbled, only half committing.

Keith leaned in again, and was an inch from Lance's lips when he was stopped short by the word, "But-" which was filled with doubt, that Keith couldn't ignore. He diverted his lips path, and pressed his face into the pillow over Lance's shoulder, letting his body lay flush against Lance's.

Keith released a long sigh. "I'm not mad that you butted into the thing with Shiro… honestly, I might have never talked to him if you hadn't. And no, I haven't decided if there's a chance I will forgive him." He sat all the way up, and looked down at Lance, who couldn't meet his eyes. The creeping tendrils of fear and doubt were fewer, but they still wriggled through Lance. Keith smiled, sad and fond. "Ace," he beckoned Lance to look at him.

Slowly Lance turned his head and looked up at Keith. He was embarrassed by his rampaging anxiety, and it colored his cheeks. Keith slipped his hands back under Lance's shirt, and ran them up his quivering stomach, and over his nipples. Lance's breath hitched, and he felt Keith push his love and support down the bond, and it was lined with desire. Keith wanted to make him feel good, and wipe away his worries, It rang clear in his intentions.

Keith covered Lance's body with his own and kissed him softly. He slowly pressed his hips into Lance's, grinding against him agonizingly slowly. A hot burst of pleasure rippled up from Lance's groin, pushing his uneasy tendrils back. He gasped, breaking the kiss. Keith dragged his smile across Lance's cheek, and to his ear. "Let me take care of you," he demanded, quiet and caring. It sent a feeling through Lance he couldn't describe. Keith's love flooded his body, inhabiting every corner. It was just as encompassing as the night before, but it was gentler, almost healing.

Lance moaned and pushed his hips up. Keith was kissing his neck, pulling the collar of his shirt aside, and loving the mark he had left there. His other hand snaked between them, and undid Lance's fly. Every bit of Keith's mind was filled with Lance's pleasure, completely focused on his needs. He sat up, and pulled his shirt over his head, then leaned over and grabbed their lube from the bedside table.

Lance ran his hands over Keith's stomach, trembling under their combined sensations. He trailed his fingers down and along the edge of Keith's pants before undoing them. Keith rose to his knees, and Lance pulled down, taking the boxers with the jeans, freeing Keith's erection.

Keith moved away before Lance could touch him, and removed his pants, lifting one knee and a time. He settled back astride Lance's hips, completely naked.

Lance looked up at him, and loved him even more.

Keith smirked, and pressed down on Lance's boxer covered length, drawing out a gasping moan. At the same time, while Lance was distracted, he poured some lube into one hand, and slicked his fingers. Keith scooted back to Lance's thighs, and pulled Lance's pants down just enough to free him.

Lance watched in awe as Keith gave him everything, exposed every vulnerable inch of himself. With one hand he grasped Lance's erection, slowly driving Lance mad with his measured pumps. With his other hand he reached back and opened himself.

One slow finger at a time. Keith moaned as he worked, rubbing himself on Lance, driving them both crazy.

Lance wanted to touch more of Keith, but his hands were slapped away. He grabbed Keith's hips instead, arching back into the bed. Finally Keith pulled his slick fingers out and grabbed the lube bottle, adding more to his hand. He coated Lance, still holding him in one hand, and moved up, lifting himself onto his knees.

Teasingly, Keith lowered himself, rubbing his entrance against Lance's head. He held Lance's hips down and made small circles with his own hips, pushing a little harder with each pass. Slowly he finished stretching himself, and Lance slipped past the ring of muscle.

The searing lighting bolt of pleasure lifted Lance's back off the bed, and he reveled in its echo between them. "Babe!" he gasped, and tightened his grip on Keith's hips.

Keith took a breath, trying to stay in control, but Lance was giving into their pleasure with abandon. He lifted himself up until Lance's cock was almost free, and slid back down, taking all of Lance.

"Ah!" Lance almost yelped, overwhelmed by sensation.

Keith tried to set an even rhythm, riding Lance slowly. But they were both losing themselves quickly. Lance's grip on Keith was almost bruising, and he lifted his hips to meet each decent. Keith cascaded over Lance, a red inferno, and Lance gave in. He gripped Keith's hips even harder and thrust up, he put all his fear and doubts into it, and let them drown in Keith.

"AAH!" Keith yelled, half surprised, and half pleased.

Lance was unrelenting, moving faster than Keith could keep up while on top. So he gripped Lance's forearms for balance, and let Lance hold him still by the hips, thrusting up into him.

"Ace! Oh god!" Keith's head fell back, and his mouth hung open.

Lance put all his frustration into wrecking Keith, and loved how much Keith was loving it. He let go of Keith's hips with one hand and grabbed his erection. The moment he wrapped his hand around it, Keith lost it. "Lance!" he screamed as he came first, bringing Lance right to the edge.

While the orgasim still rolled through Keith, Lance flipped them over, grabbed Keith's hips, and finished himself with a few hard thrusts, wrapping their orgasims together and drawing them out. He pressed into Keith completely and rocked his hips, as they rode out their blinding pleasure.

Keith was realing as his orgasim ended and Lance's slammed into him. "Holy hell!" he gasped.

Lance collapsed onto Keith when it was over. Both of them panting and sticky. Lance buried his face into Keith's neck and breathed him in.

"I was supposed to take care of you," Keith laughed lightly.

Lance smiled into Keith's neck, and began trying to kick his pants all the way off. "No, Rojo. This was exactly what I needed," he reassured.

Keith pushed against Lance as he struggled. "Sit up," he complained.

Lance gave up undressing and let his full weight fall on Keith. "I can't, you killed me."

"Lance!" Keith managed to roll Lance to the side and sat up. He shook his head and sighed.

Lance smiled as Keith began helping him undress. "You're lucky I love you," He grumbled as he pulled Lance's pants all the way off, and moved to his shirt.

"I am!" Lance agreed, completely coated in fluffy feelings and also spent.

Keith glowered down at him, but his mouth twitched with a forming smile. He kept up his irritated pretence and slid off the bed. "I'm gonna get a wet cloth."

oOoOo

NEXT time on Dragon Ball Z- PLAN B to get off the planet! Maybe we will get a peek into the mysterious Yeppeo Six? Or learn more about Saeg, or Vii? Is there something deeper to Keith and Lance's bond than what Coran explained?! STAY TUNED for someday when I update, but it will definitely happen I promise!