…Allura Day.
That's not the official name for it, but it had slipped out of Hunk's mouth at the first one, and the name had stuck within their small group.
Each impending Allura Day doesn't cause Lance to obsess over the way things have turned out for him… much… depending on one's definition of much. Okay, well, maybe his definition doesn't align with most others', but even if others can't admit it, he can: it's horrifying to think about how things have turned out, how different life would be with one little change at any given point.
What if Allura had been able to do…well, whatever it was that gave him his Altean marks and hints of mysterious untapped power sooner? Much sooner? Would he have been able to figure things out and save her the way she'd saved him long before? If nothing else, could he have joined her in taming Haggar? Could he have spared her from dying alone with the enemy? Could she have survived the attempt if he'd been able to help, even a little bit?
Even now, five years later, the power she left him leaves him confused. He can feel it thrumming just beneath his skin at times, like it wants to come out. He knows it's there, that there's something he needs to do to convince it to fully reveal itself… but Coran has long since given up on being understanding when Lance tries to talk about it with him, and the other Alteans simply don't know enough to be able to even entertain the discussion. Lance hasn't brought it up at all since one day years ago when Coran finally snapped and told him in no uncertain terms that Allura hadn't had the ability to give him "Altean powers," doing his best to politely insinuate that Lance was imagining the whole thing before bursting into a moment of devastation-fueled anger Lance would rather forget ever witnessing. Coran had apologized for the incident afterward, blaming it on having had an exceedingly bad morning with too many sad reminders of Allura before the conversation, but the fact that he'd apologized for the tone rather than the message itself spoke volumes.
It's not that he wasn't struggling at all before that day, but if Lance has to point out a specific moment that set him on his current downward spiral, it's that conversation.
Of course, it's not worth the drama of bringing it up again. He knows Coran hadn't meant to invalidate Lance, but that might be the case if Lance keeps bringing back up Coran's pain of losing Allura to discuss his own 'what if's.' So, he's kept his mouth shut on the matter since.
But it doesn't stop the eternal internal 'what if's' for Lance.
What if he'd never ended up outside on the night Shiro crash landed back on Earth? What if Hunk had convinced him to wait another twenty-four hours to sneak out for a night of team-bonding teenage rebellion?
What if he'd made more of an effort to hold their little team together? What if Lance's pushing could've been what kept them from drifting apart like they had now? …Like they had years before Voltron officially split up?
This is the particular 'what if' keeping him up tonight. Even with five years of separation, he distinctly remembers his old routine of flitting between his fellow paladins, working his magic to convince them all into group hangouts: a movie night-themed baked good request for Hunk, an exaggerated plea for techy help with the projector aimed toward Pidge, a hint of a challenge thrown at Keith, and a well-timed reminder to Shiro about the effectiveness of recreational activity to bond teammates.
Loathe as he is to admit it aloud, Lance has always been sensitive socially. If he's not directly pleading for attention—or fawning, as Dr. Jordan calls some of his self-described behaviors—he doesn't seem to be able to get anyone to notice him. He's wondered time and time again if the rest of the extinct team feels it now, but he himself has felt the rift between them from almost the beginning. They'd come together, peaked as a team soon after Shiro's disappearance, and had only gone downhill from there. Lance had felt every bit of the chasm as it inched wider all along, but no one else had ever verbalized it and so, he'd kept it to himself.
He really, truly wonders if any of them even notice it now. He sees it in the way Hunk and Pidge will still entertain a visit from him with enough advance notice but have now thoroughly proved his five-year-old hypothesis that they will never return the favor by coming to his turf, in the way each Allura Day is the only time he's seen Keith since the so-called end of the war and the way Keith has phased out even responding to texts in the time in between this Allura Day and the last one, and perhaps most of all in the way the Atlas docks within an hour of his home on a near monthly basis and Shiro has yet to stop by to see him even once.
It used to keep him up at night more than it does now until he realized that it wasn't just him… they all acted the same way with the whole team. Even Shiro and Keith—who had been damn near joined at the hip before Kerberos—just… don't interact anymore.
"Distance is difficult," his mama had stated once when he'd confided it all to her on one of his worse mental health days. He hadn't mustered the disrespect to argue against her then, but it wasn't as though distance had been so much of an issue for travelers in the past half-century. He'd learned in his grade school history classes about the dark days before off-planet travel was common and communications were entirely limited to intra-planet, but those days are long gone. Long-distance communication has been refined over decades, and while it's still a little on the pricey end, those who have the income to independently explore space can easily afford the luxury—Pidge herself just yesterday enthused with them about the technology behind her most recent communicator upgrade despite the fact that Lance hadn't heard from her for over a month before she showed up to celebrate today's anniversary.
The anniversary in question is the fifth Allura Day, and they've fallen into a somewhat comfortable pattern with it by now. Most of the team showed up yesterday afternoon to spend some extra time together, though Shiro hadn't shown up until the morning of the celebrations, and Keith had landed well after the first events. Lance is always the first to arrive, rearranging his schedule to allow him to make it to New Altea days early—"quintants," the inhabitants still correct him when he slips, much to his delight reminding him of Allura without the weight of her loss that's usually baked into the little reminders of her—to catch up with Coran in person and see how things are going with the other Alteans.
Still, Lance is grateful for the days, as bittersweet as they can be. He suspects he wouldn't have seen his old team at all since their breakup if the holiday of sorts hadn't been there to drag them all to one place. He tries to shake off that thought, to save the negativity for after the team departs and he's alone once more.
But with the main celebration over, the ex-paladins are already starting to make excuses to break off and return to their respective bases.
"Well, see you guys," Keith throws out with absolutely no warning as the sun begins to set.
"What?" Lance blurts out. "You're not serious, right? We haven't even seen the fireworks yet. Allura Day is not over until the fireworks are!"
"I'm needed on Daibazaal. I shouldn't have even been gone this long."
"Get over yourself! You already showed up two hours late, and it's not like you're not the only one handling Daibazaal. Your guys know what they're doing without you there for a couple days."
Keith splutters before Shiro surprisingly jumps to Lance's aid.
"You know, he's right. You hand-picked your team, didn't you? So, you should be able to trust them to handle things without you always being around."
"Good, great, finally someone's talking some sense!" Lance presses on before Keith can think about it. "So, we've got fireworks and then some drinking games?"
Hunk and Pidge's renewed enthusiasm is enough to make up for Keith's obvious reluctance to stay and Shiro's patented Dad Gaze of Disappointment at the implication of irresponsible drinking.
But the fireworks seem to perk even Keith up, and despite Lance's hidden worries, they transition into the drinking portion of the night strong.
"Okay, for all you sad people who spend all your time off planet and never relax, sit back and let Lancey-Lance teach you the rules of King's Cup! Everyone takes a turn drawing a card from the pile, and each card is like a mini-game. After the mini-game is over, you have to slide your card under the tab of this can, and then whoever cracks it open has to drink it."
"Easy!" Hunk chimes in. "What are the mini-games?"
"It goes by face value of the card, so a king card gets to make a rule that's in play for the rest of the game, and anyone who breaks the rule has to drink. Queen is for questions, so you have to ask questions, and the first person to say something that isn't a question has to drink. Jack is 'never have I ever.' We can go over that when we—"
"Okay, we get it," Pidge butts in. "We can just cover the rules as we pull cards. Let's drink already!"
"Geez, fine," Lance agrees as everyone settles into their places around the picnic table, adjusting the two lanterns to better light the playing space. "If you're so antsy, why don't you go first?"
Pidge reaches into the circle of cards and holds up a five.
"Five is guys!" Shiro calls out faster than Lance can, sounding more like an experienced frat boy than the trauma-riddled ex-leader Lance has come to know.
Lance ends his sip about the same time as Shiro and Hunk only to see Keith voraciously chugging his own beer while Pidge slides her card under the tab.
"Whoa, you don't have to finish it, Keith!" Hunk calls out. "Wait, are we supposed to finish our drinks every time? Lance, that sounds dangerous."
"No," Shiro assures. "No one needs to drink an entire beer at a time. No one should drink an entire beer at a time."
Crushing the empty can and tossing it into an unoccupied corner of the table, Keith smirks.
"No rule saying I can't."
"Woo, fun Keith!" Pidge exclaims, taking a sip of her own beer.
"Oh, fine, it's on!" Lance adds, unable to resist a challenge from his rival even with his (very significant, thank you very much) maturity gained since the war.
Thirty seconds later, he finishes his own drink and reaches for another.
"My turn, I guess!" Hunk announces before pulling an ace. "What's this one?"
"Waterfall! So you start drinking, and the person to your right isn't allowed to stop drinking until you do. Then it goes around the circle until it comes back around to Pidge. You don't have to stop when the person before you stops, but you can't stop until at least then… Hope you're ready, Keith."
"Keith? What about me?" Pidge asks.
"An unfortunate casualty. Okay, ready?"
Hunk is quick to end the waterfall, leaving Lance to carry on for him. Finishing his beer, Lance finally passes the burden of leading to Shiro, who immediately stops. Keith drops his empty can, and Pidge finishes with a mock-annoyed gasp… or at least, Lance hopes it's mock-annoyed. She can be evil when she really wants revenge.
"Alright, stick it under the tab so I can go," Lance instructs, Hunk hurrying to follow along.
"Four is floor," Lance explains, "so whoever touches the ground last… annnnnd it's me. You guys led me on! Does anyone actually not know the rules?"
"I don't know them," Pidge says. "But you're explaining too slowly so of course we're all stomping your ass. Now drink!"
Lance does, carefully slipping the four into the tab at the same time.
Shiro draws a two and sends the sip to Pidge.
And of course, Keith is the one to draw the next ace. He makes a show of grabbing a fresh drink.
"Not again!" Pidge complains even as she obliges by bringing her drink to her lips.
Two rapid drinks later, she isn't so understanding, but the gratitude of finally stopping seems to outweigh her ire for long enough to distract her from going off on Keith. Lance, meanwhile, has a point to prove, and if Shiro has to join Lance in going through the start of another drink to prove it, so be it.
"Please, God, someone pull a king and neutralize the aces already," Shiro begs. "For Pidge's sake."
"I'm no bitch," Pidge counters. "Bring on the waterfalls!"
Hunk and Lance cheer her on as she grabs her next card.
"Seven is…?"
"Heaven—raise your hand!" Shiro coaches. "Hunk, sorry bud, but you were last."
Hunk dutifully takes his sip and grabs his card.
"Two is…" Hunk starts, looking around and settling on Shiro, "you!"
Lance plucks another five and watches as Keith seems to relax more into the vibe of the group rather than focusing his all on competing.
"Never have I ever!" Shiro calls after the jack he draws sinks in.
The two new players follow suit of the three who know what they're doing and raise three fingers.
"Never have I ever…" Shiro starts before his eyes light up, "stolen a car."
Keith glares as he lowers a finger.
"Never have I ever learned my Mom's native language," he counters, taking out Shiro and Lance immediately.
"What if my family only speaks English?" Pidge asks.
"If you have to ask, it counts," Hunk suggests, lowering a finger of his own. "Never have I ever switched lions."
Lance can't tell if Hunk is skipping over Pidge's turn because he doesn't know the rules or because he's already tipsier than he thought, but he lets it play out without a word. A moment later, Pidge manages to recover by bringing the turn back to herself anyway.
Seeing the two closest to losing, Pidge smirks.
"Revenge," she hisses so quietly that Lance can barely make it out. "Never have I ever piloted the red lion!"
Thoroughly tipsy from the earlier competition-fueled drinks, Lance accepts his joint loss with dignity and one small sip, pointedly ignoring the intense eye contact Keith insists on making as he throws back a more liberal amount.
"Keith," Shiro prompts after sliding his card under the can. "Your turn."
And then the fucker pulls the first king, hiding it from view for a few seconds while he's clearly thinking something over. He reveals it to a chorus of groans.
"Anyone who says the word 'lion' takes a shot."
He slides his card with the other discards as Pidge snags her next one.
"What's the queen for?" she asks.
"Questions," Lance answers.
"Ha! You already told us earlier. You lose."
"What!? Well, fuck me for trying to be helpful."
Lance sips the last of his can and leans over to grab another from the Altean equivalent of a cooler while Hunk picks his card.
"Five is guys… again," he shares, and the round ends without much more of a reaction.
"Categories," Lance announces as he soaks in his ten. "Let's do… planets Voltron has been to. But first, I gotta pee."
He leaves to the tune of the table debating whether a planet only counts if Voltron had actually been formed there, and he comes back three minutes later to a downright shouting match.
"There's no pausing!" Keith is insisting, and yeah, he's definitely drunk now. "King cards apply no matter what until someone cracks the can!"
"That's not fair!" Hunk volleys back. "Pidge and I haven't played before—how were we supposed to know? She knows now, so just make her take her shot if she does it again!"
Despite the racket, Lance can tell as he gets closer that it's all in good fun from all sides and no one is actually fighting yet, though there's a definite slur developing on Keith's end.
Lance almost stops himself before he remembers that Keith is now a grown ass man who can choose how to handle his alcohol, even if he's choosing irresponsibly.
"I thought you weren't a bitch?" Lance goads as he reaches the table, not bothering to immediately take his seat. "Now you're scared of a little shot? Come on, if you pick in the next ten seconds, I won't surprise you with dealer's choice."
"Ugh, fine. Tequila," Pidge requests, flipping off an unbothered Keith.
Lance digs through their supplies and finds some, pouring two shots.
"One for you for breaking the rules," he says, handing one to Pidge before circling to Keith's side of the table, "and one for you for being an asshole about the rules."
Keith rolls his eyes but clinks his glass against Pidge's and throws back the shot with no verbal complaints.
"Keith couldn't name one planet Voltron has been to," Shiro updates Lance almost gleefully, definitely a little beyond tipsy himself. "We got him already."
"You know I'm not good with names," Keith complains while Shiro grabs his next card.
"Eight is mate! I pick Pidge."
"What's a mate?"
"If one of you drinks, the other has to drink too," Lance answers.
"So five is everyone?"
"Five is everyone," Shiro confirms, listening carefully as he slides his card under the tab.
"Two," Keith shares next. "Shiro, that's you. And you too, Pidge."
"At least it's not another waterfall," Pidge sighs before pulling her own card. "Eight, so I get a new mate already?"
"You can add someone else and make it a threesome, or you can use it to end another mate card."
"Keith, you're one of us now."
"You're gonna regret that," Shiro warns.
Keith immediately downs his open drink to Shiro's dismay as he follows suit, and Pidge visibly cycles through the five stages of grief upon realizing what she's done before chugging her own drink.
"Well, Hunk," Lance says. "At least I can still warn you, old buddy. You have to drink whenever your mate does, even if they aren't drinking in reaction to a card or a king rule. Only exception is waterfall cards to avoid waterfall-ception, of course."
"Noted."
With a suspicious amount of luck, Hunk immediately draws the second king.
"Okay, Keith isn't allowed to initiate taking more than a sip at a time except during waterfalls! And I'm being gracious by allowing the waterfalls, for the record."
"Have I ever told you I love you?" Pidge asks Hunk. "Because I so do."
The game continues without incident for awhile after Keith is banned from his heathen ways. Lance is honestly relieved to see Keith slowing down on the drinking… until he finishes his beer and switches to vodka to give his limited sips more of a punch. This man is an actual disaster, but if anyone's got the leeway to bring it up without a semi-public shouting match, it's Shiro, and Shiro's staying quiet on the matter.
The man in question has just managed to draw an eight and un-mate Keith from the threesome when Pidge draws the third king.
"Finally!" She grinned. "Now that Keith isn't our mate, I'm undoing Hunk's rule. Drink all you want, Keith-y. Just leave me out of it this time."
Soon after, Lance draws the last mate card. Eying the impressive stack underneath the beer can's tab, he holds up his eight and calls out, "Keith!" before jamming the eight more forcefully than he really has to under the tab with a resounding crack. "Looks like my mate's taking half of this!"
Surprisingly, it doesn't take any goading to get Keith to share the loss. He dutifully reaches out for the can and drains half horrifically fast before passing it over to Lance, who only puts up a small fight about the horrors that are Keith's Galran germs and finishing the can at a much more leisurely pace.
"Well, it's getting late," Shiro announces. "Curtis is probably waiting up. I've gotta check in and get some sleep."
"Me too," Keith immediately adds, extricating himself from the table on wobbly legs before gathering his share of empty cans and the remnants of the vodka bottle and wandering off presumably in search of a trash can.
"Fun suckers," Lance accuses. "You guys aren't quitting already, are you?"
"Sleep is for the weak!" Pidge answers.
"I'm down to hang," Hunk adds.
"Alright, paladin breakfast at nine tomorrow?" Shiro asks.
"Eleven," Pidge counters.
"Ten. Take it or leave it."
"Ten thirty, and I'll cook," Hunk barters.
"Okay, okay! Ten thirty, but that better include those breakfast muffins you used to make us. Night, guys."
It takes all of one minute before Hunk starts the gossip chain.
"Did Keith seem weird to you guys?"
"Keith's always weird," Lance scoffs.
"No, Hunk's right. Keith never seemed like the drinking type, and he was even worse than you tonight."
"I'm not that bad!" Lance defends. "I just know how to have fun!"
"Well, Keith doesn't! It must be going really bad with the Galra if he had to get shitfaced to stand hanging out with us."
"It was a drinking game," Lance says, struggling to place why the conversation is pissing him off so much. "It was supposed to get him to drink and stop being so uptight about his 'duties'. You guys saw it—he was seriously gonna leave after what? Eight hours with us? After a year away and no contact?"
"You know he's busy," Hunk says. "We all are. Maybe we should focus on how nice it is to have a chance to catch up instead of blaming each other for having to get back to our lives."
"I haven't seen him that bad about anything since you two got over that stupid phase of competing over everything on the castle ship," Pidge points out. "Hunk's right. Something feels off."
"Maybe we should talk to him tomorrow before he leaves. You know, show him we care about him."
"Ugh, I'm not good at the mushy stuff."
"Okay, then, game plan: I'll soften him up first, then you and Lance can take a turn, and we'll finish him off with Shiro. If anyone can, he'll know how to cinch it all together."
"Sure, okay," Lance says, covering up his indecision. On the one hand, Keith is his teammate even five years after the team breaking up, and of course he cares and wants to help him… but on the other, no one has ever noticed when Lance has needed the same help—including a brief alcoholic phase of his own, thank you very much—and here they are jumping all over Keith after one weird night that really wasn't even that weird. "But that's tomorrow. Tonight, I wanna hear what you guys have been up to for the last year."
Two hours later, thoroughly caught up on Hunk and Pidge's exploits and feeling almost sober again, Lance makes his way to the cabins the team and other off-planet guests were using.
With a long yawn on his lips, he's fully intent on a half-assed round of brushing his teeth and tumbling into his bed, but as he approaches his own cabin, it sinks in that someone else's lights are still on… Keith's. Of course.
Just leave it be, Lance, he tells himself, not looking to get into a fight over whatever feelings Hunk's concern about Keith had reawakened in him.
He listens to his inner voice, pointedly avoiding looking too closely at Keith's cabin as he passes and unlocks the door to his own, following through on his plan to brush his teeth and even managing to change into his pajamas before flicking off the lights and falling into bed, content to catch what sleep he can before tomorrow morning's team breakfast.
He would've managed it…
…if the other cabin's lights weren't shining directly into his eyes through two of his windows. Damn Altean cabins and their inexplicable lack of blackout curtains. He tries tossing an arm over his eyes, then his pillow, only to realize he can't get comfortable like this.
Huffing, he drags himself out of bed, stopping in the bathroom to fix his bedraggled hair before marching to the next-door cabin.
"Keith!" he exclaims upon finding the problem child on his porch. "It's two in the morning—turn off the damn lights already!"
"…Lansh," he says back much more calmly, albeit not correctly and with a noticeable delay in his response time. Lance is kind enough not to correct the subpar pronunciation in favor of sizing up just how drunk Keith still is after…
"You're still drunk? It's been like two hours since we lost!"
Keith holds up a sloshing bottle of liquor in answer, though what kind, Lance can't tell in the darkness of the porch, which pisses him off even more and causes his tiredness to ebb away. Why have all the lights inside turned on just to sit outside in the dark anyway!?
"So let me get this straight: you left your friends who were having a fun time drinking with you to… sit in the dark and drink alone?"
Keith shrugs with an obviously forced half-smile.
"I still don't get you," Lance admits, jumping over the three stairs and straight onto the porch, which protests with a quick squeal of shifting wood. "But if you're gonna keep drinking, you shouldn't do it alone, so how about I stick around for a bit?"
Keith doesn't protest, which realistically could be a good or a bad sign. Either he's cool with Lance hanging out, or he's finally so plastered that he's completely lost the will to argue. Too sober to be contemplating that, Lance reaches a hand over for the bottle, surprised at both the lack of resistance from Keith and the lack of weight in the bottle. Knowing he isn't going to get answers from Keith, he resigns himself to hoping the handle wasn't full when his mulleted friend found it.
He makes sure to take an especially long swig—and yep, that's vodka—in the hopes that Keith is too drunk to have the energy left to go look for a fresh bottle after running the current one dry. He sets the bottle on the ground beside his wicker-esque chair. If he's lucky, Keith will forget it's even around if he can't see it anymore.
Torn between wanting to fill the awkward silence with conversation and wanting to avoid accidentally riling up a now very drunk man who's prone to explosive anger under the best of conditions, Lance opts to do nothing in particular. He sits. He looks at the stars. He breathes in the distinct smell of the Altean grass and soil around the cabins, similar to home but not quite right. He feels a pair of eyes on him.
"You never did answer my calls," Lance finally accuses when the quiet is starting to grate on him, more matter of fact than upset anymore.
"What calls?" Keith asks after an extended silence.
"'What calls?' All the ones after you left us last Allura Day!"
"I…" Keith pauses again.
Lance doesn't fill the silence this time.
"I can't do this."
"What? We're teammates! You don't get to dip on me now!"
"No!" Keith yells a little too loudly. "I can't—this, talking, now. Too… too drunk for… this…"
He throws his hands up, clearly meaning to communicate with some sort of gesture but failing horribly.
"Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah. You're definitely shitfaced," Lance agrees. "Actually, I don't even know if you'll remember this in the morning, but you're not getting out of this talk. Tomorrow—"
Lance is interrupted by another cabin door flinging open and bouncing off the nearest wall.
"What!? What's wrong?" Hunk jumps in. "I heard yelling. Is someone hurt?"
"Nah. Sorry, Hunk," Lance apologizes on Keith's behalf, mouthing a quick, 'I've got it,' while he's turned away from Keith and praying Hunk catches it in the low light. "We're just heading to bed."
"Oh, okay, goodnight."
"Night," Keith mumbles, eyes drifting shut.
"Whoa, hey, not here. Let's get inside first," Lance suggests, reaching a hand out.
Keith doesn't seem to notice, so Lance wraps an arm around him and pulls him into a haphazard stand, guiding them into Keith's cabin.
The other man quickly goes from nearly unconscious on his feet to that horribly determined state Lance has seen so many times in the distant past, usually under more noble circumstances. In a blink, he's out of Lance's grip and fumbling after the bottle Lance had been hoping to abandon on the porch with no fanfare.
"Hey, no!" Lance says as he chases the rogue alcoholic and yanks him away from his prize before he has the chance to grasp it. "You do not need any more tonight. You're good, all done. The alcohol will still be around tomorrow if you want it then. Let's just settle down and get ready for bed now."
And as quickly as his sense of purpose had come, it's gone again. Keith slumps backward into Lance, sending them both staggering away from the door before Lance manages to correct their course.
"Keith? Hey, man, don't pass out on me yet, okay? Don't you want to put on something more comfortable? Maybe brush your teeth?"
Keith opts for a drawn-out groan over any sort of intelligible response.
"Fuck, okay, but you'd better not blame me when you're stinky and your teeth feel all nasty in the morning."
Lance sits him on the edge of his bed, propping him up as he shoves the comforter out of the way before letting Keith slide under the covers with all the coordination of a five-foot-tall toddler. He taps a finger against Keith's forehead.
"Hey. Hey," he insists until Keith's eyes slide back open. "I'm going back to my room now. You need anything before I go?"
Keith just closes his eyes and groans again.
"Hey," he repeats more insistently. "Yes or no, or I'm not leaving you alone. You good?"
"…yes," Keith finally acknowledges, acting like the simple word costs him all the energy in the world, and Lance takes the permission to beat a hasty retreat, turning the lights off on his way out the door.
Lance wakes up to pounding at his own door.
"Lance! Come on. You promised you'd be at the team breakfast. Get your ass up."
Pidge is as delightful in the mornings as ever.
"Coming!" he yells before spending another ten minutes lying in bed and contemplating his existence.
He's had worse nights for sure, but there's a definite hangover this morning… not a terrible one, though, so yay for small mercies. He finally drags himself upright and riffles through his suitcase to grab some ibuprofen—thank you, genius past Lance who expertly prepped this bag—along with his toiletries and outfit. He pops the ibuprofen and feels almost human again after a rushed shower.
"Took you long enough," Pidge immediately jabs as he steps out the front door. "Yet somehow, you're not last."
It doesn't take long for Lance to spot who he beat outside. Hunk is doubled over outside Keith's door looking queasy, and Keith himself is nowhere in sight.
"…he barfed everywhere," Hunk warns, holding back a gag of his own as Lance approaches. "I tried to help but…"
"Yeah, I get it," Lance spares him. "Is he good now?"
"I think so. He started puking again after we came to wake him up, but at least it's in the toilet instead of the bed and the floor now."
"Shiro said ten thirty," Pidge chimes in. "We should get over there sooner or later."
"Yeah, but I really don't want to leave him behind like this," Hunk says, and now that Lance is closer, he hears the sound of Keith's distant heaving punctuating the statement. "…and it doesn't sound like he's making it by ten thirty. Maybe we should just call it off."
Lance's heart pangs at the sacrifice he's about to make, but… he has to. Their little team can't afford to lose any more time together.
"You two just go," Lance suggests. "I'll stay with Keith. He and I were supposed to catch up one-on-one before he left today anyway."
Hunk gives him one of those Hunk-y looks of his that tells Lance he'd be saying so much more aloud if it were just the two of them.
"You're sure?" he finally asks instead. "I know you love team breakfasts."
Lance's heart constricts again at the revelation that Hunk still thinks about what Lance loves.
"Yeah, I'm sure," he says without outwardly acknowledging the bittersweet feeling. "Plenty more team breakfasts in our future, right?"
"Yeah, man," Hunk promises. "Maybe everyone can stick around for dinner tonight before we leave too. I've got this new recipe I've been wanting to try."
Lance wistfully watches as he and Pidge take him up on his offer to enjoy team breakfast without him. He braces himself to enter the cabin and check on Keith…
…and immediately finds new respect for Hunk. The Hunk Lance used to know wouldn't have survived even peaking his head into the mess of a cabin awaiting him immediately past the entrance. Lance himself only holds back a visible reaction from years of practice with his sick siblings, nieces, and nephews, but this is definitely near the top of his mental list of grossest moments of his life. Hunk wasn't exaggerating; everywhere Lance looked, he seemed to spot more vomit—most obviously splattered across the bedding, but also trailing toward the bathroom, the front door, the back door, a scattered array of the clothes Lance vaguely recalled Keith wearing last night, and Keith's bag. Lance tries to push the sympathy nausea aside as he makes his way toward the bathroom, finding the door not even fully closed and doing nothing to dampen the sound of Keith's unproductive gagging.
"Keith?" Lance announces. "I'm coming in, making sure you're still alive."
"I wish I wasn't," Keith answers weakly after catching his breath.
"Yeah, well, maybe next time, don't try to drink a handle of vodka on your own."
"I didn't—" Keith fails to defend himself from the blatantly true accusation when he's interrupted by another heave. "Didn't…"
"Might as well have," Lance says, stepping into the room and pointedly ignoring the stench of vomit and the mess Keith had made of this room in particular, unfortunately not hidden well enough by the darkness of the room now that the open door is letting in the cabin's ambient light. He's lost most of his clothes since Lance last saw him, reduced to only his boxers and his left sock, and he's shaking. "You had it down to a couple shots by the time I found you."
Keith eases back and lays his forehead against the edge of the bathtub.
"I don't remember that," he admits to the tub. "Weren't we… weren't we playing with beer?"
"We were, but someone snuck off after one round and apparently moved on to liquor on his own."
"Sounds dumb."
"No argument here. You think you're ready to get up?"
Keith starts to shake his head no but seems to think better of continuing the movement, stopping to sling an arm over his stomach instead.
"Okay, okay. Just hang on then," Lance says as he steps out of the room to dig through Keith's bag for a change of clothes, coming up emptyhanded and popping his head back into the bathroom. "Where are your clean clothes?"
"Uhh…"
"Right, you weren't planning to stick around with us."
Lance tries to hold the bitterness back from his tone. Catching the look on Keith's face, he can tell he failed.
"Forget it," Lance amends. "I packed extra anyway. Might be a little big on you, but better than nothing, right? Wait right here."
Lance takes longer than strictly necessary picking through what remains in his own bags, needing the moment to push down the unexpected upset and appreciating the fresh air in his own cabin after the past few minutes in Keith's.
Walking back into the horror scene next door, Lance tenaciously fights to find a clean space to set the clothes before returning to Keith.
"Alright, here's the plan," he announces. "You're going to take a bath while I try to clean up. Then you're going to decide if you're up to crashing the team breakfast a little late or if you want me to smuggle out a couple of plates, but we're definitely getting something in your stomach if you want to feel better anytime soon."
"You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do. Teammates take care of each other, and your hungover ass isn't up for cleaning or unassisted self-care. Now, give me a 'Thank you, Lance, for being the best teammate and taking care of me after I grossed everyone else out and almost made some of them puke,' and we can get moving."
"…Thanks, Lance."
"You forget the rest, mullet? Guess you can practice and try again later. For now, bathtime."
Lance steps out but waits right outside long enough to ensure he hears Keith strip down and draw the shower curtain before starting the faucet. Satisfied, he starts in on the rest of the disaster zone, opening every window as wide as he can before bundling up the cleaner parts of the soiled bedding into a makeshift mop for the worst of the floor. The clothes look beyond being worth salvaging until Lance realizes Keith's favorite old jacket was among the wreckage. Cringing, he nudges it to relative safety with his shoe, but the rest of the clothes are mercilessly dumped in the far corner to be dealt with—ideally, trashed—later.
It doesn't look perfect, but it's passable by the time he remembers he should check in and make sure Keith hasn't managed to drown himself. He kicks the now thoroughly ruined sheets on top of the clothes pile to deal with later.
"You clean yet?" he asks at the door, avoiding looking toward the bathtub. The bathroom's still a mess, but it doesn't feel right to come in and clean next to his naked teammate.
"Huh? Oh. Yeah."
"Okay, I'm leaving a towel and some clothes here for you. I'll be right back with food, and then we can eat outside, get away from… this. I've got my phone—just call if you need me to rush back."
Lance hears the bathtub start draining and moves on in his mission to collect food.
"Hey, Lance," Shiro greets as Lance steps into a cabin larger than his own, with its own full-sized kitchen to boot. The perks of traveling with a partner, Lances supposes.
"Where's Keith?" Hunk asks from said kitchen, and Lance shoves down another pinch of pain as he heads over to the sink to thoroughly wash his hands after the morning's delightful activities thus far.
"Getting out of the shower, but still not doing too great. I was hoping to pick up some grab and go breakfast for us so he doesn't have to be in all the noise with everyone together."
"Yeah, no problem. Almost everything is ready if you want to start a plate now."
"What's wrong with Keith?" Shiro asks.
"Battling the worst hangover in the history of hangovers," Pidge supplies.
"I've never seen so much puke in my life," Hunk adds. "And that's saying something."
Shiro moves as if to get up from his seat next to Curtis on the loveseat, but Lance holds up a hand.
"I'm already on it, so you can relax. He doesn't need even more of an audience than he's already had so far today, and you don't want to see what he did to that poor, innocent cabin… Maybe give Coran a head's up about the room if you see him, though. Hunk's really not exaggerating."
It only serves to prove Lance's long-running internal point more when Shiro actually listens. He never would've done that in their Voltron days. He probably would've been the one to find Keith in the first place, long before anyone else would've realized anything was off.
"Thanks, guys. I'm heading back over there," Lance says, grabbing the two plates before anyone else can chime in about Keith's behavior.
He finds Keith on the porch where he'd found him the night before, though this time he looks less sloshed and more irritated or maybe nauseated by the sunlight, or perhaps it's by life in general. The abandoned liquor bottle is nowhere in sight, no doubt liberated by another opportunistic group celebrating the anniversary.
"Eat up," Lance orders, setting one plate in Keith's lap.
Despite his still-possibly-on-the-verge-of-barfing expression, Keith obeys without a fight.
"So…" Keith starts once their plates are nearly empty. "I guess I remember a little more than I thought. I owe you a conversation, right?"
"I mean, it's the least I can ask in return for mopping up three hundred square feet of your puke this morning, yeah."
"Shit. Right. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. Just… clue me in here. What's going on? You're going on a wild bender the only time you see us, you're not returning my calls, and even Shiro doesn't seem to be in steady contact with you these days."
"I don't know," Keith starts before shaking his head, and Lance can tell he feels a little better by the way he doesn't have to hold back a gag from the movement this time. "Or I do know maybe. It's all… a lot, recently."
"On Daibazaal?"
"Well, yeah, but not just that. There's always something going on there that needs my input, and it's… it's good to feel needed, but I never feel wanted, you know?"
And Lance does know. He's cataloging this into his box of confusing feelings even now, seeing how it fits so well into his own situation as well.
Keith sighs but keeps going, like he can't stop now that he's started.
"It just feels like… like… like I have to work myself to exhaustion so I don't have to think about it, and I don't know what to do when there's no work… like when I'm here… Anyway, the calls, right, yeah. My communicator died, and I thought about replacing it, but it was like it turned into an extension of the whole 'not being wanted' thing by then. I'd get calls all the time to come solve someone else's problems, and I knew if I replaced it, it would just be the same. It was one less avenue for anyone to get to me, so it made sense."
"You could've at least said something."
"Yeah, I guess. I figured no one would notice anyway, and everyone knows they can contact me by going through the Blade."
"Well, newsflash: some of us noticed!"
"I'm starting to get that, but like I said, everyone knows they can contact me through the Blade. I guess… I guess I'm confused why you didn't if you really wanted us to talk."
"Why didn't I—!? Why—!? Keith! Look at it from my perspective! You stopped responding with no explanation whatsoever! I thought you were purposefully ignoring my calls! Why would I try to bother you through another line if I thought you were pissed at me!?"
"Why would I ignore your calls for a year? You think I hold a grudge that long? Obviously, I wasn't getting them."
"Well, then, why wouldn't you notice I went from calling or texting every week to not at all?"
"This is stupid. We're going in circles," Keith says instead of blowing up and fully engaging in the argument the way a part of Lance wants him to.
What happened to him being able to effortlessly push all of Keith's buttons even when he wasn't trying to?
"Yeah," Lance agrees. "What are we going to do about it?"
Keith huffs.
"I'll replace the damn phone."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It'd be nice to have someone who wants to talk without trying to get something out of me again."
"At your service. And… about needing to basically work yourself to death, I'm guessing the alcohol brain maybe took away what Shiro told you yesterday."
Keith's brows draw down as he makes the conscious effort to remember.
"Probably, yeah."
"Well, I'm gonna repeat it, or well, summarize it because I may have also had a little too much last night. You were saying you couldn't even stay for the fireworks, which is like the main event! And I told you to get over yourself, which my bad, by the way. Obviously, I didn't know then how much it was stressing you out, but moving on—I said that they can get along without you for a bit, and Shiro totally backed me up, so that's how you know I'm right on this. He basically said that you picked your team yourself and you've gotta trust them to handle things when you're away."
"I trust my team," Keith defends. "There's just so much to get done."
"And it doesn't all have to get done at top speed, not if it's stressing you out like this. I'm sure everyone would rather finish things a little slower if it means they can see you taking a goddamn break and taking care of yourself in general. All I'm saying is you should be getting off-planet for fun more than eight hours a year."
They lapse into silence, though it's anything but idle for Lance as the conversation sinks in.
Keith solved one of his problems… by talking to Lance.
Surely it can't be that easy. Lance's problems are different from Keith's. This is completely different, right?
…it's not.
Aw, shit. Dr. Jordan is going to think he's such a dumbass for taking this long to figure out that he needs to sit down and actually use the tools he's learned to talk about his problems with the people involved.
Well, with that embarrassing realization over with, no time to start like the present.
"Actually, let's talk about me now," Lance pivots, steeling himself. "I feel abandoned when you and everyone else don't make an effort to talk to me."
"We're talking right now?" Keith asks more than states with that—not adorable, not adorable, not adorable—confused, scrunched up look on his face again.
"Yes, and it's nice, right? So we should be doing it more than once a year."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay. We already covered this. I like talking to you, so I'm getting another phone and we can go back to doing that."
"But I want to do it more than before."
"Sure, let's figure out a schedule."
"And I want us to visit each other."
"Alright. Like you and me? Or the whole team?"
And it really is that easy.
With all the negative feelings off both their chests, they fall into lighter topics of conversation as Keith picks at the last of his plate. It's not long before the other ex-paladins start flowing out of Shiro's cabin, and Lance works up the nerve to ask Pidge for a one-on-one conversation of their own.
Now's as good a time as any, especially with the look Shiro is aiming at Keith blatantly telegraphing his desire to check in, so Lance bids Keith goodbye—"But don't you dare leave the planet before we say goodbye for real," he threatens as he steps off the porch—and blurts out his request to a surprised Pidge.
Pidge is surprisingly amenable to breaking off on their own and instructs him to wait outside for a second. As it turns out, out of everyone, she's the one who'd thought ahead to rent a vehicle while they were there so they could get around if need be. Apparently, it'd already come up at team breakfast, but of course, Lance had been a little preoccupied with the hot mess next door at the time.
"Get in," Pidge commands after pulling around to his cabin without a glance at him, waiting for his seatbelt to click in place before taking off out of the city center and toward what Lance knows to be the coast from the extra time he's spent exploring before and after the celebrations for the past five years.
"Okay, so we're alone now," Pidge encourages after an uncomfortably silent two minutes of driving. "Why are you acting weird about Keith? Did you finally recognize your big, gay crush? Don't worry, I could tell just seeing you with him last night and this morning."
"What!? I do not have a crush on Keith!"
"Cool, cool, cool, still in denial. That's fine. I'll just ignore that look that was all over your hopeless romantic face too. So what's bugging you, then?"
"I'm not in denial! He's just some guy! Literally just a guy!"
"Uh huh… and I'm sure you have a weird obsession with competing with every 'just some guy' you know even though I've literally never witnessed that fuckery with anyone but Keith."
"Ugh! Shut up, Pidge. You don't know what you're even talking about."
Sensing the mood, Pidge obliges despite her obvious ongoing gremlin urges.
It takes Lance another minute or two to pluck up the courage to start the conversation he knows he needs to have, but it somehow helps that Pidge's eyes are stuck on the road and not him.
"It's not even about Keith… okay, well, not just Keith. It's all of you," Lance says. "If I'm not the one to call or message first, none of you even talk to me. It's been a whole year since the last time we met up, and this was the first time in a year I've heard anything from Keith. I don't even know what Shiro's up to anymore, but he's clearly too busy to answer half my messages, and I've visited you and Hunk, but neither of you have bothered to come see me even once since… you know."
"Oh. I'm sorry? I didn't realize you wanted us to come back… I just kind of thought you would want to join in on a trip to another planet with me instead of—I don't know—hanging around the same place you usually are."
"That's not what I meant. I like seeing what you're doing and I want that to keep happening, but I also… I don't know either. I wish you guys cared as much about seeing my life as I care about keeping up with yours. I have family, you know? I've wanted you guys to meet them, and my friends I've made since I came back too, but every time I'm trying to invite anyone, I get the whole 'I'm so busy' vent or you guys ghost me."
They fall into silence with Lance still feeling incomplete about it all. Seemingly settling on a spot, Pidge pulls over on the side of the road and cuts the engine. They're nowhere near any of the beach access points Lances knows of, but they have a nice view of the ocean from their makeshift cliffside parking spot. He even recognizes a few of the varieties of flowers around them from the set he grows at home. If the moment weren't so heavy, he'd tell Pidge all about them, see if there was any overlap with the ones her mom studies in her lab.
"I'm not trying to pick a fight," Lance picks up before she can, "but I know you and Hunk both come back to see your families sometimes. It hurts knowing you're maybe a thirty-minute ride away, and you still don't stop by. Or even if you just wanted to shoot me a text, I would've come to you, but instead I get nothing or you don't mention it until weeks after you've already left."
"Okay, first of all, I plan those trips specifically to get my mom to crawl out of my ass. They're not something I think about turning into a whole thing because I'm only coming here to keep her and my dad happy. I love them, but I'd be happier swinging by once or twice a year instead of every other month. Second, if I'm venting about being busy, that doesn't mean I can't fit you in if you want me to visit. And third… okay. Yeah. Yeah, you're right. That's not how it meant for it to be, but I can see why you'd take it that way. That was kind of a dick move, huh?"
"I wouldn't go that far," Lance concedes. "Maybe leave it at 'inconsiderate.'"
"Okay, okay. Inconsiderate, sure. Good descriptor. But you're right. I literally didn't think about any of it at all—it was an autopilot kind of thing to get my family off my back. But we've talked about it now, so I could… I could let you know when I'm coming in before I come from now on? I'm not saying I'll have time to hang out every time, but I'll give you a head's up so we can talk about potential plans."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. It's not like that's hard. I just needed to know it was something you wanted, but it's no problem now that I know."
"Holy shit. So we could've fixed this five years ago?"
"Yup, communication goes a long way. It'd go an even longer way if you used some on Keith to share your big, gay crush already. Bet he'd invite you to go see Daibazaal and make out if he knew."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, gremlin."
"Is that any way to talk to someone you just begged to hang out with you?"
"When she's a complete monster who makes shit up? Yes. Now switch me sides—I know the fast way to get us down on that beach."
The successful conversation with Pidge makes it easier for him to come up with his plan of attack for Hunk and Shiro as she drives them back to their lodging.
It helps to know he's halfway through… or maybe less, because he should really talk to Coran about that conversation he's been afraid to bring back up. He brushes that problem off into the "later" pile, rationalizing that his relationship with Coran is less strained than his relationships with the paladins had gotten. There are only so many difficult conversations one man can handle over a handful of days, and Lance has nothing but time and motivation to come back for another later visit to Altea to handle that particular conversation.
So, Hunk and Shiro. Shiro and Hunk. That's all that's left for him to get through today, and it's only… He snaps back to reality, feels the wind in his hair as he takes in the rapidly passing scenery and gages that it's mid-afternoon. Perfect. Plenty of time for two more hard talks.
As luck would have it, Shiro is outside as they pull back up to the cabins, sitting in the same chair on Keith's porch that Lance had abandoned hours ago, with Keith nowhere in sight. Shiro first, then.
He waits for Pidge to wander off to do whatever Pidge-y things she's wont to do before approaching Shiro.
"Where's he at?"
"My couch," Shiro answers as Lance settles into the other chair. "I'm not sure he got any sleep last night. He can't remember much of anything from what I could gather."
"He was pretty much passed out by the time I got him in bed around two, so he must've gotten some."
"Hopefully. Thanks for that, by the way. I feel like I should've known something would happen with the way he was acting, but... I took the easy path this time."
"It's not your fault," Lance says, unconsciously jumping to the easier answer before reconsidering. "…but I really think you need to work on rebuilding your relationship. He'll never be the one to say it, so I will: he needs you in his life."
"I know."
And then Lance does the unthinkable—he questions his past leader.
"You know? How can you know and not be doing anything about it? Can't you see how badly he's doing?"
Shiro looks less shocked than Lance feels hearing the words slip out of his own mouth.
"If it were that simple, I would've. You can't always put everyone above yourself, Lance. I needed time to recover from it all, and until this morning, I thought Keith had other people to pick up the slack in supporting him while I stepped back. I never would've left him to himself if I'd known what was going on."
"But you know now?"
"Yes, and we had plenty of time to talk about it today before I sent him to bed. We're working on it."
"Good."
"Yeah, it is… Sounds like you beat me to it, though."
Lance looks over to Shiro.
"I guess, but not really. It's not the same. He doesn't need me like he needs you… Really, I asked because I need him… I mean, I need all of you."
And he promptly looks away again upon seeing the knowing look on Shiro's face after dealing with Pidge's badgering about his non-existent feelings for Keith all afternoon. Yet he doesn't correct himself.
"I don't think you'd believe that if you got to know him better, at least from what I remember. We've all changed, but some things never go away completely."
And with that puzzling statement, Shiro heads off with the excuse of checking on the unconscious man in question.
Lance takes the chance to get his own cabin in order in preparation for his planned departure tomorrow morning. As always, he'll be the last of the ex-paladins to leave. Knowing how the last four years have gone, the rest of them will all make their excuses to leave tonight.
Keith definitively would've been long gone if not for the brutal hangover.
With his cabin clean, his suitcase packed, and that thought in mind, Lance makes one last trip over to Keith's quarters, ducking in only long enough to retrieve the jacket he knows Keith would never leave behind.
The sentimental value doesn't outweigh its current condition, however. Lance dangles the jacket as far from himself as possible as he walks it back over to his cabin to give it as good a wash and scrub as he can in the bathroom sink with the guest toiletries.
He's hanging it over the porch railing to dry when he spots Hunk.
"Hunk! Let's talk."
"Sure thing, buddy. I actually need to get started on dinner. You wanna be sous chef tonight?"
And isn't that a change from everything he'd known during their Voltron days? Hunk had hated having other chefs in the kitchen on the castle ship, struggling to tell them to get out of his way and stick to sampling the food like he preferred. Lance remembers it well because he was the one Hunk would vent to in private after each incident.
"Are you sure? I'd probably get in your way."
"No big deal, we're not in a rush."
"Okay, well that's great to hear, but—" Lance lowers his voice. "—that was also an excuse to have this conversation one-on-one. It's personal, not a group thing."
"Oh. Oh! That's okay! I need to pick up a few ingredients before we really start anyway. Come with me, and we can talk while we do that instead. You're still my sous chef though, right? It was killer doing all the work myself this morning."
"Sure," Lance agrees as they set off toward the marketplace even though both of them know full well that Lance will be more of a hindrance than a help in the kitchen with the caliber of meal Hunk surely has in mind.
They arrive back absolutely loaded down with groceries, far more than what Lance thinks they should need for one dinner, but what does he know?
He mentally thanks past Lance as they approach the cabin, reviewing the conversation and confirming he never would've been able to get those exact words out with an audience in the next room. Even having the locals passing by as they talked had been nerve-wracking, and there had been plenty of tears and apologies on both sides, especially when Lance realized his own past reactions had contributed to Hunk pulling away.
But it feels better now that they've acknowledged everything between them, and they're heading back to a cabin full of teammates who are hopefully just as ready as Lance is to start fresh.
Pidge makes an exaggerated shushing noise when they open the front door and points toward one of the couches where a blanket burrito lies with one end in Shiro's lap while Shiro reads on his tablet.
They shut up per the request, though Lance can tell how hard Keith is sleeping as they pass by and he catches sight of the thoroughly disheveled mullet peeking out and a large enough puddle of drool growing on Shiro's lap that he must feel it by now even though he's not reacting whatsoever. Something tells him there's nothing short of a natural disaster that could wake Keith in this moment… or could move Shiro, for that matter, judging by the way he's only barely moving the hand holding his tablet to scroll as he reads, the rest of him almost stock-still in fear of jostling Keith at all.
They get the groceries unloaded into the weird Altean fridge and the relatively normal cabinets—and isn't that a throwback to the early Voltron days—before their primary directive becomes incapacitating.
"Sorry, Pidge, but I need to be able to talk to get my sous chef to keep us on schedule for dinner. Unless you want to go to bed hungry…"
"In that case, he's had plenty of time to nap," Pidge corrects. "Don't you dare cancel my dinner—I'm starving."
"Besides," Lance kicks in, "look at him. He is out whether we're talking in the kitchen or not. Bet he sleeps through dinner if no one purposefully tries to wake him."
"Man, I remember on the castle ship, there was no way anyone could sneak up on Keith when he was napping without waking him up," Hunk reminisces. "Just look at him now."
"That's personal growth, baby," Lance says.
"Hey! Only Shay gets to call me that," Hunk jokes at the same time as Pidge comments, "Oh, is that what we're calling rampant alcoholism now?"
Shiro zeroes in on the latter.
"Hey, drop it. He had one bad night. How would you like it if people made jokes about your worst moments while you weren't around to defend yourself?"
Pidge has enough shame to look apologetic.
"I didn't mean it like that…"
"That's good to hear, but maybe we should think our words through a little better for the time being so we don't offend our friends when they're already not feeling their best. I think we could all use some more support these days."
It's weird to hear Shiro put the official leader voice back on after so long, weirder still to hear him acknowledge the team's problems after they'd all kept quiet on the matter for years, but he drops it as fast as it came once he decides that Pidge took his words to heart. He loses the serious look after a minute and goes back to his tablet as Pidge settles in at one of the barstools at the counter to watch Hunk masterfully complete his steps of each dish and side while Lance prays he won't be asked to do anything more complicated than cutting some vegetables for the salad.
The atmosphere stays awkward after the disagreement even though it seems that both sides have understood the other and are trying to move on. Lance throws himself into cutting those vegetables for want of as good an escape as he can get without physically leaving the room.
It goes this way for a while, no one picking up the dropped conversation until…
"Ha, you lost the bet," Pidge says, head turned toward the couch.
Lance follows her gaze to see a bleary-eyed Keith clearly struggling to remember where he is, yet to even recognize his own drool.
"Guess I did," Lance admits with a shit-eating grin. "Too bad we didn't set any terms, so there's nothing for me to lose!"
"Oh, you would cheat," Pidge accuses before lowering her voice so only Lance can hear the rest. "…bold choice after I already told you I saw the way you look at him though. You know I also saw you hugging him outside last night and putting him to bed when he was out of it, right? Who can say whether I captured the moment for posterity? Bet he'd find all of that realllll interesting…"
"You wouldn't!" Lance yells without thinking.
"Why, what are you yelling about, Lance?" Pidge asks at regular volume. "I wouldn't what?"
Lance scowls, only relaxing when he realizes Shiro is thoroughly focused on a hushed conversation with the now-conscious Keith and Hunk is captivated by the roux he's working on.
Hunk spares him further discomfort by calling out his next round of instructions. Lance spots Shiro leading Keith further into the cabin while he digs through the cabinets for the ingredients Hunk requested, and Shiro comes back alone after a moment, just in time for Curtis to show up loaded down with drinks.
The kitchen quickly goes from cozy to packed as Shiro and Curtis decide to tag team putting all the drinks away, though it morphs from a fun affair to more of a hurried attempt to hide the potential triggers once Shiro gives Curtis the recap of the recent Keith saga. Lance rushes to deplete the list of tasks Hunk trusts him to handle so he can finally throw aside the spare apron and circle around the island to pull up another barstool and join in on watching funny videos on Pidge's communicator rather than accidentally pushing Hunk's boundaries on having all these useless bodies in the kitchen. A man can change, but Lance won't believe in a complete recovery until he sees it for himself.
Keith returns to the main cabin area after a while, bedhead corrected, freshly showered, dressed in what must be some of Shiro's clothes judging by how loosely they fit his frame, and looking much less confused about where he is than he had earlier. He stands awkwardly at the end of the hallway just watching everyone long enough for Lance to realize he probably needs an invitation to join in now that he's conscious.
"Mullet! Pidge is one of those madmen who actually pays for unlimited roaming data. Come make it worth her investment and watch funny videos with us."
And the hesitant—almost fearful now that Lance thinks about it—look drops off his face just like that. Only a few minutes pass huddled together over the small screen before Hunk is ushering them outside to the table where they'd drank and talked the previous night away, ordering each of them to transport a dish or a stack of plates so they can make it all in one trip.
"Coran!" Hunk calls out once they're outside. "I see you over there. Don't think you're skipping out on team dinner!"
"I would never, Number Two! Apologies, the festivities are always more of an effort than I recall from the last time. I'd been hoping to catch up with you all sooner. Not to worry, though! All is taken care of now!"
They all settle in for the meal, trading light back and forth conversation and sending plenty of compliments Hunk's way throughout.
"Don't forget me!" Lance chides in jest after a few rounds of the compliments despite fully agreeing with them all and easily topping the leaderboard for Hunk's Biggest Hype Man of the night, setting out to one-up every bit of praise hurled his way. "Who do you think expertly assembled these salads?"
Shiro waits for the ensuing racket to die down before responding.
"In all seriousness, Lance brings up a good point," he starts. "I know we've all been having some heavy conversations during this trip, and I think it's for the best that we get everything left out in the open tonight."
A chorus of hesitant assent flows around the table.
"I might as well start," Shiro offers. "I've come to realize recently that the way I've behaved has been giving the impression that I'm no longer invested in this team or that I've forgotten everyone, which is not what I meant to do by stepping away. I needed to take that step back when it all became too much, and I won't apologize for taking care of myself, but I wish that I had done a better job of communicating that things were getting overwhelming before it happened. I wish that I had stayed in better contact with all of you during the recovery process. Even though I've moved in a direction that's been much better for me, you're all still family, and I couldn't have gotten through everything without you guys."
Unexpectedly, Coran follows up with a speech of his own.
"I too must apologize. I took pride in being able to advise you all as paladins, and I have also not been as… present as I perhaps should have been."
He shudders on the breath he takes during a brief pause.
"After we lost Allura, I didn't know what to do with myself. I fear I lost much of all of our relationships in the deca-phoebs I was actively in mourning. I… did not speak kindly to some of you when you reminded me of the princess during that time, and I neglected staying in contact with everyone, and for that I apologize. I hope that you all know it was not a reflection on you in any way but a personal failing on my own part, and I will be better going forward."
"I guess it's my turn," Hunk says after a brief silence. "I understand exactly what you mean, Shiro. I've been focusing on myself since we all split up, and that's a good thing. But talking with Lance today made me realize that I've swung too far the other direction. I was trying to make myself a priority after putting myself at the bottom my whole life, but I got so focused on myself, I didn't leave room for my other priorities, and you guys are all among those. I literally didn't realize this was happening until I heard an outside view on it, so I'll try harder, but I need you guys to be willing to let me know when I'm not prioritizing you well enough, and I need everyone to realize that things won't be exactly the same as they used to be when I wasn't considering myself the way I deserve to."
"Well, since my name came up, I'll go next," Lance volunteers. "Talking to you guys today, I realized I should've communicated better too. There were things some of us talked about today that were bothering me for years, and a part of me may have assumed bad intent where there was none, which you know, happens! And will continue to happen, probably, but I should've brought it up and tried to talk about those things instead of letting them drive us apart."
"I'm an asshole sometimes," Pidge adds. "You guys know me. It's not on purpose, but sometimes I don't realize how it sounds until after it comes out of my mouth. I've tried to stop that, and it doesn't seem particularly effective. I'd prefer if you all tell me when I'm upsetting you when it happens so I don't keep accidentally hurting you. I'm not saying it's going to happen any less, but if you ask me to clarify anything, obviously I will. I… care about you guys, so please don't let me hurt you without even knowing."
Everyone turns to Keith, who's been his normal quiet self during the meal thus far. Lance notes how easily he flushes under the weight of six expectant gazes.
"We all know I'm an asshole sometimes too, just to get that out of the way, but I haven't been in contact with anyone to even have to worry about being that way for a while now, so I guess that's what I'm actually sorry about. I… Opening up to people has never gone well for me, and it's hard to rely on other people because of that, so I've avoided it as much as I can… but living like that… it's not a life worth having. So, I'll try to count on you guys more if you'll still have me."
"Of course we'll still have you," Lance surprises himself by blurting out. "You think you can get rid of us that easy?"
The team descends into loud chatter again before Shiro calls them to order once more.
"I'm glad to see how things have turned out," he calls over the din, "but I think we need to establish some ground rules to stick to from now on. First, we should all feel free to take a little time after negative interactions or events, but we will always have a discussion about it once everyone has calmed down. Second, we're all going to casually check in more often. We may be galaxies away from each other, but we can still communicate consistently. And final rule: starting next year, Allura Day is a week-long event for all of Team Voltron. Schedule it as far ahead as you have to in order to make that happen because we will be seeing each other for more than a couple hours a year from now on. Any other suggestions?"
Pidge raises her hand.
"One more rule: no booze ever again."