Author's Note: Wow, I was interrupted so many times trying to write this chapter. I wrote it way late at night after everyone went to bed. I wrote it during the day with my son watching Paw Patrol next to me (that's not distracting or anything). I wrote it as we drove out of state looking for a new house for my new job. Yeah, over the next month I'm moving and the kids are starting school and blah blah blah, you don't care, I know. . .I'll try not to let it delay the story too much.

Chapter Thirty: Interstellar Communication

Lance would forever classify that night, that party, as the very last evening when his life had been as perfect as he could have hoped for. The dark still pressed against the windows, a draft of the future howling on the balcony, but at the beginning of the evening, the music and light inside the apartment overpowered it almost completely. Dinner spread over the counters, piles of napkins, plates, cups, and cutlery next to three pans of food. The smallest was labeled vegetarian, but the other two were full to the brim with mixed rice, black beans, sweet potatoes, chicken, and plantains. Hunk's largest stock pot held all the Sprite with fizzy dollops of sherbet floating inside.

At the last second, Lance picked up the NASA letter away from the radio. He'd decided somewhere after Keith left and before anyone else came that there could be a chance it didn't contain good news. Hunk should be able to read it without anyone else knowing about it. Lance tucked it underneath the wrapped Cuban spice blend on his desk to wait until he'd decided about when the best time would be to tell Hunk about it. Then he went to answer the door.

Two of the physicists arrived first, and even though Lance asked and received their names, he almost instantly forgot them again. Lance found that physicists had the same sort of look to them – blurred around the edges a little with wide, faraway eyes. Most of the time when he tried to talk to them, he regretted it within a few minutes. They either stared at him with their heads tilted, like little starry puppies, as though they couldn't understand him at all, or they answered a routine, polite question like "how are you?" with their entire proposed theory on atoms in relative space. Once one of them had even tried to prove what he meant by attempting to slam his hand through Lance's coffee table. Lance sent him home with his wrist wrapped tightly in an ACE bandage and begged Hunk to never invite him over again.

These two could have been new to the apartment, or they could have been over many times. Either way, they stood awkwardly in the entryway until Lance ushered them inside with plain, simple instructions on where to leave their coats and wet shoes, inviting them to help themselves to punch. They each ladled up a cupful, and then they all stared at each other in strained, uncomfortable silence with Lance not knowing what to say that wouldn't begin a well-rehearsed TED talk and wondering why it was taking so long for Hunk and Pidge to get back from the Museum.

Fortunately, Hunk and Pidge's arrival less than two minutes later dismantled the silence, bridging the communication gap. They burst through the door in a gust of fresh, cold air and banter, and if it struck them in any way to see the radio pulled out from under the bed and returned to its position of glory in the middle of the table, they pushed right past it, talking nonstop about the Museum and how Lance really needed to join them the next time they went, and hey, how's it going – good to see you at the guests. Hunk did pause long enough to sniff at the air, his face breaking into joy as he recognized the scent of what Lance had cooked. He sped toward the kitchen while Pidge joined their friends at the punch, and they all began talking that unique physics jargon that was more a feeling to Lance than communication. It hummed around his ears like electricity, just the way he liked it to. He let himself relax, making sure to savor how it sounded, how it felt, to have everyone here like this. He let it sink in until it started to hurt, that slight tearing deep inside him as he remembered that these times were going to be over soon. That there was a letter on his desk he needed to tell Hunk about.

Lance was about to join Hunk in the kitchen in order to pull him privately into his room where they could talk about the letter, but the knock on the door forced him to postpone that for a few more minutes. Which was fine. He still wasn't sure when he wanted to tell Hunk about it. Right now, Hunk smiled easily, surrounded by his favorite things, and even though Lance felt more than ninety-eight percent sure that the letter was a good thing, he just didn't want anything in it to ruin the party he'd spent all day putting together. He left the scientists to do what they did best while he fulfilled his role as host and opened the door to the next guest. No, guests – not astrophysicists this time, but they still rendered Lance practically speechless.

"Oh, wow," Lance exclaimed involuntarily right before all the English words he knew went right out of his head, taking in the scene and forgetting completely about parties and space stations, letters and spices. Allura clasped her hands demurely, bowing her head as Lance pulled it together enough to realize that he was rudely standing in the doorway, staring at her.

But how could he not? Her hair plaited back from her temples in what must have been the complicated braid she'd spoken of before, the one she'd worn for their failed date. The dress could have been the same one she'd intended for last week too – a pale blue, simple thing that gained elegance just by being on her person. It buttoned down the front and flared out at her knees, and she wore navy leggings under it that matched her boots. Dangly shooting star earrings hovered at her jawline, swinging with her every movement, and the moment she stepped past the doorway, she would break the record on the amount of makeup that had ever been in the room at once even though she wasn't wearing all that much.

Allura was so captivating that Lance barely registered Romelle standing next to her, even though it was no surprise that they'd arrived together, and Romelle was also a lovely girl. Her outfit was a different kind of simple – a pink-ish turtleneck and dark blue jeans, the kind with beaded patterns on the back pockets. She'd done her makeup with slightly heightened dramatics. Lance thought there might be something glittery on her cheekbones.

"Lance, who is it? Are you going to let them in or are you waiting for a password or something?" Pidge yelled from somewhere behind him, voice thick with sarcastic goading, breaking him into motion.

"Right – come in," he managed, shepherding them inside. He noticed Romelle scanning the room hopefully, searching for Keith, practically going up on tiptoe as if that would help. "I'm glad you made it."

"You sure?" Allura asked, removing her famous white coat. Lance took it from her while he decided what his face should look like in response to her question. "You looked so surprised to see us I thought maybe you'd changed your mind about your invitation."

Satisfied that Keith wasn't hiding under the dining room table, Romelle mentally returned to Allura's side, watching the exchange with renewed interest. Lance wondered if Allura had told her everything about him yet. From the way she stared, critically sizing him up as he also reached for her coat, he thought so. He felt as if he were being graded.

"I don't normally open my door to this much beauty," Lance explained, thinking he may have gotten an upper hand somehow as his comment caused Allura's eyes to seek out the carpet again, smiling.

"Hey!" Pidge squawked indignantly behind him, but he didn't give her the satisfaction of looking at her. He kept his eyes on Allura, waiting for the moment when she'd lift her head again.

"Oh, don't pretend to be insulted," Lance called carelessly over his shoulder to Pidge, who frequently, passionately, and disgustedly ranted about girls at the university who spent more time in front of mirrors than on their homework. She felt they were a waste of resources, and if Lance had ever dared to suggest that Pidge was beautiful, she would have groaned, laughed, or punched Lance in the arm. Probably all those reactions, actually, in that order. However, he thought he'd better smooth over what he'd said in case he had hurt her feelings somehow. "I don't open the door for you at all; you let yourself in."

A possessive arm twined around Lance's as a tiny body leaned against his side. Pidge coming over to protect him while she determined what was going on. Romelle wasn't the only one gauging character references here. Pidge was on high alert, studying every detail about the new girls with the precision of Sherlock Holmes. Lance felt it best not to move. He wanted to see how Allura and Pidge would mesh. He'd never be comfortable if they didn't get along, but he secretly hoped that Pidge wouldn't be rude on purpose. She'd already had a long day forcing herself to be at her best for Hunk, which might sharpen her tongue and temperament more than was fair for anyone.

"Pidge," Lance invoked her name as an introduction and a plea. "I'd like you to meet Allura and her best friend, Romelle."

Allura smiled, nodding her head like a princess as she was introduced, sophisticated and just the sort of charming that usually made Pidge pretend to gag. Romelle also smiled, though less artistically, more guarded. Or maybe that was just how Lance saw them. Pidge pressed tighter into his side, staring rather critically at the taller girls. She wasn't intimidated, was she? He knew she wasn't jealous. That didn't happen – not to Pidge.

"Huh," Pidge exhaled, unblinking. "So you really do exist after all."

"Pardon?" Allura began, her beautiful features tugging together into confusion. Lance used his proximity to Pidge to give her a slight warning jab with his elbow. Behave. Don't make this awkward for everyone. We haven't even started yet, and I worked too hard on this party for you to ruin it. He felt Pidge tense, but not for very long.

"The way Lance described you, I figured you were either imaginary or he was exaggerating." What are you doing, Pidge? Now Pidge took a step away from Lance so she could turn her face up toward him. He looked down to meet her eyes, half afraid until he saw them. There was something like pain woven into the hazel, a bittersweet, happy, sorrow. A look Lance remembered on his mother right before she would comment on time and its passing. How Lance was taller than she was. How he was growing up too fast. How she wished she could go back to when he was younger. A hurt that came from natural change or broken expectations. Even though Lance recognized the expression, it was rather surprising on Pidge. "But I guess he was telling the truth."

A bit of tension released inside Lance, and he used the sudden relief to pull Pidge tight against him again. Thank you, Katie, he said with the squeeze. Thanks for going with this, for the support. And even though Allura is here with us now, it won't actually change anything between us. Promise.

"Let me take those," Pidge offered, freeing Lance of both the girls' coats to add them to the growing pile by the balcony door. The guest count for tonight meant that they needed every chair, including the desk chairs in their rooms and the camp chair that normally held the winter gear. Plus, the heap of warm things by the balcony helped block the draft. "Go say happy birthday to Hunk and get some food. Lance made it."

Romelle and Allura were holding hands now, still unsure in the new environment, watching Pidge shuffle away with the coats. Lance felt as though he suddenly had permission to get close to them. As he took a step, Allura turned toward him, looking bewildered but not angry. She looked as though she wanted some sort of explanation for that exchange.

"Pidge?" She repeated the name, not unkindly. Lance nodded, his gaze following Pidge around the coffee table as she went to rejoin Hunk. She seemed to need physical comfort today as she stepped right into Hunk's personal space. Without even looking, Hunk put an arm lightly around her shoulders.

"She's like my sister," Lance explained, hoping that this information would let Allura know everything she needed to about their relationship and why Pidge acted the way she did. He didn't want to say that the introduction had gone better than he'd expected, that Pidge had been almost unnaturally nice to Allura, that it wasn't typical, that she was on her best behavior. Fortunately, it seemed Lance wouldn't need to.

"Ah," Allura answered with the sound, letting Lance know that she did understand. At least, he thought that's what it meant.

"Did you want some food?" Lance offered just for something to do besides stand here at the door.

"It does smell amazing," Allura granted, crystalline eyes twinkling. Romelle nodded.

"Come on," Lance invited, taking the hand that Romelle wasn't holding. He thought that the girls would separate, but it seemed Romelle gripped tighter as they began moving toward the kitchen. He wanted her to let go; he could barely handle Allura right now, but how was he supposed to ask for that? The only person she knew in this room was Allura, and honestly, Allura was in a new space too. New apartment, new people, new boyfriend. It was all strange. It looked like Lance would have to take care of both of them for the foreseeable future and do his best not to make it awkward. Something sarcastic inside him wished him good luck.

Even though Hunk was the guest of honor at this party, he'd automatically taken up the serving station in the kitchen. Which was probably his favorite place in the apartment anyway. The scientists had already been supplied with food and were seated at the table when Lance brought Allura and Romelle to the kitchen doorway. Behind him, there was another knock on the door, but Pidge went to answer it this time, leaving Lance free to see what Hunk would think about meeting Allura in real life instead of listening to Lance talk about her. The second introduction challenge of the evening, though there would be no danger of Hunk saying something insulting or impolite.

"Ladies, meet Hunk," Lance declared, making sure to say Hunk's name a little louder than necessary to draw his attention. "Engineer, astrophysicist, winner of the best roommate award two years running, and officially the oldest resident of the apartment as of today."

"Hey," Hunk said as he turned, the exclamation phasing from good-natured welcome to confusion as he saw that Lance was attached to two girls. Lance told Hunk their names, making sure Hunk could tell which was which. Ever gracious, Hunk set down his serving spoon momentarily in order to shake hands, smiling warmly at everyone, all the melancholy from yesterday either dissolved or pushed down too far to notice. He expressed how nice it was to finally meet Allura and he took Romelle's hand in both of his, encasing her in some kind of wordless exchange that seemed to make sense to them. It eased Romelle enough that she didn't feel it necessary to latch onto Allura the moment Hunk let her go. Lance thought he'd like to ask about that later – what exactly Hunk had done in order for that to happen, though it was likely some kind of empathetic trick that only Hunk could do.

Together, Lance and Hunk filled plates and set the girls up at the table, exchanging pleasantries the entire way. Comments on the food, gentle questions about how everyone in the apartment fit with each other. Meanwhile, Pidge escorted the next group of scientists, now free of coats and hats, toward the kitchen. Lance hoped there would be enough for everyone. He knew he shouldn't have let Keith talk him out of that extra chicken.

The front of the apartment was growing crowded now, brightly lit and full of people, music, and scent. It was actually starting to look and feel like a party. Almost. Lance still felt unnaturally out of place and unbalanced. He didn't know the scientists. He barely knew Allura, and still wasn't sure how he should act around her. Romelle just made him uncomfortable. And underneath was the pressing ache of how it was all ending, changing in a way he hadn't wanted and wasn't ready for. That knowledge forced Lance to look at everything extra careful, focus on all the little details. Pidge's laughter. Hunk humming along to the music. Lance stretched his consciousness as wide as possible in order to fill himself with these memories, collecting them like a harvest to last for an indefinite social winter. He moved about the room with his phone, snapping pictures the same way he'd seen children dart for a coin dropped on the street.

He caught one of Hunk standing at the table, one large hand resting gently on his custom-built radio, a soft, pensive look on his face, and he decided that he shouldn't keep the letter a secret anymore. Before going to Hunk, Lance tucked his phone into his back pocket and dipped his head between Allura and Romelle, knowing that he should probably be sitting next to them but not able to bring himself to be still yet. He softly placed his hand on Allura's shoulder, leaning close so she would hear him over the music and physics chatter.

"Doing all right here?" He asked, just like he always did when he checked on her at the donation center. Allura delicately set down her fork in order to reach up and place her cool hand over his, turning a little so she could see him.

"It's wonderful," she acknowledged. "I had no idea you were such a good cook."

"Don't be too impressed," he warned, though part of him was pleased that she was enjoying it. "I'm a one-dish wonder. Hunk usually does all the cooking around here, but seeing as it's his birthday, I gave him the night off."

"How is he doing, by the way?" Allura elegantly shifted topics with Lance, keeping her hand on his, splitting his attention between her words and the smooth sensation of her fingers. "It seems you were able to cheer him up."

"He's putting up a good front," Lance revealed. "Pidge too. I was actually going to steal him away for a few minutes to talk to him about it, but I didn't want you to think I was abandoning you."

"No, of course not," Allura accepted his plan. "Please do take care of him. We're all right; aren't we?" She leaned in closer towards Romelle, including her in the conversation.

"Sure," Romelle responded, not as energetically as Allura. Her lower lip twisted slightly after she said it, her teeth pinning it that way as she looked at the table. Lance understood the expression and took pity on her.

"Keith is coming," he answered the question that Romelle desperately wanted to ask but didn't want to be rude about. "He was here earlier to help with the party prep, but he had to go pick up Shiro from work. I'm . . . not exactly sure how long that's supposed to take, but he's coming."

Romelle's sky-blue eyes lifted to Lance, full of a sudden acceptance and gratitude. Lance tried not to hate her. Keith's her rescuer, he reminded himself. His voice the only one besides Allura who assured her that David's attack hadn't been her fault. She's a product of how she's been treated, clinging to the last two people in her life that she feels she can trust. Lance forced himself to place his free hand on her shoulder as well, but removed it quickly as he felt her tense. So she wasn't ready to be that accepting. Which was fine. That wasn't something he needed from her.

"Shiro?" Allura questioned, thankfully breaking Lance away and reminding him that up until quite recently, Keith was the only person who called Shiro that.

"Takashi?" Lance threw out his actual name. "Tall guy with a white streak in his hair?" And a perfect robotic arm. But Lance didn't have to go that far; he could see that Allura knew who he was talking about now.

"Oh, Mr. Shirogane," she breathed, nodding as she remembered. "That's right. He was . . . what was he?"

"Keith's case worker," Romelle supplied readily, proving how well-versed she was about Keith's life and acquaintances. Lance couldn't help himself.

"They're brothers now," he revealed, dedicatedly not looking at Romelle as he said it. If he were going to one-up her in this weird game of "who knows more about Keith," he'd better keep his gaze away to not appear too arrogant. Especially since she could probably best him in two sentences. Because they used to date. Because she was probably going to end up with Keith again. Ugh, stop it. You're not allowed to be jealous about that. You're dating someone else now too and she's awesome. Focus. "The adoption paperwork went through earlier this week."

Romelle's whole face opened in surprise, eyes wide, jaw going slack. She blinked it away, and Lance felt bad for some reason. Like he'd wounded her. He decided he'd better leave before he did something actually damaging.

"You can congratulate them when they get here," Lance offered, squeezing Allura's shoulder to let her know he was leaving them for a bit. At the last second, he quickly kissed her cheek, causing her to raise her shoulder and lean her head toward him. She didn't tighten like Romelle; it was more like she was hugging him in the only way that their current position and timing would allow, an endearing little gesture. "I'll be back as soon as I check on Hunk."

Allura's hand slipped away from his, letting him go, as patient as she had promised she would be. He'd barely stood straight before Romelle leaned in for some private conversation. Lance wondered what she had to say, but wanted to talk to Hunk more than he wanted to find out. At least, for right now.

Luckily for Lance, Pidge was deeply engrossed in an explanation to her science friends about the future of trans-atmospheric remote-controlled devices, so it was easy to pull Hunk away without her noticing. He did it without even speaking. With Hunk all he needed to do was pat him on the arm and jerk his head toward his bedroom. They both slipped to the back without anyone even looking at them.

"What's up, Lance?" Hunk asked as Lance closed his bedroom door, shutting out the noise in the other room. "Oh, hey, congrats about Allura by the way. You were not kidding; she is gorgeous." The air was still here, noticeably cooler. Hunk stood near the door, hovering as though he were being pulled back out there. Lance knew they shouldn't stay here very long, that it would be rude, but it was nice to be alone with Hunk for a moment, the way it had been at the beginning. Before Allura. Before even Pidge. "But, uh, where's Keith?"

"Coming," Lance said, though he wondered if that were true. Where were they? He'd call if he thought Keith would answer. What if something happened on the way here? Or worse, what if Lance had done something today that made Keith decide he didn't want to come? But one thing at a time. He'd worry about that later. Right now, it was just Hunk. "I just wanted to give you your birthday gift before you do your radio test."

"Dude, you already cooked my favorite thing." His words may have been protesting, but Hunk looked extremely flattered and pleased that Lance had something for him.

"Yeah well," Lance snatched the wrapped package and letter from his desk. "I thought you could use this." He handed over the spices first while concealing the letter behind his back. "I asked my mom to send it."

Hunk accepted the package with almost reverent care, particularly after Lance mentioned where it had come from, the journey it had taken to get here. He seemed to recognize the feel, the weight and shape of it. "You picked it up for me last weekend," Lance affirmed. "It just made it in time."

"What?" Hunk began the question but didn't finish as he gently folded back the wrappings. What could Lance have possibly asked to be sent from Cuba? What would be there that wouldn't be here? "Oh my . . is this what I think it is?" He held up the tightly packaged, dense, dark red brick.

"I took a little bit of it for dinner," Lance admitted, but Hunk obviously didn't care.

"That's why it tastes like that!" He exclaimed, holding the spice blend up to his face to see if he could smell it through the plastic that secured it. "Here I thought you'd been holding out on me."

"Now you can make it whenever you want. That block should last you . . oh, I don't know, the rest of your life probably. Mom went a little overboard."

"This is awesome. Tell her thanks for me, ok?"

Lance smiled, content that his gift had been well received. But now it was time for the other one. The one he wasn't so sure about. "That's not all," Lance said, not meaning to have his voice come out so quiet.

"Looks like your mom isn't the only one going overboard," Hunk said, his tone heavily implying that Lance had gone too far, but he'd see in a minute that this was a whole different sort of gift. "This is all too much, Lance. Dinner, the party – that cake I saw in the fridge." Hunk stood with the spice block in both hands, as though he wouldn't actually accept anything more, so Lance took it back so it could be swapped out with the letter.

"No, I think it's just what you deserve," Lance managed to say, managed to sound like he meant it. Because he did. Hunk did deserve that internship. He deserved to go to JPL and live out his dreams. Lance had already done it – left Cuba, left his family, the people who loved and missed him, to fulfill his dream of attending a US college and med program. He knew what opening a letter like this felt like. How nerves and hope could burst and then melt into almost overjoyed, excited relief. Now he'd get to know about the other side. What his family and friends at home had felt watching him read.

"Lance," Hunk whispered, rubbing his thumb against the NASA logo on the envelope. He sounded confused and apprehensive.

"It just came today," Lance told him. "I don't know what it says, so I thought you could open it in private. If you want, I can -"

"Stay here," Hunk commanded, which made Lance feel sort of special that Hunk wanted him to witness his discovery of whatever was in that letter. Hunk's hands slid around the edges of the envelope, and it looked so tiny in his grasp. With the delicacy that came from years of turning miniature screwdrivers, Hunk tore neatly into the envelope, slipping the pages from it in the worst slow motion. Lance found himself leaning forward as if that would either speed things up or let him see well enough to read. He swallowed as he watched Hunk's eyes scan the first page.

"Well?" The statement shot out of him as Hunk sank onto his bed, his hand over his mouth. He couldn't stand it anymore. Was he losing his friends or not?

"We made it," Hunk choked out, and Lance could both see and hear all Hunk's faculties slam to a stop and reverse. Here he'd thought they'd been overlooked. Here he'd been so down thinking that they hadn't been good enough. If he'd just skipped that one day looking at the website. If the mail service from Los Angeles County had been just a little bit faster. All that Metallica-coated misery could have been avoided. Hunk handed over the pages so he could put both hands on his knees, curling over, his shoulders shaking in some strange mixture of laughing and trying hard not to cry. "We actually made it."

Lance's own vision blurred over the paragraphs, but he blinked enough that he read the important parts. Congratulations. Awarded the Jason C. Albright Fellowship. Relocation to the Pasadena area by the first of March. A salary number and offer of tuition remission at Caltech. A phone number and website to acknowledge receipt of the letter and to formally accept the position. Lance took a shuddering sort of breath. That's it, then.

"Good for you, buddy," Lance wheezed, hoping that Hunk hadn't even heard him since his voice sounded so strangled. "Pidge too," came out in the tiniest of whispers.

"Don't tell her yet," Hunk recovered enough to say, proving that he had heard, eyes wide and plunging deep into Lance as the force of how much he meant it hit him. He reclaimed the letter from Lance's stiff hands, secreting it away into his back pocket. "I want to." His face broke into a wicked grin, the tendrils of a plan curling up Hunk's mouth.

"Sure," Lance agreed. It wasn't news he trusted himself to give properly anyway. He could barely keep his eyes off the floor, so he'd be certain to taint their triumph if he tried to tell her about it. Without looking, he could feel Hunk settle, pulling in his focus until it turned into a hand on Lance's shoulder.

"Why don't you come with us, bro?" Hunk invited. "USC has a great med program." But Lance was already shaking his head.

"Scholarship," was all he could say, reminding Hunk that the only reason he'd even been allowed into the country was due to some deceased rich man who had left behind a huge endowment with the direction that it be used to increase diversity at the University of Chicago, tailored specifically to favor students of African American and Latino ethnicity. Unequivocally tied to this one place. Lance had to stay.

Hunk's face had twisted into conflict, and Lance perked up in order not to ruin this for him. He absolutely was not going to make Hunk feel the way Lance's brothers sometimes made him feel. "But when you get where you're going make sure to invest in a longer couch because I am going to visit you all the time," Lance instructed, knowing his words had done what he wanted them to as Hunk's broad smile returned and he shook Lance's shoulder.

"You'll have your own room. We'll go to the beach," Hunk promised, flooding Lance's brain with bright skies and salty winds, the memory so strong that Lance tried to take a deep breath of it.

"I can't wait," he replied, honestly. "But for right now, maybe we should get back to your party."

"Oh, yeah," Hunk said, as if he'd forgotten there were eight people in his living room. Lance couldn't blame him. That tiny piece of paper had certainly changed the entire tone of the evening. Hunk hurried to the door, as if he'd suddenly decided that they'd been gone too long and needed to make up for it. "Sounds like Keith's here," Hunk said over his shoulder, leading the way down the hallway but his casual comment froze Lance to the spot, his internal organs liquifying as he pictured being in the same room with Keith and Allura simultaneously. Which was his original plan, but now that it was actually happening, he'd changed his mind about it. How was he supposed to do this? Especially now that he was already fighting not to ruin Hunk's party by being sad about their departure.

He spent the next few seconds folding up all his emotional laundry, separating it and smoothing it, putting it all away, crisping the corners on his expectations. Lance was going to walk down the hall. He'd greet Keith the way best friends do, a method he was going to figure out somewhere on the way. He would shake hands with Shiro. He would watch for how and when Hunk told Pidge that they were going to California after all, and he was going to be the one who began the applause about the news. He would not impede Romelle's and Keith's relationship in any way. He would stay near Allura and make sure she had a good time. He was going to behave exactly the way he was expected to. And no one would know that any of this might be difficult for him. Ok. Time to get started.

By the time Lance rejoined the others, Keith and Shiro had already added their coats to the pile. Shiro had taken up a rather sentry-ish position standing between the couch and the balcony door, arms folded, eyes contentedly fixed on Keith – who was almost excitedly helping Hunk tear into a large box on the table. Romelle and Allura had finished eating and disposed of their dishes. Romelle, naturally, was also staring at Keith, standing as close as she could without getting in his way. Pidge sat with her arms around her knees at the table near Hunk, waiting to see what was coming out of the box. The scientists filled out the empty spaces with their graphic T-shirts and tilted, inquisitive stances. Allura noticed Lance first and with an almost relieved look on her face she picked her way through the crowded apartment to be at his side.

Lance stepped away from the hallway to join her, taking her hand and pulling her gently over to stand near Shiro since the couch was covered with scientists and Lance didn't think he wanted to sit down right now anyway. Standing let him move the way he liked when he wasn't sure, and it allowed him a better view of all the party participants.

"Shiro, hi," Lance said, twisting into position, back to the wall, amazed that he actually sounded breathless. "Thanks for coming."

"Hello, Mr. Shirogane," Allura also greeted, slightly timid, exceptionally polite. Lance tried to picture their first meeting, how it had gone. In a courtroom undoubtedly, when Keith was sixteen and his life was falling apart. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm Allura Lyons. I was a . . . witness. . " she started to falter, and Lance didn't even know what to say to help her. Fortunately, Shiro held up a hand, allowing her to stop.

"I remember you," he said, smiling to reassure her, letting her know that he harbored no hard feelings over that. "And I'm glad to see you again in a friendlier place. I wasn't aware you knew Lance, though." He shifted his gaze between them, deliberately noting their joined hands, the scar through his eyebrow wrinkling as his forehead creased.

"Allura donates plasma at the center where I work," Lance offered. "We've known each other for over a semester."

"Isn't that something?" Shiro murmured, filing away those details, coming to his own conclusions about the information he'd been given. He shook his head slightly before returning to his watch over Keith. After a moment of quiet observation, Shiro sighed softly, a pleasant sound. "You know, this is what I've always wanted for him," he confessed. "Ever since I met him, this was the life I wanted to build."

Keith and Hunk lifted a piece of equipment from the box, pulling free the wires and what looked like some sort of speaker, the kind that police use. Now that Lance was paying attention, he could hear what they were saying.

"It doesn't work," Keith told Hunk with a rather hopeful apology. "I figured you might want to . . ."

"You bet I do!" Hunk exclaimed, taking the black box from Keith and turning it over in his hands so he'd be able to look at it from all angles. "Thanks, man."

"What is that?" Allura asked innocently.

"It's an old CB radio," Shiro answered. "Otherwise known as the reason we're so late."

"Hunk is going to have a blast fixing that," Lance put the statement out there to make sure everyone knew that a broken radio was actually a perfect gift for Hunk. Really, a broken anything would have been good, he took such pride and pleasure from calculating strategies of making things functional again. An internal smile warmed Lance down his neck and into the small of his back, proud of Keith for being so thoughtful, for paying so much attention. For how well things were going.

"Thank you," Shiro said suddenly, tearing his gaze away from Keith to penetrate Lance with a gratitude that almost hurt. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for Keith. He's never belonged anywhere, never been included like this."

"Well, he's stuck with us now," Lance said, trying not to sound too emotional. "We wouldn't be complete without him anymore." He watched Keith stand with Hunk and Pidge, pointing out the details of the radio, then watched him smile uncertainly at Romelle when she put her hand on his back, coming close to ask him a question. That smile damaged the mood, poked sharply into Lance's side, something a little more than jealousy stinging him when he saw it. He told himself that he was too invested, that he was looking for things that weren't actually there. He knew it shouldn't matter if Romelle touched Keith, and so what if he smiled back at her when she did it? Didn't Lance want the same things for Keith that he wanted for himself? A future, the affection of a good-natured, loyal girl. Lance had promised himself that he would do nothing to interfere, but something in how Keith looked at Romelle forced Lance forward to do just that.

"Hey Lobito," Lance called to him, probably interrupting Romelle, but he wasn't thinking too much about it. He just wanted to separate them, or at least include himself with them. Even though he knew he really shouldn't, that this was counterproductive to his plan.

Keith's head snapped up, eyes scanning the guests until he found Lance in the crowd, causing his whole face to soften in recognition and causing Lance's heart to beat hard in his throat. He had to clear it before he could talk again.

"Come get some dinner." He gestured for Keith to meet him in the kitchen, looking back for only a moment in order to include Shiro. "I'll bring you a plate," he promised. Shiro nodded in acknowledgement, an interesting expression on his face, questioning, almost puzzlement, like he didn't quite understand the true significance of what had just happened, but he was going to work it out. Lance decided he'd worry about what Shiro thought later. Right now, he wanted to be with Keith. Lance kept hold of Allura's hand, pulling her with him across the living room. Keith was on his way too, coming to a space where Lance could have more control of the situation. Which shouldn't have been something he wanted, but it soothed him nonetheless.

"Do you call anyone by their actual name?" Allura questioned, voice near his ear as she drew close enough behind him to put a hand on his back.

"You," Lance responded, leading her around the coffee table, feeling Pidge watching him intently. Maybe it would be a good idea to sit down with her tonight, after everyone went home, and compare notes and nuances of the evening. Or maybe it would be extremely dangerous, but he had a few hours to debate the risk. "But the nicknames happen sooner or later with all my friends, so it's only a matter of time. Unless you don't want me to."

Allura smiled silkily, and he could see in her face that she was both eager and apprehensive about what sort of name he would come up with for her. "That will depend entirely on what you pick."

Lance allowed himself a small laugh. He didn't even think he could take credit for the nicknames; they just came to him. He'd been so formal with Allura for so long, he'd never even considered it. But if she wanted him to call her something, maybe this time he'd have to dedicate some effort to it. What sort of things did boyfriends call their sweethearts anyway?

They all came together in the small kitchen, Lance and Allura from one direction and Keith and Romelle from the other. Lance let Allura go in order to start serving. Though he hesitated briefly before handing a plate to Keith, too many thoughts running through his head at once. What if he didn't like it? What if he couldn't eat it?

"It won't be too spicy for you, right?" Lance double checked, trying hard to ignore how possessively Romelle stood next to him. Reminding himself that dropping the plate so he could grab Keith around the neck and kiss him full on the mouth would cause more hurt than it was worth. It was extremely hot in this kitchen.

"Just give me the plate, Lance," Keith commanded, stepping so close that Lance almost gasped, and Lance decided that he would say nothing else tonight that would give Keith any suggestion that Lance might be fussing over him or his health. He knew that Keith had grown tired of that, and the impatience about it was strong in his voice. "I've been waiting all day to try this."

"It's really good; Lance did a fantastic job of it," Allura offered her opinion, drawing Keith's attention to her. Lance saw his eyes flash freeze, until they really did look gray for a moment, a hint of tightness around his mouth and jawline. He hid it by studying the food as he took it from Lance, taking care not to drop the fork in the transfer. When he looked up again, he'd smoothed all trace of whatever that had been from his features. Lance wished there was some way he could ask him about it. Instead, he dished up one more serving for Shiro while Keith managed one bite of his own. But after the first taste, he set the fork down, holding the plate awkwardly, still.

Lance almost asked him about this too, worried that he really didn't like it, before he remembered that Keith felt uncomfortable being watched while he ate. Especially if he was the only one eating. Lance passed over Shiro's food to Allura, asking her if she'd mind bringing it over to him. Then he filled a third plate, which was actually a good thing. He'd been so caught up in everything else that he'd forgotten he hadn't eaten yet either. He raised his fork to Keith, a weird sort of toast, but Keith relaxed immediately, returning to his meal with such dedicated purpose that Lance no longer worried about him liking it or not.

The chairs in the room were already full, so Lance and Keith leaned against the counter, hips almost touching in the small space, and ate together while Romelle and soon Allura again, stood beside them. Lance almost choked on his first bite – he'd done such a good job replicating his mother's recipe that it tasted like his childhood, and the nostalgia was almost too thick to swallow. He felt Keith lean in to him slightly, an almost imperceptible touch that could have happened on accident, but the warmth of it eased Lance enough that he could take another bite. Focus on what's going on right now, his father's voice in his head reminded him. Don't miss out because you're worrying about something coming. And Lance had to admit that the right now of this particular second was everything he wanted it to be. Keith on one side of him, Allura on the other, a childhood favorite on his plate, and the apartment warm and happy. There were a couple of things that could improve it, but they existed outside of this moment.

Around them the music continued, as did the talk, small groups chatting, switching, talking some more. One of the scientists, Lance thought his name might be Ben, stood in the center of a small cluster which included Pidge. The animated way he moved his hands indicated he was in the middle of his most passionate conspiracy theory, but it must have been truly impressive since Pidge was staring at him in rapt concentration with an almost impressed expression on her face. Closer to him, Lance heard Romelle ask Keith what he was planning to do now.

"Study," he replied, sounding humiliated, hesitant to give out this information. "I'm scheduled to take the GED in two weeks."

"That's great," Lance broke in just as Romelle said something extremely similar. He didn't spare her a glance; he'd barely heard her over the pride that coated the inside of his chest at Keith's decision to finish his high school education after all. He really was moving on, in such a good direction. "I can help you if you want," Lance offered, a split second before Romelle this time. In his peripheral vision, he saw Allura's wry smile at how they were speaking practically in synch. Glad someone could find it funny. He dared shoot a quick look at Romelle this time and discovered her glaring at him. But whatever. He was Keith's best friend. Keith said so.

Keith blushed between them, looking as though he wished he'd lied in response to Romelle's question. "Actually," he said apologetically to both of them, "Hunk's going to help me."

Lance must have looked stricken because Keith continued, explaining his decision defensively. "You have so much going on." And that hurt because it was true. Lance wasn't even sure where he was going to fit Allura into his already cramped and demanding schedule. But he would have figured it out, would have turned the world upside down if Keith had just said something. At least he was getting help from Hunk. That meant he'd be at the apartment often in the next two weeks. That was good. Or maybe it wasn't.

"Hunk's a great choice," Lance complimented, smoothing it all out. "He's super smart and less likely to emotionally damage you." Now Keith looked confused enough that Lance had to expand his answer. "I had Pidge help me study once," he explained, remembering how merciless she had been about it, how it had cut into his self-esteem. "Hunk's a great choice," Lance repeated and was rewarded with another of Keith's smiles.

The party progressed mostly as planned. Lance finished eating and took out his phone, keeping himself from worrying about Keith, Romelle, Allura, and upcoming separations by focusing on pictures. He took one of Hunk blowing out his candles. Another of Pidge with one of the biggest pieces of cake. Shiro and Keith standing together, Shiro's arm around Keith's shoulders as they laughed over something Keith had said, looking very much like brothers. He couldn't bring himself to take a picture of Keith and Romelle together, though he had ample opportunity. Romelle kept close to Keith as often as possible, almost constantly touching his arm or back. Keith never touched Romelle first, but he quite often took her elbow so he could scoot her a pace away. He was always gentle with her, treating her as if she were made of glass, but Lance began to wonder if he truly enjoyed having her so close to him. Allura didn't seem to notice anything amiss going on, so Lance tried not to think about it. It could very well be that he was seeing it only because he desperately wanted to.

"Here," Keith said abruptly behind Lance's shoulder as Lance finished taking a picture of Pidge giving an animated discourse on how disappointing it was that the FCC no longer required knowledge of Morse code for an amateur radio license. "Hand me your phone."

"Huh?" Lance grunted in response, surprised that Keith had snuck up on him again. He didn't even know where he'd come from. He also appeared to have slipped away from Romelle; she was nowhere in sight. How did he do that?

"If these pictures are for your family, then I think they'd appreciate you being in some of them," Keith suggested, reaching a hand out for Lance's phone.

"I took a selfie with Allura earlier," Lance pointed out, though he hadn't actually checked to see if it worked well. Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance didn't know which part of what he'd said caused the reaction.

"Selfies don't count. Let me take one of you by the food you made."

"Okay," Lance agreed slowly as the sense of Keith's statement sank in. He felt weird posing while Keith took his picture, but Keith had a point. His family hadn't seen him in over a year. He didn't even know how he'd appear changed in their eyes. How could he have gone so long without thinking of sending them photos?

Keith kept the phone afterward, which made Lance both self-conscious about what other pictures Keith might take and worried about whether or not he'd look at anything else on Lance's phone. There were still certain texts from Pidge from earlier in the day that Lance would rather no one see, especially Keith. But he didn't have to worry for too long because Shiro claimed control of the camera, nominating himself photographer. Lance knew he could trust Shiro to not do anything with the phone other than take pictures.

It left Lance with his hands free and no job to do. Now that the cake had been cut, they were all just waiting until the right time to test the radio. Pidge had told them that the space station makes several orbits around the Earth every day, and it wouldn't be long before it would be directly over Chicago again. It would have to be as close as possible for them to contact it.

Lance spoke more with Allura, who stayed almost as close to Lance as Romelle did to Keith, filling her in on details of the day, telling her things about Pidge and Hunk, speculating on whether or not the signal from their homemade radio could breach earth's atmosphere. There seemed to be a mixed consensus on it. Sometimes Romelle and Keith joined them; Keith's eyes fixing on Lance's with untranslatable emotions that Lance despaired about because he couldn't read them the way he could with Pidge. Whenever they came, Lance did his best to keep Keith close, to keep their foursome tight, but something always split them up again. One of Hunk's friends coming to ask Lance about the recipe he'd used for the punch (there wasn't one) or Pidge popping by to ask Lance if he had some tape. There was even one time where Lance had to actually dissuade one of the scientists from flirting with Allura. And each of these small distractions was enough for Romelle to drift away with Keith again, creatively disappearing in the tiny space of the apartment and reappearing as far from Lance as she could get. Lance wasn't sure if she were trying to just have Keith to herself or if she specifically wanted to keep him away from Lance, and he wished he could talk to Allura about it, but he didn't want to say anything bad about her best friend – even if she was getting on his nerves. Lance was starting to wish the party could be over.

And it seemed he wasn't the only one. Lance began to notice that Keith had stopped smiling at some point, even for Shiro. That he kept holding his left bicep, his right arm tight against his ribcage. He stood rather hunched, a position of pain. At first, Lance thought he was imagining it; he knew he was watching Keith too much, too intently. But then he saw Shiro pull Keith aside, hand on his shoulder, concern on his face, and Lance knew that what he was seeing was real enough for others to notice too.

"Would you excuse me for a minute?" Lance requested of Allura, knowing it was probably in bad form to leave her to see about Keith, but he was acting strangely enough that Lance wanted to investigate. If his left arm hurt, it could be heart related, and that was definitely something to worry about. "I need to talk to Keith about something."

"Certainly," Allura acquiesced, the memory of the promise she'd made to wait for him mixed into the word, though Lance could tell she wanted to ask him more questions, that she wasn't sure why Lance had to leave her in order to talk to Keith. But she was going to allow it; she wasn't going to demand he stay or take her with him. It made Lance smile, tracing a finger down her cheek, wondering if he even deserved her, wondering how many times he would have to touch her, to see her looking at him, before it began to sink in that they were really together.

"I'll be back soon," he assured before ducking through the guests to the other side of the room, almost physically pushing himself past Romelle with the same request to her as he'd made to Allura. Though phrased less politely. Can you leave us alone for a minute?

"Come with me," Lance practically ordered, tugging on Keith's sleeve, who submitted so quickly that Lance thought he'd been waiting for someone to give him permission to leave. Lance's worry deepened as he led Keith to his bedroom, not saying anything to Shiro as he followed them. Lance wanted quiet and privacy for whatever conversation was going to happen, and he didn't want anyone near Keith except himself, though he knew he'd have to make an exception for Shiro. Lance pulled Keith into the room, waiting just long enough for Shiro to slip inside as well before shutting the party out for the second time that night, allowing his focus to sharpen in the soft, familiar stillness.

Keith automatically sat down on Lance's bed, some of the rigidness leaving him already now that he was out of the crowded room, back in an environment that he was more comfortable in. He hung his head, closing his eyes, breathing deeply as though Lance had just pulled him from a boxing ring. What was going on?

"Can you tell me what's wrong now?" Shiro began almost immediately, worry making him blunt. "And don't say nothing because Lance could see it all the way across the room."

"Are you feeling ok? Does something hurt?" Lance asked right on top of Shiro, dialing down the questions to be more specific as Keith continued to stare at the floor in silence. "Is it your arm? You've been holding it for a while now. You took your heart medication on time, right?"

"You watched me take it," Keith shot back heatedly, frustrated, and Lance internally chastened himself. He'd made a promise to himself not to fuss over Keith tonight, but that was before Keith started acting like he was in the beginning stages of a heart attack. He was still rubbing his arm even after Lance had mentioned it. "And it is nothing."

Shiro sat down next to Keith on the bed, which seemed to force Keith off of it – pushing away, testing boundaries again. Something must be stressing him out if he'd started behaving like this. Lance stationed himself in front of the door, blocking the only exit. What happened? Where was the boy laughing with Shiro over cake earlier? The boy who looked so happy to give Hunk a broken CB radio? The one who had zipped around the apartment taking pictures. When and why had the guarded wolf part of his personality returned with such force?

"Lobito," Lance entreated, knowing better than to go any closer with Keith all wound up and distant. "It's just us." And you can trust us because we specialize in seeing your pain. It's our life's goal to remove it for you. Talk to us. But Keith was shaking his head, still trying to deny anything was wrong.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Shiro offered, and Lance saw a tremor shudder all down Keith's body at the word. He wished Keith would allow him near, would still let Lance touch him. He wanted to put his arms around him, hold him until whatever was troubling him went away. He wanted him to feel safe.

"No," Keith said curtly, but then wavered. "Maybe." Maybe? Was it the party? Maybe it was too loud, overstimulating. While Lance enjoyed it when the apartment was full, he knew that Keith preferred things to be quieter, that he wasn't used to so many strangers or so much attention. Maybe it was wearing him out to be around so much noise. Maybe he was getting tired of Romelle keeping right on top of him – oh! Could that be it?

"Is it Romelle?" Lance questioned, hoping he wouldn't regret saying it out loud. He braced himself for both Shiro and Keith to look at him strangely, so ready to be wrong about what he thought he'd seen between them that he was stunned by the actual reaction. Keith flinched, his body language flashing bright red guilt as he returned to the previous posture that had caused Lance to bring him back here in the first place. Right hand clenched tight over his bicep, the arm pressed hard against his ribs, shoulders hunched and head drooped. A stance that Lance had never seen until tonight.

"Romelle?" Shiro echoed, confused about it even though it was so obvious that Lance was on to something. "What has she got to do with . . .?" But he couldn't help but notice Keith's extreme reaction to her name. "Keith?"

"I'm sorry," Keith murmured automatically, which made all the acid in Lance's stomach curdle, suddenly too hot. It always made him so sad when Keith apologized that way. "I know I'm ruining everything."

"Now wait a minute," Shiro began, reaching entreatingly for Keith, who shrank against the desk.

"Nothing's ruined," Lance contradicted, verbally attempting to hold on to Keith, to the shredding pieces of his trust, trying to figure out why he would say something like that. Also wondering what it would take to help Keith stand straight again, if he was experiencing real physical pain or if this was something mental, a memory of a wound.

Keith raised his eyes just enough to stare into Lance's, and this time some things were strong enough for Lance to decipher. There was remorse glistening there, the guilt Lance had seen before, and . . . some kind of wish. Keith's ribcage collapsed as he exhaled harshly, and Lance decided to risk it, like he had before in this room and at the hospital. He stepped forward, reaching out deliberate and slow to put his hand against Keith's chest, over his heart. It exploded in a rush at the contact, punching into Lance's palm, and Keith gasped again, but then it slowed, steadying, as Keith mimicked Lance, at last removing his hand from his arm and creating that Josephson junction Lance had taught him in the emergency room. Calibrate. Synchronization. Slow down and let's figure this out. I'm with you.

Emboldened by his success, Lance took one more step closer, feeling Keith shudder, feeling Shiro's eyes on them. Keith leaned his forehead against Lance's shoulder, and Lance forced himself not to move. He didn't want to disturb this. Whatever this was.

"I can't do it," Keith confessed to Lance's shirt. "I thought I could, but . . ."

"Ok," Lance accepted, soothing, though he was becoming increasingly confused. "What do you think you can't do?"

"I know it makes sense," Keith began, and Lance held his breath so as not to disturb him, not give him any reason to stop what he'd started. "It'd be perfect, wouldn't it? You and Allura, Romelle and me. I know that's what she wants, too, but . . .God, every time I look at her." Keith pressed his face closer into Lance's shoulder, and Lance noticed that they had stepped even closer to each other. His hand still pressed protectively over Keith's heart, but he'd been forced to bend his arm, pinning it between their torsos. He felt Keith's fingers clench into his shirt.

"Oh, Keith," Shiro breathed outside their circle. Not a sound of sympathy or pity. There was an understanding in it, like Shiro knew exactly what Keith meant. "That's nothing to be sorry for."

"Will it stop?" Keith asked Shiro, who looked rather haunted now himself. "Or am I going to feel him stabbing me every time she touches my arm?"

Oh. Lance closed his eyes, turning his head away. Why did it have to be Romelle who was Allura's best friend? Why did it have to be that they'd met that way, in that dark parking lot, before Lance had come into any of their lives? Keith's posture made sense now. He'd been covering the scar from David's knife. That's what Pidge had said. He had a knife. He sliced open Keith's arm – cracked one of his ribs too. Psychosomatic pain. . . from the memory of the night Keith met Romelle. When he'd shattered pieces of himself onto the ground that he might never put back together. Those shards of trauma cutting into him now, triggered by Romelle's face, her touch, her scent. Getting worse the longer he forced himself to stay next to her. He was her hero, but she was his nightmare. But he'd felt the expectation to try and pretend that there was nothing bothering him. Because the couples would look so tidy in the photo. Two sets of best friends paired together. Isn't that the most romantic story?

"I don't know the answer to that," Shiro responded, voice full of something more than what they were talking about. Drenched in his own demons that Lance hadn't even thought of. Shiro seemed so solid all the time that it never occurred to him the sort of trauma he might be dealing with. He looked over to Shiro just in time to see him slowly clench his robotic hand. Lance had no idea his room could be this full of pain and he would have no way to heal it. There was nothing in his med bag for this. "But it's not fair to you to force yourself to have feelings for someone. Not fair to her either."

Keith retreated, at least physically, from Lance, his breathing ragged now as he struggled with what to do. He still stood open and vulnerable in front of them, shaking his head.

"I wish I could," he said, again apologetically. "I tried talking myself into it. She's a sweet girl. She stayed with me the entire time I was locked up. She deserves to have someone take care of her, and there's really no reason not to like her, but I just . . . I can't do it. I can't get past it. I'm sorry, Lance."

"No, it's fine," Lance protested, not knowing why Keith felt he needed to apologize to him for this. "Keith, really. Shiro's right; you can't force yourself to feel attracted to someone." But what was going to happen now? Even though Lance was speaking words of assurance to Keith, he felt like he was losing something important here. "But you should probably let Romelle know before this goes on much longer. She does deserve that."

"What about me?" The feminine voice, the innocent question, slipped into the room a little ahead of Romelle herself, drawn towards them by hearing her name. Allura was with her. No way to know how long they'd been listening, but judging from the question, probably not incriminatingly long. Though what they were going to say now was a mystery. Lance felt his mouth drop open, felt himself begin stammering some kind of explanation that would protect Keith from having to answer until he was ready. Nothing was coming to him.

"We came to tell you that they're starting the radio test in a couple minutes," Allura explained their presence, entering with a hesitancy, gauging the expressions on all their faces. Lance felt weighed down with guilt and sorrow and something else that didn't even have a name. It was astonishing to him that just down the hallway there was still a party going on. "Is everything ok? You all look so serious."

Lance tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it. Allura obviously felt it keenly, as she stepped close to him, holding on to his arm the way Pidge had done earlier. He covered her hand with his free one, looking desperately to Keith, who was obviously doing his best not to shy away from Romelle. Lance could see the struggle clearly now that he knew it wasn't in his imagination. Keith could barely look at her.

"You wanted to tell me something?" Romelle said to Keith, trying to engage him, trying to catch his eye, and Lance took a deep breath as though his bedroom were going to plummet to the ground floor.

"Yeah," Keith acknowledged, eyes fixed on Shiro for strength as he spoke. Lance waited, urging Keith to just get it over with. It would be bad, of course. Romelle might storm off in a fit of tears. She might take Allura with her. They might not ever want to talk to Keith or Lance again. It might indeed ruin everything, and Lance steeled himself for that possibility. He didn't want Keith to suffer anymore, and especially for something like this. He shouldn't have to pretend because it was convenient for everyone else. Because he thought it was what he should do or feel.

"I'm leaving," Keith said abruptly, and Romelle stiffened in surprise. Lance tilted his head. What did that mean? That . . wasn't what he thought Keith was going to say. Even Shiro lifted an eyebrow, staring at Keith.

"Leaving?" Romelle repeated as a request for more information. "Like right now?"

"No, I'm," Keith faltered for a second, taking a deep breath. "I'm joining the Air Force. Once I get my GED, I'm . . . I'm going to Texas for boot camp. The next class starts at the beginning of March."

Lance bit his tongue to prevent himself from shouting out. What?! Keith was going to what? No. That was so much farther than McKinley Park. He might never see him again if he did that. The Air Force? Where had that even come from? Obviously, this was something that Keith had been planning for at least a little while since he'd already scheduled his GED test. But he hadn't even hinted to Lance that he'd been thinking about it.

"Keith," Shiro said warningly. "I thought that we were going to –"

"No, it's the right choice," Keith protested. He shifted his huge eyes to meet Lance's startled ones. There was resolution in his face now that he'd apparently finalized his decision. "It's what I've always wanted," he said softly, as if in explanation to Lance for what he was doing. And even though it killed Lance to do it, he nodded to Keith in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Like with Hunk and Pidge, if this was something Keith wanted, Lance was going to support him.

"The Air Force?" Romelle clarified, her voice seeming to echo somewhere from the very pit of her soul, where Keith had likely dropped her heart. Keith took her hands in his, mostly in order to remove them from his body, pressing them firmly towards her before releasing her completely. "How long will you be away?"

"Years?" Keith guessed, looking again to Shiro, who nodded that Keith was correct. "Training only takes a few weeks, but then I'll be stationed somewhere."

Stationed. Oh, God, where would they send him? Somewhere far? Dangerous? What was even going on in the world right now? Lance didn't even know; he'd been so microfocused for so long. Lance felt Allura's hands on him tighten, as though she were preparing to catch him if he fell over. He grounded himself by focusing on where she touched him. Near his ear, she sighed in pity and disappointment. In shock. Because they all knew what this meant. Keith had removed himself from any kind of availability. Lance felt as though the very foundation of his life were crumbling out from underneath him.

"Lance, get out here!" Pidge called from the doorway, sharp, immediate, stabbing into the tenseness of the situation and exploding it open. She paused, taking stock of what she'd walked into for maybe two seconds before shaking it off and sternly addressing Lance again. "We have a window; we can't wait for you."

"Yeah," Lance acknowledged, breathless, like Keith had just punched him in the stomach. "We're coming."

Pidge took pity on him. While she could have no idea what had just happened here, she could read him well enough to know how to help him best. Darting forward, she firmly took hold of Romelle's and Allura's wrists, pulling them with unquestionable authority out of the room. Romelle looked too stunned to protest, but Allura glanced back at Lance before Pidge dragged her away.

"Right behind you," Lance assured, though he wasn't certain he could move. Not sure if his equilibrium could take it if he tried to walk out of here. Shiro was already on Keith before Pidge had truly left.

"Are you sure this is how you want to do this?" Shiro pressed him, the voice of experience. The voice that knew exactly what Keith was signing up for. "Because once you've committed, this isn't something you run away from. And it's not the solution for avoiding a difficult conversation."

"That's not what I'm doing," Keith emphasized, his posture much stronger now. He glanced over to Lance, and he caught the tiniest hint of regret on his face. "It's better for everyone this way."

Lance opened his mouth, a "how can you say that?" brimming at the back of his throat that he never got to say because Pidge yelled at him again from the hallway.

"Lance, come on!"

They all looked toward the door, even though it was only Lance who was being summoned.

"All right; now isn't the time to get into it," Shiro said. "Did you want to leave or stay?"

"Stay," Keith decided forcefully, with so much conviction that Lance wanted to ask him why he thought he had to join the Air Force if he wanted to stay so much. Did he really want this? Was it only because he wanted to get away from Romelle? But no, Lance remembered that Pidge had said he'd tried to join before but had been turned away because of the assault on his record. Now that it had been wiped clean, he had a second chance.

But he'd be leaving too. In March. Who knew where he'd end up? For years.

"Lance," Keith called him, and he realized that they were leaving him standing frozen in the middle of his bedroom floor. He said it softly, easing Lance up and out of his shock, persuading him to leave it be for now. "Let's go see if my dial works."

"Ok," Lance said, forcing his stiff limbs into motion. Shiro patted him sympathetically on the back as he passed him, as they silently tabled the conversation about this huge, sudden decision to a better time. But even if they talked about it later, Lance knew Keith wouldn't change his mind about it. He'd officially lost him in every way possible. Damn it, Keith.

Almost everyone clustered around the table, around the radio, as Lance came back to the party. Hunk had David Bowie's "Ground Control to Major Tom" playing on his phone while Pidge compulsively checked the time. The physicists stared intently at the radio, willing it to connect to the cosmos. Having them all flocked to the electronics had left the couch free, so Lance sank into it. So much had happened and was still going on that he felt sort of numb, except for the warm place to his side that bloomed up as Keith sat next to him. Shiro perched on the arm of the couch, his robotic arm gripped to Keith's shoulder. Romelle looked over to them, but it seemed as though Pidge had set a guard over her. The astrophysicist, Ben, held her in conversation, one of his arms hovering loosely around her back, as though he'd like to hold her around the waist but he didn't dare touch her yet. She looked rather torn, but after a moment of staring at Keith where he didn't look back, she submitted to Ben, allowing him to continue whatever lengthy explanation he'd started. Lance knew he owed Pidge for this, well, for a lot more than just this. She'd even picked the scientist she respected the most to distract Romelle from Keith. It was rather a compliment.

Allura had no bodyguard restraints, however, and she quickly came to Lance's side. The couch was too short, but Keith and Lance shifted enough so that she could squeeze in, putting Lance in the middle. Lance lifted his arm, easing it gently it around Allura's shoulders to make more room, and she nestled into his side.

"You ok?" She whispered into his ear. "I take it that news was a surprise to you too."

"Yeah," he whispered back, answering both questions at once, and she nodded, picking up on his tone. They were going to pretend that everything was ok for tonight. He'd untangle the knot in his chest later. "Is Romelle ok?"

"She's too stunned right now to feel anything," Allura confessed.

"I bet," Lance said, though he knew exactly what Allura meant. He felt that way too. Keith shifted next to him, and he felt every point of contact along their shoulders, hips, and thighs, heat radiating from each place. Allura stretched her arm out from where it was caught against Lance's chest, resting it along the top of his leg and curling her elegant fingers around his knee. They switched their attention back to Pidge, who repeated her call sign into the receiver, paging the space station.

"This is KK6EJK," she told the universe. "Contacting Captain Chris Cassidy on ISS. Do you copy?"

Nothing but static on the line, nothing but held breath around the table. Pidge handed the receiver to Hunk, who signaled out his own call. The song played on repeat in the background. Hunk fiddled with Keith's dial, trying to fine-tune the frequency. The guests began to fidget, doubt that this was going to work spreading like a disease among them.

"This is KK6EJK," Pidge pleaded into the receiver, more than one kind of disappointment tainting her words. "Does anyone copy?"

"We hear you," came the invisible voice at last, distorted but decipherable. Keith sat forward next to Lance. "Hailing from ISS."

A cheer erupted around the table, and Hunk crashed into a chair. Pidge flapped her hand at everyone, demanding quiet so they could hear. Lance heard himself huff in surprise and appreciation. So they'd succeeded after all, initiating a conversation with an astronaut two hundred and twenty miles above the earth's surface. That tiny, cobbled-together box on the table enough to bridge that gap. Incredible.

Pidge and Hunk quickly told their story. Who they were and how they'd built the radio and gotten their licenses specifically so they'd be able to talk to ISS as they drifted over Chicago. They asked the astronauts a few questions, and they were gracious in their answers.

"Congratulations on your radio," Captain Cassidy expressed kindly. "That's so impressive that you built it yourselves. Maybe you should join our team at NASA."

Pidge's face fell, and Lance realized that Hunk hadn't told her about the letter yet. It looked as though he'd been waiting for this exact moment because he dashed forward, snatching the receiver out of her hand.

"We had the same idea," Hunk told him and everyone else in the room. "You're actually talking to the newest recipients of the Jason C. Albright Fellowship award. We will be joining you very soon." The room gasped collectively, and Pidge almost dropped to the floor.

"What?" She half-shrieked. Hunk produced the acceptance letter from his back pocket, handing it over to her. Captain Cassidy's chuckle filled the room from space.

"Well, how about that?" He said, good-naturedly. "In that case, I'm looking forward to hearing from you again. I'm sure you'll have a lot of good things to contribute to the program. Take care now . . . and happy birthday!"

The static intensified as the space station continued on its path, out of range. Allura breathed out an exclamation of amazement softly, words that Lance could feel on his neck more than he could hear. The physicists were beside themselves, more animated than Lance had thought possible, hooting and laughing and shaking Hunk's hand, slapping a disoriented Pidge on the shoulder. Hunk closed the communication, signing off his call sign and neatly switching off the radio before Pidge flat out attacked him.

"Holy Stephen Hawking; Hunk, you monster!" Pidge shrieked, the letter clenched tight in her hands.

"It came today!" Hunk called out his defense as quickly as possible. "Don't kill me; I just found out too!"

Pidge screamed out another frustrated, emotional noise, covering her face so no one would see how much this was affecting her. Hunk waved off some of the attempts to comfort her, doing it himself by shielding her in his arms. Ben was trying hard to hug Romelle, caught up in the moment.

"We did it," Pidge sobbed. "We're really going."

Lance tuned so far inward that he couldn't hear the celebration anymore, Pidge's last words rattling around in his head. Allura whispered in his ear, more talk that had no meaning for him. She pressed her hand on his knee, and he registered with surprise Keith doing the same thing on the other side. He bowed his head, grabbing them both, almost clenching his hands over theirs, sandwiched between them. It felt like he was falling through the floor, the walls of the apartment tearing from the frames, rearranging in a new and frightening way. How was he supposed to move forward after this?

"Lance, it's ok," Keith reassured, and he tried to nod. Allura twisted in the seat, pulling her hand out from under his so she could wrap both her arms around his neck. He slid his own around her waist as she pressed her forehead to his temple. Lance closed his eyes, trying to feel the pressure, trying to feel anything besides overwhelming loss and Keith's heat. Tried to hold this moment hard in his mind, knowing that once he got up, once everyone went home and the apartment was stripped of all trace of this event, that he could never get it back the same way again.

Author's Note: What are you thinking? What's going on? Stay with me, ok, even though there are longer breaks between updates. I am so excited to write the next couple chapters, coming to the end of this epic. I think you'll be satisfied with where it's going, but it is going to get dark before it gets light again. Because I like it better that way.

Also, here's something crazy. I started this story just over a year ago. I'm shocked it's been in my head this long and that I've been completely dedicated to it. I haven't been tempted to just pause it for a few months to write something else. That may not be surprising to anyone but me, but happy anniversary "little" story. I still love you.