As Iron Sharpens Iron
Chapter Summary: Keith decides it's high time Lance learned how to use something other than a ranged weapon. Lance kind of agrees, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to whine about it.
"You can't rely on ranged weaponry," Keith insisted the day he shoved a very different kind of weapon into Lance's hesitating grip. "It's limiting, and we're locked in close quarters too often."
He had a point, which is why Lance made only a token protest before submitting to Keith's tutelage. That said, it took a while to find a bladed weapon he felt comfortable handling. The heavy sabers and claymores were unwieldy in his hands, and as for a dagger…
"It bugs me," he admitted after an especially unnerving round with a gladiator, whose body lay sprawled on the training room floor. If he looked closely and squinted his eyes, he could see the gaping spot in the torso where his weapon had reached its vital parts, and he could still feel the kiss of cool metal against his fingers from the moment when the hilt touched its metal body. Lance swallowed. "How close you have to get to, you know." He gestured weakly. "I don't know if I could do that with a person."
Keith didn't say anything right away, and Lance braced himself for an Iverson-esque remark about how he was weak, all shrinking heart and moist cheeks. But then, sometimes Lance forgot that Keith got expelled from the garrison. What he actually said was, "Have you ever tried fencing?"
Lance liked the small sword, which whipped and scoured with its blindingly fast point. It was about control and finesse rather than ruthless efficiency. Of course, because of its weight, it was a challenge to use against Keith's broadsword, but if Lance used his shield to parry, it wasn't so bad. Besides, none of them had gotten their bayard to turn into anything other than their default weapon anyway, though thanks to Keith's duel with Zarkon, they knew it was possible.
Eventually, Lance did manage to change the shape of his bayard. Into a sniper rifle, which was really cool. It happened five weeks before Keith formed a laser pistol, and two months before Hunk plowed through a pressurized bulkhead with a battering ram. Pidge eventually managed the most adorable little gauntlet-mounted catapult (which turned out to fling adorable balls of molten plasma). However, it was some time after all that before Lance was able to put Keith's lessons on close quarters combat into practice.
Pressed into a corner with Hunk hampered down at his back, a sentry lunged inside his effective range with deadly intent. His rifle transformed mid-swing, though not into the delicate small sword from training. When it was all over, the enemy demolished and the Lions safely back inside the castle hanger, his fellow paladins approached him. "Whoa," Pidge said appreciatively, not restraining herself from reaching out to touch.
Lance held it up in front of him, taking in the long, sleek-looking shaft. It was light in his hand, almost alive, with metallic sides and stripes and grips, while the rest glowed a vivid metallic blue. But it definitely wasn't a fencing weapon, or any kind of sword, for that matter.
"Quarterstaff," Keith supplied, ever the expert. His lips had a certain cut to them, almost like a smile. He looked satisfied. "Or a Japanese bō."
"Dude, it's awesome," Hunk said.
"Truly impressive," Allura added, and she sounded sincere. "Especially considering this is the third form your bayard has taken, and that, once again, you are first to have it do so."
Hunk slapped Lance on the back hard enough to leave him winded. "My buddy," he said. "Bayard master."
Lance hefted his new weapon, testing the balance outside of the heat of battle. It felt good, and his shoulders lifted. It felt like the weapon of a warrior. He flashed his friends a cheeky grin. "I'm starting to figure out why Keith's always haring off like a hero in an old story. It's got an aura about it, doesn't it?"
"You're an idiot," Pidge responded, but fondly. She seemed pretty impressed with his quarterstaff, too. Space staff. How cool was that?
"You didn't look half bad out there, considering how incompetent you are with anything that doesn't have a trigger," Keith complimented him in his snarky, Keith-like way.
Normally, Lance would've taken the opportunity to retaliate, but as he stood there holding a weapon that didn't feel foreign or unnerving but like something that was part of him, he couldn't find the heart. Instead he grinned directly into that cocky – comrade, friend – bastard's face, and said, "My teacher wasn't half bad, at least when he wasn't brooding." The punch he received in return was one of Keith's softer ones, the kind he used to demonstrate comradery. Lance rubbed it anyway, just for show. "Hey. That's my sword arm."
"It's thanks to me you even have a sword arm."
"Turns out I didn't need one for this beauty!" As though by demonstration, Lance gave the staff an experimental swing, only to have it wobble in midair, the end coming dangerously close to giving Pidge head trauma. "Um, oops?"
Keith sighed. "We'll work on it."
Shiro took that moment to join them, striding across the empty space with an eager step. Lance held up the weapon for him to see as soon as he was close enough. "Shiro! What do you think?"
Shiro had a way of looking at a person that made them stand a little taller. "Well done," he said, and Lance felt his world expand – like his chest, which he couldn't help but puff out just a bit.
Author's Note: This story is pure speculation about what kind of weaponry the gang might later acquire. I'm hoping Lance ends up with something that takes advantage of his reach, but who knows? Next chapter I'm hoping to have an edgier piece ready wherein Lance gets hassled by a few of the younger Blades, but that piece has really been a struggle, so no ETA yet. Catch you later, and thank you for taking the time to leave a review!
