Author's Note: Did I NEED this chapter? Hmm. I don't know. I'm not even sure if it's going to stick around for the final publication of the book (do you guys want to know what Lance and Keith's other names are going to be? Do you?). Yeah, I'm not sure I absolutely needed this chapter . . . but some part of me must have or it wouldn't be here. I just wanted to . . . get a little more. (Maybe I just never want to stop writing this. Or maybe I just don't want to have to go back to the beginning and edit it.) Who knows – but for now, the chapter stays. I like it.
Chapter Fifty: S. T. A. R.
Lance knew he'd slept in from the moment he opened his eyes, but it hardly mattered. There were very few things that mattered right here and now. Sunlight splashed like huge paint strokes across the furniture of the shack, glaring off the tiny radio dials, screens, and knobs, glitzing up the dust particles that floated calmly in the beams. Lance was tempted to close his eyes again; he was so comfortable on this unassuming, hide-a-bed mattress. Comfortable and warm. Actually warm. He sighed, perfectly content.
The only reason he didn't drift off again had to do with the only thing in this place that did matter. Lance was awake before Keith, and he wanted to take advantage of that. He carefully shifted so he could watch Keith sleep, treasuring the scene.
Keith lay on his side facing Lance, naked to the waist where the sheet covered him in a soft tangle, his large eyes closed, his face slack and unworried, at peace. So damn beautiful. Lance felt a tiny hitch in his chest, a dark heartbeat of unworthiness. Because how could he be so lucky? How could Keith really be in love with him? Lance swallowed it down. Don't question it, he snapped at himself. Don't ever question it. This was not something to be poked and prodded in disbelief. It should be nurtured, tended, and most of all, enjoyed.
Lance's eyes read again the story of Keith's body, trailing over some of the parts he already knew. The knife scar on Keith's left bicep. The cigarette burns he could just barely see scattered over his shoulders. The lumbar punctures at the base of his spine. The firework marks against his neck. There were so many scars now, showing up starkly against the paleness of Keith's skin. But there were other things too like the pure defined lines of Keith's muscles, in his arms, his chest, and abs. There was a tattoo. Lance was surprised he hadn't seen it before, but it was sort of hidden on the inside of Keith's right upper arm. A wolf with a compass behind it like a full moon. Lance wondered if that was the only one, or if he'd missed others. He was almost tempted to pull away the sheet to check.
But he didn't want to disturb his boyfriend. Wow, his boyfriend. God, his lover. Sleeping so well, breathing so calm. Safe, secure by Lance's side. Because you know you're safe with me, Lance thought, smiling at Keith. I pushed the proof away from me every time I thought it, but it's true that you always did rest better when we were together. Those few nights we were together.
Lance managed only a few more minutes before he couldn't help himself. Keith looked too perfect. Lance had to touch him. He started with a careful brush of his fingers across the wolf, wondering if Keith had picked that particular animal because of Lance's nickname for him. Lobito. Keith knew what that meant now. Knew what it meant and had incorporated it into his skin. Lance touched the compass; he'd have to ask about that. For all that he knew about Keith, there were so many things missing. So many years of separation to make up for.
Keith stirred, and Lance snatched his hand back. This was something else he'd have to learn. How to wake Keith gently, without engaging his startle reflex. Though he seemed to have done it well this morning; Keith opened his eyes and focused on him immediately, calm, smiling as he stretched.
"What time is it?" Keith asked, beginning to orient himself.
"Don't know," Lance answered. Don't care.
Keith reached out to Lance, his fingers running down Lance's chest, waking Lance up a little more. Keith gave a small huff of a laugh. "You're finally warm," he noted.
"You're a very good blanket," Lance joked. Keith breathed deep, looking quite at ease, not challenging Lance's observation. "How'd you sleep?" Lance asked, wondering if Keith had spent more time alone and awake in the dark without Lance noticing.
"Hard," Keith replied, sounding a little surprised. "It's been a while since I slept like that."
His words were endearing to Lance, knowing that they had provided equal service to each other in the night. Keith's almost unnatural heat had kept Lance warm. Lance had kept Keith's mind settled. They were good for each other. Had always been good for each other.
"Are you still tired? Did you want to go back to sleep?" Lance invited, because he didn't want to move yet. Didn't want to break the comfort of what they had here. It was so special.
Keith grinned, tensed, and suddenly he'd pounced on top of Lance in a rush of smooth motion, nuzzling against his neck and chest, keeping care to not put pressure on Lance anywhere that might cause him pain, remembering each and every place. Lance twisted beneath Keith onto his back, definitely not in pain.
"I have a better idea," Keith murmured against Lance's throat, a rumble that tingled through to Lance's spine all the way down to his hips. He tilted his chin up, giving Keith easier access, pleasantly surprised that Keith would be initiating again so soon, though he didn't know why. He felt just as unsatiated as Keith did, just as ready to experience again that sense of closeness, the special variety of joy that came from being intimate with someone he truly loved. And they had quite a bit of lost time to make up for. Lance didn't know how many times it might take, but he was willing to experiment.
"Definitely better," Lance panted agreement. The last thing he was able to say before he submitted to Keith's attention. It was sweeter this morning, in the full sunlight. Keith moved without any pent-up desperation, and Lance was willing to allow the less frenzied pace. Because they had time. All the time to discover. To learn each other. And if Keith went slowly, almost with reverence, and if Lance didn't rush him, then there didn't have to be an end.
Lance didn't think there would be anything that could pull him from the pleasure of Keith's arms, the comfort of that bed, that he'd never want for anything else, but eventually he noticed that both of their stomachs were rumbling, and Lance's mouth was getting sticky with a different kind of thirst. Keith noticed too, finally getting up, starting time again.
Still, it took them a long while to get ready to leave the shack. To rinse off in lukewarm water from the sink and brush their teeth. To fold up the blankets and sheets, press the mattress back into the couch accordion-style and replace the cushions as they'd found them. Every step seemed to require a pause for a touch or a kiss. At the very least a long appreciative look from across the room. Lance wondered if the same expression was on his face as the one Keith wore. Overwhelmed, disbelieving, grateful affection. It was the softest look Lance had ever seen on Keith's face. He couldn't stop looking at him.
Lance took it upon himself to treat Keith's hands again, relieved that it didn't seem to be so distressing to Keith in the daylight, even though it was obvious that he still didn't want to look at them. Keith's increased ease about the procedure persuaded Lance to take more time with them, inspect them a little closer. After applying the moisturizer and gently stretching them supple, Lance did some testing, trying to determine the extent of the nerve damage – if there actually was any. That sort of thing was tricky to diagnose, though, especially from a couch in a shack on top of a mountain.
"Is there any pain?" Lance asked, watching as Keith touched his thumbs to each of his fingertips as quickly as he could. "Numbness or tingling?"
"Yeah," Keith acknowledged, then pointed out exactly where he was experiencing those sensations. It seemed concentrated in the thumb and first two fingers on his right, which Lance expected now that he was paying attention to how Keith used his hands. "It used to be everywhere," Keith volunteered.
"That's good," Lance jumped on that detail. "If it's improving, this might not be a permanent injury, Keith."
Keith looked at him dubiously, as though Lance were trying to give him some false hope. Lance was a little surprised at himself. If he'd wanted an excuse to get Keith out of the military, this was it. But he found he didn't want Keith to lose that. Lance checked the red bracelet on his wrist, looking at it very closely, studying the weave. Even partially numb, Keith had done a fairly neat job of it. Lance couldn't see any reason why he wouldn't be able to control a plane. Maybe not the military jet he used to, but Keith's flying days didn't need to be completely over. Especially if Lance helped with the healing process. There were some things he could think of to do that might increase Keith's chances of regaining his sensation and strength.
"They did an amazing job," Lance continued, replacing Keith's gloves for him, noting the question in Keith's eyes. "Your doctors." Lance reached out to trace the scar on Keith's face, admiring the elegant work of it. "They're very skilled," Lance complimented. "This . . The care that went into this. I've never seen better."
Keith sniffed in amusement, removing his face from Lance's hand so he could shake his head.
"Sorry," Lance apologized. "That was a weird thing to say."
"It's a very Lance thing to say," Keith corrected, not sounding offended or weirded out. He made eye contact with Lance, still affectionate. "Not weird. You've always noticed things like that."
Keith took Lance's hand, replacing it against the scar and pressing slightly, resting his head trustingly in Lance's palm.
"I'm glad you can admire it," Keith admitted, his eyes closed. "I'm not there yet. At first I hated it because it was so . . . pathetic, especially compared to what. . . it doesn't make sense to be angry that I wasn't hurt enough, but I guess nothing really made sense. Nothing was really fair. Now it just bothers me how it gives people another reason not to look at me, to be afraid of me."
Lance kept quiet, hearing what Keith meant. Knowing there wasn't anything to be done about it. Strangers wouldn't understand. All they would see was a man with a protected, hard, unrelenting stare and a dangerous-looking tear down his cheek. They wouldn't see the delicate manipulation of the wound, the sacrificial rescue that caused it. That's what the medal was for. The one Keith didn't want to wear.
"It's part of you," Lance said. "Anyone who deserves to know you won't let it stop them. And as far as I'm concerned, you've been hurt more than enough." More than your face. Your hands. "It's time to heal now."
Keith leaned forward and kissed him, and Lance could feel the gratitude in it.
"Thanks, corazón," Keith whispered. "You too."
Keith stood up from the couch and offered his hand to Lance. "Come on," he offered. "Let's take a little walk."
For a second, the words didn't really compute for Lance, as though he'd forgotten that there was a world outside this strange, cluttered room. Where would they go? Why would they want to be anywhere but here? But then he remembered. The trail. The observatories. The sunlight and the rock. He stood up too, automatically reaching for his sweater, almost getting it over his head before noticing that he didn't need it. He didn't feel cold.
Lance let Keith lead them out, retracing their path from last night, except now there was enough light for Lance to see everything. He walked behind Keith, slowly, easing stiff muscles, taking it all in. The height of the trees, the color of the area. Everything shades of brown, russet, red, and orange, layers of dead pine needles, patches of brush or pale, sandy dirt. An odd ribbon of concrete led off to the left and right for service vehicles. An enormous white propane tank chipped all over with rust crouched next to another service building.
"That's the trail I normally hike in on," Keith pointed the way, the opposite direction from the one they'd come in from last night. "Newcomb Pass."
"Where the crows live in the burned tree," Lance added, looking down the trail as though there would be a way to see down it all the way to where the tree was. Except he knew it was likely miles away. Keith said it wasn't easy to get to.
"That's right," Keith praised, sounding slightly surprised that Lance had remembered that detail.
"How far?" Lance wondered, and Keith physically turned him back toward where he knew the parking lot was.
"Too far for anyone who hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, is wearing the wrong shoes, and has no way to carry water," Keith said, shutting it all down. Lance knew he was right, despite being intrigued. Not only that, the position of the sun told him that Hunk and Pidge were likely to show up any minute.
Keith led him away from his hiking trail, allowing Lance to study the observatories in the light. Keith didn't have a key to get into them, but there was a small museum with an open door that they passed, and a footbridge to a water fountain. And a rather disturbing number of signs warning them to watch for rattlesnakes. Lance asked how likely they were to see one.
"It's getting cold for them," Keith acknowledged as they walked past the still-closed Cosmic Café, with Lance marveling every few steps at how much had been built up here. A small scientific city. "But I've seen a few on the trails during the summer. They leave you alone unless you're right on top of them."
The parking lot was much bigger in the daylight than it had seemed in the dark. The parking lot was bigger, but the rock where they'd looked down on the lights was smaller. Keith hopped up on it again, inviting Lance once again to join him. Which he did with only the tiniest bit of hesitation.
But then he laughed as soon as he stood up. The view had changed in every possible way, and the first thing Lance noticed was how there would be no way for Keith to fall to his death from any side of the rock. It was safe to walk around it completely with plenty of room to spare before any kind of incline. The sun outshone any lights that might still be left on, and Lance could now see the entire valley. Keith pointed out more of what Lance was looking at. Jones Peak. Mount Baldy, which was higher than Mount Wilson and already had a clearly established snow line. Patches of Manzanita bushes and enormous Spanish Dagger plants.
They walked the outside rim of the parking lot and Keith showed Lance where his favorite trail continued, making a giant loop to another parking lot at Chantry Flats seven miles below them. It didn't look like a trail, more like a drop. It didn't look like anything to Lance until Keith gestured down the mountain a bit and he could see the narrowest of footpaths zigzagging down out of sight. If Keith hadn't been here, Lance would have walked right past it without noticing anything.
"You know this place really well," Lance acknowledged, the compliment almost lost as Keith hurriedly brought his attention to a pair of red-tailed hawks circling below them.
"I would come up here a lot," Keith admitted, watching the birds with a wistful twist to his mouth. As though he wished he could join them. "As often as I could when I was stationed at Edwards – practically every day off I had. I'd do my training runs up to Orchard Camp and back. Camped at Hoegees or Sturtevant or wherever. There's a giant bench that's perfect for watching the sun set over that way, and a swing -"
"Shiro would come with you, right?" Lance checked, trying to picture that. The two of them hiking up here and camping out, exploring every inch of the mountain and its trails. The talks they might have had. Keith shrugged.
"Not very often. Our schedules didn't always match. He came the day we talked Hunk into hiking up here with us, but most of the time, it was just me."
"Alone?" Lance said, bewildered. That sounded awful. "I'm surprised Pidge let you."
"I'm not Hunk," Keith said, a touch sharply. "Pidge doesn't get much say in what I do or don't do, so it's not like I need her permission. Besides, if I was up here, I could help them test their equipment. They like to know the exact range of their radios. But a lot of the time, I didn't tell them I was here. I'd come because I wanted to be alone."
"Why?" Lance asked, not comprehending that. He hated being alone and couldn't imagine that Keith would take much enjoyment from it.
"It's quiet here," Keith said, as if that were an answer. "It's a good place to think."
"And here I thought I was the only one you kept secrets from," Lance quipped. They'd made their way back to the rock, sitting on it together, shoulders touching, enjoying the warmth of the sun, watching the hawks.
"What?" Keith asked, confused.
"It just seemed like everyone always knew where you were except me. Like you were avoiding me or something," Lance carefully exposed that wound, feeling strange about saying it out loud where Keith could hear, holding it up to the bright light. Still, that was how it seemed. Even now, when Lance had permission to lean over and kiss Keith if he wanted to so he knew it couldn't have been true, that's still how it seemed.
"I wasn't," Keith started, but paused. "I guess it probably looked that way, but that's not what I was trying to do. I was trying to stay out of your way."
"My way?" Lance scoffed. "Keith, what are you talking about?"
"Your life," Keith answered, as if it were more important to him than it was to Lance. "Your perfectly planned, American dream life. The white picket fence and the nine to five practice. Ten kids and a gorgeous wife waiting for you every night when you come home. You knew everything you wanted, and I couldn't give any of it to you. All I could see was that everything started falling apart for you when I tried to cram myself into your plans, so I . . . left. Tried to stay away so I couldn't ruin anything for you."
"Keith," Lance began, shocked to hear that they both had been carrying around the same unnecessary weight all this time by trying to stay out of each other's way. They'd had each other's backs so well that they couldn't see each other anymore. And Allura had even tried to tell him about it. He really was into self-sabotage. But they didn't have time to talk about it in any more detail. He heard the unnatural sound of tires crunching on gravel, then a horn as Hunk's Civic appeared from behind the small forest of trees and radio towers. And as much as Lance was happy they'd arrived, as much as he was looking forward to seeing them and eating whatever food Hunk had brought with him, he wasn't quite ready to stop being alone with Keith. He'd had all night and morning, and he still wanted more.
"Right on time. You hungry?" Keith asked, even though he already knew the answer, slipping gracefully from the rock so he could help Lance down. Yes, I'm starving, Lance wanted to say. For food. For information. I want everything.
"Race you," Lance said as soon as his feet touched the gravel of the parking lot. Keith's eyebrows drew together, but Lance didn't give him any time to think about it. He pushed his shoulder and took off toward Hunk's car. It only took a second for Keith to catch up to him, but he didn't pull ahead of Lance, even though Lance knew he easily could have.
Pidge stepped out of the front seat and then stood frozen with the door open, watching Keith and Lance running toward her. Lance pulled to a stop, ignoring how breathless he was after such a short distance, deliberately keeping his hands off the straining ache in his ribcage. The parts of the run that had felt great overpowered any of that. Keith watched him closely, not breathing hard at all.
"Hey there, guys," Hunk greeted cheerfully as he pulled a large box from the backseat. "Have a good night?"
"This place is awesome," Lance enthused, reaching over to mess up Pidge's hair. She batted him away reflexively, but then paused, giving him a careful study.
"Aww, hey," she crooned, taking in Lance's smile and lack of sweater. She inclined her head to Keith, as if he'd just won a bet or something. "You fixed him."
"Fixed?" Lance echoed, about to make a joke about it until the truth of the statement struck him hard in his stomach. Except it wasn't just Keith. Pidge and Hunk had played huge parts in it too. So had Allura, Angelique and Fritz. All the McClains living in Cuba. Even Shiro had an important role. Every one of them an essential, accepting connection that kept him grounded. He didn't think he could do without any of them. And now that Keith had returned, now that he was standing at Lance's side, hand gently resting at Lance's lower back, he did feel whole again.
"Yeah," Lance eventually accepted, smiling devotedly at Keith. "He did." He turned back to Hunk and Pidge; Hunk grinning broadly as he steadied the box he'd rested on the car hood. "You all did."
"Restored to factory settings," Hunk toned, slowly and calm. His world settling back the way he liked it.
"Come on," Pidge beckoned in feigned annoyance. She never liked it when things got too emotional, though she looked pleased despite herself. She went to help Hunk with the box, but when Keith shooed her off it, she grabbed Lance's hand and guided him to one of the picnic tables surrounding the café. And for the next few minutes, they all focused on what Hunk had packed. A thermos of coffee and another of juice, foil-wrapped breakfast burritos, still hot, bottles of water, and a cooler stuffed with cubes of watermelon and pineapple. To Lance, the feast at the Athenaeum last night didn't even compare.
"Enjoy," Hunk invited, taking a seat once he'd passed around some cutlery and napkins. Lance wasn't sure how, it seemed Hunk had brought enough food for twice as many people, but it didn't take very long for it all to disappear. Lance thought he heard Pidge make some kind of wisecrack about working up an appetite, but he was too busy chewing to respond. Keith tossed a missile of balled up aluminum foil at her. She threw it back, but Keith just caught it, ruining the effect and leaving her pouting across the table.
"So," she switched topics, smoothing her features, pretending the foil ball hadn't happened. "Why don't you start at the beginning, Keith."
Lance looked to Keith to see if he had any idea what that was supposed to mean, but as he turned his head, he discovered Keith looking at him with the same questioning expression. Did she mean she wanted to know about last night? He could get why she might be curious, but it was all too personal to share. Or maybe she wanted to know what happened in Dabney Gardens.
"Beginning?" Keith repeated, though it was clear he was after some clarification.
"Yeah," Hunk said, pouring out the last of the coffee before settling in beside Pidge. "You know, the story. The answer to the question you are going to get asked five thousand times in the next couple months."
Lance figured he and Keith must still look pretty clueless because Pidge rolled her eyes.
"Come on, guys," she scolded them. "Your story." Then she sighed, sitting straight and spreading her hands out, palm up. When she spoke again, it was with an exaggerated, syrupy tone. After the first word Hunk jumped in and said it with her, both of them talking like a pair of over-interested spinster aunts. "And just how did you two meet?"
"Oh," Lance said, blinking, feeling kind of stupid because of course they were going to get asked that. Everyone he knew, everyone Keith knew, would wonder about it. Where would a story like that start? What was the beginning? He looked to Keith again because he was laughing. He loved it when Keith laughed, loved how he was doing it more and more.
"Maybe you should go first?" Keith invited with aggressive mirth. "Sounds like you have more practice."
Pidge scowled, but Hunk was unmoved. "But we already know our answer. It's you guys who need the practice. We're trying to do you a favor."
"Gee, thanks," Lance drawled. "So thoughtful."
"Just watching out for you," Pidge said, with a straight face and everything. "Like always." Lance almost teased her about it until he remembered exactly what she and Hunk had gone through for them. How they watched over them. The years of secrets, trying to be friends with them both and keep them together as much as possible even as they tried to stay away from each other. It must have been maddening. If anyone deserved to hear how it all went, how it all finally worked out, it was them.
"Well," Lance thought he'd give it a shot. Try to pare down over three years of pining and pain into a few well-practiced sentences. "We were in the same English class, and we were teamed up for a biography assignment." No, how could he do this? There was just too much. Their story was so much bigger than that biography assignment. It was too precious to whittle it down to nothing for the passing interest of any acquaintance or stranger.
"Lance, no offense," Pidge cut him off, for which he was grateful. "But we kind of already know your side."
"Watched it in agonizing detail," Hunk murmured right behind her, and Lance narrowed his eyes at them.
"But I thought you said you wanted-"
"For Keith to give his version, yes, that's exactly what we want."
"My version?" Keith sounded surprised, like his perspective of events wouldn't be worth much. Except it would. And now that Pidge had said it like that, Lance realized that he wanted to hear it too. They'd just brushed up against it when Hunk and Pidge arrived. It would be nice to hear more, to see the memories from the other side.
"I actually have questions about that too," Lance volunteered softly, bringing Keith's attention over to him. He looked overwhelmed, by the attention and the task. Lance knew why. There was a ton of missing information, and Keith had never liked talking about himself. But if they helped guide the conversation, maybe they could coax it out of him. Lance took one of Keith's hands, leaving the glove in place to protect the scars from the sun, but starting to massage it carefully in a gesture of support. "Like what you were doing in my class in the first place."
He'd always wondered that. How Keith had ended up in English with him when he'd never been admitted to the University. How he'd been in the apartment that wasn't his.
Keith looked pained, unsure as always that someone might be interested in his life. Except there were three friends at the picnic table hanging on his every word. Who really did want to know.
"This is not a quick answer to a 'how did you meet' question," Keith deflected.
"Lay it all out for us anyway," Hunk encouraged casually, like this was no big deal and they had all the time in the world to go over it. "Then we'll come up with the tagline."
Keith watched Lance's fingers moving across his for a moment, then steadied himself with a deep breath. Lance could almost see him notching up his trust level to allow himself to be open about whatever he was getting ready to say. It's ok, Keith, Lance pressed gently into his palm. You're safe.
"I was having trouble finding a job," Keith sighed, keeping his eyes on Lance's hands. "No one wanted to hire a high-school dropout with no mailing address who couldn't pass a background check. Best I could do was a temporary thing over the holiday rush. One of the older guys I worked with figured out pretty quick about my . . circumstances? Anyway, he gave me a name of someone who worked on campus and said she might be able to help me. Turns out it was his daughter, but I didn't know that until I got to her office. At first, I thought she was going to send me away, but when I mentioned her dad, she started asking me a ton of questions. Then she said I qualified for some weird program, but I don't know if she was telling the truth about it or not. But she told me that I could have that dorm room and audit some classes for a semester so I could get my GED, so I took the key and left before she changed her mind. I don't know what strings she pulled, but it looked like things were actually going to work out for a change."
There was so much understatement in how Keith said that it almost hurt. Lance knew Keith had been homeless for a long time. That simple dorm room, and the key to it that Keith could put in his pocket like something he owned, had probably seemed a huge life upgrade. That woman setting him up, whether there really was a program or she'd just decided to do Keith a favor for her dad, had been a kindness that Keith hadn't experienced in way too long. The break he needed to change his whole life.
"I moved in, and the store I was working for said I'd done a good enough job that they were going to keep me even after the Christmas temp positions were over. It was busy, but I was doing it."
"I had no idea," Lance lamented. "I didn't even notice you."
"I wasn't trying to get noticed," Keith admitted. "It was working, but it felt like everything could fall apart at any second. Like it was too good to be true."
Lance tried to go back in his memory. To the day their English teacher had given the biography assignment. The details were surprisingly blurry, even though it was the start of what he and Keith had now. Professor Gibbon standing bored and slumped at the front of the room, reading off pairs of names, asking the students to raise their hands so they could get together and exchange information once he'd finished. Lance heard his name read, then Keith's. He remembered turning in his chair with his arm lifted to meet Keith's eyes for the first time. Remembered being disappointed with who he was stuck working with. Remembered steeling himself to get up and go to the back of the room to get Keith's phone number. Keith had grunted it at him, hostile and short, distracted.
"I wasn't even surprised when the police showed up at my room," Keith continued. "I didn't know what I'd done, but I figured it had to do with being at the school illegally or something. When they took me into custody, though, and told me what I was being arrested for-"
Keith shuddered despite the heat of the afternoon, and Lance put a hand on his leg. Hunk opened his mouth, ready to redirect the conversation, but Keith kept going. Lance wondered if he'd ever said any of this out loud before.
"Krolia met me at the station and made it so I didn't have to stay in jail. She told me to keep doing what I was doing, going to class and work, because she was going to get me off as quickly as possible. I didn't know how she could, but I tried to do what she said. When my boss found out I'd been arrested, though, I lost my job, and then the trial started and there didn't seem to be a lot of point in doing anything."
"You were already dealing with all this when we were paired up," Lance wondered out loud, and Keith nodded.
"Yeah. I probably shouldn't have pretended like I could even work on that with you, but I was still trying to hold everything together then. Sorry I was such a jerk."
"I wasn't so nice to you either," Lance dismissed, and Keith gave him a melancholy smile, as though he'd forgotten that Hunk and Pidge were sitting across the table from them. The conversation had tightened to the two of them.
"I thought you were such an arrogant prick," Keith admitted, shaking his head. "You were so fixated on that stupid biography, like it was so important. I had it all wrong, but I thought you were this spoiled, entitled, rich kid who had never had a real problem in your life. You had everything going for you. You were gorgeous and smart and everyone liked you. Everything you did bothered me, and it just got worse the longer you kept trying to meet up for homework."
Lance closed his eyes for a second. He'd thought Keith was a lazy, deadbeat slacker living in his parents' basement. Not a great first impression on either of their parts. Though he had to smile a little when he heard that Keith thought he was good looking, even when he'd hated him.
"I'd started cringing every time I got a text," Keith said. "And I never answered the phone if I could help it. It always meant something bad. You kept asking about getting together for the assignment. Kasey wanted me to come in for that dumb exit interview I didn't have time for, someone from the court was always looking for me, or if it wasn't them, it was Krolia. I knew Shiro was looking for me too, but I was such a screw up, I didn't want him to know anything about it. I didn't want him to be even more disappointed in me. I don't even know why I bothered going to class that day; I'd already missed so many. I felt like crap, the court was taking over my life and there didn't seem to be anything on the other side of it except prison. Everything just sucked. I guess I went to pretend that something was normal, but I just made it even worse."
Lance didn't ask the question, but Keith saw it on his face.
"I hit you," Keith reminded him. "For no reason. I couldn't believe I did it, even when I was looking at you on the floor. Then I realized I'd just hammered in the last nail in my coffin. I thought you were the same as him, David, and I figured I'd have another assault charge by the end of the night. I didn't know what to do; I felt awful. Scared and sick and . . . hopeless. It just didn't matter what I did, you know? No matter how hard I tried to do things right, I kept messing it up."
"Keith," Lance said his name, wanting to comfort him somehow, even though these memories were old ones. Even though Keith's life had lifted from this low point. Keith patted his arm as if to assure him.
"Then you showed up out of nowhere at my apartment and apologized, like me hitting you was somehow your fault instead of mine. I couldn't figure out how you even found me, and then it didn't make any sense that you didn't seem mad at all. You were so . . . gentle. Asking me questions about how I was feeling like you actually cared. I know I put up a fight when you wanted me to go home with you, but honestly, I wanted to so much even though I couldn't figure you out. Why you were being so nice; what you were going to get out of it. How you were going to turn on me. I think . . . I think I started trusting you when you didn't tell Hunk that it was me who bruised your face, but by then I was too sick for it to matter if I trusted you or not. I don't remember a whole lot after we got to your apartment, just that you were always there. Talking to me, taking care of me. You didn't leave. No matter what I did or what people told you about me . . . you stayed."
"You don't remember?" Pidge broke in, but softly. "All of that and you don't remember." Lance glanced over to see her and Hunk leaning heavily on the table, intent on everything Keith said. He hadn't forgotten they were there, but he was surprised to have Pidge join the conversation.
"Fragments," Keith acknowledged. "I remember talking to you in the bathroom, Pidge, and Hunk carrying me to the couch. Lance reciting that poem, his voice and his hands . . ." Keith looked up. "Your eyes." Lance didn't want to blush, but he couldn't stop it.
"I remember watching you all and thinking over and over that this must be what a home feels like." Keith looked to Lance again. "And I remember being more and more impressed with you, all the stuff you knew how to do, how smooth you were, so confident and capable, and I felt guilty about how I'd assumed all those things about you. By the time the trial was over, and I was well enough to think straight, I would have done anything for you. I wanted to. Wanted to give you something, or be something you wanted, just so I could have a reason to stay near you."
"You could have," Lance said immediately. "I wanted you to."
"I didn't know. It was confusing," Keith said. "I didn't understand what I was feeling; it was new and . . . I didn't know what to do with it. It got hard to be with you, seeing what I was doing to you because I didn't want to leave. How you weren't getting enough sleep because I'd taken over your room, and I wanted to spend time with you, but you didn't have time for anything. It was killing me how much I wanted you to touch me, but you only did it to check my blood pressure or temperature or something, and I knew I was nothing but a patient to you and it bothered me so much."
"Holy shit," Lance breathed, remembering that uneasy time during Keith's recovery. He remembered how Keith would flinch under Lance's fingers when he touched his forehead, testing for fever. "I thought you just didn't want me to touch you at all."
"No," Keith denied. "Every time you got close to me, I wanted . . . but then I remembered you talking about your future wife and kids, or missing that date with Allura, so I knew that you couldn't be into me. You weren't like that, but then you'd look at me sometimes, or say something, and I'd wonder if maybe you could be. Or maybe I was trying too hard to see something because I wanted it to be there. It was driving me crazy, so I finally got up the nerve to just tell you everything."
"What? When?" Lance demanded, knowing that such a conversation had never taken place. If it had, their lives would have looked so much different. Because it sounded like Keith had been in love with him practically from the beginning. And they'd both somehow missed it.
"The day I picked you up from work," Keith revealed. "I couldn't even wait until your shift ended. Do you remember? The day I took you for coffee?"
"You're kidding," Lance said, his voice flat.
"I couldn't take it anymore. Once I'd figured out what it was I was feeling, I had to know one way or the other if what I wanted was even possible. But even though I'd planned what I was going to say, when we were sitting there at the table, I couldn't . . . couldn't even get you to listen."
"I thought you were leaving," Lance confessed. "You weren't a student, and you were with Shiro. I figured you wanted to tell me you were moving in with Shiro and would probably never see me again. I didn't want you to say good-bye, so I didn't let you say anything."
Lance couldn't believe it. All those blocks he'd set in front of Keith so he wouldn't lose him had just prevented Keith from telling Lance how he felt about him. If Lance hadn't been so sure of what he thought Keith was going to say. He shook his head. He'd begun a relationship in that coffee shop that day, with Allura, without ever knowing that he could have started one with Keith if he'd just kept his mouth shut and listened to him. Or if he'd been brave enough to speak up. He felt like an idiot.
"I gave up when Allura and Romelle came," Keith continued. "The way you freaked out when you saw her was my answer. So I gave you the only gift I could and brought her over, and I tried my best to just be happy that I could do that for you. I wanted you to be happy, and if that meant fixing things with her, then I was glad that it was something I could do for you. And I thought it would be ok, you and Allura and Romelle and me. I thought I could go along with it too, until Hunk's birthday party."
"We all saw that you and Romelle weren't going to work out," Hunk said, nodding to himself.
"It was more than just that," Keith said. "I thought I could step aside, just be friends, but watching Allura with you that night." Even talking about it now, years later, there was pain in Keith's voice. Lance wondered how he hadn't seen it when it was happening. Wondered how he wouldn't let himself see it. "Watching her touch you the way I wanted to touch you. Seeing you look at her the way I thought you'd started looking at me and knowing I could never be with you that way. I couldn't do it; I had to get away."
"You both are such idiots," Pidge whispered.
"Please tell me that's not why you joined the Air Force," Lance exhaled. He didn't want to be solely responsible for chasing Keith that far. For putting that many scars into his skin or his soul. Because he hadn't been paying enough attention. Because he'd been deliberately pushing Keith away.
"I wanted to join the Air Force since I met Shiro," Keith eased him. "If I couldn't be with you, it seemed the next best choice. To get out of your way. I couldn't be jealous if I was too far away and too busy to remember how I could never have you. I wanted you to be happy, but it hurt too much to stick around and watch how great your life was going to be if I wasn't in it. I wanted to forget everything about you."
Lance had stopped massaging Keith's hand. He held completely still, something dark and unsettling suddenly shadowing him. He wasn't sure if it was a memory or a premonition or what, but he didn't like it. Keith must have felt it too, or at least noticed the change in Lance, because he moved closer to him, putting his arm around Lance's shoulders and leaning his head against Lance's temple.
"I could never manage to do it," Keith said softly, as though Lance didn't know that. Like he needed to hear it. Lance's chest released. Maybe he did. "I'd tell myself I was going to stop reading the letters you sent. That I shouldn't have ever asked you to write me in the first place; it was just making everything harder. I should have just broken everything off with you, and I kept trying to do that. But then another letter would turn up and I'd tear into it like I needed them to live. If it had been too long, I'd pull out the old ones and read them over again. And then I wouldn't want to lose you after all, so I'd try to write you back, but it was so hard to think of something real to say to you when all I wanted to say was . . . something I didn't think you'd want to hear from me. And I didn't want to screw it up, couldn't lose the little of you I let myself keep, so I barely dared to write you back at all. You and Allura, you were doing it, just the way you wanted. The ER and your classes, all those fancy things she'd take you to. Every picture you sent just sank it in deeper. You were fine, a complete success, everything was going perfect for you. Just like I wanted it to. The best thing I could do was leave you alone."
Lance took Keith's hands again, feeling that urge to press against him. His fingers automatically snugged up against Keith's pulse in his wrist. He's right here, Lance reminded himself firmly. We're talking about a past that turned into this. But Lance remembered the loneliness all too well, those months with no word from Keith except in passing from someone else. It was so strange to learn that Keith had been feeling the sting of their separation too.
"I was getting closer to talking myself into it," Keith kept speaking, fully immersed in telling his whole story now, as though he were finally putting something down that weighed too much on his heart. "Acxa was trying so hard to make us into something more than partners, and the last pictures I had from you, Lance, were from your graduation party at Allura's parents' place and I knew that the next thing I'd get was probably going to be a wedding invitation that I couldn't even pretend to be happy for you about. It was . . . hard . . . hard to do my job, hard to ignore Acxa, hard to read anything from you anymore because you just . . . didn't seem to need me. Everything felt wrong and out of control, and I couldn't keep going like that. It all pulled so hard that something had to break, and I thought it made the most sense to let go of you."
Lance could only smile sadly at this. He'd had the same thoughts and feelings. He knew exactly where Keith was coming from.
"But you never did," Pidge reminded him quietly when Keith stayed guiltily silent after this last confession. Lance wondered if maybe they should just stop talking about it. He could feel Keith growing weary of the narrative, drained from pulling all those emotions to the surface again, giving them words and reasons and a voice. "You were always asking about Lance."
"You were?" Lance wondered, trying to make that match with how Keith almost never contacted him.
"All the time," Hunk agreed in a long-suffering monotone. "You'd ask about him; he'd ask about you. And we never had enough information to satisfy either of you, but you'd both start stuttering if we ever suggested you maybe talk to each other like normal people."
"I tried!" Lance defended himself, though Keith raised an eyebrow at him in puzzlement, not remembering. "I called right after I broke up with Allura so I could tell you everything." Keith opened his mouth, probably to correct Lance on his account. Because Keith wouldn't remember this ever happening. Lance hadn't been able to reach him.
"Acxa answered your phone," Lance explained, and Keith's whole body tightened to the point where Lance thought he might punch the picnic table. "She acted like she'd never heard of me before."
"She would," Keith said, his teeth clenched.
"I don't know if she ever told you I tried to call."
"No," Keith said, sounding pissed at yet another missed opportunity in their rather unfortunate timeline. "Not a damn word. That lying little – she was always harping on how you didn't care, too. I can't believe she didn't -"
"I only called the one time," Lance interrupted. He didn't know why, but he didn't want Keith to be angry at Acxa. Or maybe it was more that he didn't want Keith to be angry at all. "Just that once, and Allura almost dialed your number herself to make me." Keith looked wounded to the point that Lance felt he had to explain. "There just didn't seem to be a point. Every time I'd tried before, I could never get you to answer. After a while, I gave up. Did everything I could not to think of you. I didn't want to, but it just seemed like you'd forgotten all about me so I should try to do the same thing. I figured I probably would never hear from you again, and you were better off without me, but then . . .you called me."
"The crash," Keith said, almost too quietly to hear. Lance thought he might have only heard it because that's what he'd been about to say. Keith removed his hands from Lance's in order to rub his left thumb over the back of his right glove. He shook his head.
"Keith," Lance interrupted, regretting bringing it up. You don't have to go back there. There's no need.
Except Keith seemed to want to, at least some of the details. He gathered himself, then started again. "When the planes went down, when I had a second to even process what was going on, all I could think about was how much I wanted to talk to you. If I was going to . . if I didn't make it home, I wanted you to be the last voice in my head. Wanted you to be with me. I was surprised that you answered right away, though. I didn't know that you would, but it was like all that time we hadn't talked to each other didn't matter. You were just there, right when I needed you most. Trying to help me. Like always."
Hunk, or maybe Pidge, made a small sound from across the table, but neither Lance nor Keith looked at them. Lance couldn't help but think of the time he'd called Keith thinking it would be the last time he'd talk to anyone. How Keith had also picked up right away. Right when Lance had needed him.
"And I realized how much I still wanted you, wanted to be a part of your life," Keith went on, his voice slightly hazy. "And even though I knew it was a bad idea, I kept calling you. I couldn't help it; I was alone and stuck, and I wanted to hear you. Whatever you could give me; I'd take it. Even if it hurt, not having any contact with you hurt more. And you made it so easy to come back - you picked up, every time, no matter how busy you were or what was going on. It was great, and awful, but it felt like maybe I could handle it this time, being with you without being with you, but the more we talked, sometimes the things you'd say. It was confusing again; I started hoping too much, reading into everything you said. I was being selfish; ignoring how stressed out I was making you by taking your time, but after a while, I couldn't pretend anymore. I knew that something was wrong. It was in your voice . . .and then there were the pictures."
"Pictures?" Lance repeated, wondering how he'd gotten off track of the narrative, weaving in Keith's perspective into his own timeline. Keith had thrown him off. What pictures?
"Keith's the one who noticed first," Hunk said, giving Keith credit for something Lance hadn't figured out yet.
"I think I missed something," Lance said, looking around at his friends. Keith pulled his phone from his back pocket. There was no cell service up here, but he held it out anyway for Lance to see the screen, opening a photo album and beginning to slideshow through it. Lance was confused. They were his photos, the ones he sent out in the emails. Keith was showing him pictures of the graduation party. Then some selfies of Lance studying at the library, or in the laundry room. The kitchen, his bedroom, his desk.
"You were pulling back," Keith pointed out, swiping through the pictures rapidly, emphasizing the descent. Lance was stunned; he'd never noticed the trend since he'd been sending them out individually over time, but they were getting darker. After a while, none were taken in daylight. He didn't appear in any of them anymore. He'd sent out photos of dead leaves. Puddles under the glowing ER sign. The spires of campus spearing a desolately gray sky. The black waves of the lake. Rain on his window where he could barely see himself in the dark reflection of the glass, looking sunken and wretched, like a photoshopped Internet Slenderman holding a phone.
"After you said you'd broken up with Allura, I wondered if you really were as all right as I'd always believed you were," Keith said, speaking carefully now. "You said everything was fine, but the way you said it. The way you brushed off questions, like you didn't want to talk about yourself. Like you were trying to disappear."
"You disappeared," Lance accused, remembering that all too well. The last conversation he had with Keith. The arrival of the bracelet. Lance agonizing repeatedly over what he'd done wrong and how he'd chased Keith off.
"I thought it was my fault," Keith admitted, pocketing the phone again, releasing Lance from the spell of those disturbing images. He'd sent those to his family. Had they noticed anything about it? Or had they come spread out enough that they couldn't see it either? "It was like I was taking over your room again, taking too much of your time and you were too nice to tell me not to. It looked like every time I invited myself into your life, I hurt you. You'd been fine when I was gone, so I thought the best thing to do was stop bothering you so much. Let you focus on your work and your studies without distracting you anymore. Especially since I was stretching so hard to hear what I wanted to hear. I didn't want you to think you had to be responsible for me or anything, so I forced myself to leave you alone."
"That was the worst," Lance whispered, and Keith put an arm around him protectively. Lance allowed himself to shrink against him.
"Then you went missing," Keith said darkly, and Lance could hear what he hadn't said. That was the worst.
"I think we all know what happened there," Lance said, hoping to gloss over it. They were no longer speaking about events from years ago, not even months. His ribs hadn't fully healed yet; no one had had time to forget.
"Allura told us everything," Keith said. "We all agreed she was the best person to be with you; she'd lived with you the longest and would have the easiest time getting to Chicago. I didn't like it; I even worried it might get you two back together, and I couldn't get over how you'd called me. Not Allura; you called me. All you went through and mine was the number you called, even though I hadn't given you any reason to depend on me. Even though I'd practically abandoned you, I . . I was still the one you called."
"You were the last person I wanted to hear too," Lance said, surprisingly casual for something so frightening and final. It didn't land well with Keith, who palmed the side of Lance's head so he could pull him over, kissing his head and pressing his forehead against his temple, shushing him harshly.
"Don't," Keith begged. Lance didn't understand. Keith had just said the same thing. How could facing his own violent death, far away in a foreign country, be more frightening than Lance standing alone in a phone booth? How could he handle talking about one but not the other?
"You thought Allura and I were getting back together?" Lance asked, redirecting them. He'd never thought of that, even when they'd shared Angelique's guest room bed the night he came home from the hospital.
"It wasn't that crazy of an idea," Keith shot back. "At first, I was mad about it, her being with you instead of me, but I couldn't hold on to that very long since she kept being so helpful, calling all the time with updates about you, following all the suggestions I had for what might help you feel better. She called all the time and encouraged me to talk to you. Everyone started calling me, even Shiro started talking about it. They all said the same thing. You was ignoring all of them, wouldn't return calls or emails or texts, but you called me. You missed me. The person you really needed was me."
"You'd think you would have believed it faster," Pidge huffed.
"I couldn't let myself," Keith admitted. "It seemed too dangerous to risk. And even if you did need me, it wasn't like you needed me the way I wanted you to. But I could see that I hadn't been a good friend to you, that you did need a good friend, and if you wanted to see me, after all you'd done for me, how could I not give that back? Even if I ended up hurt, it was the least I could do. I decided I'd be there for you, as long as you wanted me. So I kept calling, kept answering the phone. And the whole time I could feel myself getting more and more attached to you, falling for you all over again, and it freaked me out. Because I knew somehow I was going to screw it up – say the wrong thing. Give my real feelings away and ruin what we had. Or start caring too much and ending up broken.
"I almost didn't come when Hunk and Pidge asked me. Even though I pushed so hard to get my leave request approved; I still almost chickened out and didn't come to see you. I couldn't handle it before, but this time, after all we'd been through, it seemed wrong, I guess, for me not to come. I told myself the whole way over here and the entire night when I arrived that we were friends. That I was repaying a long overdue debt, and I was going to take just as good care of you as you did me. And I wasn't going to let it hurt me that we could only be friends. I'd almost lost you, how could I be so selfish to want something you couldn't give me?"
Lance wanted to break into Keith's words, explain how he'd had the same thoughts. Almost exactly. It was like they were the same person in how they'd reacted to each other.
"Yesterday," Keith went on. "Before dinner. It was so hard. Seeing you again, seeing how different you were, and how not different you were. Wanting to tell you everything but being too scared to open my mouth. Feeling guilty for even wanting to say anything because you'd been through so much already, I couldn't stand giving you anything else to deal with. Or make you think you had to prove anything to me. But the way you looked at me, like . . like you wanted me to say something. I couldn't tell if it was real. I was disappointed in myself. I thought I was disciplined, but this was something I couldn't take. Shiro was upset when I told him I'd be coming home early, changing the plan, but he just didn't understand that I couldn't do it. None of it. Couldn't lose you. Couldn't just stay friends with you. It was a problem with no solution and no good way out. At least, there didn't seem to be a solution until last night."
"It was, like, the most obvious solution," Hunk pointed out, sounding shocked at how oblivious they'd been that they hadn't seen it.
"You're welcome," Pidge chimed in again. Lance wanted to roll his eyes. Except they were both so right and had to watch the entire painful exchange from the sidelines. Well, at least until Pidge decided to intervene.
"I didn't think you could ever. . . didn't think we could ever have this," Keith took Lance's hand and squeezed it slightly. "I can't believe I wouldn't let myself see it. Can't believe how much time I wasted, what I almost lost, because I was afraid."
"You weren't the only one," Lance told him, knowing that they were emotional twins in this. He could hardly believe it either, especially now that he'd heard Keith's side. Understood the reasoning behind his disappearances, the messages hidden in every letter and every faraway gift. It was almost too much to comprehend.
"So?" Keith suddenly turned to Hunk and Pidge. "You're the experts; what do we say?"
Lance almost snorted, wondering how Keith could do that. One second, he'd been somber and focused on Lance almost completely, baring his soul. Now he was joking with the physicists on what the abridged version of their relationship should be.
Hunk blinked, sitting up straighter as it dawned on him that Keith was done talking. Pidge chewed thoughtfully on her lip. Then they looked at each other as if they needed a closed circuit to come up with something.
"Who should we ask to play you?" Pidge asked Hunk, who put a pensive hand to his chin, considering the question.
"What?" Lance asked, not keeping up again. He used to be able to keep up. Keith turned his head away from all of them, as though he'd filled his quota for speaking out loud. He put his hand on Lance's knee, though.
"You guys are right; this is too complicated for condensing. It needs to be a movie." Pidge chattered, a playful glint in her eye. "We need to get . . oh, who should we get? It's too dark for Disney. Maybe Universal would take it? Oh, no, no, it's too long. We need to keep all the details. It should be a series. Or a soap opera."
Keith's fingers twitched on Lance's leg, and Lance threw the aluminum foil ball over at Pidge again for suggesting that their intense and emotional struggle be dramatized as a soap opera. She blocked it with both her hands held out, and Hunk snatched it up and tossed it into the box. Lance took it as a sign to start packing up, and he began gathering used forks and napkins to also tuck them into Hunk's box. When Lance stood up, so did Keith. Hunk came around the table to put his arms around both of them.
"At least it has a happy ending," Hunk sighed, content. Keith patted his wrist, looking at Lance.
"Who says it's the ending?" Keith asked, and Pidge moaned from where she was also getting up from the table.
"What?" She demanded. "More drama?"
"Yeah," Lance agreed. "S. T. A. R. forever!"
Because there was a whole future ahead of them. So many things to experience and make decisions about and look forward to. They hadn't even really gotten started. Hadn't made any plans about how this was going to work with Keith still in the military and Lance not even started in his residency. There was a ton to figure out. But somehow, it didn't feel all that daunting, at least, not yet. Not here.
Hunk put the box back into the car, then he and Pidge led Keith and Lance to the little museum for a short tour. They were especially pleased to point out the image on the wall that they had taken with one of their new data-gathering probe cameras. Keith kept Lance's hand the entire time as they walked around the building, looking at colorful photos of nebulae and dwarf stars, listening as Hunk and Pidge explained the outdated machines and telescopes placed on velvet under glass in cases in the center of the room.
"What are we going to say?" Lance whispered to Keith at some point as they stared into a photo of a galaxy they'd never heard of.
"I'm going to say that you saved my life," Keith answered promptly, as if he'd figured it out a long time ago. "How could I not fall in love with you?"
It was such a simple way to put it, but there was truth and passion in how Keith said it that warmed Lance better than the sun outside.
"That works," Lance said.
"We'll make it work," Keith agreed, but Lance suspected he was talking about something else now. "Somehow."
"You sound worried."
"Not about us," Keith said quickly. "Just – how it's all going to fit. You have to be back in Chicago after Christmas, and I have a contract with the Air Force for at least another three years." He paused to pull Lance in front of him, cupping his face. "I don't know how we're going to make it work."
"We haven't lost each other yet," Lance reminded him. "Even when we were kind of trying to. If I need to wait for you, I'll wait for you." Keith kissed his forehead. "So long as you don't disappear."
"I won't if you won't," Keith promised, and Lance grabbed him around the waist, resting his head against his chest.
"Ugh, are we sure getting these two together was a good idea?" Pidge scoffed somewhere near the museum door. Lance turned in time to see Hunk elbow her in the shoulder.
"Still better than when they were apart," Hunk pointed out, then lifted his head to address them. "We'd better get going if we want to be down before sunset."
"Ok, Hunk," Keith acknowledged, taking Lance's hand again to lead him toward the door. Together they went to the top shack, switching out the sheets and pillowcases that Keith and Lance had used for clean ones that Hunk had brought in the car. Repacking Keith's backpack and pausing for Lance to put on Keith's leathers one more time. He asked Pidge to take his sweater with her in the car. Then they locked the little building up, and Keith handed Lance the motorcycle helmet.
"You can come with us in the car, you know," Pidge advised, eyeing the motorcycle with unease. Keith grinned at her.
"No, I can't," he teased. "No one else can drive this thing down."
"You know I wasn't talking to – oh, never mind, I don't know why I even bother."
"I'm going with Keith," Lance said, unnecessarily. Everyone knew he'd be going with Keith. He would be with Keith every second he had the chance. "It'll be fine, Pidge. I trust him."
"You're hopeless," she told him, but she was smiling.
"No," Lance corrected her. "Not anymore."
She rolled her eyes and pivoted, grabbing Hunk's arm to pull him toward the Civic. "Let us go in front," she said over her shoulder.
"Copy," Keith called over to her before once again assisting Lance with the helmet straps. "You sure you want to go with me?" He checked. "It was pretty rough for you yesterday. You can still ride down in the car if you want to; it's fine with me."
"Are you going to be ok?" Lance wondered. Now that he knew about Keith's hands, he couldn't imagine what riding must be like. Keith smoothed his gloves.
"I'll need you to stretch them when we get back," he admitted. "It's easier going downhill. But what about you?"
Lance glared at his boyfriend. "I'm going with you," he repeated, firmly. It doesn't matter how rough it is, or scary, or whatever. I've got your back, Keith, and I trust you've got mine.
Keith nodded, accepting Lance's decision, and started the motorcycle, positioning himself on it and holding it steady for Lance to get into place behind him. Lance was a little sore from yesterday, but nothing serious. Keith followed Hunk and Pidge as they walked down the trail to the parking lot, thoughtfully turning off the engine again as they made the final adjustments on packing.
"We'll be right behind you," Keith said.
"See you at home," Lance added, then smiled inside the helmet. Home. Not the house, exactly, or the yard with all Hunk's plants. But the scent of fresh-baked bread and the boxes of wires, the radios in the corner, and Hunk's music playing in the background. And Keith in the kitchen making the best coffee Lance had ever tasted while Pidge fussed about her latest experiment. It would never matter exactly where he was, so long as he had this. Hunk and Pidge getting into Hunk's car. Keith patting his leg, asking if he was ready with the gesture.
And when they got off the mountain, Lance would call Dr. Delacroix and Officer Guist. Then Allura, who hadn't heard the good news yet. Lance wasn't sure how he'd tell his family in Cuba, but he had several days to worry about that. He had days, weeks, months, and years to enjoy this. Even if Keith was sent overseas again, even when Lance returned to Chicago, leaving Hunk and Pidge behind. Even if they weren't together all the time, they weren't apart either. Not ever. Never again.
"You good?" Keith asked as Hunk's car started down the long, winding road of the Angeles Crest Highway.
"Perfect," Lance said, and Keith patted his leg one more time before steering the bike after Hunk.
He still didn't know how things were going to come together. Like Keith said, they had plenty of obstacles to work through when it came to having a relationship. Were they going to think of moving in together? Where? How far down the road? Would Lance stay in Chicago or would he take up his residency somewhere else? He had no idea. In fact, there was only one thing that he was absolutely sure about.
Whatever happened, and there was so much left in his life waiting to happen. Whatever happened, Lance would not have to worry about facing it alone.
The END
Author's Note: Yeah, I know I literally just typed the end, but I do have an epilogue planned for you guys – set ten or fifteen years from now. And guess what? I'm toying with writing it from someone else's point of view. Who should we have? Allura? Pidge (oh wow, I don't know if I can write that). Keith? What's your thoughts? Who would you like to hear from?
Thanks for sticking around, everyone. It's been a pleasure, a wonder, and a light in my life to bring this project into being with you all. I've made some true friends here (like real, please come to my house kind of friends). It's been amazing. I'll remain forever grateful. See you in a bit with that epilogue.
