Lance's feet tapped against the back wall of his bed while his head hung off the side of it, blood pooling in the top of his head and making his cheeks flush. Keith paced up and down the length of Lance's room, rambling on and on about how he fixed up his father's hoverbike, about every issue it had, and all he did to get it running.

Lance listened quietly as he crocheted a small stuffed animal in his hands with soft lilac yarn, humming when appropriate. Keith's eyes were often stuck to either the ceiling or his socked feet as he moved back and forth, his hair pushed back by a headband, fluffing his bangs up to flare widely on top of his head. The purple facemask on his face was drying slowly, hardening on his face and tightening against his skin, as Lance's own red mask was.

Keith eventually reached a lull in his explanation, pausing to simply breathe and Lance took the opportunity to speak, "When we get back to Earth, you should take me for a ride." He could hear Keith turn to look in his direction, but he kept his eyes on his craft, "Last time was fun but terrifying. I'd be fine driving off a cliff with you if we weren't being chased by the government."

"Being chased by the government is half the fun," Keith responded, "but if you want it to be boring, who am I to judge?"

"A bitch," Lance answered his rhetorical question.

"Exactly," Lance caught sight of Keith throwing his arm out to gesture to Lance with his hand, "and I'm not a bitch."

"Eh, debatable," Lance shrugged a shoulder.

"Fair, but you've said worse things than me," Keith countered.

"I keep those thoughts in my head though, you say it to people's faces."

"It's respect!"

"It's really not."

"If someone's being an asshole, I'm gonna tell them. Everyone should want to work to be the best version of themselves. If I don't call people out then they'll continue to be shitty people."

Lance sighed, "You could say it nicely."

"Then my words wouldn't carry the weight they should." Keith continued his pacing as that small conversation came to an end. He walked in silence for a bit as he thought back to where he left off before continuing. The small purple animal in Lance's hands formed quickly and before long he had a purple ball that Lance stitched little face details into with different colored threads. Its eyes were crossed and its mouth was uneven. Lance never loved anything more.

Keith sat on the bed next to Lance and sighed, "It's an awesome hoverbike."

Lance smiled, "I know it is. It runs amazingly and sounds even better. You should be proud of it."

"I am. That's why I've been talking so much about it." Keith said it like it was obvious.

Lance huffed a slight laugh, "That's fair. I don't think I've ever heard so many words from you at once." He squeezed the lilac animal in his hands before holding it out for Keith, "Here, happy birthday."

"My birthday's in October." Keith responded though his gaze was stuck on the animal in curiosity, "What is it?"

"First, we're in space and time is relative, so it's your birthday." Lance held up one finger and then another, "Second, I'm offended. Isn't it obvious?"

"No." Keith shook his head.

"Yeah, I don't know either. I was hoping you'd know what it looked like."

Keith finally reached out and took the offered animal. He opened his mouth to respond, but the second his fingers brushed against the yarn, he stopped. His fingers began to run over the woven yarn in reverence, "Holy shit…is this the yarn from that shop? The, uh, what's it called? Yaxen something?" Lance nodded proudly, "I didn't know you bought it." He whispered.

Lance hummed, "It feels nice and it's pretty and, honestly, didn't cost as much as it should've. It was a steal." He held out a finger to rub against the yarn poking out between Keith's grip on it.

Keith laughed softly, cracking the purple mask on his face, "Were you serious? This is for me?"

"Yeah," Lance nodded as best he could with his head still hanging off the edge of the bed, "you liked the feel of the yarn so I bought it to make you a gift. This isn't the gift, by the way. This is, like, the pre-gift."

Keith's resulting smile was sweeter than Lance was anticipating and he was glad he had a face mask to cover the resulting flush, "Thank you," Keith said softly, gratitude and awe coating every word, "I love…this…hippo."

Lance barked a startled laugh, "A hippo?" He rested his hand on Keith's arm and gently rubbed at the skin there in reassurance that he wasn't mocking, "Why is everything a hippo to you?"

Keith's smile was a bit sheepish now, but never dull, "Not everything is a hippo to me. It's not my fault that anything can look like a hippo." He held up the purple blob, "Look at this and tell me it doesn't sorta look like a hippo."

Lance stared at the lumpy lilac ball of yarn and sighed in resignation, "It sorta looks like a hippo." He granted. Keith seemed pleased and remained sitting on his bed, hands brushing over the stuffed "hippo". Lance's gaze trailed over the cracks in Keith's mask, most of them stemming from the gap Lance left around his mouth to allow him to breathe and speak. Lance brought his hand up from Keith's arm and poked gently at the hardened mask on his face, "They're almost ready to take off."

Keith looked down at him, gaze flickering to his hovering hand for a heartbeat. Lance pulled his hand back and Keith watched his retreat. He gave a nod but didn't make to get up. Lance moved his eyes from Keith's down to his gift. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up into a sitting position, "We should commemorate Bartholomew's existence." Lance sat still for a moment as he went lightheaded and his vision went black.

"Bartholomew? Nevermind." Keith sighed, then asked, "How would we- Oh, the camera? Here, I'll get it."

Lance stared into the void and listened to the rustling as Keith stood from his bed, "Do you even know where the camera is?"

"Yep!" Keith sounded like he was across the room, "You put it on the top shelf of your wardrobe."

"Why would I put it there?" Lance blinked and light slowly filtered in through the shadows, "That makes no sense."

"We were trying on clothes, remember? On the last set of outfits we did, you placed the camera in your wardrobe so we could hang the clothes back up and then you just left it there." Keith explained as he walked back to Lance's side.

Lance felt his bed dip as Keith sat back down, "What if I moved it since then?" He argued even though he knew Keith was right, he wouldn't be sitting back on the bed if he wasn't.

"Because you didn't remember it was there even after you put it there and you never look at the top shelf when getting dressed." Keith answered smoothly, "And because I'm holding it in my hand after taking it from the top shelf of your wardrobe."

Lance's vision finally returned to him in full and he turned his head to face Keith, "You know me so well," He patted Keith's shoulder as he turned around to face the same direction as Keith, "Thank God. I never would've found that."

Keith chuckled and pulled Lance closer so they would fit in the lens of the camera. Lance took it from Keith's hand with a pointed look to Bartholomew, "You hold your son, I hold the camera." Keith held up the purple lump and faced the camera. Lance pulled on the right strings and pushed the right buttons. Lance pulled the widest smile he could like a new parent, uncaring of the cracks forming in his mask. Then he pulled his free hand up to rest on Keith's neck to keep him in place as Lance smashed their cheeks together, mixing their face masks. Since they were mostly dry, he knew it wouldn't be a big deal, but there were probably flecks of red and purple on the other's mask.

The camera flashed a few times as it imprinted the scene to film. It made a loud whirring noise as it produced the almost polaroid-looking paper, only wider and thicker. Lance pulled it from the camera and tossed the machine next to him on the bed. He flipped it around and both Keith and Lance stared down at the image that showed on the page. The alien technology, the alien camera, did not just place one moment down on the paper, but three seconds worth of moments.

They stared down at the moving film, the two of them sitting on the bed, side by side, with Bartholomew cradled between them. Lance was smiling widely in the first scene while Keith gave the camera the thousand-yard stare. They watched as Lance's hand raised and pulled their faces together before he stuck his tongue out. Keith's stare broke and shock colored his features for just a moment before a smile spread on his face. Then the film looped.

Lance chuckled at the sight and shook the film in the air between them, "Put that on his birth certificate."

"I think you're taking this way too far," Keith's eyes glittered with amusement, "He's a stuffed animal you've named Bartholomew. Not a living, breathing baby."

Lance held a hand to his chest with an offended gasp, "I beg your pardon?" He reached down and plucked Bartholomew from Keith's hand, "I made him! For you! He is our beloved son and you would belittle and dehumanize him like that?"

Keith's eyes drifted closed for a breath before he opened them to give Lance a look, "Our son?"

"I made him for you." Lance repeated, "I made him. For you."

"Just because you repeat yourself doesn't mean you make sense." Keith shook his head.

Lance shrugged and poked Keith's mask again, "We can take them off now." He stood from his bed and dropped the film off on his desk before entering the bathroom. He pulled out all he needed and got the warm water running. Keith followed in after him and leaned against the counter. He watched as Lance moved about and soaked a rag. Lance turned to Keith and stepped into his space. Gently, he rubbed the rag against Keith's face to wipe away the violet goop. It fell away easily and coated the white cloth, shifting its coloring.

Lance rinsed it a few times to wash away the violet, but even after everything it still had a lilac hue to it. Lance entered Keith's space once more to wipe the cloth against his skin under the guise of cleaning away the face mask, though he knew there was none left. Keith's eyes never drifted from Lance's face, flicking between his eyes and his lips. Lance tried not to think about it.

Lance rinsed the cloth under the warm water and wrung it out. Keith took it from his hands, his own warm skin seemingly scorching in comparison to the water. He reached up and placed his hand just under Lance's jaw to tilt his head towards him. He used the warm cloth to wipe away the hardened mask and Lance's skin tingled with every swipe. He wondered briefly if Keith could feel his racing pulse where his hand was held.

Keith wiped the cloth over Lance's lips despite there not being any mask there. Lance felt his mouth fall open as the cloth dragged along him. Keith's eyes lingered on Lance's lips for too long to be casual, for too long for Lance to brush off. Keith seemed to remember himself and glanced up at Lance's eyes, pupils blown wide and a faint pink in his cheeks. He swallowed and turned away to drop the cloth in the sink.

He began to pull his hand away, slowly dragging along the skin of Lance's jaw. Lance reacted. His hand reached up to wrap around Keith's wrist, keeping his hand just beneath his chin. Keith's head snapped around to look back at him. His nerves were on fire at every point of contact and the blazing inferno that Keith had set alight inside him was quickly spreading throughout his body.

Lance's hand shifted on Keith's wrist and he felt his fingers flutter along the skin under them. Keith's eyes flickered down to his own hand then back up at Lance's eyes. He wasn't sure who moved first, but the next thing Lance felt was Keith's lips pressed insistently to his. Keith was warm, very warm, and tasted of the almost-mangoes the team had found on Zyrlown. Lance pushed into his space and their bodies were pressed flush to one another. Very, very warm indeed.

Before long, their kiss broke, but they kept their hands on one another, their foreheads pressed together, and their noses brushing against the other's. They panted into the space between them and Lance searched wildly around for something to say.

"I have some new ideas for pictures we can take." His mouth conjured up.

Keith huffed, "Was that your way of saying we should film ourselves…"

Lance grinned wickedly, "Ourselves…?"

Keith groaned and shoved Lance back a few inches, "You're horrible."

Lance laughed loudly now as he grabbed hold of Keith's hand, not allowing the two of them to separate much. He pulled Keith back and pressed another kiss to his lips, "Was that a no?" He mumbled against Keith's mouth. Keith didn't respond in words so much as another groan, definitely not of annoyance, and pulling Lance back into him.