Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To say it had been a long day would have been a horrific understatement.

Keith’s body hurt so much he felt as if his blisters had blisters. The team had been woken up at the crack of dawn by an attack from a splinter fleet of Galra who were trying their luck taking on the Castle of Lions. It hadn’t taken all of ten dobashes to dismantle the forces, but the precious lost hours of sleep had worn heavy on the team as the day dragged on.

Following the attack, Allura had picked up a distress beacon from a nearby planet, Kolar – some invading forces were getting too numerous for the natives to continue holding off on their own. Once Voltron had dispensed of the enemy, the paladins had made their way to greet the planet’s leader and form an alliance.

Formalities were important, Coran reminded them, and so Keith and the others had found themselves hanging around for a long time whilst Allura went over the details of each party’s responsibilities. The older Altean had suggested they try to make themselves useful and help out with the wounded soldiers.

It was a good idea – What better way to show Voltron’s dedication to rebuilding the galaxy than with a classic bit of elbow grease? At least that’s what everyone had reasoned.

Several hours later and the whole affair had escalated into Keith winching timber to help restore the roofs of the damaged communities. From what he could tell, the main part of the settlement that had been affected was mostly storage facilities. Why the aliens were forcing the paladins to help out when the repairs weren’t urgent was anyone’s guess. Though as it was, Allura had glared at the team’s complaints, hissing that they had to make a good impression since negotiations were often very delicate. Refusing to do grunt work could reflect negatively on the self-proclaimed defenders of the universe.

By the end of the day, just thinking about hoisting another rope made Keith’s muscles ache in complaint.

Once the alliance had been made, the leader of the populace insisted on throwing a feast of celebration, despite Allura’s rather desperate assurances that festivities were not necessary. The whole team had found themselves dressed up in stuffy formal attire whilst they were paraded around and fawned over. Pidge had quickly acquainted herself with the local domestic animals, perfectly content to pet them quietly whilst she remained away from the crowds of aliens. Hunk had taken it upon himself to try the local delicacies after a dish was created in front of his very eyes by the chef effectively sewing ingredients together. Shiro was doing a medal-worthy impression of enjoying himself as the aliens forced him to partake in several traditions, the most notable of which involved him having to carry around a very old, very squat alien on his shoulders for an indeterminate amount of time. Keith considered rescuing him when Shiro had caught his eye and sent a pleading look his way, but the dark-haired boy had simply smirked and turned away, ignoring his friend’s obvious torture.

Keith made himself fairly scarce for the majority of the festivities. He propped himself up against a building as the party thrummed through the streets, one foot pressed against the wall to support him as he crossed his arms over his chest. The music playing was upbeat and melodious, though it sharply contrasted with the timbre, the foreign instrumenting sounding eerie and hollow. Not that the crowd seemed to mind – Apparently the band had turned to a well known tune, and a large throng of aliens had broken out into a collaborative dance routine. Keith guessed it was this planet’s version of the Macarena or something like that.

He tuned out the song, letting his eyes wander over the bustling crowd curiously. Allura was laughing openly at something one of the ambassadors had said, her earrings glinting pink in the red-tinted light from party. The ambassador themselves didn’t look particularly amused, and Keith snorted when Allura’s smile promptly dropped, her expression becoming equal parts apologetic and serious. Keith turned his head, spying Coran falling into step beside one of the locals.

“Ah yes! I remember this dance from back when your species lived on the planet Nuskurn!” Keith could hear him proclaiming loudly, missing a step and falling a little out of sync. “Had a few less shimmies back then. Though that was probably due to the intense heat of the atmosphere. Could wither a plant in half a tick! Not a lot of dancing happening when you’re trying not to boil alive, let me tell you.”

Keith just shook his head in amusement. Trust Coran to know some ancient war dance that had apparently lasted 10,000 years.

Keith turned his head a little more, eyes scanning the crowd in bored. They ended up landing on Lance.

His fellow paladin was leaning against the wall of a building, one arm pressed against the rough surface as he leaned forward to speak to one of the aliens. Lance had a wide grin on his face, talking animatedly as he gestured with one hand that held a drink, a few droplets of the maroon liquid splashing over the side. The alien laughed, throwing their head back in mirth as Lance winked at them. Keith tsked loudly to himself. Classic Lance. Give that boy any and every opportunity to flirt and he would do it, never mind how many ugly situations it had gotten him and the team into.  He was about to march over and remind Lance that the last time he’d flirted with an alien, it had turned out to be the crown princess of Scavuria, only child of King Ola and heir to the throne. Lance had somehow managed to insult her and it had taken all of Allura’s diplomacy and a bag of chips for the Sovereign to let Lance leave the planet with all his limbs still attached.

Keith had not taken more than one step when he was grabbed by the elbow and yanked unceremoniously to the side. The boy let out a strangled yelp as he twisted to keep his balance, when he felt a solid weight plop onto his shoulders. The next thing he knew, he had two knobbly knees (or what looked like knees) knocking into his cheeks as Shiro stood back to give him a victorious grin.

“Keith, Paladin of Voltron and pilot of the Red Lion, I hereby pass you the honour of carrying his Holiness, The Great Mib,” he boldly announced, childish glee illuminating every centimetre of his face.

Keith opened his mouth to protest and quickly found himself almost inhaling a set of wrinkly old toes as The Great Mib moved to kick him in the face. Shiro wasted no time in turning his back and bounding out of sight, leaving Keith standing perplexed and weighed down by a very disgruntled priest. Mib kneed Keith sharply in the eye socket, eliciting a cry from the boy before he pointed ahead.  Keith didn’t need to be told twice, taking a shaky few steps forward in the direction the little alien was gesturing.

The parade of aliens following Shiro resumed their chorus, trailing after Keith in a jostling pack complete with whoops and cheers. Keith’s body already ached deep in his bones from all the physical labour he’d been doing, but now the small being atop his shoulders was sitting on a particularly nesting kink in Keith’s neck, his bony joints digging into soft flesh.

Keith twisted his head a little, attempting to stretch the little ball of niggling muscle. Mib smacked the top of his head harshly, and Keith bit down on a cry that tried to jump from his lips, grinding his teeth in quiet fury.

The noise of the company was loud, filling Keith’s eardrums so much that his head felt like it was ringing. All that couldn’t stop the loud bark of laughter that came floating over the crowd. Keith turned his head, ignoring the accompanying smack from the priest to see Lance watching him, eyes bright with amusement as he openly pointed at the spectacle. Keith opened his mouth to shout at him, and was met with a hard yank of his hair. It seemed that The Great Mib was attempting to steer him. Keith grumbled to himself, clenching his jaw to stop a barrage of protests from falling out of his mouth. On the plus side, Mib’s rather crude tug of his head had effectively snapped the little ball of tension out of Keith’s neck, and the red paladin sighed as he rolled his shoulders to dispel any lingering tightness.

When he was finally allowed to pass Mib along (apparently the priest was considered too Holy to walk on unhallowed ground, and therefore must be carried at all times), Keith stretched his back, feeling the stiffness of his vertebrae relax slightly at the squash and stretch of his body. He scanned the crowd idly, trying to locate his teammates.

Allura seemed to have given up any lingering allusion of interest as the alien diplomats droned on at her, slumped in her seat with nothing more than a wan smile to encourage their chatter. Shiro was deeply immersed in conversation with what appeared to be one of the squadron leaders, the alien making a ridiculous amount of gestures at once with its four arms. Hunk was similarly engrossed – He appeared to be talking with one of the chefs about the kind of machinery involved in their practice. He’d even gone so far as to reverse engineer a piece of their apparatus, inspecting the individual pieces like they were diamonds. Pidge had all but disappeared, and Keith would wager she had slipped away to somewhere quieter, malcontent with the large number of people that wished to poke and prod at her.

Keith’s eyes finally found Lance – he was standing under a row of dimly glowing lanterns, still talking to the same alien from earlier. The blue paladin seemed to have shed some of the bravado he usually wore like a second skin; eyes softer and mouth quieter as he listened to the alien speak.

Keith watched as Lance waited for them to finish talking before politely asking a question, his face open and inquisitive. It was rare to see his teammate so… Reserved wasn’t the right word. Lance often acted up, and it grated on Keith’s short temper like sandpaper on wood, wearing and abrasive. Keith wasn’t used to seeing the taller boy behave so genuinely, without the apparent need for praise and attention.

“Hey,” a soft voice said in his ear, jerking Keith out of his reverie.

He span around to see Shiro looking down at him, and he relaxed his stance.

“I think we’re just about ready to leave,” Shiro said, his eyes looking a little fatigued.

Keith nodded gratefully, exhaling long and slow. The length of today’s mission was beginning to creep into the fringes of Keith’s body, a steady lethargy making his bones feel like lead.  Shiro swept round the party swiftly gathering up the rest of the team. Allura’s eyes sparkled when the man gently took her by the elbow, steering her away from the monotonous diplomats.

“Thank you, Paladins of Voltron!” the leader gushed, Mib sat askew on his head. “You have our allegiance, should you ever call upon us in a time of need!”

Keith could barely manage a half-hearted wave as they made their way back into the Castle of Lions, his arms feeling 11lbs heavier than usual.

“Oh man! ” Lance huffed as he threw himself onto one of the sofas. “I’m so tired I could sleep right through the next Galra attack.”

“You barely did anything!” Keith argued. “You mostly carried bandages and flirted with the soldiers!”

“Uh, it’s called having a good bedside manner, Keith. Clearly not something you understand.”

Keith bared his teeth, ready to snarl back a retort when Shiro sighed loudly, interrupting their squabbling.

“C’mon guys, we’ve all had a long day. I think we should all get some rest so we’re ready for tomorrow,” he said, brushing back his bangs with one hand.

“Oh yeah, I’m right there with you,” Hunk managed to say around a yawn.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Keith said, making to stand up.

He glanced at Lance quickly to see the other boy staring curiously at Pidge. Keith followed his gaze to where the small girl was sat cross-legged on the opposite sofa. A heavy frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, her troubled eyes staring fixedly at her feet as her eyebrows pinched together.

“Hey, Pidge. You okay?” Lance asked, a note of concern in his voice.

Pidge chewed her lip anxiously.

“I just thought I felt-“ she started.

The world tilted violently as a rolling wave of nausea hit Keith, strong enough to make his legs buckle. His knees hit the floor with a loud thud as he doubled over, one hand clutching his churning stomach. A thick metallic taste flooded his mouth as his vision swam, and he blindly threw out a hand to catch himself as he fell. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Keith registered Lance making a startled noise as Pidge toppled gracelessly off the sofa, a low groan escaping her lips as she clutched her head. Keith felt his throat constrict, muscles seizing and he finally slumped on the cold floor of the common area. His body jerked with every spasm of his nerves, and his tongue tasted like rust and sand with the threat of impending vomit. Just when Keith was sure his stomach was going to twist and forcibly expel his last meal, the feeling swiftly subsided, jitteriness seeping out of his body like oil through cloth.

Slowly, using one arm to balance, Keith propped himself up into a sitting position. He blinked rapidly against the brightness of the lights, taking in the sight of his teammates in similar positions, all hunched over and rubbing at their heads.

“Is everyone okay?” Shiro asked from somewhere on the other side of the room.

His voice was strained despite his collected words, and Keith’s eyes flicked over to see his leader pressing a hand to his mouth. He seemed to be making a very conscious effort not to be sick.

“Oh no-“ Hunk warned.

He managed to take one breath before swiping his helmet off the floor and promptly voiding his stomach into it. Keith grimaced, the sound of Hunk barfing making his own insides want to eject themselves. He turned away, eyes raking over Pidge as she adjusted her glasses a little with shaky hands.

“What the hell was that?” she asked. She sounded almost indignant.

“I don’t know,” Shiro admitted, getting to his feet. “But we should consult Allura and Coran in case it was something to do with the Galra.”

“Uh, guys,” Hunk started, voice thick with worry. “Has anyone seen Lance?”

Keith’s head snapped up immediately, despite the resulting dizziness. He blinked laboriously, trying to chase away the blurriness of his vision as his eyes darted around the room. Sure enough, Lance was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe he wasn’t affected like we were?” Pidge suggests.

“That’s impossible. We were all effected,” Keith rebuts. “There’s no way he didn’t feel that too.”

Pidge frowns at him, opening her mouth to speak when Hunk interrupts with a nervous stream of babbling.

“He can’t have just disappeared, right? I mean that isn’t- That’s not like a thing that can happen is it? Because that’s seriously bad, dudes. Like what if one of us goes missing when we’re Voltron? I mean? He’s gotta be around here somewhere, right? Lance?”

Hunk’s head swivels round nervously as he picks up one of the sofa cushions, as if somehow Lance could have been hiding underneath it.

“Lance?!” he calls again, louder.

“Everybody calm down,” Shiro’s firm voice rings out. “We’ll find Lance, we just need think logically. I say we head down to the bridge and ask Coran to run a full scan of the castle.”

Hunk’s shoulders relaxed a little, though his stance remained stiff with uneasiness.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” he said, tapping his fingers together in agitation.

The team quickly made their way to the bridge, Hunk occasionally cupping his hands around his mouth to call Lance’s name into the empty hallways. Keith’s hands curled into fists and his thoughts swirled. There was no way Lance could have just disappeared… Could he? Keith shook his head, as if to physically relieve his mental constipation. Lance had been right there, sat in front of him with a glowing complexion and a whiny complaint. Keith vaguely remembered the gasp of surprise Lance let out right before the vertigo had caused Pidge to keel over. Had that been when he’d…?

The whoosh of the sliding metal doors alerted Keith to their arrival on the bridge, and he looked up to see Allura and Coran staring at them in surprise from their positions on the deck.

“Paladins! I’m glad you’re here!” she cried, giving the group a once over before adding. “Where is Lance?”

“Actually that’s what we’re here about,” Shiro spoke up. “Did you feel a weird sense of vertigo a couple of minutes ago?”

Allura’s face darkened with concern, and she glanced over to share a look with Coran.

“So you felt it to,” she murmured. “”I had hoped that I was merely feeling the stress of the day, but it appears we have all been affected by the same thing.”

“Do you know what it was?” Pidge piped up.

“I’m afraid not,” Allura admitted, turning her face towards the various Altean symbols flickering across her screen.

“Well whatever it was, it took Lance!” Hunk chimed in.

Allura whirled round, her eyes wide.

“It… Took Lance?” she repeated, as if she were checking to see that she’d heard correctly.

“Lance is missing,” Keith said, voice low and even. “We all felt the same strange queasiness, and when it was over, Lance was gone.”

Allura’s eyes widened in shock, and she raised a hand to clutch gently against her chest.

“Princess, can you run a full scan of the castle to see if Lance is aboard?” Shiro asked, urgency colouring his voice.

“I’ll do it right away,” Allura confirmed, snapping into action.

She span around, smoothing her arms through the air to bring up an assortment of different sized screens that beeped and ticked as she ran her fingers nimbly over them.

After a few minutes, he brow furrowed deeply.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she said, frustrated. “Lance is no where within the castle.”

“What about the blue lion?” Shiro pressed.

“Still in its hangar.”

“Check the pod bay,” Keith said suddenly.

All eyes turned to him, and Keith felt a little on edge at the accusatory stares his team were giving him.

“He wouldn’t have left, ” Pidge defends, her face incredulous.

“There’s no harm in checking,” Shiro said gently.

He rested one hand consolingly on Pidge’s shoulder, letting her deflate a little under his touch. Allura flicked her wrist, bringing up the video feed from the pod bay. He eyes scrutinized the image on screen, bright and sharp as he fingers hovered over a few buttons.

“All pods are accounted for,” she said tersely after a moment.

Hunk hopped skittishly from one foot to the other, tapping the tips of his index fingers together rapidly with rising panic. Lance’s unexplained absence seemed to be affecting him quickly, and his shoulders hiked up to his ears.

“Is there anywhere else he could be?” the yellow paladin asked desperately. “Like, maybe he went to go get a sandwich? He can get pretty snack-y sometimes, when he’s extra tired”

“He would have shown up on the castle’s scans,” Coran called from where he was inspecting a screen, plucking at his moustache absently. “Perhaps he wasn’t finished with the party?”

“Whatever has happened, we can safely conclude one thing,” Allura said gravely. “Lance is not on the ship.”

The team feel silent, uncertainty thick in the air, hovering above them like a fat grey storm cloud threatening to rain.

“Can we contact the leader from Kolar? See if Lance has made his way back onto their planet somehow?” Shiro asked.

His jaw was set, and Keith could practically see all the feasible explanations for Lance’s vanishing act flitting through his brain like a teleprompter at maximum speed.

“I can try,” Allura replied. “But unless he took one of the pods, I think it’s highly unlikely that he’s returned to the planet.”

Shiro’s eyebrows lower, and it was only because Keith knew him so well that he caught the flicker of dread in the older man’s eyes.

“Contact them anyway. We’ll find him,” Shiro said after a moment, his voice firm and resolute.

It was meant to reassure the team, but Keith didn’t miss how Pidge and Hunk exchanged a doubtful look, a thousand and one unspoken words passing between them in a glance.

“Maybe the castle’s systems are faulty?” Keith offered. “Can you scan again?”

Allura pressed a few buttons on her screen, her mouth set into a hard line.

“He’s not coming up,” she said, voice hollow. “And there’s nothing on the system to indicate a fault.”

Keith’s skin felt prickly, agitation crackling through his veins like popping candy, setting his nerves on edge. The slow creeping feeling of helplessness was working its way up his spine, coiling in his muscles with a sudden urge to do something. He spun on his heel abruptly, startling the team and he strode towards the door.

“I’m going to check his room,” Keith announced without a backwards glance.

The doors to the bridge slid shut with a soft hiss, effectively cutting off anything that might have been shouted after him. He strode down the corridors of the castle, pausing only to glance into any rooms he thought Lance might be hiding. Logically, Keith knew that the scans were most likely right – That Lance was not on board the ship. But he couldn’t just stand on the bridge hoping the other boy would just show up out of the blue. Besides, if nothing else the walk was helping dispel some of the anxious tightness in his muscles. Keith had never been a great one for inaction.

He walked until he found himself outside Lance’s room, only half aware that he’d been headed there. Keith pressed his hand gently against the panel next to the door, the smooth metal parting with an accompanying hum. He didn’t even need to step inside the room to see that it was empty. Lance’s bed lay untouched, the covers folded immaculately with barely a wrinkle to mar their surface. Keith let out a sigh he hadn’t been aware he was holding, his body sagging, physically drained. He hadn’t expected Lance to be there, not really, but at least now he had confirmation that the blue paladin was not in his room. Keith stepped back, letting the doors to lance’s room close again as he turned around and set off in the direction of Blue’s hangar.

The blue lion sat in the middle of the space, silent and stoic, the hangar illuminated by the soft blue glow of her particle barrier. Keith surveyed her quietly, crossing his arms across his chest. He could feel Red faintly in the back of his mind, a constant reassuring presence that helped Keith anchor himself. There in Blue’s hangar, he could feel the low thrum of energy resonating from Lance’s lion like a white noise machine, and he clumsily reached out to Blue through the mental link with Red.

“Where’s Lance?” Keith asked aloud.

He felt a little silly, speaking to a giant robot like it was going to crouch down on its massive paws and say, “Oh babe, don’t worry! He just went to the mall”. But he reminded himself that there was no one else  there to see him. Keith closed his eyes, focusing on searching for Blue in his mind. He could feel a disconnect in his mind’s eye, a brick wall that had been thrown up between him and the blue lion. He pushed against it experimentally, searching for any cracks that he may be able to peek through. The wall pushed back, a firm shove that had Keith frowning and gritting his teeth.

“C’mon, Blue,” he muttered under his breath. “Where is Lance?”

It was unlike Blue to be so stubborn – She was heralded as the most accepting lion for a reason, and Keith often found himself thinking how perfectly matched her and Lance were. Rarely had Keith seen the blue paladin have a problem with anyone, usually taking their beliefs and customs in stride without batting an eyelash. He’d only ever seen Lance get riled up in the face of fascism, at which point the taller boy took zero prisoners.

Keith tried to break through the mental wall again, giving it a hard jab with his mind. The response was not what he had hoped. Blue effectively slapped him across the brain, and Keith’s eyes blinked open with a short gasp, though not before he felt a whisper of something slip through.

Fear.

Blue didn’t know where Lance was, and she was scared for him.

People didn’t just disappear.

Keith grit his teeth, sternly telling himself that he was NOT going to kick the particle barrier out of sheer frustration.

Turning on his heel, he made his way back out of the hangar, insisting that Blue’s ignorance wasn’t a loss. He’d made it down three corridors when Shiro’s voice rang out over the castle, halting Keith’s footsteps.

“Keith. Please report to the bridge. Allura thinks she may have found something.”

Without a second thought, Keith broke out into a sprint, weaving his way back through the castle hallways with the confidence that only comes with having gotten lost one too many times. He was on the bridge in less than two dobashes, the doors whizzing open as Keith approached.

Hunk and Pidge were seated at their stations, both flicking through their screen with urgent curiosity. Hunk was scrolling through a camera feed of the commons area, the image grainy and jumpy as he scrubbed back and forth over the timeline. Keith could make out the footage of their group, conversing lightly before lurching forward as the strange sensation hit. He saw Lance open his mouth in what was presumably a yelp before the screen went white. Hunk drew his finger back, flicking through the footage frame by frame.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice broke the red paladin out of his immersion. “Allura has something to report.”

Keith turned his attention on the princess, approaching her slowly as her fingers tapped away at the buttons in front of her.

“I think I may have found something,” she announced, her voice steady, betraying nothing. “Right before Lance disappeared, the castle systems detected a huge energy spike in the common room.”

She illustrated her point by bringing up a chart with a wave of her hand, the readings hiking up so much in one point that they disappeared off the top of the screen.

“More importantly, they appear to have been localised to Lance’s position.”

Keith frowned as the implication of Allura’s words sank in.

“I think that whatever’s happened, we can safely assume it targeted Lance specifically.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” Hunk called from his station. “Look here! Right before the video cuts out, there’s this white light. It’s pretty hard to tell because the picture’s so blurry, but I’m pretty sure it’s coming from around Lance.”

Keith turned his head as Hunk blew up his screen for everyone to see. Sure enough, on the one frame Hunk’s frozen a bright light fills the screen, Lance at the centre of it, nothing more than a dark smudge amidst the white.

“Do we know what type of energy it was, Princess?” Shiro asked, breaking the silence.

His eyes raked over the disconcerting readings on the chart, steel glinting off the grey of his irises. Allura tapped a few more buttons, her face darkening slightly with displeasure at the results.

“No. I can’t seem to make heads or tails of the energy that was present. Whatever created such a spike, it’s not like any technology I’ve seen before.”

Keith could feel a migraine coming on, a tight little bundle of nerves digging itself into his temple, and he sluggishly lifted a hand to rub at the dull throb in his skull.

Without Lance, they couldn’t form Voltron, and if they couldn’t form Voltron then they couldn’t take down Zarkon. How were they meant to take down the Emperor of the Galra Empire when they were short one valuable member of the team? Keith ground his teeth restlessly – a bad habit he’d developed living in the desert – as he tried to think of a way to fix the situation.

Lance was the thinker, Keith reminded himself. If Lance were here, he’d know what to do. Then again, if Lance were here there wouldn’t be a problem for them to think their way out of in the first place.

Maybe we can get a new paladin?

Keith clamped down on the thought immediately, thick iron doors closing his mind off from the very idea of replacing Lance.

It was the logical thing to do, Keith knew. But at the same time, there was something that felt so inherently wrong about simply finding a new paladin to pilot Blue.

How would they get on with the team? What if they weren’t as good of a pilot? What if they were better? The thought made Keith feel uncomfortable in his skin.

Annoying as he was, Keith could admit that Lance was the glue holding the whole team together. The boy was the bridge between them, setting the foundations of friendship for the rest of them to build on, even at the expense of his own pride. If they were all laughing at Lance, then they all had something in common to talk about. Keith could appreciate the intelligence behind that even if Lance’s actions could go overboard.

“-eith?”

Keith shook his head to clear his thoughts, catching the tail end of his name, and he looked up to see Shiro frowning at him, concern colouring his features.

“You spaced out there for a bit buddy. You okay?” the black paladin asked.

Keith managed a weak nod in response, the fatigue of the day settling into his bones like tar settles on a riverbed, thick and immovable.

“Just tired,” he assured the older man.

Shiro didn’t seem impressed with the response, but he didn’t push. Not that Keith blamed him. How long had it been since they’d returned from Kolar? A few hours? The guy looked about as tired as Keith felt, dark circles staining the delicate skin under his eyes like bruises.

Keith was about to open his mouth to ask a question when there was the telltale whoosh of the bridge doors opening behind him. All heads turned towards the noise, and Keith’s mouth dropped open as he saw Lance standing there clad in full paladin armour. His eyes were wide, jaw hanging open in shock as he took a second to register his surroundings, and then in a heartbeat he was dashing over to where Pidge is seated.

“PIDGE!” Lance cried, gathering the small girl up in a death grip as he buried his face into her shoulder.

Pidge wheezed as the air was squeezed out of her lungs, belatedly lifting a hand to tap Lance gently on the back. The act looked more like a submission than a consolation, and Lance eased up his bear hug, leaning back a little to peer at his teammate.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and there was a definitive crack to his voice.

Pidge balked at him, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water as Lance surveyed her with obvious worry. It was in that pause that Keith’s eyes refocused, taking in Lance’s armour.

It was markedly more worn than the last time he’d seen it, a few parts around the legs blackened from god knows what, and there were clear scuff markings over the cuirass that Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to know what from. Not only that, but there were subtle differences about the design: The blue highlights of the wrists were a little narrower, extending further down the forearm. Much the same as the shoulders, the blue caps of the sleeves stretching out along Lance’s traps to meet the stiff white collar. Keith narrowed his eyes. Since when did paladin armour change?

Lance was still holding Pidge, his eyes glimmering like two pools of water as he looked at her.

“F-fine,” she managed to stutter out, reaching up to adjust her glasses a little.

The tension in Lance’s shoulders eased a little, but still he refused to let go of the green paladin, as if she would fly away should he release his hold on her.

“Oh thank God,” he breathed, the barest hints of a smile ghosting across his features before his brows pulled together in confusion. “Did you cut your hair? And what the hell are you wearing?”

Allura was the first to shake herself from the stupor that had halted the team.

“Lance!” she said loudly.

The blue paladin turned to face the princess, a frown still tugging down the corners of his mouth.

“Where have you been? ” Allura asked.

Her voice was a few decibels louder than usual, and Keith could spot the genuine distress lining her features.

“I dunno, there was this white-“

Lance’s voice cut off abruptly as he turned to face Allura, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Allura, what the hell?” he squawked, unceremoniously dropping Pidge in surprise. “Can all Alteans do that with their hair? Because that’s just cheating at this point!”

Allura self-consciously grabbed a lock of her shiny hair, fingers smoothing over the long white gossamers as she frowned.

“What are you…?”

Allura trailed off, her eyes widening to a near comical size as she stared at the blue paladin. Keith followed her gaze and suddenly understood her reaction.

A thick scar carved it’s way down Lance’s face, travelling all the way from his cheekbone, over his jaw and down his jugular until it disappeared beneath the black collar of his under-suit. It split Lance’s skin like a fissure in a rock, dark and jagged. Keith could imagine receiving a cut like that – It would have taken days to scab over, the mark sunken and weeping before flaking away to reveal shiny pale flesh underneath. It would have taken many months more to develop the weathered appearance it had now, the soft brown of Lance’s face tapering it either side. There was no way Lance could have developed a scar like that in a matter of hours.

“Lance…” Shiro finally spoke up, his tone full of uncertainty.

When Lance’s eyes snapped over to their leader, his jaw dropped like a stone.

“Shiro…” he breathed, something like anguish flittering across his scarred face. “Your arm …”

Shiro gazed own at his prosthetic, confusion pinching at his brows as he opened and closed the metal fingers experimentally.

“What’s going on?” Keith snapped, drawing everyone’s attention. “Lance, what happened?”

“KEITH!” Lance shouted, his eyes lighting up like fireworks.

Keith had half a second to prepare himself before Lance bounded across the distance between them in two leaps, colliding bodily with the shorter boy. Keith tensed as Lance curled his arms protectively around Keith’s back like an octopus, clutching him tightly as he twisted his face into Keith’s neck and let out a shaky sigh. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, and Lance leaned on him heavily. It took everything for Keith not to let his fatigued legs buckle under the weight of the taller boy.

The red paladin’s breath came out in a huff as Lance clung to him, frozen in surprise. One of Lance’s hands left his back to weave its fingers into the long hair skimming the base of Keith’s neck. It was a gesture far more familiar than what Keith was used to. When the blunt tips of Lance’s gloved nails scraped across Keith’s sensitive scalp, the short boy shuddered involuntarily. His hands flew up to push harshly at Lance’s shoulders, and the Cuban stepped away from him, his face devoid of understanding.

“Babe, did you get shorter? ” Lance asked incredulously, his gaze dropping to Keith’s feet and back up again.

The casual endearment threw Keith for a loop, and he felt a hot wash of some foreign emotion flood his veins.

“I’ve always been an inch shorter than you!” Keith said hotly. “You never fail to point it out!”

He took a step back, desperate for the extra distance between them. Lance behaving so friendly was weird, and Keith didn’t like it. Lance’s arms hung in the air a moment where Keith had been before he slowly dropped them by his sides. Keith thought he saw a flicker of hurt shine in the other boy’s eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. He pulled his helmet off, giving his head a shake to clear the stale air out of his face.

“Seriously, guys? What’s happening? I feel like I’ve been zapped into the past or something, look at all of you!”

His tone was joking, but Keith could hear a singular note of anxiety tainting his voice, his humorous demeanour a little too stiff.

At this distance, Keith could clearly make out the subtle changes in Lance’s appearance. His hair was definitely longer for one; the brunette locks just brushing the base of his neck and the tips of his ears. He was broader, too, though not by much. The flex of his jugular had deeper definition, and offered a whisper of indication at the strong muscles lying beneath his shoulder pads.

Lance seemed to collect himself then, turning in a half circle to slowly observe his teammates.

“What’s going on?” he said finally, and Keith was surprised at the authority in his tone.

The team looked between each other, faces perplexed.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Shiro answered. “You disappeared after we returned from the planet Kolar, and you’ve just showed up now.”

Lance frown was severe, a muscle rippling in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

“Kolar…” he murmured, eyes drifting down to the floor like he was trying to remember something. After a second, recognition gleamed in his gaze, and Lance lifted his eyes to stare wide at the others.

“The Kolar mission! The party!” he cried, head whipping round in panic.

“Yeah!” Hunk piped up from his station. “We answered that distress beacon, and then we had the party, and then we came back here and there was this bright white light and everyone felt really sick, I think I barfed like five times? And the you just disappeared! ”

Lance chewed his lip frantically, eyes darting between each of them. He looked like he was working up the courage to say something but was second guessing himself.

“What do you remember?” Coran offered.

As soon as Lance’s gaze fell on the older Altean, his stance relaxed a bit.

“Me and Pidge were answered a distress beacon from a dying planet and we accidentally activated some of their technology,” he started slowly, making sure his words sank in. “There was a big white light and I pushed Pidge out of the way. I remember feeling really sick and then… Nothing. Next thing I knew I was waking up in my room and that’s when I made my way here.”

Keith looks around at everyone as Lance finished speaking. They’re all sharing equal looks of bewilderment, and Keith feels some comfort in knowing he’s not the only one stumped by Lance’s story.

“We never went on a mission to a dead planet, Lance,” Pidge informs him.

“Not yet we haven’t,” Lance says with a sigh. “But we will. One year from now.”

He runs a gloved hand through his brown hair in clear agitation, sighing loudly before he open his mouth to say his next words.

“Because for me, the Kolar mission happened a year ago.”

_______

The bridge is so silent in the seconds following Lance’s statement, Keith could have sworn that time itself had stopped. If Lance, the other Lance were there, he would have taken the opportunity to crack a joke, breaking the disbelieving tension surrounding the situation. Except Lance was there, and his face was so stony he might as well have been carved out of marble. Hunk was the first one to speak.

“That’s impossible,” he said, ducking a little as if trying to hide behind his seat. “Right? That’s impossible? Because if the Kolar mission was a year ago for you, then that would mean that you’re from the future, and that’s just- Y’know, that just doesn’t happen. That’s right, isn’t it Allura? Time travel isn’t, like, a thing. ”

Hunk trails off, the uncertainty thick in his voice as he looks to Allura for confirmation. The princess’s frozen face cracks, dropping into a contemplative frown.

“Not necessarily,” she says slowly.

She lifts a hand to draw up a new screen, rapidly flicking through the energy readings like she’s shuffling a deck of cards.

“Not necessarily?” Pidge yelps. “Are you saying that Lance travelled back in time? Seriously?”

Allura hummed as she scanned the records in front of her, mouth set into a determined line.

“It’s not common,” she conceded. “But it’s not impossible. I believe that whatever Lance claims to have activated on his mission with Pidge is clearly responsible for this… Unlikely circumstance.”

“That still doesn’t solve the problem of where Lance is,” Keith cut in.

Six pairs of eyes swivelled towards him, each with varying degrees of puzzlement. The Other Lance waved a hand in front of Keith’s face, close enough that the air stirred the hairs on his forehead.

“Uh, Keith. Hey. I’m right here,” Lance said.

“ You’re here,” Keith shot back, “But where’s our Lance. You said you were from the future, right?”

Lance blinked at him, the cogs of his mind slowly turning behind those bright blue eyes.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe we switched places?”

“If you switched places with our Lance, then logically you should remember this happening, right?” Pidge asked.

It made sense, Keith thought. If this Lance was from the future, then he should remember a point in the past year of his life in space where he was thrown back through time.

“I mean…” Other Lance began, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sort of? It feels kinda fuzzy. Like when you think something might have been a dream but you’re not sure?”

Keith groaned, ignoring how Other Lance shot him an annoyed look.

Shiro took a step forward, folding his arms across his chest as he levelled Lance with a stern gaze.

“You need to tell us everything you know,” he commanded. “And then we can see how we should go about reversing this.

Lance’s eyes bugged at Shiro’s stance, and he threw up his hands as he took a few skittering steps backwards.

“Oooooh no. Nooope. Nonono no, I’ve seen disaster movies and let me tell you. Talking about the future is a bad idea. It’s in like, every time travel movie I’ve ever seen. Nope, I’m not saying a word.”

Keith could feel irritation prickling under his skin, and he grabbed Other Lance’s arm to spin the paladin around before he backed up into Keith.

“If you don’t tell us what you know, how are we supposed to help you get back?” Keith barked.

Lance’s eyes sparked, and he opened his mouth to fire back a retort the way Keith knew he would. It seemed like the words were on the tip of Lance’s tongue, about to leap into the communal airspace when suddenly… Nothing.

The fire drained from Lance’s eyes, and he slowly closed his mouth with a sigh.

It left Keith feeling off kilter.

“You’re right,” Lance relinquished, and Keith immediately felt as if his world were spinning.

Never in his entire time being a paladin had he heard those two words from his self-proclaimed “rival”.

Other Lance’s shoulders sagged, and he tapped his fingers anxiously against his helmet.

“I can’t tell you everything,” he said firmly, and Keith knew then that it was something his fellow paladin would not negotiate on. “But I can tell you what I remember, and maybe that will help.”

________

The team met in the dining hall once they’d changed out of the formal attire. Lance had ditched his paladin armour in his room, since his armour from the present was still occupying its chamber on the bridge. Keith ran into him in the hallway, wriggling at an odd angle as he apparently wrestled with his jacket.

He looked up when he noticed Keith staring, shooting the shorter boy a lopsided grin.

“Feels a bit tighter than I remember,” he said with a short laugh.

“Do you… Not have your jacket in the future?” Keith asked with a frown.

“Well I would if someone hadn’t stolen it,” Lance huffed, though there was a fondness to his voice that implied he wasn’t all that angry.

“Someone stole your jacket?” Keith asked bluntly. “Who?”

Lance shot him a blank look, snapping his jaw shut firmly in the face of Keith’s confusion.

“Nothing,” he muttered, turning away. “Never mind.”

Keith didn’t push it, instead falling into step beside the new Lance as an awkward silence settling between them. He kept sneaking side-glances at the other boy, mentally cataloguing as many tiny differences as he could see.

The Other Lance walked a lot taller, his stride more confident than the lazy saunter of his past self. Keith vaguely wondered if it had anything to do with the battles he must have fought. Their team was being forced to grow up very quickly, after all.

When they arrived in the dining room, the rest of team Voltron was already there, chatting quietly amongst themselves. They turned their heads as the two boys entered, eyes wary and curious. Lance wasted no time in throwing himself into a seat at the head of the table, kicking his feet up onto the smooth white surface despite a displeased frown from Allura.

“So where do you wanna start?” he asked casually.

As if travelling through time wasn’t a big deal to him.

Allura shot his feet on the table one last scolding look before speaking.

“What planet were you on when you… Um… Switched?”

“Dunno,” Lance said, idly picking at his nails. “Next question.”

“Well that’s helpful,” Pidge snorted. “How are we supposed to find where the energy came from if you can’t even remember the damn planet’s name?”

“Hey!” Lance barked in protest. “You’d be disorientated too if you were thrown through a space time blender!”

“It’s actually more like a fold,” Hunk said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “Like a fold in reality, the way you fold laundry.”

“Space washing machine then,” Lance compromised.

“Guys, we’re getting off track,” Shiro reminded them. “Can you remember anything else about where this planet was?”

“Nothing much about the name,” Lance replied, screwing his face up in concentration. “But I remember that it’s in the Tarantula Nebula.”

“Just a second there, dear boy!” Coran chimed. “As well as I remember it, that nebula has been abandoned for at least four decathebes. Why on earth were you there?”

Lance just shrugged, apparently not concerned with the revelation of the abandoned planet.

“Answering a distress call,” he hummed. “Turned out to be this big empty room with a set of rudimentary Altean instructions on the wall. Me and Pidge followed them and ba-da bing ba-da boom, here I am.”

“You speak Altean?” Allura asked incredulously.

Lance shot her a cheeky smile, opening his mouth to say, “ᎧᎦ ፈᎧᏬᏒᏕᏋ Ꭵ ᎴᎧ ᏰᏋᏗᏬᏖᎥᎦᏬᏝ.”

Allura blinked in a surprise, her eyelashes fluttering madly before her face morphed into a scowl.

"It would appear that some things about the future have not changed," she said tersely. Lance just shot her a pair of finger guns.

“Anyway,” Hunk continued, interrupting the stunned silence. “What are we supposed to do with an abandoned nebula? I mean, should we go back there? It’s abandoned so…”

Shiro sighed heavily, rubbing at a kink in his neck.

“I think first, we should all get some rest. It’s been a long day. Tomorrow we can go and check out the nebula Lance described and see if we can track down the planet.”

The team nodded, much to Keith’s strong dissatisfaction. He wanted to stay and grill Lance about the future. He had so many questions – Had they defeated Zarkon? How had Lance got his scar? Had they returned to Earth yet? They burned at the back of his throat, scalding his tongue with each inhale. Keith felt like he would choke with the effort of keeping them in his mouth.

“Yeah sure,” Lance agreed as he stretched his arms over his head. “But first I’m just gonna-“

He stood, grabbing a plate and making his way over to the goo dispenser. Pausing at the wall, he tapped a small screen that Keith hadn’t noticed before. A second later, he let out an indignant noise, startling his teammates.

“You guys are still eating the space goo?” he demanded.

“Yeah?” Hunk replied, apprehension in his tone. “Do we not do that in the future?”

The Other Lance opened his mouth to say something, but instead just sighed heavily, lifting the dispenser off the wall as he stared dejectedly at the luminous green goop filling up his plate.

“Just know that it’s not gonna be this way forever,” he said, and his tone was so tragic that he might as well have been talking about the End of Days.

The party disbanded shortly after that, Lance hanging back a little. He kept shooting Keith sideways looks, and it was only when the red paladin made to leave the dining room that he stood up to walk after him.

“Sooooo,” Lance began, the plate of goo clutched firmly in front of him. Keith’s heart sank at the drawn out word. “How’s it going?”

Lance winced at his own words, the scar crossing his cheek curving to accommodate the expression.

“How did you get that?” Keith blurted out.

Lance turned to him with wild eyes, a question in his look. Keith gestured lamely at Lance’s face, suddenly feeling very foolish.

“Ah-“ Lance began. “It’s… Kind of a long story. And one you don’t really need to know since I guess you’ll find out, right?”

He finished his sentence with a grin, clearly hoping to ease some of the awkwardness that had settled around them like a lead blanket, though it fell short when Keith didn’t respond.

“Looks like it hurt,” the dark haired boy said after a moment.

He internally cringed at his own voice. Obviously a wound like that would have hurt. Lance didn’t seem to take offence though, instead humming in vague agreement. He stopped when he reached his room, feet pausing in front of the threshold. Keith kept walking until he heard Lance let out a strange noise.

“Uurgh- Where are you going?” Lance asked.

His face was the picture of befuddlement, eyebrows drawn together and mouth pressed into some sort of pout.

“To my room?” Keith said gruffly.

A flash of understanding crossed Lance’s expression, and his face promptly drained of all emotion. His blue eyes somehow looked duller, their usual vibrancy muted in the luminescent lights of the castle corridors.

“Oh of-of course. Right. Yes,” he stuttered, tone unreadable. “Good night,” Lance said abruptly, and without a backwards glance he stepped into his room, the doors closing with a certain finality behind him.

Keith frowned to himself, his brain picking apart the details of Lance’s strange reaction.

“Whatever,” he grumbled under his breath.

Pressing his hand to the wall pad, Keith stepped into his own room, shucking off his jacket as he went. The events of the day swirled together in his mind, making a messy concoction of thoughts. It felt as if someone were mixing a bunch of colours together to create a muddy swamp of hues, and Keith felt them sloshing against the inside of his skull.

Whatever today’s problems were, he’d deal with them in the morning. With a resigned sigh, Keith fell face first onto his mattress.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

Despite his exhaustion from the day before, Keith woke up early as usual. The routine that had been ingrained bone deep roused his body far sooner than his mind, and Keith found himself with an arm through the sleeve of his T-shirt long before his eyes fully began to absorb their surroundings.

The castle was quiet at this time of the morning. Keith enjoyed it – it gave him a chance to process, a chance to appreciate his own company, his brain booting up it’s start program before the responsibilities of being part of a team demanded his attention. The soft teal lights of the corridors sparked into life as he approached, lighting a path towards the training deck. Keith followed them like a funeral march, solemn and unfeeling.

The events of the previous day were still percolating his mind, swilling together in a messy substance that he struggled to make sense of.

Lance had disappeared for hours. Where he had gone, Keith couldn’t be certain, nor did he enjoy his own lack of understanding. What he could be certain of, however, was that somehow an older version of Lance – a version one year older to be precise – was now walking about the castle without any supervision.

Keith grumbled to himself. The whole situation didn’t feel right. His paranoia was tugging the corner of his thoughts like a petulant child, demanding recognition. What if it wasn’t even Lance at all! What if it was some shape shifter that had been sent to spy on them for the Galra? The team had been so worried about Lance that they’d all jumped at the opportunity to accept this imposter’s excuses. Anything to replace the feeling that they’d all unceremoniously lost a limb. Even though it irked him to admit it, Keith could recognise how dependent on the lanky boy the team had become. The panic they’d all felt after he’d vanished had been palpable.

Turning a corner, Keith approached the training room doors. As he drew closer, he could faintly make out the noise of metal on metal, a staccato clash of weapons that sounded muffled through the sliding doors. Keith frowned, creeping close.

Who else would be up this early? Shiro perhaps? Keith knew the older paladin had a habit of being an early riser as well, but he usually spent his extra few hours in the morning going over maps on the main deck.

Keith closed the distance between himself and the smooth pale metal, placing his hand on the opening panel. The light on the box flickered underneath his fingers, and Keith’s eyes popped wide when the doors slide open with a hiss.

A flash of sparks flew through the air as Lance landed a shot against a Gladiator, dropping to one knee and rolling to the side in a move so well practised it looked effortless. He swivelled in his crouch, lining his rifle up with his target at firing at the second gladiator that pursued him. The robot deflected the blow with its staff, spinning to gain momentum as it lunged forward and swung down with a dangerous amount of force. Keith opened his mouth in preparation to shout. There was no way Lance could dodge that hit, not from his current stance, and definitely not with his weapon – a rifle was a long range weapon, designed for support and defence, not for melee and close combat. A glimmer of a smirk twitched at the corner of Lance’s mouth, and Keith gasped as the other boy feinted with an astonishing amount of speed to smash the gladiator in the head with the butt of his gun. The robot wavered for a second, swaying slightly in place before it burst into a cluster of sparkling blue pixels. Lance let out a huff of breath, swiping his forearm across the sweat beading on his brow as he straightened.

“End training level nine,” he said clearly.

The remaining gladiator disintegrated in the same shimmer of pixels, leaving the floor of the training deck clear.

Turning slowly, Lance fixed Keith with a victorious grin.

“Wow. Never would’ve guessed you’d be up later than me to train,” he drawled.

Keith didn’t reciprocate the easy mood he was projecting, instead crossing his arms defensively across his chest as he fixed the taller boy with a scowl.

“How long have you been up?”

“Dunno, maybe a few hours?” Lance replied, scratching the side of his face.

He was still wearing his paladin armour, the scrapes across the surface all the more evident in the harsh lighting of the training deck. Keith eyes danced over them, trying to imagine what sort of things Lance had faced to earn such deep grooves and scorch marks over his uniform before travelling up to trace the scar on his face. It glistened slightly in the luminescent lights, sheen with a thin layer of sweat from the workout. It stood out against Lance’s skin with a certain tenacity, an underlined word in the description of the blue paladin. Keith couldn’t help the little shiver that ran through him – a scar that thick would be resultant of a very deep cut.

“Did you sleep at all?” Keith asked.

He didn’t mean for it to sound like the interrogation it most definitely is, but Lance gave him a blank look that cut through Keith’s cool exterior like a hot knife through butter.

“Nah, you know me. Too wired to get any shut-eye after something as cool as time travel happens.”

“A little convenient for you to be awake whilst the rest of us are sleeping, isn’t it?” Keith bites out.

His fingers itch to reach for his bayard, all the nerves in his system on edge as he eyes Lance like a potential threat.

Lance bit his lip. It was not a nervous gesture. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was supressing a laugh, and it made Keith’s skin prickle in an uncomfortable way.

“Oh let me guess,” Lance chuckled. “You think I’m some sort of shape shifter sent here to spy on you for the Galra.”

Keith’s jaw went slack. Could Lance… Read his mind? Perhaps the imposter was more dangerous than he’d originally anticipated.

“Aaaaaand now you probably think I can read minds, right?” Lance continued.

Keith blinked at him, shifting his stance slightly in anticipation of attack. If this new Lance was a threat, Keith was going to make sure that he didn’t leave the training room.

Lance took in Keith’s posture, his gaze sweeping lazily over the shorter boy from the crown of his head all the way to his toes and back up.

“Dude, I’m not an alien,” he said flatly. “Suspecting people are spies is like, your go-to response to meeting new people. I can assure you I am one-hundred percent authentic Cuban boyfri- Boyfriend material.”

The stress on the last word felt misplaced, standing out in the sentence like a domino that had failed to fall in line with its brothers. But Lance spoke so nonchalantly that Keith felt stumped, his suspicions halting in their path as he stared nonplussed at the other paladin. It was… Unusual for Lance to trip over his misplaced pick-up lines, which only fuelled Keith’s paranoia. Nevertheless, Lance was looking at him with an incredibly bored expression painted across his face.

“Did you say training level nine?” Keith asked suddenly, his mind flashing back to when he’d entered the room.

A Cheshire smile splits Lance’s face, and he deactivated his bayard to cock a hip.

“Oh? Noticing my sweet moves are you? Can’t blame you.”

Lance made a show of flexing his muscles. Keith just rolled his eyes, allowing Lance to believe that his cockiness was just a louder form of flirting.

“Want me to show you how it’s done, mullet?”

“Don’t call me that,” Keith grumbled.

Lance’s smirk was infuriating, the scar curving around the twist in his mouth in a teasing slant.

“What’s the matter?” Lance asked innocently. “Scared I’ll beat you?”

“I’m not scared!” Keith snapped back.

Lance’s lazy grin was grinding on his already thin nerves, and Keith was chomping at the bit for a chance to wipe it off his smug face.

“How about sparring then?” Lance suggested.

Keith’s muscles hummed in anticipation. He wanted to spar with Lance. He wanted to vent all of his frustrations about his teammates disappearance from the previous day, and if he got to take it out on the source then all that much better. Two birds with one stone and all that.

“Hand to hand or with our bayards?” Keith queried. He could feel his teeth grinding and had to make a conscious effort to stop.

“Hhmmmmm, how about hand to hand for now? You look just about ready to chop off my head and I know better than to provoke you when I don’t have to.”

That threw Keith. When did Lance ever miss a chance to provoke him? Hell, baiting Keith was something Lance did like it was good for his health. Or used to do, apparently. Keith added it to the long list of unanswered questions he had prepared.

“Fine,” he said curtly.

Moving across the room, Keith took up his typical fighting stance, weight low and arms raised, ready for attack. Lance moved too, standing across the floor from Keith. When he made no move prepare, Keith cocked his head to the side in question. Lance crossed his arms over his chest, watching the shorter boy expectantly, like he was preparing for disappointment. It made Keith huff in annoyance.

“Well?” Lance asked with a wave of his hand. “I’m waiting.”

Keith blinked, bared his teeth, and when he was sure that Lance wasn’t going to make a move, he surged forwards.

A second later he was staring up at the ceiling with absolutely no recollection of having gotten there. Lance let out a sharp bark of laughter, and suddenly Keith felt a dull ache in the back of his right knee. He remembered falling backwards, his back hitting the ground hard enough to wind him, but he didn’t remember how he began falling in the first place. Sitting up, Keith rubbed the complaining area on the back of his head with a confused scowl.

“Dude!” Lance chortled. “What have I told you about going for the right?”

Keith frowned in utter confusion.

“Er, nothing?”

Lance smile dropped, comprehension dawning on his face before he rolled his lips together and looked away. The gesture would have been meaning less, were it not for the flash of sadness that had rippled across Lance’s face like a mirage. When he turned back to Keith a second later, the expression had shimmered out of existence. Keith questioned whether it had even been there at all. Sadness was not Lance’s colour.

“Oh... right. I mean, you always go for a right hook first when you’re mad. And that’s like, the easiest move in the world to predict,” he said with a small cough.

A pair of gloved fingers slipped in front of Keith’s nose, and the raven jerked his head up to see Lance smiling fondly down at him, on hand extended in offering. Keith looked at the hand, then up at Lance’s face, back to his hand, before finally taking it and letting the taller boy pull him to his feet. Keith thought that Lance would drop their loosely clasped hands, but instead he brought his other hand up to squeeze Keith gently on the arm. There was a fondness to his gaze that was… Rather unexpected. It left Keith feeling bare, invasive, like he was seeing a side of Lance that he shouldn’t really be privy to. The steady ache in his knee gave a light throb, bringing Keith back to his senses.

“Did you… Kick me?” he asked, his gaze drifting to the spot he’d been lying not moments before. Lance dropped his hands quickly, tucking them safely against his hips as he glance down at Keith’s leg.

“Yeah, sorry. The side of the knee is a pretty good spot for stopping advancing enemies. Soft flesh, lotta tendons, and most importantly it’s a joint so it can fold,” Lance explained. A murmur of worry tugged his brows together, and he glanced guiltily down at where Keith was avoiding putting his weight on one leg. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Keith shook his head, eyeing Lance warily.

“M’fine,” he said gruffly. “Um, go again?”

Lance shot him a happy smile.

“Avoid the right,” he reminded Keith.

“Avoid the right,” Keith echoed.

He returned to his starting point, crouching down into his fighting stance again. Lance resumed his half-cocked stance, this time letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. He didn’t seem particularly threatened by Keith at all.

This time when Keith shot forwards, he went directly for Lance’s legs. Dropping to the floor, he swung his leg around, bracing himself for the solid weight against his shin. Just as they were about to collide, Lance leapt away, clearing his legs of Keith’s attack before spinning and landing a heel firmly between the red paladin’s ribs.

Keith let out a loud oof, the force of the impact expelling the air from his lungs. He rolled with the momentum, letting his body fall sideways as he regained his bearings. He span around on the balls of his feet, ready to find Lance and attack, his muscles coiling in anticipation. No sooner had he turned his head then he saw a pair of knuckles level with his eye line. Keith sucked in a breath, readying himself for the impact and the consequent pain when…. Nothing. Lance’s fist stilled in the air not half an inch from Keith’s nose. It hung there for a second, as if to make sure the image were ingrained in Keith’s mind, before Lance pulled his arm back, fixing the shorter boy with an unreadable expression. Keith watched, waiting for something to break through the mask of impassivity Lance had so easily donned. He’d been expecting a half-assed attempt at sparring, a quick round before Lance got tired or prideful and insisted Keith was cheating or that they end the session. Keith had been expecting his Lance. But this Lance was different, he realised.

Before he could think too long on it, Lance gave him a satisfied smile, nodding his head sharply before he said, “Good. Again.”

Keith let out a short huff of breath – He was getting annoyed. Lance wasn’t only beating him in hand-to-hand combat, something Keith usually prided himself at being further ahead on. No, Lance was beating him and failing to gloat. The lack of childish smugness left Keith with no outlet so his agitation. So often had he felt secure in knowing that when pushed, Lance would push back, when baited, Lance would bite. It was like a safety blanket, a familiar push and pull that Keith wrapped around himself like armour plating – thin enough to feel the impact of Lance’s insults, thick enough not to do any significant damage.

Keith returned to his starting point once again, his bones humming with electric current and adrenaline. He took a steadying breath, willing the storm of his thoughts away as Lance picked at a stray hair on his shoulder.

Keith lunged, body catapulting away from his position as he crowded in on the blue paladin.

Lance had enough time to let out a delighted whoop of laughter before he raised his arms to block Keith’s oncoming swing. Keith immediately jumped, swinging his leg in a wide arc at Lance’s open side. Lance’s smirk glinted in the overhead lights as he glimpsed Keith’s assault, ducking beneath his calf before the hit got a chance to land. He kicked out, armoured boot connecting with Keith ankle hard enough to make the other boy’s foot shift across the floor. Keith bit down a snarl at the accompanying shot of pain up his calf, glaring at Lance as he sprang backwards a few steps.

“C’mon, Keith,” he goaded. “That all you got?”

The taunt provoked Keith on a primal level, something animalistic and feral rising up within his wiry body, pumping instinct and intent through his muscles. Lance’s smile only grew as Keith darted forward, a blurry streak advancing on the older paladin. He bounced on the balls of his feet, dropping his stance to centre his weight as he watched Keith approaching. The shorter boy feinted at the last second, rolling around to Lance’s blind spot at his back.

The Cuban barely had time to turn his head before Keith moved is, fist raised ready to strike. He was so sure he’d won.

Keith hadn’t even half a second to register the strong grip circling his wrist before he was yanked forward, his body weight jerking after him like a carriage on a train. He opened his mouth to yelp in surprise when he was promptly cut off by a sharp elbow to the face.

Keith’s head snapped to the side, his teeth clicking together as they bit off a startled cry. It was more out of shock than actual pain, though the momentum of the counter span his body in a sloppy pirouette before sending him stumbling to the ground.

“Keith!”

Lance’s voice was an axe, cutting through the easy feeling of camaraderie with swift anguish. He dropped to his knees beside Keith in an instant, his eyes alight with worry. Keith pushed himself stiffly into a sitting position, one hand absently rubbing his jaw where the hit had landed. It didn’t particularly hurt; it had just caught him off guard. Even so, Lance reached for him carefully, as if he were handling fine china. The gloved fingers of his hand extended as if there were going for Keith’s face, intent on framing the area of injury, though at the last second they wavered before Lance laid his hand lightly on Keith’s shoulder.

“You alright?” he asked in a rush.

Keith peered at the older boy through his bangs: Guilt hung on Lance’s features like a lead coat, dragging down his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth.

“I’m fine,” he said with a wry smile.

Lance was fairly close, his face hovering in front of Keith’s at a strange distance - just half an inch too close to be appropriate for the situation. From here, Keith could see Lance’s scar in all its wicked glory. The skin wasn’t red, as he would have suspected, rather, it was a deep brown colour, a dark echo of the skin surrounding it. It was like it had sucked the shade from the rest of Lance’s skin, the shade of brittle rust and brick.

Keith’s fingers moved before he’d even realised, stretching towards the scar. They brushed over the mark, feeling the warmth of Lance’s skin through his fingertips, how the ridge of flesh curved under his touch. In years it would fade into nothing but a dim line, a ghost of an old wound, but for now it was angry and it was alive. Keith wondered how recently Lance had suffered such a wound. He wanted to know what had happened so badly. He wanted to know so he could prevent it from happening. The image of Lance crying out in pain, cupping the wound on his neck in fear danced across Keith’s vision, jarring some deep sense of wrongness within him.

Protect your fellow paladins.

Coran’s words rang in Keith’s ears as his thumb skimmed over where the scar tapered off into a point, a spear tattooed across Lance’s skin.

The small shudder from the taller boy shook Keith out of his entranced stupor, and he snatched his hand away curling his fingers into his palm to discipline their waywardness.

Lance coughed awkwardly as Keith looked away.

“Sorry I elbowed you. It was just instinct.”

Keith appreciated Lance’s choice not to dwell on the moment. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the other boy.

“Thought I was the instinct guy.”

“You are,” Lance replied in an instant. His expression softened into something Keith was unfamiliar with. Affection? Pride, maybe? “Who d’you think taught me?”

The weight of Lance’s hand on his shoulder seemed a lot heavier after those words, and his smile froze in place as if he’d suddenly heard the admission out loud, the fingers of his hand tightening in reaction.

“I taught you?” Keith murmured.

Lance’s jaw clamped shut, the emotions on his face closing off like a door sliding shut. Keith knew he wouldn’t be allowed back in anytime soon. Lance abruptly let go of Keith’s shoulder, almost tearing himself away from the physical contact as he stood up. This time, he allowed Keith to stand on his own, no hand held out in offering.

“I’m gonna go get breakfast,” Lance announced, turning on his heel. “All this exercise really works up my appetite.”

He didn’t wait for Keith to follow him, nor did he look back as he marched towards the doors of the training deck, though he offered no words of complaint when the dark-haired boy fell into step beside him.

They walked in silence, Lance lacing his hands behind his neck to stare idly at the high ceiling of the corridor. Keith wasn’t sure if the lack of conversation was comfortable. He was so used to Lance’s need to fill the lulls with meaningless chatter that the very absence of it felt loud. It sounded cliché, but the silence was deafening.

“Uuuh…” Keith piped up. He was scrambling for words. He knew it even when Lance glanced down at him with a curious expression.

“I’m sorry for- For touching your… Y’know.”

“Scar?” Lance offered. He released his hands from his neck, rubbing at the mark over his jaw like an absent itch. “You can say it.”

Keith looked away, embarrassed.

“I should’ve asked.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lance said casually. “I’d probably be nosy if you turned up with something ugly on you face, too.”

Keith frowned at the sentence. It didn’t sound right, not from Lance’s lips. He usually lined his words with glitter and gold, loud and gaudy and full of bravado. Self-deprecation fitted Lance less like a glove and more like a hand me down from a far too old sibling.

“It’s not ugly,” Keith said blankly.

Lance just looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Oh hey! Good morning!”

Hunk’s voice shattered the moment, and Keith turned to see that they’d walked into the dining hall. Hunk and Pidge were sat at the table, Hunk dutifully doling out portions of green space goo as Pidge tapped furiously on her laptop.

“You guys been training?” Hunk asked quirking an eyebrow. “Training… Together?”

“More like Keith got his ass handed to him,” Lance said with a smug grin. “Guy’s a total rookie.”

“I thought we had a bonding moment?” Keith huffed indignantly.

Lance hopped into a seat, swinging his legs onto the table top as Hunk slid him a bowl of green goo.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lance replied, grimacing as the goo slid thickly off his spoon. “I definitely did not cradle you in my arms.”

The throwaway comment sparked recognition inside Keith’s mind.

He remembers that a year later?

“Ugh seriously,” Lance groused. “How do you guys eat this stuff? I can’t believe you haven’t even gotten round to proper food yet.”

“Yeeeeah well, gourmet meals don’t exactly take priority over defeating Zarkon,” Pidge piped up over the to of her laptop screen.

“Defeating Zarkon…” Lance murmured. He face twisted into a concerned frown, and his eyes suddenly looked very far away.

“Yeah, defeating Zarkon,” Hunk confirmed. “Is that not- Is that like, something you’ve done already? Or…?”

Lance’s eyes snap towards him in an instant, pinging back from whatever future they’d been seeing like an elastic band.

“Oooooh no! Nope, sorry buddy! No spoilers. You’ll have to wait for the season finale like everyone else.”

“Aw c’mon! Can’t you just give us like, one little yes or no? Just like, ‘yes we defeat the Galra empire in a year so you don’t gotta worry about it’ kinda thing?”

Lance shook his head firmly, all traces of lightheartedness eveaporating in the space of a heartbeat.

“No. Absolutely not. It’s not that simple. Besides, it’s not like you won’t find out. Future-Hunk knows after all.”

Hunk pouted, his fingers twining together it petulant frustration. Lance didn’t even bat an eyelid, his arms folding firmly across his chest. An echo of static filled the room suddenly, Allura’s voice broadcasting clearly through the tannoy.

“Paladins! Please report to the main bridge immediately.”

Lance sighed, giving his goo a disappointed prod with the tip of his spork before pushing away from the table. The chair legs squeaked as they dragged across the floor, and Lance stretched his arms over his head with a short wheeze when he stood.

“Looks like duty calls.”

The four of them traipsed obediently onto the bridge to see Shiro already standing with Coran and Allura. When they entered, Allura turned round, clasping her hands together at her chest as her hair swirled about her shoulders.

“Paladins, good morning,” she said politely. “I understand you are all very anxious to find Lance, er- Our Lance. We should start by trying to find the planet Lance umm- This Lance described.”

Allura’s face screwed up in a small frown as she spoke, her words fumbling as she tried to make sense of the two terms for the blue paladin.

Lance just cocked a hip, his expression looking entirely indifferent to how Allura referred to him.

“Lance, I’m sure you’re extremely anxious to get back to your time as well,” Allura continued.

Lance shrugged noncommittally in response.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m pretty chill to be honest.”

Allura frowned in obvious disapproval.

“Nevertheless,” she waged on. “It is of the utmost importance that we restore the… The Lances to their original timelines. We cannot allow this unorthodox circumstance to hinder our fight against the Galra.”

“Speaking of,” Pidge interrupted. “We should probably discuss the issue of forming Voltron.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the small girl in a plethora of surprise, and she adjusted her glasses self-consciously.

“I mean, that’s one of the main things I was thinking about last night. Are we still gonna be able to form Voltron with a Lance that isn’t from our timeline?”

“Now that you mention it, that is a good point,” Shiro spoke up. “I don’t think it’ll be such an issue as long as Lance’s quintessence hasn’t somehow flipped in a year.”

“I’m not doing that.”

Lance’s tone brought the conversation to a grinding halt. Keith turned his head to see the blue paladin standing straight and tall, his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his face serious. He looked… Stubborn. Keith would know.

“Errr, what?” Hunk asked.

“I’m not forming Voltron with you guys,” Lance clarified. His tone was absolute, making it clear that his decision was not negotiable. It made Keith grind his teeth.

“What do you mean you’re not forming Voltron with us?” he demanded. “We’re the defenders of the universe. How are we supposed to fight the Galra without Voltron.”

Lance’s eyes snapped to Keith’s, surveying him coolly, like a bird of prey. His face remained impassive at Keith’s outburst, though his lips pressed together a little harder.

“I’m not having all of you routing around in my head. I already told you, it’s dangerous to know the future.”

Keith opened his mouth to say that he wouldn’t, that he was capable of respecting Lance’s privacy when the older boy fixed him with a gaze as sharp as a syringe.

“And before you say you’re not going to, I know you’ll try and take a peek, Keith. You’re almost as bad as Hunk.”

“Hey!” Hunk cried in protest, before his face fell and he looked sheepishly to the side. “Actually, that’s probably true.”

“Don’t feel bad buddy,” Lance said with a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing wrong with being curious. But this is something I’m not budging on.”

Allura frowned, clearly displeased with Lance’s words, but it was Shiro who spoke up.

“We don’t know what enemies we may have to face, Lance. There may come a time when we need Voltron to take them down.”

“And when that time comes, I’ll weigh up the risks versus the reward,” Lance said smoothly, utterly unfazed. “But until then, my answer is no.”

Keith growled, frustration crackling through his body at Lance’s completely blasé attitude. The team stared at Lance, shock and wariness hanging in the air like mist as they took in his unperturbed stance. It was Coran who broke the tense silence.

“Perhaps we ought to start by heading to the Tarantula Nebula,” he suggested.

Tapping a few buttons on the control desk, Coran brought up a large hologram of the nebula, the constellations floating about eh room like fireflies, tinting everything with soft blue hues.

“I think it was in the east somewhere,” Lance contributed, unfolding his arms to walk towards the desk.

Reaching out, he tapped in a few buttons himself, causing the hologram to spin before focusing in on a small set of constellations.

“I remember Allura, well, Future Allura, saying that we’d have to pass the Eastern Solar System to reach the distress beacon.”

Allura stepped down from her platform, gliding over to where Lance was tapping in commands on the control desk. Leaning forwards, her hair spilled over her slim shoulders, brushing against Lance’s hands. The flash of white made him straighten up, turning to Allura with wide eyes as his gaze raked over the luminous locks.

“You have got to let me do your hair again, Allura,” he said with no small amount of glee.

Reaching out, he twined his fingers in the ends of her hair almost effervescently, letting out a little sigh of wistfulness as it slipped through his fingers like water.

“Again?” Allura questioned, her eyes following the movement.

“Oh, yeah. I mean you’ve got to let me do it sometime. I miss being able to braid it.”

Allura raised one eyebrow, consciously pulling a few strands of her long hair through her fingers.

“Can you not… Braid it in the future?” she asked slyly.

Lance shot her a sideways glance, clearing his throat as he turned his attention back to the control panel.

“Nah. I mean, kind of? But not really as well anymore. It’s not bad, it’s just different. Besides Keith never let’s me do his so…”

“Why would I let you touch my hair?” Keith queried from behind them.

Lance span around, fixing the shorter boy with an offended look.

“Because you never freaking wash it! Seriously babe, if I left you to your own devices you’d probably forget to even brush your teeth.”

The endearment sent a bolt of warmth through Keith, one he was not prepared for, and it spurned him into action before he could think.

“I brush my teeth!” Keith barked back sharply.

“Yeah yeah, so you say,” Lance brushed off the retort with a wave of his hand.

Keith stared at his teammates back. He was patently aware that Lance hadn’t really answered his question – Why would the other boy be touching his hair in the first place? It wasn’t like him and Lance were close. Hell, he didn’t think Lance from this timeline had so much as touched a hair on his head despite the constant and loud offense he had taken to Keith’s haircut.

“We could set down on this planet,” Allura suggested.

Swinging her wrist, she drew the image of a planet up o the screen. It was a strange shade of purple, the kind with which you couldn’t decide if it was more blue or more red. Every time Keith blinked, it seemed to sway in favour of each colour, and eventually he gave up looking at it.

“It has a fairly friendly atmosphere, and it appears abandoned.”

“Nothing’s ever abandoned,” Lance chimed in. “Trust me. The amount of times people have claimed ‘Oh! This planet is abandoned!’ and what happens? It’s not abandoned, that’s what.”

He tapped his fingers together crossly, a pout working its way over his lips. It’s almost funny. Lance looked like a kid that had just been told he wasn’t allowed in the playpen.

“Yes, well before we get there we need to stock up on some supplies,” Coran interjected. “The castle’s been running a little low on reserves like clothing and medicine.”

Lance’s face lit up like a sparkler.

“Ooooh!” he squeaked in absolute delight. “Space mall!”

“Ah, not quite,” Coran cut him off.

Lance’s smile drooped a bit, and he paused his bouncing to cock his head in silent question.

“We’ll be heading to one of the nearby planets in this current solar system to pick up what we need. It saves us from having to wormhole halfway across the galaxy.”

“Awwww, that sucks,” Lance pouted. “I was hoping to pick up another Kaltenecker.”

“Another… what?” Pidge asked.

“What’s a ‘Kaltenecker’?” Keith added.

“Oh, you’ll find out!” Lance said in an infuriatingly sing-song voice.

“Never got along with Kalteneckers,” Coran grumbled, twirling his moustache madly between his gloved fingers. “Could never get them to play nice. You look them right I the eyes and it’s like they know every single thought going through your head.”

A giggle erupted from Lance’s lips, and he quickly slapped his hands over his mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to escape. His shoulders shook with the effort of keeping it at bay, and his eyes twinkled with barely hidden mirth. Keith’s desperately wanted to know what a Kaltenecker was, and why exactly what Coran had said was so funny.

“Okay, we’ll keep the castle in low orbit and descend to the planet’s surface in a pod,” Allura stated. “It shouldn’t take us long to find what we need. The market on this planet is particularly popular, and a favourite amongst merchants due to it’s high footfall. Hopefully we’ll be able to find out a little more about the place Lance described.”

“We should scan for Galra presence first,” Lance said.

“I doubt there will be any need,” Allura waved him off. “Their will most likely be Galra merchants there anyway. As long as we dress in local garb and don’t draw attention to ourselves, we most likely won’t encounter any trouble.”

“And what if the Galra presence there is hostile?” Lance countered. “It’s better for us to be prepared for a threat than to go in blind.”

Lance turned to Shiro, his eyebrows knit together in… Distress? The expression didn’t seem to fit the situation, and Keith felt like he’d missed something. Lance raised a hand to his throat, his fingers picking at something hanging around his neck. Keith eyed the action, trying to spy whatever it was that Lance was rolling between his fingers at the speed of light. Keith managed to glimpse a thin black string drawing a line between Lance’s hand and the top of his dark under-suit, but whatever was in Lance’s hand was obscured by his knuckles as he clenched his fist around it.

“Shiro,” Lance addressed the black paladin. “Listen to me. We can’t just assume that the Galra on this planet are passive.”

Lance’s eyes were a challenge, a bolt of blue as harsh as a battling ram testing the weigh of Shiro’s gaze. Shiro glanced at Allura, shrugging slightly.

“There’s no harm in scanning for armed forces,” he said plainly.

Allura glanced at Lance for a moment, her expression thoughtful, before turning back to the controls and tapping a few keys. An image flickered to life onscreen; a series of grainy video feeds lining up next to one another across the room. Keith was suddenly grateful that Lance had suggested the scan.

Armed sentries stood shoulder to shoulder, marching like clockwork figures through the stalls of the market. Most of the merchants merely turned their heads in acknowledgment, though Keith didn’t miss the way a few of them flinched at the passing guards. Though the crowds pulsed through the market place with evident business, the throngs of aliens parted like the red sea at the approach of the Galra, small figures scuttling out of the way to avoid being underfoot.

“There are armed sentries down there,” Shiro said. “We should proceed with caution.”

Allura blinked, her face darkening slightly as she watched the screens closely.

“Like I said: We should be fine if we leave the paladin uniforms on board and avoid drawing attention to ourselves. That means you, Lance.”

She finished her sentence with a pointed look at the blue paladin. Keith turned his head just in time to see Lance’s eyes flash, his entire expression darkening. Just as soon as it had come, the look disappeared, and Lance cracked his usual cocky grin.

“ᏇᏂᏋᏁ ᎴᎧ Ꭵ ᏋᏉᏋᏒ ᎴᏒᏗᏇ ᏗᏖᏖᏋᏁᏖᎥᎧᏁ ᎴᎧ ᎷᎩᏕᏋᏝᎦ?”

Allura rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath in furious Altean as she turned back to the deck.

“I suggest you all go and get changed into something less conspicuous. Adjourn on the deck in fifteen dobashes.”

The others turned obediently, trailing in a line out of the main deck on their way to their rooms. Keith cast one last glance back at the screens, watching the way the aliens scrambled out of the way of the marching sentries. He clenched his jaw, feeling the rough grind of his teeth as he clamped them together in simmering anger. He hated the influence the Galra had on the universe, he hated the way they imposed themselves on people’s lives. He hated the Galra.

A soft pat at his arm caught Keith’s attention, and he turned to meet a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him in concern.

“Dude, don’t grind your teeth,” Lance scolded. “I promise, we’ll help as many people as we can.”

Keith immediately unclenched his teeth, his jaw aching slightly with the reminder of how hard he’d been gnawing them. Lance gave him a lopsided smile, patting him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture before he turned and made his own way out of the deck. Keith stared after him.

How had Lance known what he was thinking?

It didn’t take Keith long to get changed. His wardrobe had been pretty sparse in the desert shack, and it was pretty sparse in his room in the castle. He was used to carrying around only the bare essentials. Upon returning to the small cabin room, he’d rifled through a few of the clothes he’d accumulated from various planetary visits. They sat in a disorganised pile at the foot of his bed, a lucky dip of various shirts tunics and capes. Keith pulled a nondescript beige tunic over his dark shirt, leaving his black jeans on underneath. After some deliberation, he’d decided to forego his white boots as well, worried that the brightness against the red highlights would act like a bull’s-eye for any trigger happy sentries that might cross his path. Stepping out his room, Keith was just about done with the finicky clasp on the cape draped around his shoulders when he heard the hiss of Lance’s bedrooms doors a couple of feet down the hallway.

The taller boy stepped out, pulling the hood of his jacket down low over his brow. Keith blinked at his attire: Whereas Keith had aimed for his outfit to mimic the dusty shades of the marketplace, Lance appeared to have gone for a more characteristic appearance to help him blend in with the local populace. A pair of pale harem pants hung loosely on his hips, swathes of fabric wrapping themselves tightly around his abdomen all the way up to his ribcage where they skimmed the bottom of a dull grey cropped shirt. Lance tugged on the rest of his faded blue jacket, the hem just barely brushing his knees as it swirled around him. In any other circumstance, the outfit would have been a little too revealing, the S curve shape of Lance’s lithe body completely visible underneath the skins tight garments hugging his small waist. From where Keith stood, he had a clear view of the subtle changes to Lance’s physique that seemed to have occurred in the year between them: The jut of his hipbone was a little less harsh, the soft belts showing visible bumps of what could only be muscle crowding in around the angular bone. Lance shoulders seemed a little bigger too, his chest a little broader as the cloth of the jacket stretched across his form.

He held his bayard awkwardly in one hand as he wrestled with the fabric, grumbling something in disjointed Spanish as the sleeve snagged against his skin.

“Where did you get that?” Keith asked.

He was aware that Lance had a particular affinity for shopping, but he’d never seen the other paladin pick up any such jacket before. No doubt he would have leapt at any opportunity to show off his new prize. Maybe it was something he’d kept for a special occasion, one that hadn’t come round yet?

Lance looked up at Keith, raising his eyebrows in surprise. His gaze flicked down to his outfit, lingering on the loose threads that framed the hem.

“Oh this old thing?” he said, waving his stuck arm stiffly. “If found it last year- Or, this year, I guess. It was in the wardrobe.”

Keith narrowed his eyes at the other boy’s response.

“Since when do we have wardrobes?”

“You mean you haven’t found them yet?” Lance queried, biting his lip as he continued to struggle. “They’re in the walls, you just gotta hit the panel.”

“The walls don’t have panels, Lance.”

“Yeeeeeah they do, you just gotta find ‘em. I’ll show you later if you like.”

Keith mulled the thought over in his mind like a precious stone. He couldn’t remember when Lance had ever offered to help him with anything. He was usually to busy mocking Keith for not knowing something in the first place. It annoyed the shorter boy that Lance had to make everything a competition – Lance was good at lots of stuff too, he just didn’t seem to see it. Keith wondered if his silence about such subjects was intentional.

“Sure,” he agreed. Keith nodded at the blue bayard waving about in the air. “You gonna be able to hide that?”

Lance’s grin was positively impish.

“Are you kidding? I once managed to steal Shiro’s arm right off his body without him noticing. Might’ve been a fluke though. Guy was pretty tired at the time.”

Keith felt lost for words.

“Shiro can take his arm… Off??” he spluttered.

Lance’s smile froze in comprehension, and he quickly pressed a finger to Keith’s lips. It felt hot and smooth, and Keith’s cheeks blazed at the strangely intimate contact.

“Not a word,” Lance hissed.

And with that, he spun around, marching off in the direction of the main deck as he tucked his bayard safely into the back of his pants. Keith followed a moment after, still a little dumbstruck. He fell into step easily beside Lance, their twin footfalls echoing around the tall hallways as they walked in companionable silence. Keith’s thoughts argued with each other the whole, rattling around his skull in some sort of cage match as he tried to grasp the little bits of information Lance had let slip so far. He ground his teeth together before remembering Lance’s admonishment, hurriedly loosening his jaw and running his tongue over the blunt surfaces of his molars. There was still so much he wanted to know – Had they defeated Zarkon? What was up with Shiro’s arm? And Allura’s hair? How were they all different in the future? Did the rest of the team have scars like Lance’s or did he bare the worst of it? Did he bear the best? Maybe the rest of them were worse off. The thought sent a chill trickling down Keith’s spine like ice, and he involuntarily shivered.

“Keith,” Lance piped up, his steady voice cutting cleanly through Keith’s thoughts. “I can hear you thinking. What’s up? Are you worried about the mission?”

Keith shook his head, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the floor ahead of him. Lance’s observation of him was almost eerie, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. The acknowledgement of his troubled mind didn’t pass by unnoticed, however, and Keith felt a warm glow of security bubble inside his chest at the channel Lance was opening up. It felt… Safe.

“No,” he admitted. “I just- I have a lot of questions.”

He lifted his gaze to meet Lance’s, seeing the taller boy studying him with some shade of wistfulness.

“I can’t answer everything,” Lance spoke slowly. “But I know you’re probably gonna lose sleep over this, so I’ll answer what I can.”

He paused a moment before adding, “Start with an easy one.”

The promise of answers, no matter how redacted they may be, allowed Keith to breathe a little easier, the tight ball of unspoken frustration in his chest uncoiling a little bit. He took a deep steadying breath, rifling through his thoughts for a query that could be considered ‘easy’.

“What’s different about Allura’s hair?” he asked finally.

Lance let out a soft chuckle of laughter, the noise bouncing around the hallway like a symphony.

“She cut it,” he said plainly. Lifting his hands, he made to little platforms just below his ears. “Right up to here.”

“Why?”

“More practical,” Lance shrugged. “Can’t be battle the forces of evil or whatever if you’re constantly worrying about split ends or catching all that hair on something. Plus, bad guys grabbing you by the hair is like, one of the first things you get taught in self defence classes.”

Keith fell silent, humming thoughtfully to himself as he processed the small nugget of information. It was such a simple answer; that was probably why Lance hadn’t evaded the truth. After all, it seemed highly unlikely that the outcome of the universe was dependent on whether or not Allura lost a few feet off her impossibly long locks.

After a few minutes of deliberating, Keith came up with something else he wanted to ask.

“What about Shiro’s arm? What’s different about that?”

Lance’s face shut down instantly, his jaw clamping shut on any truths that might have accidentally slipped past his lips.

“No spoilers,” he said firmly. “I shouldn’t have told you about stealing it. That was a mistake.”

“Does it really matter that I know he can take his arm off?” Keith challenged. “It is a prosthetic after all.”

Lance stayed infuriatingly silent, his fingers disappearing into the neck of his shirt to pull out the frayed black string he’d been fiddling with earlier. Keith watched the movement like a hawk, his eyes tracing the shape of Lance’s fingers as they rolled over the small object attached to the end. Lance twisted the object, and a spear of light glinted off the surface.

“What’s that?” Keith blurted out.

Lance shot him a sideways glance. If the question annoyed him, Keith couldn’t tell.

“It’s abuelita’s wedding ring,” Lance answered. His tone was perfectly mild, all traces of defensiveness for a few seconds ago evaporating as he pulled the worn string over his head. Holding it up, Lance allowed Keith to pluck the ring from his fingers for closer inspection.

“She gave it to me when I was ten. Told me to give it to whomever I decided to marry. I had it round my neck when we found the blue lion. Sometimes it helps me sort out my thoughts to fiddle with it.”

Lance shot Keith a wry smile.

“ADHD,” he sighed.

Keith turned the ring over in his hands, letting the smooth band slide between the tips of his fingers as he stared at it. The metal was warm from where it had been nestled against Lance’s chest, the heat of it seeping into Keith’s fingertips as he turned it over.

It truly was beautiful – The stone was neither clear nor white, as Keith would have expected. Instead, it was a deep blood red, shimmering dangerously in the light as Keith peered into the facets. The surrounding gems were diamonds, two either side, tapering out in diminishing sizes as they sank into the gleaming gold of the band.

“It’s a ruby,” Lance clarified as he saw Keith narrowing his eyes at the stone. “My grandpa said that diamonds were cheap and that she was worth more than the stars. Trust that guy to get something that expensive. Total romantic. He’s worse than me.”

The affection in Lance’s tone overrode the corrosive meaning to his words, and he at once sounded both happy and sad.

“I miss them a lot,” he murmured, though it seemed more to himself than to Keith.

“You haven’t given it to anyone yet, then?” the red paladin asked, trying to ease some of the melancholy in Lance’s voice.

“Not yet,” Lance said. His eyes stared firmly ahead when he next spoke, almost too softly for Keith to hear. “But I will.”

Keith couldn’t help himself. Lance’s expression looked so far away, Keith had to reach out, to bring him back from whatever edge he was stood at. He caught the string in between his thumb and two forefingers, extending his hand to allow Lance to take the makeshift necklace from him. Lance caught it in his hand; offering no words as his slipped the string back over his head, tucking the ring safely underneath the plain fabric of his shirt.

“Who do plan on giving it to?”

Lance turned his head, and Keith lost his breath in one exhale. The taller boy’s eyes were blue magma, two deep pools smouldering with some hidden emotion that Keith couldn’t even begin to decipher. When he finally turned his piercing gaze away, Keith had to tell himself harshly not to gasp for air. Lance’s mouth curved into a half-smile, but it hung loosely on his face, like a sticker or a mask, failing to blend with the rest of his features.

“No spoilers, Keith,” he said.

And just like that, the atmosphere surrounding Keith’s invasive question dissipated.

“Pods are this way, buddy,” Lance called over his shoulder.

Keith had to skip a few steps to catch up, hardly resisting the urge to sneak a glance at the other paladin. Lance’s face was completely carefree, his eyes drifting idly over the rows of columns framing the corridor. Anyone looking in on the scene at that point would never have guessed that not thirty ticks earlier, Keith had stumbled across what seemed to be a sensitive subject.

Keith didn’t ask any more questions.

Chapter Text

Keith hadn’t even made it two steps onto the deck when he heard Lance let out a hefty “oof!’ in from in front of him. He glanced up to see the tall boy’s feet dangling a short distance off the ground as Hunk had lifted him into a very enthusiastic bear hug. As much as his crooked grin indicated he was enjoying the affection, it seemed as if he were making a conscious effort not to grimace as Hunk squeezed his thick arms around Lance’s slim torso.

“I just realised!” Hunk gushed, his face pressed tightly to Lance’s sternum. “What with the whole time switch and working stuff out and going to bed, I never got to hug my best bro.”

Lance chuckled, reaching one hand up to gently pat Hunk on the head.

“Okay, big guy, I love you too. Now can you stop squishing me, please? I think you’re gonna realign my vertebrae.”

Hunk dropped Lance immediately with an unceremonious “plop”, a shy smile tweaking his lips.

“Sorry, man. I was just really worried when you went missing,” he explained, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

Lance’s eyes softened as he took in his friend’s guilty stance, and he squeezed him lightly on the shoulder in gentle reassurance.

“Well I’m here now, buddy.”

“Paladins,” Allura called from her station. “We are going to be using the pods to enter the moon’s atmosphere. Since we’ve determined that the Galra presence here is hostile, I must stress that remaining inconspicuous is of the utmost importance.”

Keith risked a glance in Lance’s direction to see if he’d had any reaction to Allura’s instruction, only to see the older paladin scuffing his toe slightly against the floor. Despite his nonchalance, however, Lance’s eyes followed the video feed on screen, bright and attentive as they took in the flickering images.

“Our main focus is gathering information,” Allura continued. “I would recommend finding a local food market. People tend to gossip more when meals are involved.”

“Not only that,” Shiro interjected. “But it goes without saying that this is a stealth mission. We have to gather the intel we need without alerting the Galra militia of our presence.”

“Get in, get out, don’t poke the purple prairie dogs. Easy peasy nice ‘n cheesy,” Lance surmised.

Allura blinked nonplussed at Lance for a second, a small pinch forming between her eyebrows.

“I don’t understand that.”

Lance’s eyes widened before he looked away to this side, his arms crossing a little tighter over his chest as he pouted. Keith thought he heard the other boy grumbling something about missing future Allura and her “weird Earth slang”.

“Me and Pidge came up with these,” Hunk piped up. He lifted his hands to show a collection of small shiny gadgets. Pinching one between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted it delicately before turning his head to the side and brushing aside the dark hair that hung by his jaw, sliding the device neatly into his ear.

“We’ve been working on these for a little while in case something like this came up. Since we won’t be able to take our helmets on the mission, we need an alternative to our usual comms,” Pidge explained.

Lance took a step over to his friends, plucking on of the gadgets out of Hunk’s open palm and inspecting is curiously.

“Huh, nice job you guys,” he praised.

Hunk flashed him an appreciative smile that had Lance’s face cracking a grin in response.

“The marketplace covers a wide area of the swap moon,” Coran spoke from the control deck.

All eyes turned to face him as Hunk stepped between everyone, dutifully handing out the small comm links.

“It might be more efficient to split into groups to cover more ground.”

“I agree. We’ll work faster if we divide our efforts accordingly,” Shiro said, his face the picture of seriousness.

“I’m going with Lance.”

The words were out of Keith’s mouth before they had even fully formed in his mind. He flexed his jaw awkwardly as his team swivelled to stare at him, their faces a mixed palette ranging all the hues from indifference to flat out incredulity.

It wasn’t that Keith particularly wanted to be with Lance for the mission, rather it was so that he could keep an eye on the taller boy. Despite what the future Lance claimed, Keith wanted to be certain that it was really Lance they were dealing with. It would damage the universe faith should Team Voltron be so easily manipulated by an outsider wearing the mask of one of their own.

“Sure,” Lance said with a shrug, breaking the silence that had settled over the meeting. “I’m happy to babysit the hothead over here.”

“You’ll get to keep an eye on me too, right?” Lance continued when Keith opened his mouth to retort. “That is what you want after all.”

Keith closed his jaw with a snap, shooting Lance a wary glance to which the other boy just roller his eyes. Since when did Lance become so relaxed about his chiding? Normally he’d look for any excuse to bicker, and the look Keith was shooting him offered up a more than ample opportunity to jibe.

“Hunk, you go with them too,” Shiro ordered, shaking Keith out of his thoughts. “I’ll go with Pidge.”

“Favouritism,” Lance muttered, though the words were more light-hearted than malicious.

“I have a question though.”

Allura turned to Lance, azure eyes bright and curious as she surveyed him. Lance uncrossed his arms, rubbing his bicep anxiously as he chewed his lip.

“What do we do if we can’t find anything?”

Allura frowned, her face dropping slightly as she mulled over the query. When she answered, her voice was stern and resolute.

“Then we use the training headsets to look into your mind.”

Keith felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Lance’s face darkened at Allura’s words, and the way he balled his hands into fists didn’t escape Keith’s attention. He surveyed the blue paladin, taking in his hunched stance. Lance didn’t seem angry at Allura’s proposal, despite how tightly he clasped his hands and grit his teeth. No, it was something different. Keith watched as the other boy shifted his weight almost imperceptibly between each foot, they way his shoulders curled inwards as if he were trying to take up less space. The older boy’s eyes flickered to Keith for a split second, cobalt locking onto violet like a magnet before snapping back to Allura, as if they’d never connected with Keith’s at all. It was then that the red paladin realised:

Lance was scared.

“Then we’d best find out the name of that planet,” he finally said, his airy voice accompanied by a brisk wave of his hand.

The action might have seemed nonchalant, were it not for the glint of steel sitting in between the hues of Lance’s blue irises. It gave Keith an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach; like he was missing a puzzle piece and couldn’t see the whole picture in its absence.

Without another, Lance turned on his heel and started towards the doors, lacing his fingers casually behind his head as he went.

“Are you guys coming?” he called over his shoulder.

Keith exchanged a look with Hunk too see if his teammate had noticed the subtle imbalance in Lance’s demeanour. The big guy just shrugged, offering Keith nothing more than a meek smile as he took off after his friend.

The journey to the swap moon’s surface in the pods wasn’t as uncomfortable as Keith feared. Hunk and Lance talked animatedly over their seats as the small ship sank into the moon’s atmosphere, the latter gesticulating wildly as he threw his head back and laughed with abandon at Hunk’s jokes. Keith couldn’t help but notice that Lance’s side of the conversation kept drifting back to the Balmera, asking whether the team had returned to visit and if Hunk had seen Shay again. The yellow paladin tugged at his collar bashfully at Lance’s nosiness, his cheeks darkening a shade when his friend elbowed him suggestively in the arm.

As the pod descended through the clouds, the smooth surface parting the wispy cover like candyfloss, Keith peered through the windshield to the docking bay below. The bay was large; a litany of ships all shapes and sizes crowding the stations that split the jetty in staggered intervals. The pod swerved uncertainly as Hunk tried to squeeze in between two larger ships, the hulls of the opposing sides leaning perilously close to the team, threatening to crush the small voyager under their looming forms. With a juddering whine, Hunk landed the pod against the dock, letting a deep sigh out of his lungs with a whoosh.

“Remind me why I’m the one driving?” he asked, face a shade paler than usual.

Lance snorted.

“You think this guy would let me drive?” he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in Keith’s direction. “He needs both hands free to fight me when I inevitably betray you all and reveal I was an angry purple furby the entire time.”

Keith scowled at Lance, deliberately allowing his dark hair to fall into his eyes so that they glittered dangerously through the thick tresses. Lance just snickered in response.

The three paladins stepped gingerly out onto the jetty, giving themselves a second to adjust to the atmosphere. Lance was still leaning into the pod, scrabbling at something that Keith couldn’t see.

“You alright there, buddy?” Hunk called.

Lance straightened up, head whipping round like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. After a moment, his face dissolved into a casual smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“All good, man.”

Keith’s eyes followed Lance closely as the taller boy turned towards them. He didn’t miss how the other paladin stuffed his hand a little too quickly into his pocket.

Lance took a deep breath, placing his hands on his hips as his chest swelled. He choked out a raspy cough, covering his mouth with his forearm as his eyes scrunched up.

“Ugh, it smells like stale farts in this place,” he groused, voice thick with distaste. “Allura, what is that?”

“You’re lucky the atmosphere is somewhat hospitable,” Allura replied. Her voice was faint and crackly through the comms, a far cry from the usually flawless line they had with their paladin helmets. “From what you Earthlings have told me, most humans breathe air, which is almost 80% nito- nigro- nitrogen, I think it’s called? This swap moon has significantly less off that gas than your home planet.”

“That’s not good,” Lance muttered as he looked around, eyes sweeping over the different aliens forms that clogged up the jetty.

“Indeed, it’s not the best,” Coran’s voice said through the makeshift comms. “So best be as quick as you can, before you all spontaneously combust.”

“Is that gonna happen?” Hunk asked nervously. “Because I mean, theoretically it could happen. You know how there are all those theories about how oxygen is actually oxidizing your blood and slowly setting you on fire from the inside out and that’s why antioxidants are so important-“

“Hunk,” Lance interrupted. “It’s gonna be fine. We’ll just grab the info we need and get out before anyone of us becomes a spicy kebab.”

Hunk didn’t look too reassured, but he quieted his rambling, choosing instead to wring his hands fretfully.

“You’ll need payment to dock your ship,” a croaky voice spoke from Keith’s elbow.

The boy jumped back, startled by the sudden presence beside him. The owner of the voice was a rather gangly alien, only about half Keith’s size, with a long skinny neck and hands that reminded him of a frog’s sticky fingers.

“How much?” Lance asked without missing a beat.

The alien’s eyes moved independently, one swivelling to take in Lance as the other remained fixed on Keith’s defensive stance. “Twenty gack.”

Lance fished in his pocket for a moment before drawing out what vaguely looked like currency. He dropped it into the alien’s outstretched finger-stalks without a word, watching indifferently as the small being wrapped his hand greedily around the money before waddling off along the jetty.

“Always good to carry some,” Lance said in response to Hunk’s quizzical stare.

The broad man opened his mouth to ask something when he was suddenly jostled harshly. He swung to the side, teetering precariously close to the edge of the dock as a rather squat alien shoved past him. Keith grabbed onto the back of his shirt before he went over, giving a sharp yank to pull Hunk’s weight firmly back to safety. The shorter boy was about to bark something decidedly nasty at the alien when Lance stepped in front of the offender, intentionally knocking the creature with his shoulder.

The alien whipped around, fixing Lance with a pallid stare as it hissed a long stream of what were most likely expletives in an unknown language.

“Oh my goodness!” Lance cried, throwing his hand up to cover his gasping mouth dramatically. “I am so sorry, please forgive me kind sir!”

The alien didn’t even offer Lance a second look as it shouldered past him, leaving a whispered hiss in its wake.

“Friendly place,” Keith quipped.

Lance shot him a cheeky grin that threw the other boy for a second. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though as Lance swept by him, making a beeline for the entrance to the market.

As the three of them approached, Keith spotted a row of Galra sentries standing by the entrance, no doubt monitoring for ill talk of the Galra empire and unruly behaviour. It was little wonder why – In a marketplace this crowded, it would be easy to exchange secrets. A prime location for any resistance should such a thing exist.

“Be cool,” Lance whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

It took Keith a second to realise that the statement had been directed at him, and he felt a little bubble of resentment well up inside him.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” he whispered harshly.

Lance shot him a warning glance before stepping confidently towards the sentries.

“Permit,” the sentry demanded.

Panic erupted in Keith like an ignition switch, dialling his fight or flight reflex up to eleven. He visibly tensed, muscles bunching in anticipation and he let his hand drift towards his hip, curling into a fist as he shifted his weight ever so slightly in preparation of a fight.

This was bad: If they couldn’t get past the sentries they wouldn’t be able to obtain the information they needed, and there would be no way of retrieving Lance from the future. The universe wouldn’t have Voltron!

Lance’s voice cut off Keith’s rapidly escalating thoughts like pulling the plug on a TV.

“Sure,” the tall boy said nonchalantly.

Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a small disc roughly the size of a hockey puck, holding it up for the sentry to look at. The robot tapped on the disc abruptly, and Keith watched as a glow pattern illuminated the circular surface in an elaborate crest.

The sentry peered at the emblem for a few seconds whilst Keith held his breath. After a moment, it straightened up, stepping to the side to allow them room to pass.

“Proceed,” it ordered, voice mechanical and without inflection.

Lance slipped the permit back into his pocket, sauntering past the security as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Keith sealed his lips shut, eyeing the robot warily as he followed Hunk into the market place. As soon as they were out of sight, he rounded on Lance.

“You just conveniently had a permit on you?” he hissed accusingly.

Lance blinked at him, apparently surprised by the question before his mouth curved into a mischievous smirk.

“Swiped it off that alien that bumped into Hunk.”

Keith frowned, his face contorting into a scowl at the other boy’s words.

“Shiro told us not to draw attention to ourselves and you start pick-pocketing aliens the second we arrive!?”

“Keep your voice down!” Lance hissed, hunching forward as he lowered his voice. “That alien didn’t even apologise. I doubt his trade will exactly be missed around here.”

Hunk gave Lance a look that was simultaneously shocked and grateful before his eyebrows rose suddenly.

“How are Pidge and Shiro gonna get in without a permit?

Keith’s lips parted slightly at the sudden question. He raised his hand to his ear, tapping the earpiece experimentally as he turned his head to the side.

“Shiro? Can you hear me? Shiro? Are you there?”

“”Copy, Keith,” Shiro’s voice came through the comm link, tinny and faint. “Did you manage to get around the Galran sentries?”

Keith opened his mouth to reply when Lance’s voice cut him off.

“Shiro, this is Lance. We got by the security just fine. Proceeding on foot through street number…” Lance paused to look around for any indicating markers in the immediate area, his eyes sharp and keen. “I think it’s the 4 th row off the main bazaar west. There’s a stall with a big Galra logo right in the middle.”

Keith followed Lance’s line of sight. Sure enough, a pointy looking stall crowned with the sigil of the Galra Empire sat almost exactly halfway down the long market way, like an ugly stain on the otherwise vivacious populace.

“Copy that, Lance. Me and Pidge managed to sneak in under some crates that were being carried through. We’ll cover the East side of the market and head North. The three of you take the West and circle South. We’ll rendezvous in approximately two vargas. Try to minimise radio contact in case someone is listening in, copy.”

“Copy that, Shiro. Over and out.”

Keith frowned at Lance. Whilst the blue paladin had proven he was more than capable in the field, something about his almost business like approach to the mission once again reminded Keith that this Lance was different. More experienced, more mature.

Lance caught Keith frowning and winked at him, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he continued strolling down the crowded street.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Hunk asked from the side.

“Approachable aliens,” Lance offered. “Ones that look like they’ll talk, or are willing to trade. Steer clear of the con artists – They’ll sell you out for one corn chip.”

“Do aliens even know what corn chips are?” Keith rebuffed.

Lance gave him an extremely exaggerated sigh.

“I forgot how dense you were.”

Lance bumped Keith lightly with his shoulder, surprising the shorter boy. He shot Lance a wild look, only to see the older boy smiling softly at him. It was such an unexpected expression, one that Keith had never seen directed towards him before. It was a look usually reserved for Hunk and Pidge when they remembered something Lance had mentioned. It seemed all too… Familiar. Keith’s tongue abruptly sealed itself to the roof of his mouth, and he averted his eyes with a scowl.

The marketplace was absolutely writhing with life. Street stalls were packed tightly together lining the buildings either side of the road; table tops piled high with the largest variety of products Keith had ever seen. Wiry flowers in hues Keith had never seen before lay scattered across some tables, their petals shiny and translucent like spun glass, mysterious fruits that looked peculiarly like their vines were wrapping around each other, rows and rows of dead creatures lay stacked on what was presumably ice, their blank eyes staring at nothing as they were shoved into bags and traded off to hungry customers.

Speaking of, the diversity of the aliens was far broader than the red paladin was used to seeing. In most of his encounters with other creatures, Keith had been playing his part as a paladin of Voltron and representative for the Altean message of peace. It wasn’t unusual for several different species to inhabit the same planet, but the sheer number of alien types was far greater than Keith had ever experienced before.

They ranged from tall broad shouldered aliens with hulking limbs and midnight skin to tiny critters whom barely reached Keith’s knee that scuttled between the throngs of civilians, bumpy skin shining strangely. And it wasn’t just their bodies that were foreign either. A multitude of dialects filled the air, some deep and rumbling, others high and scratchy. At one point Keith spotted two aliens having what looked like a rather wild silent argument, wide mouths flapping open and shut as they flailed at each other. It took a few more glances before Keith concluded that perhaps they were speaking at a pitch that was either too high or too low for his ears to pick up.

Keith’s eyes kept drifting back to Lance, watching the back of his head as his shoulders bobbed with his sloping gait. He appeared to be fiddling with something, his fingers ducking a weaving over each other as he twined something around them. Keith took half a step closer, trying to glance surreptitiously over Lance’s broad shoulder. Lance decided to turn his head at that exact moment, sparing Keith an unimpressed look before quite deliberately concealing his hands back into his pockets. Keith let out a barely audible huff, but stepped away again, turning his attention back to the marketplace.

Not too far down the market, he spied a stall full intricately crafted weaponry, their blades glinting as the light overhead refracted off the unique patterns etched into the metal. Keith inadvertently took a step towards the stall, curiously steering his limbs like a marionette. A hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping is advance short, and he turned his head took see Lance quirking an eyebrow at him, a knowing look on his face.

“Not that one, hotshot. Peep the trader.”

Keith turned back to look at the trader Lance had mentioned and immediately understood the other boy’s reasoning. The alien behind the stall looked like a horrible stereotype of a crook, his beady eyes shifting back and forth over the throngs of people, gnarled fingers tapping together like he was deciding his next meal. Keith promptly turned away, following Lance and Hunk deeper into the marketplace as he pushed the weaponry firmly out of his mind.

They walked for a few more minutes, allowing themselves to be swept along leisurely with the fast moving crowd. Lance and Hunk paused occasionally, perusing over a few stalls that offered some frankly mind boggling items and foods. It was when they drew to a stop at one such stall that was littered with piles of what Keith could only really describe as “scavenged junk” that Lance made his first move.

The blue paladin rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he picked up an item that looked remarkably like a pocket watch. The thought unsettled Keith slightly, and he found himself absently wondering how many aliens had visited Earth without anyone ever really realising it. He let his eyes wander over the cluster of objects decorating the table top, trying to pick out other items that may potentially have come from Earth.

“Ah, fine piece of machinery that is right there,” the merchant cooed as he spotted Lance peering at the watch.

He slunk a little closer, short legs attached to a long body giving him a strange gait that was somewhere between a glide and a waddle. A sway perhaps? The alien’s gut pressed against the stall as he leaned forwards, tilting his face up to speak at Lance and the others with hushed tones.

“Such delicate craftsmanship and refinement, as you can see. The engravings are remarkable, are they not?”

Lance merely grunted in acknowledgement. The alien pressed closer, clearly eager to make a sale. His grey eyes gleamed with eager greed, and he seemed to fidget slightly, as if he wanted to reach out and dive his hands into their pockets in search of money.

“Pretty,” Lance agreed. “But we’re not here for trinkets. We’re looking for information.”

The alien shrank backwards as if he’d been slapped, fingers curling protectively in towards his chest as he shot the paladins a sour look.

“I have no such trifle with that sort of trade,” the alien barked, the edge of his lips curling upwards just enough for Keith to spy a row of jagged teeth.

“Maybe we can come to an agreement?” Lance suggested, apparently unconcerned with the alien’s obvious displeasure. “Would you be willing to barter?”

The alien’s features twisted into what might have been a scowl, though it was heard to tell with all of the extra… Appendages.

“You don’t have anything I want,” it argued flatly, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“You don’t know that!” Lance argued. “We come from a planet that isn’t even in this galaxy! ”

Keith couldn’t help feeling a strange flicker of familiarity at the petulant note hanging in Lance’s voice, and the corner of his mouth quirked involuntarily.

The alien eyed Lance, it’s short legs sliding across the ground as it crept a fraction closer.

“What sort of treasures do you offer?” he queried, a strange hunger in his tone as his tongue ran across a row of pointed teeth.

“That depends on what you can tell us,” Lance replied. “We’re looking for a particular planet in the Tarantula Nebula. Can you tell us anything about that start system?”

“The Tarantula Nebula?” the alien echoed. “That place has been abandoned for decathebes!”

“Apparently not,” Lance countered. We’re trying to find the name of a planet. It’s a wasteland now but it still has a temple, I think. Temples and statues.”

The alien scoffed.

“There are many planets in Tarantula that have temples and statues.”

“I know ,” Lance shot back. “What about ones that have time tech?”

It was like the words had flipped a switch as soon as they’d left Lance lips. The alien’s eyes grew wide, and his lips curled back from his mouth to bare his teeth at the trio. The hairs on the back of Keith’s neck prickled slightly, and he bounced on the balls of his feet as a small drip of adrenaline pricked his veins.

“What do you have to trade?” the alien demanded.

His voice was low and firm, and once again his tongue ran over the sharp row of fangs that shone in the sun.

“Can you tell us anything or not?” Lance said back.

His voice remained casual, neutral, passive almost. Though his face told a different story: Lance’s eyes took on a glint of steel, the blue in them hardening into ice as he set his jaw. The scar tracing down his cheek contorted into a wavy line as the muscles in Lance’s neck flexed, and he drew himself up to his full height, shoulders pulled back and chest pushed out. Even from Keith’s perspective, Lance looked a little intimidating. The alien seemed to wilt slightly in the shadow that the blue paladin was throwing, though he tried not to show it.

They remained at an impasse for several seconds, both Lance and the trader attempting to stare the other down. Hunk’s head whipped side to side, his gaze travelling back and forth between the two as he worried at his lip. When it seemed as if the conversation wasn’t going to progress any further, Keith opened his mouth to interject.

He hadn’t managed to say but one word when the merchant’s curiosity apparently outweighed his own stubbornness.

“I can help you learn what you wish to know,” he said slowly, eyes watching Lance’s reaction in a calculating manner.

Lance chewed on the statement for a few seconds, his chin lifting a little as he bore his gaze into the creature in front of him. He let out a sigh, allowing his shoulders to drop with the breath. Stepping forwards, he dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out something incredibly fine.

It looked like a white gossamer thread; so extraordinarily thin and pale that Keith could have sworn it was-

“A single hair from the head of the heir to the Altean Throne,” Lance stated boldly.

Keith could barely stop his reaction.

“Lance!” he barked, teeth gritted as he balled his fists.

They couldn’t give out Allura’s hair! What if there was some way the Galra could track them?

Lance ignored his strangled cry, his glacial blue gaze watching the alien carefully.

The alien’s eyes shone with avarice, the mouth hanging open so much that he was nearly drooling. The creature leaned forwards, fingers extending tentatively towards the iridescent hair. He’d barely gotten within a foot when Lance’s hand disappeared back into his pocket, taking the hair with it.

“Tell us what we want to know,” he ordered.

That seemed to snap the alien out of his daze, his eyes blinking rapidly against his stupor. He seemed to refocus, giving Lance a mistrustful look.

“Altea hasn’t existed in millennia,” he stated impertinently.

“Making the hair that much more valuable,” Lance rebuffed.

The alien’s eye twitched, fingers quivering as if they possessed independent greed of which the alien could not control.

“Give me the hair,” the trader said slowly. “And I will help you. You have my word, as a merchant.”

Lance snorted softly, a sentiment that Keith shared. He doubted this trader’s word stood for much.

Lance regarded the alien for a few moments, his eyes tracing over the creature’s face as if looking for some tell tale sign that it would simply vanish should he give it what it wanted. After a minute of deliberation, Lance reached lazily back into his pocket, producing Allura’s hair once again.

No sooner had he extended his hand than did the alien snatch the gossamer right of out it, like a toad catch a fly with its tongue.

The alien stretched the white hair between his hands, holding it close to one eye to inspect it. He dropped it under what Keith presumed was its nose, inhaling deeply. Keith grimaced when the alien’s tongue snaked out, raking over the hair heavily. Keith was sure it would snap, but the strand miraculously stayed in tact. Most likely something to do with how hardy Alteans were.

When the alien had finished its uncomfortable appreciation of the item, he turned to waddle deeper into its stall. He routed around amongst the clutter for a moment before producing a small dark box with engravings lining its sides. He rolled the hair delicately into a loop before placing it gently inside the box, snapping the lid closed on top.

It shot the paladins a cagey glare, curling its body around the box before promptly stuffing it back in amongst the horde of other items.

“We had a deal,” Keith reminded it.

The alien’s gaze swept over Keith from crown to toes and back up again, apparently trying to get the measure of him. Lance folded his arms impatiently over his chest, and the alien seemed to abandon any plans it may have had of running away.

Stepping forwards again, it leaned up to Lance’s ear, long tongue darting out to coat its teeth as it went. For a split second, Keith thought it may bite the blue paladin, and his hand curled reflexively into a fist.

“The alien who can tell you the name of the planet you seek trades in the Grand Bazaar,” it whispered, eyes flicking around the market place independently as Lance listened. “She is called Mag’u Pangur, the scaled shrew.”

Keith grabbed the alien’s arm in a flash, yanking it towards him. The creature yelped at the sudden force almost lifting it of its feet.

“That wasn’t what we agreed,” Keith growled. “You said you could give us information.”

“I said I could help you learn what you wished to know,” the alien responded.

His wide mouth split into a smug grin, all four rows of sharp teeth visible as it smirked up at Keith. “And now you have learned where to find the information you so desire.”

“Keith…” Hunk said warningly.

Keith glanced up at his friend, seeing the yellow paladin take a step forward, hands raised in a universal peacekeeping gesture. Keith spared the alien one last glare before he shoved the little thing harshly to the side. The alien let out a triumphant cackle, slinking back into its stall as Hunk took Keith gently by the shoulder and steered him away.

Lance followed them silently, watching Keith with an odd expression.

When they were far enough away, Hunk let go of Keith’s shoulders, taking a somewhat ginger step to the side, as if he might set off a booby trap at any second. It didn’t stop Keith rounding on Lance.

“How could you do that?” he demanded. “What if the Galra find us because you gave some shifty merchant Allura’s hair?”

“ Relax, Keith!” Lance said, completely unperturbed by what had just happened. “It’s just one hair I found in the pod. She’s gonna cut it all off in like six months anyway so simmer down, cherry bomb.”

Keith wanted to say more. He wanted to tell Lance how reckless and short sighted he was, to tell him how dangerous it was to give Altean DNA away like it was a cheap toy. He wanted to yell at the older boy for not thinking his plan through or even having the courtesy to discuss it with his team first.

But Lance was giving him a really weird look, and it threw off the traction of Keith’s anger.

“What?” he said intelligibly.

Lance blinked owlishly at him in response, and Keith felt like he’d interrupted a very deep thought.

“You’re just so…” Lance trailed off. A flicker of realisation passed across his face, following quickly by a flash of pain before he schooled his features. Lance dropped his head, giving it a weary shake.

“You don’t trust me.”

Lance voice didn’t crack when he said the words, but there was a deep sadness in his tone that his wry smile failed to mask. Keith just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. It didn’t matter though, because Lance turned on his heel and began making his way back through the throngs of the crowded market.

Hunk stared after him, shooting Keith an apologetic look before following his friend. Keith walked after them, trying to decipher Lance’s words.

Of course he trusted the other paladin, he trusted all of his teammates. If he didn’t, then they wouldn’t be able to form Voltron! It was hypocritical – Lance had trusted neither him nor Hunk about the strand of Allura’s hair in his possession. What right did he have to call Keith out for questioning him? Then again, Lance had an entire year’s worth of experience on the rest of them. Perhaps he’d known the gamble was worth the reward?

The dark-haired boy chewed at his lip as he trudged dutifully after the other paladins, trying not to over analyse the wistful faraway look Lance had had in his eyes when he’d looked at Keith.

“We should probably check in with Shiro and Pidge,” Hunk said suddenly, knocking Keith out of his absorbing thoughts.

Lance turned at the sound of his friend’s voice, pausing in his walk to look back at them.

“Good idea,” he agreed.

Keith tapped the comm in his ear, waiting for the burst of static to fade before he spoke.

“Shiro, this is Keith.”

A few muffled noises came through the other end of the line, drifting in and out of the crackling link like a badly tuned radio before Shiro’s voice faded in.

“-eith. Keith, this is Shiro. Do you copy?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Keith replied. “We think we may have found someone who can help us.”

“That’s good,” Shiro said, his voice dipping in volume as Keith passed under an overhang, momentarily hindering the connection. “Me and Pidge have come up pretty empty on our end.”

“We’re heading to somewhere called The Grand Bazaar. We’re looking for an alien called Mag’u Pangur.”

“Mag’u Pangur,” Shiro repeated. “Is your position still South-West?”

Keith looked around the street they’d just turned off. He could still see the Galra flag in the distance, the aliens walking by it giving it a wide berth.

“Yeah,” he told Shiro. “We’ll find the bazaar and head to higher ground to scope it out.”

“Good. Me and Pidge will come round the other way. Check-in once you find it and we can formulate a plan from there. Over and out.”

Keith tapped the comm link to disconnect, listening as the high-pitched whistling of feedback died in his ear. Lance was giving him a quizzical look, one eyebrow quirked in silent question.

“You didn’t tell him about the trade,” he remarked.

It wasn’t an accusation. Lance’s tone was flat, no inflection to give away any of his thoughts.

“I’m trusting you,” Keith said with a shrug.

Lance continued to stare at him for a moment. It made Keith feel weirdly hot under the collar, and he self-consciously rubbed at the thick hair against the nape of his neck.

“You were right about getting to higher ground,” Lance said after a moment. “The bazaar is usually at the centre of the networking market streets, so if we follow down here we’ll reach it eventually.”

The three of them made their way down the long street, occasionally exchanging a few words. Lance no longer had the strand of Allura’s hair to toy with, but Keith noticed the other boy still fidgeting. Whether it be with a stray thread from his clothing or reaching out to tug on the ends of Hunk’s hair, the older boy was always doing something with his hands. Keith wandered if it was a nervous habit, and if so had he always had it? Or was it something that Lance had picked up after fighting in space for over a year?

“That’s it,” Lance said, pointing at a large building ahead of them.

It looked like a domed spider web of rusted metal, huge russet bones springing up from the dry ground to weave together in an elaborate cradle clothed in patched material. It might have been quite pretty were it not for the thick layer of grime coating the outward layer of cover.

“We can scope it out from up there,” Lance continued, nodding at the low building next to them.

“How’re we gonna get up there?” Hunk asked, raising one hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he surveyed the structure.

Lance to a step forward down a narrow alley off the street. He looked around for a second before a small smile worked its way onto his lips.

“Hunk, buddy. Give me a boost!”

Hunk did as he was told, dropping to one knee and lacing his fingers together. Lance placed his foot firmly in Hunk’s holding, bracing his hands on his friend’s broad shoulders to steady himself.

“3…2…1…”

Hunk shot to his feet, practically launching Lance into the air. The blue paladin, wobbled for a moment, reaching out with his arms as he grabbed for purchase at the small building’s roof. He caught hold of the ridge, scrabbling for a moment before pulling himself cleanly over the edge. Lance reappeared a second later, a triumphant grin splitting his face.

For a minute, Keith completely forgot about the situation they were in. Lance’s smile shone so brightly, the dark-haired boy didn’t even notice how his scar curved with his grin. And then Lance’s eyes snapped to Keith’s expectantly.

“Keith next!” he announced.

“What? Why does Keith get to go first?” Hunk pouted.

“ Becaaaause , Keith is smaller. And it’s gonna take both of us to pull you up, big guy,” Lance explained.

“Rude.”

“Just means there’s more of you to love, Hunk.”

Hunk sank back down to one knee, waiting patiently for Keith to place his foot in the cradle of his hands. Keith glanced up at Lance leaning over the edge, arms extended ready to catch his hands.

“You ready?” Lance asked, his voice playful as he grinned cheekily.

“You know it,” Keith fired back with a grin of his own.

Hunk snapped to his feet again, propelling Keith upwards. Keith reached the apex of his ascent, hanging in the air for a split second before strong hands wrapped around his forearms, holding him tightly. Lance pulled Keith over the lip of the rooftop with an unexpected ease, exhibiting an amount of strength the red paladin was unused to. He dug his toes into the rough surface of the wall to help as much as he could, finally managing to push his weight over the lip. Keith’s landing was… Ungraceful, if he was being honest. He stumbled a little, falling over on top of Lance as he over balanced. The older boy let out a little “oof!” as Keith’s weight landed on top of him, though one arm came up to hook around Keith’s back as the two of them fell backwards onto the rooftop. Keith almost inhaled a mouthful of dry dirt as his head flopped over the other paladin’s shoulder. He popped up immediately, a little embarrassed at the close contact, only to see Lance letting out a huff of laughter.

He grinned at Keith, the arm around the shorter boy’s back tightening as he lifted the fingers of his other hand to sweep the bangs out of Keith’s face. Lance’s blue eyes glittered like waves on the ocean as he smiled at Keith. It was an unexpectedly intimate gesture, one that Keith was not prepared for. So when Lance’s expression dropped like a stone and he snatched his hand away, Keith didn’t get a chance to question it before Lance rolled his weight off him and crawled back over to the edge of the roof.

“Keith, come help me,” Lance said.

His voice sounded gravelly, like he had a lump in his throat, and he refused to turn around and look at Keith when he spoke. Instead, choosing to remain leaning over the rooftop.

The two of them managed to haul Hunk over the lip of the roof with a bit of strength and a lot of scuffling, but eventually all three paladins sat a top the dusty flat overlooking the bustling streets below. Keith stood, looking out over the market to the bulbous structure of the bazaar a little way off into the distance.

“We can’t really see anything from here?” he commented, squinting his eyes in an effort to improve his vision.

“Well not without a little help,” Lance replied.

Keith turned to see Lance pulling his bayard out of its hiding place beneath his clothes.

“You brought that?” Hunk cried incredulously.

“Rule number one of Voltron Club: Don’t talk about Voltron Club. Rule number two of Voltron Club: NEVER go in unarmed if you can help it,” Lance announced.

He brought the bayard to his lips, giving it a quick blow and rubbing it on his jacket as one would an apple.

A split second later, Keith watched as the weapon glowed a bright blue, it’s shape morphing underneath Lance’s grip.

Keith had been expecting Lance’s typical bulky rifle to materialise in place of the grip. Instead, the bayard’s luminous form extended into a shape much longer and thinner than usual, the tip tapering out into a muzzle as the glow began to fade.

“Woooooah!” Hunk breathed. He gave an appreciative little whistle, long and low as they all stared at Lance’s weapon. “When did you get a sniper rifle?”

Lance lifted the sniper with one arm, letting its weight settle against his shoulder as he gave Keith and Hunk a cocky grin.

“What? This old thing?” he preened, patting the body of the rifle lovingly. “Unlocked this trick not long after we met Prince L-“

Lance cut himself off abruptly, clearing his throat.

“Prince…” Keith continued.

“You’ll meet him,” Lance finished enigmatically, before turning away, making it very clear that the conversation was over.

Keith almost groaned in frustration. If Lance wasn’t going to tell them anything then he really shouldn’t tease.

Lance dropped to a crouch, setting the sniper up as he ducked his head to peer through the lens.

“There’s holes in that covering that I can see through,” he informed his team. “Aaaaand I think I just found our alien. The scaled shrew, right?”

Lance’s head popped back up again, and he moved his body away from the sniper, holding the butt out for the others to take a look. Keith stepped forward, lining his eye up with the lens of the rifle. Sure enough, Mag’u Pangur fit her description. She was large and hunched, thick scales overlapping each other in an articulated pattern over the curve of her spine. Her face stretched into a pointed snout the same way her claws curved into wicked looking talons. Keith thought she looked vaguely like a pangolin, were it not for her bright pink eyes that were more reminiscent of a white rat.

“That has to be her,” Keith murmured, more to himself than the others.

“Check out the security,” Lance suggested.

He pressed the fingers of one hand between Keith’s shoulder blades, a gently pressure on his spine as he used his other hand to lightly turn the rifle.

A group of Galra sentries swung into the lens view with the movement. Keith watched as a trader approached, halted by one sentry raising a hand. The trader yanked roughly on a chain he was holding, and another alien stumbled into view, a thick shackle around its neck.

“They’re trafficking aliens,” Keith growled. “That bazaar is for illegal trading.”

He looked up at Lance and Hunk, a fierce anger bubbling against his sternum.

Lance gnawed at the inside of his cheek in quiet contemplation, his eyes travelling back to the bazaar in the distance.

“Well…” he began, tone cautious. “If it’s aliens they want, then aliens they’ll get. Hunk, take off your shirt.”

“WHAT?!”

Hunk squawked loudly at the order, his hands fluttering up to cross consciously over his chest.

“Why? I don’t wanna take my shirt off!”

“Don’t be shy, big guy. I’ve seen your tattoos before,” Lance cooed.

Keith blinked. Tattoos? He turned to Hunk with wide curiosity, eyes raking over his friend’s figure in search of any markings. Hunk’s arms wound tighter around his chest.

“Yeah but… They’re personal, ” he argued weakly.

“Hunk,” Lance started, his tone becoming serious. “I know they’re personal too you, but this could be our only ticket in there.”

Hunk looked like he wanted to argue, his mouth twisting into an anxious line as he tapped the tips of his index fingers together repeatedly. Eventually, he let out a soft whine, letting his big arms drop heavily to his side, swinging a little with the momentum.

Taking a deep breath, Hunk seized the bottom of his shirt and in one swift motion lifted it over his head. Keith tried not to gape, he really did. But it was hard when Hunk’s entire chest was covered in some of the most intricate tattoos Keith had ever seen.

Thick ropes of dark lines wove themselves over his barrel chest, fusing together only to split apart into tiny detailed patterns. When Hunk turned to hand his shirt to Lance, Keith could see the lines trace all the way around to his back, folding over each other in a tight decorative arrangement. He was staring so much that it was only when Hunk caught Keith’s eye and promptly blushed did the shorter boy shut his jaw closed with a snap, politely averting his gaze. Lance ripped Hunk shirt into strips, ignoring the “Hey!” of protest his friend shouted.

Lance directed them all back off the roof, jumping down to land nimbly on his feet like a cat before tucking his bayard back into his coat and turning back to face the yellow paladin.

“Hey, Hunk, gimme your wrists,” he instructed?

“Woah, what? Why?”

“We’ve gotta make it look like you’re our prisoner,” Lance elaborated.

Hunk eyed the strips of cloth with no small amount of nervousness, gulping visibly. Lance’s impatient expression softened at his friend’s hesitation, and he stepped forward to rub Hunk’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I’ll tie it in a bow and give you the end,” Lance said gently. “That way if there’s trouble you can get yourself out. We won’t leave you defenceless.”

“We’ve got your back, Hunk,” Keith chimed in.

Hunk still didn’t look very happy, but he relaxed a little. Enough for him to hold his wrists out and let Lance bind them with the torn shirt. True to his word, Lance tied a perfect bow, tucking both the loops and the ends in between Hunk’s fingers to conceal them.

“Shouldn’t we tell Shiro what we’re doing?” Keith asked.

Lance hesitated for a second. Keith saw it, the way his eyes tightened at the mention of the other team. It was a strange response, but Keith didn’t push it. They had bigger things to worry about right now.

“If this all goes well, we’ll be in and out in less than ten ticks,” Lance said stonily.

“Let’s go.”

The crowds of noisy aliens seemed to thin out the closer they got to the bazaar. Hunk walked a few paces in front of them, head bowed low and eyes cast down. He dragged his feet a little, too, though Keith wasn’t sure if this was for appearances or if it was Hunk trying to delay their inevitable encounter with the Galra sentries.

“HALT!”

The three paladins stopped in their tracks as the first sentry stepped forward, arm raised.

“State your business in the Grand Bazaar,” it demanded in its mechanical voice.

“We have prime stock to trade,” Lance announced with a clear voice.

He stepped forward, drawing himself up to full height and lifting his chin.

“Specimen does not classify as “prime”,” the sentry debated.

“Doesn’t classify as prime?!” Lance cried.

He opened his mouth in silent outrage. Keith thought he was being a little over the top, but then again it was Lance so…

“Look at this!” Lance hooted in a voice a few octaves above normal. “This is prime human specimen! Look at the beautiful shade of its skin tone!”

Lance gave Hunk a few good slaps in the chest for emphasis, ignoring the startled yelp that Hunk gave in response. To anyone else, it would have seemed a completely believable display, but Keith didn’t miss how Lance’s jaw flexed to the sound of Hunk’s fear, or how he winced minutely at referring to his friend as an “it”.

“Not only that, but look at these! ”

Lance grabbed Hunk roughly by the shoulders, spinning him round to bare his back to the Galra sentries.

“Beautiful markings, are they not? You don’t get that on just any specimen that comes through here.”

Lance traced his fingers over the patterns that criss-crossed Hunk’s skin, his face splitting into a horrible leer.

“The unit identifies the traders as human,” the sentry stated.

Lance blinked at that, caught off guard. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Is there a law against trading your own species?” Keith spoke up.

He fixed the sentry with a challenging glare, praying that the robot wasn’t intelligent enough to question the morality of their spectacle.

The sentry’s head tilted eerily to the side, the robot remaining silent. Keith held his breath, a fresh wave of adrenaline trickling into his muscles as he prepared for the worst. And just like that, the sentry’s head snapped back straight, its visor flashing once as it stepped aside to allow them entrance.

“Proceed,” it barked.

The trio didn’t need to be told twice. Lance gave Hunk a rough shove, grunting when the yellow paladin stumbled over his own feet.

As soon as the sentries were out of sight, Lance skipped in front of Hunk. He yanked at the cloth bindings, yanking them hastily off his thick wrists.

“Ooooh I am so sorry, buddy!” Lance breathed as soon as Hunk’s hands were free.

He stood up on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms tightly around Hunk’s shoulders.

“I’m gonna play with your hair for a whole hour when we get back to the castle.”

Hunk let out a shaky sigh, barely managing to plaster a watery smile on his face.

“I’d really appreciate that.”

Keith didn’t really know what to say. He let his hand rest on Hunk’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Hunk shot him a grateful smile.

“How’re we gonna find Pangur?” Keith asked.

He swept his gaze over the various shop fronts inside the bazaar. The entire place made him feel itchy underneath his skin. Whereas the marketplace had been vivacious and bright, the bazaar was the polar opposite: The covering over the structure blotted out most of the sunlight, giving the interior a hot cloying atmosphere. It was obvious that this was where shady dealers made their home. Keith spotted several aliens in cages; their heads hung low as the stared at the floor with hooded eyes. The hubbub of the outside world had become hushed whispers and shouts of cruel authority over those that fought against their bindings. Keith felt anger simmer under his skin like acid, and he gritted his teeth as he shot daggers at some of the merchants. His eyes connected his one of them, the alien’s head lifting in challenge as Keith pumped as much venom as he could into his violet gaze.

“Easy, Keith,” Lance murmured. “Remember why we’re here.”

Keith’s eyes snapped back to Lance’s to see the blue paladin watching him with a pinched expression. He lifted one hand to loop lightly around Keith’s elbow.

“I know,” Lance hummed. “I want to help them too.”

Keith grimaced, but didn’t say anything in response. Lance was right: They were here for information. With difficulty, he turned away from the caged aliens, focusing hard on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Over there!” Hunk whispered after a few minutes of wondering.

Keith followed his line of sight. Sure enough, tucked into the back of one of the shops was the hard hunched formed of Mag’u Pangur. Keith exchanged glances with his teammates, each looking to the others for confirmation. As a unit, they pressed forward, stepping into Pangur’s shop.

She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, her entire body turning with her. Keith realised that her interlocking shell must not make for very good manoeuvrability.

“My my…” she drawled as her eery pink eyes landed on them. “It is not often I have humans visiting my humble shop. What can I do for you three?”

“We’re here to trade,” Lance stated simply.

“Oh?”

Pangur’s eyes swept hungrily over Hunk’s torso, eyes lingering heavily on his tattoos.

“And what are you offering?”

“That depends what you can offer us,” Keith continued.

Pangur turned her attention on him. Her unsettling gaze seemed to pierce right through Keith, and he shifted uncomfortably underneath her scrutiny.

“Two and a half,” she chuckled darkly.

“What?”

“We’re looking for information on a planet in the Tarantula Nebula,” Lance interrupted.

Pangur swung back around to face him, her claws clicking together menacingly as a long tongue poked out to lick at her snout.

“Specifically a planet that used to use chrono-technology.”

“Oh really?” Pangur asked innocently. “And what would three… Beings such as yourselves be doing looking for a planet like that.”

“That’s not really your concern,” Hunk interjected.

He wilted slightly under Pangur’s luminous stare, but he boldly met her eyes all the same.

“True, it is not,” she conceded. “I do know the planet you speak of.”

“What’s it called?” Lance asked.

“Not so fast, little creature,” Pangur chuckled, waving her paw airily. “What are you offering for this information?”

Keith couldn’t help but look at Lance. He’d done most of the work for this mission it seemed. Keith was half expecting him to produce a chunk of Balmeran crystal out of his pocket and say that he’d picked it up from one of the sentries stationed outside.

“You have nothing to offer?” Pangur questioned them.

She turned away with a sigh, her claws drifting over some of the items nestled in rows against the wall.

“Perhaps you’d be willing to part with that blade in your pocket.”

“No.”

Lance and Keith said the word simultaneously. Keith tensed. The weight of the knife he carried with him everywhere seemed to increase tenfold, and he met Lance’s eyes with his own wide stare. Did the blue paladin… Know about his knife in the future?

Pangur let out a chilling giggle.

“Oh my,” she cooed, turning back to face them again. “What an interesting development we have here.”

“Pick something else,” Lance commanded.

He tore his gaze away from Keith’s, focusing decidedly on the trader.

“That’s a pretty thing you have there,” Pangur crowed.

She leaned forwards, her large frame all the more apparent when the tip of on claw slid under the frayed length of string around Lance’s neck. His grandmother’s ring slipped free, dangling prettily in the space between them.

“No,” Lance said in a low voice.

Pangur held his gaze for a moment, her mouth curving up into what might have been a smile.

“Very well, human. But I do want something for this information.”

She drew her paw back, letting the ring swing back against Lance’s chest. He tucked it firmly in between the folds of his clothes, pressing his palm flat over it as if to make sure it was still there and that Pangur hadn’t somehow swindled it away from him with sleight of hand.

“What sort of thing exactly do you want?” Hunk enquired.

Pangur tapped one long talon against her chin thoughtfully, head tilting slightly to the side.

“This information appears to mean much to you,” she observed. “Therefore, in exchange for giving it, I will need to take something that means much to you.”

Keith shivered involuntarily. It was such a vague statement, and yet it felt ominous and deeply invasive.

“You.”

Keith startled, his muscles tensing before he realised that Pangur was not addressing him. Her fuchsia eyes were trained dangerously on Lance, and she stepped towards him again.

“You do not speak using your mother tongue.”

It was a statement, one that Lance confirmed with a sharp nod of his head.

“Your language means a great deal to you,” Pangur continued. “As do the people with which you speak it.”

Keith watched Lance’s face as Pangur spoke, her words hanging in the air like lead bullets, poisonous and threatening. His impassive mask was cracking at the edges. The tilt of his eyebrows, the quiver of his lip, all of them gave whispers of the tumultuous emotions that ran underneath.

“I want the word that means the most to you.”

Lance’s face drained of colour. His fingers curled and uncurled into fists as his hands flapped by his sides in agitation, and his lips parted in silent horror.

“Do we have a deal?” Pangur asked. Her tone was far too innocent given Lance’s reaction. She seemed to be revelling in his terror.

Lance looked at Hunk, some silent plea catching in his throat.

“You can’t do that!” Hunk protested. “That’s like, ten different kinds of evil.”

“You either want the information or you do not,” Pangur snapped. Her patience seemed to be wearing thin.

“What is it?” Keith asked, his voice rising. “What is the word?”

Lance’s eyes locked with Keith’s, azure against violet. A myriad of emotions crossed the blue paladin’s face, like raindrops running down a windowpane, all the way from fear to longing before finally settling on grim resolution.

“Fine,” he grit out. Turning back to Pangur, he fixed her with an icy glare. “We have a deal.”

“Wait!” Keith cried.

Pangur ignored him.

“The name of the planet you are looking for is Ecnes. It is a wasteland.”

“Ecnes…” Lance echoed. “Of course. I remember now.”

“I have held up my end of the bargain, human,” Pangur said coldly. “It is time you held up yours.”

“Lance,” Keith pleaded. “Whatever you’re doing, stop!”

Lance stepped forward, hands trembling by his sides. His eyes shone in the dim light, and he appeared to be making a concerted effort not to whimper. Pangur lifted one long claw to his throat, allowing it to hover in front of his Adam’s apple as she looked to him for confirmation.

“Do it,” Lance ordered. His voice cracked as he spoke.

Pangur pressed the tip of her talon against the base of Lance’s throat, the end jabbing into the flesh just slightly. Lance’s skin glowed a deep pink where she touched it, and he gulped thickly as he closed his eyes.

“Speak, human.”

Lance drew in a shuddering breath. He looked desperate, as if he wanted to savour the taste of the word on his tongue for the last time. With one long exhale, Lance parted his lips and spoke.

“Familia.”

The spot where Pangur’s claw dug into Lance’s neck blazed white hot, and the blue paladin cried out in pain before he wrenched himself away, hands clasping at his throat. Pangur’s claw remained glowing a steady pink, and Keith watched in frozen horror as she raised it almost daintily to her mouth to lick at it. The glow disappeared with the first swipe of her tongue, and she inhaled deeply as she swallowed.

“What a delicious word,” she swooned, mouth curving into a wicked grin like a blade.

“Thank you for your trade, dear human. I do hope you come again soon.”

Lance swallowed again, opening his mouth to speak. When nothing came out, his face cracked into a expression of sheer despair.

“Lance?” Hunk said quietly.

Lance’s eyes flicked up to his friend, searching his gaze for something, Keith didn’t know what. Lance pulled himself upright suddenly.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbled. “We have what we came for.”

Keith didn’t even get a chance to ask what had just happened when Lance swept by him, intent on exiting the bazaar as fast as possible. Keith jogged to keep up with him, Hunk close on his heels.

“What was that?” Keith asked when he drew level. “What did she do?”

“Nothing,” Lance barked in a strained voice. “It doesn’t matter.”

Keith and Hunk shared a concerned look, both opening their mouths to speak when a shout from the mouth of the bazaar had all their heads snapping forwards.

“There!” a voice shouted. Keith spotted the alien merchant they’d spoken to earlier. He was pointing right at them, his face alight with triumph. “That’s them! They’re the ones who have the Altean Princess.”

“Shit!” Lance shouted.

He span on a dime, grabbing both Keith and Hunk by an arm each before launching into a sprint. Keith ran beside him, righteous anger igniting inside him.

“I told you giving away Allura’s hair was a bad idea!” he shouted over the commotion.

Several traders were emerging from their shops, all interesting in seeing what the noise was about. Keith saw an opportunity as he passed a stall. Grabbing the nearest object he could, he smacked at the lock on one of the cages, yanking it over behind him. The trapped aliens inside spilled out in hordes, each scrambling to get to freedom. It created enough of a diversion to stall the Galra sentries that marched in drove after the trio.

“Oh you always have to be right!” Lance shot back.

He lifted one hand to his ear as he ran.

“Shiro! Pidge! We have the information we need but we’ve been outed. Get off the swap moon NOW!” Lance yelled into the comm link.

Keith barely heard Pidge’s response, too intent on leaping over a stall of writhing worms to focus on the comm in his ear.

He could see the jetty ahead of them, not 100 yards away. He had to bad sense to let himself hope when some ambitious alien stuck its leg out in front of him. Keith caught his foot on the creature’s appendage, his body flying forward in a sprawling mess as he lost his balance. Hunk and Lance soared by him, both intent on making it to the pod. Keith cursed under his breath, twisting round to see a sentry advancing on him. Without much forethought, Keith grabbed the leg of the nearest stall, tugging it hard enough for the table top to go spilling out into the street. Keith thanked whatever angel was watching over him that the contents of the table was slimy food: The civilians that had been crowding in took one step and set off a domino chain, alien slipping over alien as they crashed together bodily. It gave Keith the time he needed to haul himself to his feet, shoving people roughly out of the way as he sprinted towards the pod.

He could see Hunk and Lance in the distance, yelling at each other.

“Where is he?” Lance shouted.

Keith could hear the panic in his voice even from this distance.

“He was right behind us!” Hunk wailed. “I saw him!”

“We are NOT leaving without him!” Lance hollered.

He looked up as Keith approached, anger and relief flooding his features.

“ Get in the pod!” Lance bellowed.

Keith didn’t need telling twice. He leapt into the pod a full four yards from the jetty, his feet slipping on the smooth surface as he collided with the back interior of the small ship.

Hunk and Lance piled in in front of him and the pod shot out of the bay like a firework. The three of them sat in tense silence as the pod climbed, the hull shuddering with the rapid ascension. Lance waited until they’d breached the atmosphere before he pushed the joystick in Hunk’s shaking hands. Twisting in his seat, he pulled Keith into a tight hug, arms wrapping around the red paladin’s shoulders as he buried his face in Keith’s neck.

“Lance?” Keith asked, his voice weak and wobbly.

“Are you okay?” Lance mumbled into his collarbone.

The older boy was shaking. Keith could feel it in the fingers that were woven into his dark hair, in the ragged way that Lance breathed.

“Are you?” he rebuffed.

Lance pulled away, a fatigue settling over his features that made Keith’s very soul ache.

“Not really.”

“What did she do to you?” Hunk asked from the front seat. “She took something. A word?”

“My word,” Lance stated. His voice was like gravel. “My language. The word that means the most to me in my mother tongue.”

“What was it?” Keith asked.

Lance opened his mouth to answer. Keith watched as he inhaled, ready to speak. And then Lance’s breath caught in his throat. He lifted his hand to his neck, shaking fingers wrapping around his jugular as he choked on a word that was no longer there.

“Family,” Hunk supplied. His face was ashen as he glared out the pod’s screen. “She took his word for family.”

Chapter Text

The journey back to the castle was filled with a particular type of silence; the kind that follows closely behind grief and steeps until it turns into melancholy. The cockpit of the pod felt like it was shrinking, and more than once Keith had thwacked his hand on the back of Hunk’s seat by accident simply because he was misjudging the depth of room.

Lance didn’t say a word the entire trip back. Keith kept sneaking glances at him from his position in the back seat, eyes travelling over the hard glaze of Lance’s blue eyes, how his scar creased with the tight set of his jaw. To anyone idly looking at him, Lance may have seemed calm and collected, completely unfazed by the events of the bazaar. But there was an edge of hardness to his posture; a barrier that had been thrown up around himself haphazardly that said go away.

Keith wasn’t entirely sure that he understood what had happened – The alien had said she’d taken a word from the blue paladin, a word in his mother tongue.

Family.

It sparked a something in the back of Keith’s mind, a strange sort of rousing recognition with a ragged thread attached, tempting you to pull at it.

Keith ignored the prick of longing that stung his mind, pushing it firmly to the side as he considered the meaning of the word to Lance.

His teammate had always been a family person. Keith recalled Lance mentioning a couple of times that he had a large family – Exactly how large, Keith wasn’t sure, but by the way Lance’s arms curled tightly across his chest, he could guess that family bore a world of weight and significance.

Keith’s eyes slid back to look at Lance again, worry flaring in his chest. Because despite the cool neutrality of Lance’s face, and the lazy way he slumped down in his seat, in every inhale that shuddered slightly, every second of silence that ticked by, he was screaming:

It’s gone.

“The castle’s coming up ahead. We should probably open a comm link to let Coran and Allura know we’re coming in,” Hunk announced, breaking the tense quietness that had settled over the pod.

Lance nodded mutely, the bob of his head seeming stiff and mechanical. His arm remained firmly crossed over his chest and Hunk shot him a worried look, eyes lingering over his friend’s closed off features for a second before he leaned forward and tapped a button on the dashboard. With a soft beep, a small window appeared on the screen. In a second, it was filled with the shocking red of Coran’s hair as he popped into the frame.

“Number’s 2,3, and 4. There you are! Glad to see you made it off the planet okay!” Coran’s chirpy voice came crackling over the video feed with a small burst of static.

A few whistles and clicks sounded along the line before the connection evened out and the advisor’s image stopped warping.

“Yeeeeeah, we got a few minor scrapes but we’re okay,” Hunk replied.

His eyes flickered to Lance again, concern forming a small pinch between his eyebrows. Lance kept his eyes trained firmly on the screen, pointedly ignoring the worried glances his friend was shooting out of the corner of his eye.

“Nothing we can’t fix up in the infirmary, I’m sure,” Coran piped up.

If he noticed Lance’s silence, he didn’t comment on it.

Keith felt like he should say something. Was there a way they could recover what Lance had lost? Perhaps it was like losing blood? They could heal the wound and what he’d lost would regenerate with time. Keith thought about asking Coran, but once quick glance in Lance’s direction told him that that wasn’t the right course of action.

The blue paladin’s eyes remained bright and alert, following Coran around the screen with more attentiveness than Keith would have thought he could manage after what had happened. But there was a certain weariness to his gaze, a heaviness to his lids that whispered of the toll he’d paid.

“I’m opening that bay doors for you now,” Coran informed them. “Please report to the bridge so that we can debrief you.”

With the same soft beep as earlier, the comm link cut and the little video window vanished from in front of them. The pod remained silent as Hunk steered them towards the slowly opening hatch doors. As the small ship flew through the opening, the shuttering overhead lights ran a striped pattern over the interior of the cockpit, momentarily casting the trio into shadow.

Keith’s eyes drifted back up to Lance’s face. His demeanour stayed solid and unwavering, face closed and body tense. Though in the flashes of light that passed through the windscreen, Keith saw Lance’s expression crack for a split second, the corners of his mouth dropping as his fingers curled around his biceps. A shadow passed over the pod again, and when the light chased it away, Lance’s crafted stone mask was back in place.

The cockpit of the pod slid back with a hiss, bathing the trio in the familiar teal lights of the castle.

“Lance…” Hunk started.

He reached out to rest his large hand on Lance’s shoulder in a gesture of consolation, though Lance’s entire back seemed to sag with the weight of it.

Keith watched as his head dipped. In that moment, sat next to Hunk, Lance looked incredibly small.

With a shuddering breath and a sharp shake of his head, Lance shot them both a watery grin.

“Jeez guys, lighten up. It’s just a debrief.”

Hunk blinked in surprise, his hand staying firmly put on his friends shoulder. Keith was sure he even saw the tips of his fingers tighten just slightly around the blue of his jacket. The quiet following Lance’s words began to stretch. Keith could feel it. He realised what Lance was trying to do: Lance was desperately trying to distract from the issue of his missing word. Whether for his own sake or for the sake of his teammates, Keith wasn’t sure.

But he didn’t want Lance’s effort to go to waste. Not when it looked like it was taking a physical toll on him.

“Let’s go,” Keith said, standing abruptly and hopping out of the pod.

He landed lightly on his feet before straightening up and turning to face his teammates. When Keith turned, Lance was regarding him with a level gaze, his face calm and impassive like a still pool. Keith stared back, unease creeping its way beneath his skin. The lack of Lance’s usual babble was hanging over the atmosphere like an axe, and it made Keith feel off kilter and helpless. He didn’t know how to rectify the situation, nor was he confident in his capacity to understand and help.

It didn’t seem to bother the other boy that much.

Wordlessly, Lance rose to his feet and vaulted his legs over the outside of the pod, landing neatly on his feet with a forceful exhale. Hunk followed quickly after, choosing instead to dangle his feet over the short drop before letting go of the rim of the ship and landing squarely on his two feet.

The trio walked in silence as the made their way towards the bridge. Lance had laced his fingers behind his neck again, tilting his chin up a little as he walked. The gesture seemed casual enough, though Keith suspected that Lance might have been trying to use his pointy elbows to hide the view of his face, blinkering away his expression. It did little to repel the anxious peeks Hunk kept stealing in his direction, and Keith could see tension balling up in the engineer’s shoulders with every step they took towards the bridge.

“Uh, Lance, buddy?” Hunk finally spoke up. His fingers were tying themselves into knots, and though it wasn’t doing much to hide his worry, Keith could sympathise completely.

“Hm?” Lance let one elbow drop to look Hunk in the eye.

“Are you okay? Like really okay? Because if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I completely understand what just happened back there…”

Hunk trailed off, anguish colouring his features as he continued to twine his digits. Lance just looked at him before unlacing his fingers to let his arms drop heavily by his sides. Turning his head, Lance cast his eyes down, avoiding meeting his friend’s gaze.

“I’m okay. I just don’t really wanna talk about it, alright?”

Lance’s voice was soft, and though he must have been trying to conceal it, there was a particular note of sadness that rang through the air, reaching out and giving Keith’s heart a sharp yank.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Hunk replied, turning away.

He forced his fingers apart and shoved them firmly into his pockets, broad shoulders curling over as he ducked his head.

Keith wanted to say something, to help in some way, but his mind went beautifully blank as he desperately tried to imagine a way to console Lance.

As they approached the bridge, the doors slid open automatically with a hiss to allow them through. Four heads turned to greet their entrance, Allura and Coran standing at their stations by the dashboards whilst Pidge and Shiro stood a little way off them. Their faces that had been pinched in concern slackened at the entrance of the rest of their team. All with the exception of one, that is.

Keith looked up to see Shiro wearing a completely thunderous scowl. It was the kind of expression that he’d only ever been on the receiving end of once, and not one that he particularly wished to be on the receiving end of again.

“What. Happened?” Shiro barked, and Keith jumped at harsh tone to his voice.

All three of them fidgeted at the authoritative note in Shiro’s words, eyes averting to anywhere else on the ship that wasn’t directly into the older paladins eyes.

“Uuuhhh, well we got the name of the planet,” Lance offered after a moment, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Shiro’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, a deep crease forming between them as the corners of his mouth tilted down. He folded his arms tightly over his chest at Lance’s answer. The action made his already bulky shoulders seem that much larger, and Keith felt himself wilt a bit as disapproval radiated off the black paladin in powerful waves.

“We were supposed to coordinate a strategy together. Not only did you fail to communicate your plan to the rest of your team, but also you unnecessarily put your lives in danger. If you had been caught, you would have been stuck on that planet until we devised a rescue mission to get you out of there. And in the meantime, we wouldn’t have been able to form Voltron.”

“Well… Yeah. Sorry about that, Shiro,” Hunk spoke up.

Shiro turned his attention on Hunk, expression barely changing as the yellow paladin shrank under the weight of his scowl. Hunk continued, however, adopting a different approach.

“But I mean, since we did get the name of the planet we’ve gotta go to, so technically this mission counts as a success, right?”

“Success or not,” Shiro replied, his tone making it apparent that whatever he was going to say would cut Hunk’s self-congratulation off at the ankles. “When it comes to working as a team, you all failed.”

Keith frowned at the remark. It wasn’t like Shiro to write off mission tactics so stubbornly: They had been on a lot of missions where things didn’t go exactly to plan and they’d had to change strategies at the very last minute. That was what it meant to work in a team after all, wasn’t it? To understand and adapt to one another in the case of rogue elements.

“We did work as a team,” Keith argued back.

Shiro’s scowl faltered for a second as he turned his attention on Keith. It was back in an instant though, and if Keith was not mistaken, his mentor had pursed his lips as well. Understandably so – Shiro had many good qualities, but Keith knew better than anyone that he could be incredibly hard headed at times. No doubt he wasn’t happy about Keith questioning him.

“Lance came up with a plan and we carried it off. We got what we came for. We completed the mission, Shiro.”

Shiro stared at Keith for a long moment, his eyes hard and calculating. Keith stared right back, meeting his gaze with determination as the two of them had a silent power struggle.

The bridge remained silent for a few seconds as the two paladins stared each other down, both too stubborn to turn away. It was Pidge who eventually broke the silence. Naturally.

One exaggerated cough echoed around the stillness of the bridge, bouncing around the acoustics like a tennis ball. All eyes turned to her in an instant, attracted by the noise. Pidge nonchalantly adjusted her glasses, ignoring the mixture of inquisitive looks and flat out glares she was getting in favour of turning her attention to Lance and Hunk.

“Soooooo how did you get the name of the planet anyways?” she asked, leaning against the side of her chair.

“Oh!” Hunk piped up. “Well there was that weird bazaar thing and so we kinda climbed up on the roof to get a good look at it. And check this out! Lance’s bayard can turn into a sniper rifle! Like, how cool is that? It’s pretty cool, right?”

Hunk was off, rambling at light speed in the way that usually had Keith tuning out for a few seconds as he included superfluous details in his narrative. Not that it ever seemed to deter the big guy. He forged on regardless. This time, Keith’s fully attention was on him, eyes following Hunk’s hands as he wildly gesticulated half of his story. Keith thought about the gossamer hair of Allura’s that Lance had traded for information.

He’d been so angry at the time, enraged that Lance could even think about giving away such an important piece of evidence in such a offhanded way. But now Keith found himself wondering if Hunk would leave it out of the story. With Shiro permeating his own special brand of disappointment, Keith found himself wishing that Hunk would forget that one tiny little detail in favour of giving them all an easier ride out of the inevitable lecture they were all going to be receiving.

“So yeah. Lance looked through his sniper lens and totally checked out the inside of the bazaar through those weird gaps it has in it? And we found our source, so we just headed inside. Of course, after he’d torn off my shirt and-“

“Ew. NSFW,” Pidge cut in abruptly. She held up one hand to halt the tirade of information spilling out form Hunk’s lips.

“Wait, you said your source,” Shiro backtracked. “How did you know who you were looking for?”

Keith felt a spark of agitation at his friend’s attentiveness, and he couldn’t help sneaking a sidelong glance at Shiro’s expression.

He looked curious, anger hanging around the fringes of his expression, folded in between the lines that were starting to form around his features from stress. It was an expression that seemed to anticipate outrage. One that said, “I’m ready to be mad at the answer to this question,” And Keith silently prayed Hunk would think ahead and keep his mouth shut.

“Oh, well some alien in the market place told us where we could find her-”

Don’t tell him about the hair, don’t tell him about the hair, don’t tell him about the h-

“After the whole thing with Allura’s hair.”

There was a beat of silence that followed Hunk’s words as the implication of what he’d just said settled in. Keith heard Allura take a step forward from her position across the bridge.

“What about my hair?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

Keith turned to see Lance closing his eyes wearily with a sigh, one that seemed to weigh down his entire body.

“Uh-“ Hunk caught himself. His eyes widened as he realised what he’d just said, and his head whipped around to look frantically at Lance in a moment of pure panic.

“Well, see, the thing about that is- I mean, what I meant was-“

“I traded one of Allura’s hairs to a merchant for information.”

Lance’s voice cut through Hunk’s rambling as swiftly as a hot knife through butter. Keith watched as the older boy squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height as he lifted his chin. Het met Shiro’s gaze evenly, his fingers only slightly curling as they hung at his sides. Shiro’s mouth pressed into a hard line as the new information sank in, and he slowly uncrossed his arms from his chest to mimic Lance’s stance.

“You did what?” The black paladin’s voice was low and even, stern in the quiet kind of way that indicated a simmering anger underneath all the layers of cool.

“We needed information,” Lance elaborated. “People at markets usually trade for things. He wanted the hair and we wanted a name, so we came to an agreement.”

Lance’s voice didn’t betray anything. He seemed poised and calm, ready to handle whatever verbal beating their leader was about to dish out. However, Keith noticed a flicker of his eyelid, a tightness around his mouth that looked like he was battling off a wobble in his lip. Shiro seemed to be making concerted effort not to fly off the handle. He lifted his prosthetic arm to pinch the bridge of his nose, and he let out a measured breath.

“Did you even consider for a second,” Shiro began, his voice that had started soft rising in volume with every word. “How dangerous that could have been for Allura? Did you think what that alien could have done with Altean DNA?”

“Allura leaves her hair around tons of planets!” Lance snapped backed, flinging his hands into the air with exasperation. “Sorry, Allura. It’s very nice hair, but you have a lot of it and it does fall out sometimes,” he added as an afterthought.

Allura blinked, surprised at being addressed in the middle of what was rapidly turning into an all out row.

“It’s- it’s fine,” she stammered. She seemed unsure of how to interject, struggling to decide whether or not she should be angry. Not that it mattered all that much – Shiro was clearly annoyed as Lance’s cavalier attitude to the entire situation.

“Don’t be so flippant about this, Lance,” he warned, voice threatening. “We don’t know how this could affect us. We should take all possibilities into account.”

Lance growled, the noise rumbling low in his throat. His hands slapped at his thinly clothed legs, and his eyes whipped around the room in a frenzy. He seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Shiro. A second later, Lance’s eyes settled on something, sharp as a light in a dark tunnel. Keith followed his line of sight to see that he was staring at his chair on the bridge.

Without any sort of delay, Lance made a beeline for the seat, his footsteps light with agitated hurry. When he reached it, Lance pawed at the arm of the chair until he managed to flip open a small compartment that Keith had never noticed before. Lance’s fingers dived into the little pocket space, and he rummaged around frantically, clearly in search of something particular.

“I wasn’t the only one in on the plan,” he muttered darkly, face focused intently on whatever it was he was looking for in the chair’s compartment.

Keith wasn’t sure if Lance was speaking to himself or to Shiro, but their leader responded all the same.

“No, but you were clearly the ringleader behind this,” he said, raising his voice to cross the short distance Lance had put between them.

Lance gave no indication that he had heard Shiro. He didn’t even turn his head in silent acknowledgement. He just furrowed his brow deeper as he dug through the chair’s compartment. After a second, he gave up his pursuit to lean over the seat and flip open a hatch on the other arm.

“Are you listening to me?” Shiro questioned.

He folded his arms over his chest once again, irritation clear in his body language. Keith couldn’t help a strange coil of discomfort from lodging in his chest. He’d seen this side of Shiro before, and something about it being directed at Lance, especially after what had happened on the swap moon, felt harsh and unnatural.

Lance just grit his teeth in response to Shiro’s words, barely letting his eyes flicker over his shoulder before he resumed routing through the chair again.

“Where is it?” he hissed under his breath.

Where is what? Keith thought.

Whatever it was that Lance was looking for, he was becoming more and more hectic, his eyes taking on a wild shine as he desperately clawed at the obviously empty hatch.

“We can’t take risks like this, Lance,” Shiro forged ahead. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw, and to Keith it looked like the older man was restraining himself in front of the team. The red paladin knew that had they been in private, Shiro would have been a couple of decibels louder. When Lance still didn’t respond, Shiro finally unclenched his jaw to try again.

“We’re in the middle of a war and-“

“I’M NOT A CHILD!”

Lance twisted from the hunched over position by his seat, eyes gleaming with anger and frustration. His teeth were bared, and Keith watched as his twitching fingers balled into shaking fists.

The bridge fell completely silent in the wake of his eruption, everyone taken aback at the uncharacteristic outburst.

Hunk winced, his fingers lacing together with uncertainty as he watched Lance like he was a ticking bomb about to go off. Pidge’s eyes had blown wide, the effect even more perplexing as her glasses magnified her irsises, blowing them up to an almost comical size. Coran and Allura’s mouths were both hanging open. Even Shiro seemed taken aback, his arms reflexively unfolding from his chest as if he were preparing for a physical attack. And the way that Lance stood with his weight low, slowly turning to face Shiro, it did look as if he was resisting the urge to launch himself at the black paladin.

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me!” Lance spat, straightening up to meet Shiro’s eyes.

His voice was as rough as gravel; hoarse and strained when he spoke. As if it might snap like an elastic band stretched too thin at any moment. He sounded pissed, that was for sure, but there was something deeper in his tone. A singular note of pure sadness that warped the inflection of his voice into something that made Keith’s chest feel tight.

“You don’t know what we’ve been through together, I get that! But I’m not some goofy cargo pilot who just rushes in head first anymore. I’ve lead the team when you-“

Lance abruptly closed his jaw with a snap, turning his eyes away as he shook his head harshly. Lance continued speaking, opting to take a different route.

“I would have thought you’d a least have enough faith in me to know that I would never do anything to hurt this team. You’re more than just paladins to me, you’re my f-f-“

Lance’s words cut off with a strangled noise, and his hand instinctively flew up to wrap around his throat. Keith jolted, his body reflexively taking a step towards Lance to help. The blue paladin took a strained breath in before gritting his teeth and hissing out the word, “family.”

Keith exchanged a loaded look with Hunk. The larger boy had a pinched expression on his face, tinted with confusion and worry as he observed his friend’s struggle.

“Lance…?” Hunk started uncertainly.

“M’fine,” Lance replied roughly, his hand rubbing absently against his jugular.

A tense silence settled over the bridge. Shiro looked at a loss for words, and Keith could see a whisper of uncertainty creeping into the set of his mentor’s shoulders. Coran’s jovial tone cut through the tension, chipper and upbeat, as if he hadn’t witnessed any of the events of the past five minutes.

“I’d highly suggest that you all take a trip to the infirmary, paladins. Considering the swap moon’s atmosphere, I’d say it would do you all a good turn to inhale some poxy-men!”

“Oxygen,” Pidge corrected, adjusting her glasses. The action seemed more like a nervous habit than an actual necessity, her hands only fumbling slightly in their search for the thin wire frames that hung over her ears.

“Yes that!” Coran agreed loudly with a twirl of his moustache. “Lance, perhaps you should go first? No doubt inhaling all that nitrogen may have hurt your throat.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up as Coran’s words sunk in. Keith felt his heart plummet as the realisation of Coran’s misunderstanding dawned on Lance’s face, and the blue paladin consciously uncurled his fingers from his neck to let his hand drop back down by his side.

“I’m okay, thanks Coran,” Lance replied after a moment.

He offered the Altean man a weak smile of reassurance. It fell flat, and Coran’s cheery mood wavered for a second.

“Ah, are you sure, dear boy? It would certainly help-“

“Let Hunk go first,” Lance interrupted. “You know how nervous he gets.”

Lance made his way over to Hunk as he spoke, punctuating his point with a friendly slap on his friend’s shoulder.

“Er, Lance. Maybe you should-“ Hunk began.

“I think I’m just gonna go lie down,” Lance cut him off. “That chase really took it out of me.”

Shiro seemed to finally snap out of his stupor, giving his head a little shake as he came back to the present, like he remembered that he was meant to be lecturing Lance about the mission. His scowl returned as Lance made to leave the bridge.

“Just hold on one second,” he said. It was a command, not a request, and Lance turned when he sensed as such. “We are not finished debriefing yet.”

And it was then that Keith saw something he never thought he’d see – A chink in that impenetrable armour of bad pickup lines and laughter that Lance had surrounded himself in like a second skin. One corner of his mouth dropped, his eyebrows bent a fraction to far to be irritation, and his eyes took on a dangerous type of shine. A shine that promises the threat of tears, of sorrow that you cannot conceal.

“Debrief me.”

The words were out of Keith’s mouth before he realised he’d been thinking them. Lance blinked in utter surprise, the sadness that had been corrupting his features dropping for a moment as he turned to take Keith in. Shiro turned as well, an equally bewildered expression on his face.

“You can debrief me. I was there as well. You haven’t said a word to me yet,” Keith challenged with a hard voice. “This isn’t Lance’s fault. Let him rest. You can debrief me.”

Shiro looked like he wanted to argue, his mouth pressing into a hard line as he surveyed Keith with interest. Lance was watching him too; inquisitiveness lining his features before his face softened into something that Keith wasn’t entirely sure he was familiar with. Keith lifted his chin, letting all his infamous tenacity exude from his body language. He wasn’t about to let Shiro rag on Lance after what the blue paladin had been through.

Saying the word “family” in English looked as if it had caused him physical pain. Keith never wanted to see that on Lance again – the crestfallen face of someone who had been robbed of something precious.

Shiro’s eyes narrowed at Keith’s attitude, giving him a slow once over before he eventually answered.

“Fine. Keith, you stay here. Lance,” Shiro turned back to face the blue paladin. “Head down to the infirmary. Have at least 15 minutes of oxygen before getting some rest. We can discuss all of this later, once I’ve finished debriefing Keith.”

Lance nodded mutely, his shoulders sagging, though whether it was with relief or exhaustion, Keith couldn’t tell. Shiro turned his attention back on the red paladin, giving him a curt nod to begin. Over his shoulder, Keith saw Lance mouth the words ‘thank you’ before giving a soft smile and a little wave as he made his way towards the sliding doors.

“Do I have to be here for this?” Pidge piped up, lifting her hand in a half wave.

Shiro startled as if he’d forgotten she was even there. “Cause if not, I’d really like to second taking a nap.”

“We should all be present if we’re to understand what has occurred during the mission,” Allura explained calmly.

“Yeah but do we have to? I mean, we got the name of the planet, didn’t we? Can’t you guys just fill me in later?”

Shiro frowned slightly as he considered Pidge’s request. He seemed reluctant to let more people exit the room in the wake of all the chaos, but after a moment of deliberation, logic seemed to win out over principle.

“Can you look into locating the planet for us?” Shiro asked. “Take Hunk with you. He can give you the planet’s name.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hunk interjected. “But first: Do you guys think we should check on Lance? I mean, he seemed pretty upset. Maybe we should go make sure he’s alright?”

“Leave him to cool off,” Shiro replied. “He’ll be fine for an hour or so.”

The corners of Keith’s mouth turned down at Shiro’s words. Lance wasn’t some child throwing a tantrum. He’d been through something traumatic and was responding as anyone could expect.

“Pidge, see if you can get us some solid coordinates to work with,” Shiro said, breaking Keith out of his muddied thoughts.

Pidge’s eyes drooped at the command, clearly not too happy about being given a task in response. Nevertheless, she gathered her laptop up in her small arms before tapping two fingers against her temple in a mock salute. She gestured for Hunk to follow her as she turned and headed towards the exit. Hunk spared Keith one last lingering look of worry before turning and scuttling after Pidge.

Shiro watched them go in silence, waiting until the bridge doors closed with a soft hiss to turn back to Keith.

“Tell us what happened,” Shiro said with a sigh.

It didn’t take long for Keith to go over what had happened on the swap moon. For Lance’s sake, he decided to gloss over the details of the trade with the small merchant that had squirrelled Allura’s hair away as if it would vanish at any moment. He could tell that Shiro wanted semantics by the probing questions he continued to ask. But Keith could be as stubborn as a mule, and like a rock he refused to divulge any sensitive information about the trade that could aggravate Shiro’s temper.

When it became apparent that Keith could not be coaxed into answering, Shiro gave up, running the fingers of his Galra hand through the shock white forlock in front of his eyes.

“So what did you trade for the planet name?”

Keith reflexively froze before mentally slapping himself for it. Shiro noticed the way his muscles jolted at the question. Of course he did. Keith sometimes cursed how well his friend knew him. But he decided that it would do more harm to lie to Shiro, and so he answered as truthfully as he could.

“A word,” came Keith’s reply, sharp and clear as a bell.

Shiro blinked in puzzlement, the answer taking him by surprise.

“…What?” he said intelligibly.

“Lance traded a word,” Keith elaborated. “The word for family in his native tongue. That’s what the trader asked for.”

Shiro frowned, deep concern setting into the line of his mouth.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Keith opened his mouth to answer, thought for a moment, before shutting it again.

“I’m… Not really sure,” he admitted. “But Lance couldn’t say ‘family’ in the pod back.”

“But he said it when he arrived back,” Shiro argued.

“You saw what happened, Shiro. He looked like he was in pain!”

Keith’s own words sparked and uncomfortable twisting sensation in his chest. He felt like someone had punched him in the sternum. Keith swallowed thickly, trying to will the feeling away with sheer determination. Shiro looked extremely upset at the revelation of what Lance had given up, his dark eyebrows dropping low as the corner of his mouth curled in a crooked way. He seemed genuinely distressed.

“Lance has a big family, I remember him telling me. I didn’t know he’d sacrificed… Something like that.”

“He’s not angry with you, Shiro,” Keith said quietly.

It was meant to be a reassurance. In truth, Keith didn’t know if Lance was angry with their leader or not. But the blue paladin didn’t seem like the type of character to hold grudges. Lance was so easily forgiving; he usually dismissed any bad blood with a flamboyant wave of his hand and a cheeky grin.

“I should go and talk to him,” Shiro mused.

Keith looked over at his friend. Shiro was making that face, the one that Keith knew meant he was getting sucked into his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “But… Maybe not tonight?”

Shiro looked over at Keith, he eyes searching for something, round and curious.

“He looked exhausted,” Keith supplied quickly. He wasn’t so sure why he was so concerned all of a sudden, but there was something inside him telling him that Lance needed space right now, and Keith felt compelled to make sure he got it.

“Alright,” Shiro relented. “But maybe you should go see him?”

“Me?” Keith blinked in surprise.

Shiro gave him a wry smile, the edges of his expression softening at Keith’s perplexed reaction.

“You were with him on the mission. I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture.”

Keith bit his lip nervously. Him comfort Lance? Even coming from Shiro, it sounded a little bizarre, a little out of place. Like a patch of fabric that didn’t quite match colour with the rest.

“I… Maybe tomorrow. Hunk’s probably looking after him tonight.”

Keith shifted his eyes awkwardly to the ground. He wasn’t sure how else to respond. Hunk was much closer to Lance than he was. Last time Keith had checked, Lance was hell bent on the two of them being rivals, making anything and everything a competition that it didn’t have to be. It would be funny if it wasn’t so… Isolating. Keith felt that it sometimes put a barrier between himself and the rest of the Garrison cadets. Like Lance was forcing Keith to be on the outside, making his friends choose whose side they’d rather be on.

But this Lance was… Different. He’d been on the ship less than a week and not once in all that time had he tried to make anything into a competition.

It was as much of a relief as it was confusing. And whilst Keith wasn’t complaining at the new sense of inclusion that came with Lance’s change in attitude, it did leave him with a lot of questions.

What had happened between the two of them in that year? Had fighting Zarkon forced Lance to put aside their petty rivalry?

Keith glanced up to see Shiro looking at him strangely, regarding him as if he were and animal in a trap.

“Okay,” Shiro said slowly. “But I really think you should talk to him. Just to check how he is. I’ll apologise to him tomorrow when he’s feeling a little more uh- Calm.”

Keith didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded mutely, eyes cast down to avoid Shiro’s lingering stare. It made him feel like he was being examined under a microscope, though what exactly for he couldn’t be certain. It wouldn’t be the first time Shiro could tell what he was feeling before he knew himself, and it wasn’t one of the older man’s features that Keith was entirely appreciative of.

A cool weight landed on Keith’s shoulder, and he instinctively looked up to see Shiro looking at him softly, his Galra hand resting lightly on Keith.

“Get some rest,” Shiro said.

Keith gave him a grateful smile, stepping past Shiro to head towards the sleeping quarters. His mind kept drifting back to Lance; how he’d clawed at his throat after he’d practically spat out the word ‘family’.

What did it mean? What had Pangur actually done to Lance?

Keith hadn’t exactly been looking where he was going, too consumed by his own turbulent thoughts that when he looked up he was surprised to see himself standing right outside Lance’s bedroom door.

He lifted a hand reflexively, fingers curled towards his palm, knuckles facing the smooth pale metal of the door, before hesitating.

What if Lance didn’t want to be disturbed? Maybe Hunk was finished with Pidge already and was comforting Lance at that very moment. Keith’s hand lingered in the air uncertainly. Sucking in a breath, Keith grit hiss teeth and rapped his knuckles sharply on the metal surface.

He waited with held breath as the noise rang into the hallway, eerie as it echoed around the tall ceilings.

A few seconds passed with no response. Then a few seconds more. As the silence stretched on, Keith let out the breath he’d been holding in a slow hiss. He raised his hand again, knocking on the door with a little more force this time. The sound was hollow, and seemed to reverberate all the way up Keith’s arm, setting his nerves on edge.

Again, Keith waited.

Maybe Lance wasn’t in his room? Where else could he have gone?

Keith briefly thought about Blue. If Lance had gone to her hangar, then he clearly wanted to be left alone.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Keith turned on his heel and walked the brief distance down the hall to his own room.

He could talk to Lance in the morning.

Keith toed of his boots, throwing himself bodily onto his mattress as he pulled the thin fabric of his shirt over his head. The events of the mission were starting to sink in now that all the adrenaline had worn off, and Keith could feel fatigue sinking into his bones like cement, weighing him down into the bedding.

As sleep began creeping into the corner of his mind, the vision of Lance’s despairing face swam across Keith’s vision, his face twisted with anguish as a word that held such gravitas disappeared from his tongue.

Keith’s heart squeezed uncomfortably, a tightness making his chest throb in a way that ached right behind his sternum.

He rolled over onto his side, pressing his face firmly into the pillow, as if by jamming his eyes shut he could block out the mental image.

Keith really hoped Lance was okay.

It was times like these that Keith really missed windows. And sunrise. And generally an actual circadian rhythm with a clear atmospheric indication of when to go to bed and when to get up. Because he’d been sleeping for what felt like 5 minutes, and yet his alarm was loudly and annoyingly insisting it was morning.

Keith groaned, reaching out blindly to slap at the small panel next to his bed. He got it after the third attempt, the screeching cutting off short as Keith whacked it with the side of his hand. He rolled onto his back, rubbing away the scratchy feeling behind his eyelids as he slowly let the light bleed into his vision. There was a dull ache in his foot from where he slipped over the stall yesterday, and Keith rolled his ankle experimentally to test his dexterity. Something in the joint clicked, and the surrounding muscles seemed to sigh in relief, the bunched tissue immediately loosening as Keith gave his foot one last wiggle before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He quickly pulled on some loose clothing and his boots, grabbing his small blade out from under his pillow and tucking it carefully under his belt with fast, practised movements. Keith considered tying his hair up to keep it out of his face but decided against it, lying the ragged hair tie he usually carried on his wrist on his pillow before heading out of the door to his bedroom. There was a strange unease still threading itself through his veins from the day before, and it set Keith on edge in a distracting way. He needed to train. The rapid burn and strain in his muscles would sear away any lingering tension from his mind; give him some peace for an hour or so. Training gave Keith the relief of switching his brain of sometimes, his instincts overpowering any conscious thought, leaving a blank space for him to fill in later when he had more clarity.

He made his way down to the training room, feet moving on autopilot as he swung his bayard absent-mindedly in his hand. Keith wondered if Lance would be training again. He said he couldn’t sleep that first night, and so he’d gone to train. Would the events of the marketplace yesterday have kept him up last night? Was Lance getting enough sleep? A wash of protectiveness ran over Keith’s skin, making him feel warm under the collar.

He needed to find Lance.

Approaching the doors to the training room, the hallway outside was completely silent. There was no muted clash of metal upon metal, no soft grunts of exertion.

Keith flattened his hand against the panel by the door, stepping through the frame as the panels swished open.

Just as he’d suspected, the training room was empty.

The ambient sound filled Keith’s ears like cotton wool, tingling in the slight buzz from the castle’s energy.

Lance definitely wasn’t here. The huge room didn’t offer much in the way of hiding places, the white and blue walls stretching wide with little adornments covering them. Keith allowed his eyes to sweep over the room once, twice, before sharply turning on his heel and heading back down the corridor.

He hadn’t even thought about trying Lance’s room again, but something in his gut told him that the blue paladin wasn’t there. Instead, Keith made a route directly to the blue lion’s hangar. He didn’t know why, but he just had a feeling that that was where he would find Lance.

Keith footsteps picked up, echoing around the high ceilings of the castle halls as his pace quickened in unfamiliar urgency.

He was less than two metres from the doors to Blue’s hangar when he heard a familiar voice behind them, deeper than Lance’s, muffled by the metal between them and Keith.

The red paladin slowed his steps, easing down to a jog, then to a walk, before finally Keith took a few small creeping steps closer to the doors. He stepped gingerly, not wanting to alert whoever was behind them to his presence.

“-lling him ‘babe’. I know you Lance, I know what that means.”

Hunk’s voice travelled through the doors, clearer now that Keith pressed a little closer to the smooth surface.

“You can’t say anything, Hunk.”

Lance voice sounded reedy and warped through the doors to the hangar, a thin note of what sounded like desperation hanging on his tone. Keith leaned in a little closer to the doors, supporting his weight with one hand on the wall as he strained to hear the conversation.

“It could change everything. I don’t- I can’t lose that. I don’t know what I’d do.-“

“Hey,” Hunk’s voice cut in again, warm and reassuring. Even Keith felt a little more at ease outside the hangar. “I got you, buddy. I won’t say a word. But I gotta ask - If it’s that important, why not just talk to Keith about it?”

At that moment, a soft beeping filled the air and Keith looked down frantically to see his hand pressed solidly on the entrance panel. A flash of panic sparked in his veins, and Keith did his best to school his features into something that looked like passable nonchalance. As the doors whisked open, Lance and Hunk’s heads both whipped around in tandem, eyes widening as they took in Keith standing in the doorframe. Lance had changed out of his clothes from the day earlier into his usual attire of jeans, shirt and jacket, though the jacket hung a little awkwardly over the new broadness of his shoulders. Hunk was still in pyjamas, headband pushed a little further up his skull to keep his hair out of his eyes.

“Talk to me about what?” Keith asked, folding his arms over his chest.

His fingers twitched, tapping a short rhythm out on his upper arms as he leaned all his weight onto one hip.

Keith hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky as he felt, and so he stubbornly jutted out his bottom lip just a little to make his expression seem all that more genuine. Hunk visibly gulped as his Keith eyed him, and his gaze involuntarily flicked to his best friend sitting next to him.

“Uuuuh-“

Lance was gaping, his mouth opening and closing slightly as he regarded Keith with wild eyes. Hunk leapt to his feet with an alarming speed, belatedly patting Lance on the head.

“I just remembered I have something to look at in the er- Break room. Standard castle maintenance and whatnot. Wouldn’t want a ten thousand year old ship to suddenly have no plumbing and stuff. Super gross in zero G… And… Yeah. Cool. Good to see you, Keith.”

Hunk clapped Keith firmly on the shoulder as he skittered out of the hangar, the force of it knocking Keith forward enough that he had to take a little step to keep from falling over. The hangar doors hissed closed after him, leaving Keith and Lance staring at each other in awkward silence.

Lance closed his mouth slowly, a knowing smirk drifting over his face.

“How long were you listening out there?” he asked.

It’s an innocent enough question, but there’s a drop of concern behind the words. Like a chip in an otherwise pristine coat of paint.

“I wasn’t listening,” Keith replied, instantly defensive.

“Dude. Don’t lie. I can literally see you tapping out Rascal Flatts songs on your arm.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline at the remark. He looked at his fingers curled over his bicep on reflex before promptly dropped his arms, as if they’ve offended him by being crossed in the first place.

“You tap out ‘Life Is A Highway’ when you’re hiding something,” Lance elaborated, his smile seeming a little more genuine with every passing second.

Keith felt himself relax at the mirth sparkling in Lance’s eyes, and he stepped forward to take a seat next to him in front of Blue.

The Blue Lion was lying on her belly, head lying between her two front paws, as if she’d been having a close conversation with her paladin. Keith largely suspected that that was the case as he regarded her huge form.

“I came to check you were okay,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “I checked your room yesterday but you weren’t there.”

Lance seemed surprise, his eyebrows raising a little as he blinked owlishly at Keith.

“You did?”

Keith rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. There’s something pushing against his mind, a gentle coolness that feels soft and fond.

Blue.

Keith’s realised it in a second, and his head snapped up with the speed of a whip to look at the giant mechanical lion lying with her head on the ground. Keith felt like her eyes were on him, and the tender touch in his mind tingles with amusement at his shock. Keith tried to sort through the foreign sensation, combing it for any more specific emotions. He felt Blue shift slightly in his head, like she was trying to give him a better view of how she felt.

Appreciation.

She was grateful that Keith had come to check on Lance, happy that the two paladins were supporting each other. And there’s… Something else. Something deeper. Keith wanted to pick at it like a loose thread, but Blue subtly shifts the feeling, hiding it behind something else with a gentle insistence that tells him not to go snooping.

“Yeah?” He didn’t mean to phrase it as a question, but the way Lance is looking at him, paired with the mysterious emotion coming through Blue made Keith feel suddenly uncertain. “I was worried about you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance turned his head away again. His fingers came up to fish the threadbare string that hung around his neck out from under his shirt. The ring came with it, weighing down the string in the middle. The ruby glinted in the overhead lights, deep red and wicked. It made its way to the tips of Lance’s fingers, flipping in and over itself as he rolled his digits.

“M’fine,” Lance grunted. “All good here. Just having a long overdue catch-up with Lady Blue.”

He propped one knee up, dropping the makeshift necklace to let his arm drape over it as he settled into a more comfortable position. The ring bounced lightly off his chest, the gold band shining against the faded fabric of Lance’s shirt. Keith turned to take him in fully. Lance looked comfortable enough, though there was a weariness to his face that gave him away. His skin looked worse than Keith had ever seen it, dry and at least a shade paler than usual. There were dark bags lining Lance’s under eyes, and the slope of his shoulders looked more like exhaustion than casual elegance.

“Have you slept?”

Lance didn’t answer, instead just shrugging noncommittally as he continued to look at Blue. Keith wondered if they were having a conversation right then, but thought it maybe wasn’t his place to ask. So instead he opened his mouth to ask the burning question he’d been holding onto since the night before.

“What did Pangur do to you?”

Lance sighed as if he’d been expecting the question. He dropped his knee, pulling his shins in to sit cross-legged before he spoke.

“She took my word,” he said plainly. “From my native tongue.”

“What does that mean?” Keith contested.

Lance ran a hand through his hair haphazardly, messing the short brown strands up so that they stuck out at awkward angles.

“I can’t say it anymore. Not in Spanish, anyway. It’s like… It feels like it just evaporates in my mouth, you know? My brain, too.”

Lance’s knee started bouncing, and he dropped his hand to drum his fingers skittishly on his leg.

“I try to say it and my throat closes up and my mind goes blank, like I just suddenly forget what word I was trying to say,” Lance continued. His face dropped suddenly, and the skin around his eyes tightened as he lowered his gaze to his twitching fingers.

“And it hurts,” he mumbled. “I stayed up most of the night trying to say it. I don’t know why. It’s gone.”

Keith felt his hand move on its own, reaching out to touch Lance in some display of comfort. He wasn’t really sure why, but Keith suddenly felt the need to help in some way, to show Lance that he wasn’t alone. He knew what it was like to be alone, and Keith didn’t want Lance to experience that. Not now. Not with the loss of his ‘family’. His fingers had barely grazed Lance shoulder before the older boy was leaning into the touch, his head inclining in Keith’s direction. Keith took the action as encouragement and ran his thumb over Lance’s shoulder in soothing circles.

“Maybe you can say something else?” Keith suggested gently.

“Like what?”

Keith’s jaw clenched before he made a conscious effort to relax it, remembering Lance’s admonishment about grinding his teeth. He opted to chew thoughtfully on his lip, letting ideas roll through his mind like a washing machine.

What could Lance use instead of the word family? Something that meant the same thing. Something that they’d found with each other. Something that Keith could-

“Home.”

Lance turned to look at Keith with wide inquisitive blue eyes. Keith swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth, letting go of Lance’s shoulder as he looked away.

“You can say ‘home’ instead. If you want.”

Lance continued to stare, the fluorescent teal lights of the castle making his blue irises pop vividly against the surrounding white and grey of the hangar. Slowly, a wide grin began to split his face, lighting up his expression with raw uninhibited joy.

“Home,” he repeated, excitement pulling at the fringes of his tone. “You guys are my home.”

Lance smile was infectious, and Keith found his own grin breaking out on his face. Lance turned to him, eyes glittering with happiness as he scooted a little closer. Closing the distance between them, Lance bumped Keith’s shoulder lightly with his.

“Thanks, babe,” he said quietly. “Keith,” he corrected.

“Why do you call me that?”

Keith couldn’t help the question from bursting out of him. It wass something that had been poking at the back of his mind since Lance turned up from the future, and Keith’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of him. Lance visibly tensed at the enquiry, his fingers returning to drumming against his leg.

“Mmmmmm,” he hummed. “It’s… Like our thing? I guess?” he offered, side-eyeing Keith like he’s a wild animal.

Keith cocked his head thoughtfully, mulling the enigmatic answer over in his mind. “Like a joke?”

Lance winced a little at Keith’s words, tension bleeding into his shoulders as the crept up towards his ears.

“Kinda?” he squeaked. His voice had shot up a few octaves.

“You mean we’re friends?” Keith asked.

It was a risky question. Keith didn’t know how the nature of their relationship had changed, or even if it had changed for the better. But he could help the small spark of hope from bursting within him like a sunbeam, lighting up the dark resignation that he’d hung over their relationship like an “out of order” sign.

“Better than that,” Lance replied, a quiet smile playing on his lips. “We’re partners.”

The fingers drumming on his leg took on an erratic rhythm, hammering almost blindly into the faded colour of his jeans.

“Partners,” Keith echoed.

Lance looked distinctly uncomfortable as Keith repeated the word. His leg bobbed forcefully, and he scrunched up his eyes as he shook his head.

“Lance, are you okay?” Keith asked anxiously.

“Do you ummm…” Lance hummed. “Do you have anything to fiddle with? Like a hair tie or something?

Keith immediately regretted his decision to wear his hair down. He thought back to his old worn out hair tie, lying on his pillow all the way back in his room.

“Sorry, no,” Keith admitted, ashamed.

“It’s cool,” Lance replied immediately. “Cooooool, coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. I normally have some stim toys and stuff in my chair but I guess we haven’t bought them yet, huh?”

Lance finished his sentence with a conscious attempt at a smile, but with all the sudden stress in his posture it came across as more or a grimace. Keith felt himself grow restless, wanting to find Lance something to fiddle with. The blue paladin looked like he might bolt at any second and Keith… Keith didn’t want that. Not when he couldn’t be sure his friend was okay.

Think, Keith, think. Come on, he chastised himself silently.

And then the idea hit him with the sharp pang of an elastic band. A throwaway comment that Lance had made before the mission the day before.

“Do you want to play with my hair?”

Lance looked at Keith as if he’d just suggested they dress in drag and do the hula in front of an entire fleet of Galra. He didn’t answer, not right away, and as the silence stretches on Keith began to feel more and more stupid.

“If you want,” he tacked on hurriedly. “You don’t have to. I just thought, you know, since you were talking about it yesterday…”

“Yeah!” Lance barked. “Yeah!”

Before Keith could do anything, Lance was scrambling behind him as if he was worried that Keith would retract the offer if he waited too long.

“Sorry,” he said shortly. “You just surprised me. You never let me play with your hair. Not in the future anyway.”

Keith half turned his head to see Lance propping himself up on his knees, getting into a comfortable position before he reached out and hesitantly touched the tips of his fingers to Keith’s hairline. There’s something coy about the action, shy almost in the lightness with which Lance pulled his fingers back, drawing them in long lines along Keith’s scalp. The red paladin let his head drop back, hardly noticing as a sigh escaped him at the gentleness of the touch.

“Do you… Try to play with my hair a lot?” he asked curiously.

Lance hummed in response, moving the fingers of one hand back to Keith’s hairline so that he could weave them back through the dark locks again.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly. “It’s just so soft.”

Keith wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t like Lance to be so… Tactile. Not with him anyway. Their relationship wasn’t like that. But the red paladin would be lying if he said he really cared. Not at the moment anyway. Not whilst Lance was rubbing soothing circles into his scalp with the blunt crest of his nails. It felt… Really good, and Keith let his eyes close as he lost himself in the sensation of it.

“What were you talking to Hunk about before I came in?”

“Well someone’s full of questions today,” Lance remarked, giving Keith’s hair a playful tug.

Keith let out a small grunt of indignation, earning him a chuckle in response.

For a second, he thought that Lance wouldn’t answer; content to let the question fall flat with the teasing jibe. But the other boy surprised him when he opened his mouth to speak.

“We were talking about you, actually. In the future, I mean.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to risk interrupting in case Lance didn’t open up again.

“It’s just…” Lance seemed to be struggling to find the words. “We’re pretty different now. You and me. We worked really hard to get where we are and I just… I like how things went. I don’t wanna mess it up before it’s even had a chance to start.”

Keith nodded silently, letting his eyes slide open to see Lance gazing down at him with an unreadable expression.

“Thanks for this,” Lance said, gesturing with Keith’s hair still in his hands.

“Yeah, no problem,” Keith said. “How come I don’t let you do this in the future? It’s nice.”

Lance let go of Keith’s hair, shooting him a devilish grin at he slotted the gap between his thumb and pointer finger under his chin.

“Oh reeeeeally? Careful, Keith. You wouldn’t want to fall hopelessly in love with me. We’ll never form Voltron if you’re swooning over my handsome face all the time.”

Keith twisted round and swatted at Lance, watching how the other boy threw his head back with laughter as the blow connected and sent him toppling to the side. Keith couldn’t help the little bubble of laughter the rose up from his chest as Lance rolled over to lie on his back. He just looked so… Familiar.

“What?” Lance squawked as he saw Keith watching him.

Keith shook his head a little, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes.

“You’re just so much like him.”

Lance sat up, reaching out with one hand to push Keith’s bangs away from his face so that he could look him squarely in the eye. It felt exposing, not having his long hair in front of his face to hide behind.

“No duh, Keith. I am him.”

Keith batted Lance’s hand away, letting the blue paladin fall back on his ass with another chuckle.

“You know what I mean,” he fired back. “Sometimes I forget that you’re older. You’re more….”

“Mature,” Lance interjected immediately. When he saw Keith opening his mouth to say something he interrupted. “You can say it. But I warn you: I’ve still god mad game with the babes.”

Keith frowned.

“I thought you already had someone?”

“I do,” Lance agreed, falling back to support his weight on his hands as he propped one knee up again. “He knows it’s all just for show.”

Keith choked on his own spit.

Lance’s head whipped round with worry as Keith hacked violently, his weight shifting forward in anticipation to help.

“Whoa, Keith, buddy. You okay there?”

Keith coughed, patting his hand on his chest to even out his own breathing.

“He?”

Lance covered his mouth with one hand to suppress a chuckle, and Keith had to admit he felt disgruntled at how hard Lance looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Yeah dude. I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Keith said dumbly. Because honestly, what else could he say? “How did you guys meet?”

Something flickered in Lance’s gaze. Something deep and sorrowful, palpable in its yearning. Keith didn’t get the chance to garner anymore from it before Lance turns his head away to pick at an idle thread on his jeans.

“Rescue mission,” he said bluntly.

And just like that, Keith felt the easy flow of conversation come to a grinding halt. He berated himself for pushing – He knew that Lance shut down whenever Keith tried to get him to talk about the future. The silence that was beginning to crawl over them started to feel awkward, and Keith desperately wished that they could go back to Lance running his fingers through his hair again. The easy camaraderie that came with the casual affection.

“Thanks for checking on me, Keith,” Lance said quietly.

Keith looked up to see the older boy gazing at him fondly, a softness in his expression that made Keith’s heart do a funny little somersault. Even the scar carving his face looked less harsh under the warmth in Lance’s eyes.

Keith reached out to bump him lightly in the chest.

“Any time, partner.”

Chapter Text

Keith and Lance had spent another half a varga in Blue’s hangar, talking about… Really absolutely nothing at all. Lance had started a very long string of theories about the potential involvement of gophers in the Galra Empire and how it was possible that they’d been sent to Earth to spy on the native population.

“Think about it, Keith!” he’d insisted. “If alien creatures look weird to us, then creatures from Earth must look weird to aliens! But what if some of those creatures on Earth didn’t even live on Earth to begin with? We’d never even know about it!”

Keith had barely stifled his laughter with a firm hand clamped over his mouth, eyes creasing up at the corners, shiny with unshed tears of amusement.

For all his acclaimed maturity that the year’s time skip supposedly offered, Lance was still very much the same in all the ways that counted. Animatedly expressive, a little silly, a little impatient.

Keith was surprised at just how well they got along. It was something he noticed about this Lance - He wasn’t actively trying to shut Keith down at every opportunity. This Lance seemed to weigh and consider Keith’s input before announcing that it was ridiculous or unfounded, rather than saying so as a simple knee jerk reaction, something to fuel to petty rivalry that he insisted was between them. Or had insisted, Keith guessed.

Even so, Lance still taunted him, but it was with wrapped in a blanket of fondness that Keith wasn’t familiar with, cushioned with a cavalier smile and a softness in his eyes that made the red paladin squirm. It wasn’t something Keith wanted to mention, for fear that if he did so, it would shimmer a disappear like a mirage. And with the easy camaraderie flowing so naturally, Keith didn’t want to upset its current lest he never be able to recover it again.

When the conversation petered out, Lance sighed. It wasn’t a weary sound, rather one that came with contentedness, and he leaned back on his hands as he smiled at Keith.

“We should probably head to the bridge. Usually if the alert hasn’t sounded by now it means that the team is strategizing or something.”

“Strategizing?” Keith echoed.

“Yeah, for missions and stuff? Either that or they’re playing Mario Kart. That usually keeps the bridge pretty quiet for a couple of hours. The lounge however…”

Lance trailed off with a guilty grimace, his eyes drifting off to the side as he appeared to recall a rather unpleasant memory. Keith blinked, the words somehow taking a while to process.

“You guys have Mario Kart?”

Lance froze for a second, his eyes going wide, before he shrugged sheepishly.

“Uh, spoilers?”

Keith just shook his head. There were only so many revelations about the future he could sort through his mind in one sitting. For the moment, Mario Kart would have to wait.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught Keith’s attention, and he turned to look at Lance as he began to wring his fingers together. The action seemed nervous, all the more so when Lance started tapping his foot, eyes darting around the room as if searching for something specific to latch onto.

“Is everything okay?” Keith asked curiously.

“Ummmm…” Lance’s gaze drifted down to his knotted fingers. “You and Shiro are close.”

Keith paused at the statement. He wasn’t sure what direction Lance was going with his sentence, but whatever it was, it clearly was bad enough for him to fidget over.

“Yeah, and?”

Lance bit his lip, his gaze finally snapping up to meet Keith’s.

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” Lance asked, his breath coming out in a rush before he clarified. “For yelling at him yesterday.”

Keith let out a short huff of laughter, feeling his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

“Honestly, Lance? He was worried you were mad at him.”

Lance released his bottom lip from between his teeth as his mouth opened slightly in shock.

“ Me angry with him? ” he repeated. Keith had to stop himself from laughing at the disbelief written on the other boy’s face. “Why would I be angry at him?”

Keith shrugged.

“You called him out for treating you like a kid, and said he didn’t trust you. Maybe he thinks you had a point?”

Lance still looked stunned, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. After a moment, he seemed to mentally shake himself, his head moving side to side as he let out a puff of breath.

“Well, we’d better go find the rest of the team anyway. See what they’re up to and stuff.”

Keith nodded in agreement, pulling himself to his feet before offering Lance a hand. The blue paladin took it, sweeping off the floor in one long clean movement.

For half a second, his eyes took on a glazed look, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet, as if he suddenly didn’t know where he was and was having trouble finding his bearings.

“You alright?” Keith asked. He extended his arms out ready to catch his friend if he suddenly dropped.

The expression was gone just as quickly as it had come, and Lance let out another little billow of breath, this time accompanied with a smile.

“Yeah. Just headrush.”

His grin stayed in place, and he let out a little burble of laughter as he swiped at his lower lip.

“What’s so funny?”

Lance grinned at Keith, his eyes sparkling with something that looked like satisfaction.

“I was just thinking… Shiro’s ears kinda stick out, don’t you think?”

Any snappy response he’d had planned died in Keith’s throat. It was such a random comment, he wasn’t sure how to retort.

“What?” he said dumbly.

Lance’s shoulders shook with barely suppressed laughter.

“Ah nothing. It’s just that even after a year, I still forget that Shiro makes mistakes. Like, he’ll get that really authoritative tone of voice that makes you think he’s got all the answers, and then I’ll look at him and notice his ears kinda stick out a little bit and it just reminds me that he’s not perfect.”

Keith felt his jaw go slack. Lance looked so damn pleased with himself, more confident and sure than he had a minute ago when he thought that their team leader might be angry with him. Keith didn’t know what to say, so he simply took the familiar route of counter-argument.

“Shiro’s ears don’t stick out.”

Lance gave him a bored look.

“It’s okay, Keith. He’s allowed to have flaws. We all are. It’s what makes us unique.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest defensively, fixing the older boy with a scowl.

“I know that,” he grumbled.

Lance just chuckled, striding past him and out into the hallway. After a second, Keith followed him, lengthening his stride until he fell into step beside Lance. The other boy shot him a sideways glance, one loaded with unspoken amusement and smugness.

And once again, Keith was struck by how unusual it was for Lance not to vocalise his small victories.

*

The doors to the bridge opened with a soft swoosh to reveal the rest of the team already stood up front on the deck. They turned as Keith and Lance walked in, a variety of expressions on each individual’s face. Pidge and Hunk glanced uncertainly at each other, pausing their chatter to peek at Lance across the space. Keith saw Shiro stiffen ever so slightly. If he didn’t know the man for so long he probably would have missed, but as it is, at the sight of Lance, Shiro tensed almost imperceptibly. Keith thought that Lance might hang back, deliberately trying to avoid what might be an awkward situation. But yet again, Lance surprised him by striding right past him, purposefully making a confident beeline for Shiro.

“Hey man,” Lance started, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I’m sorry I shouted at you yesterday. I was pretty stressed out from the mission and stuff and I guess it all just got to me. I know that’s not an excuse, you’re the leader of this team. I just wanted you to know that.”

Shiro blinked owlishly at him for a second, surprise lifting his eyebrows into a high arch. He relaxed after a tick, apprehension slackening his shoulders into a slump, draining out of him like water. He fixed Lance with a soft understanding smile, reaching out to rest on hand companionably on his teammate’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry too, Lance,” he said gently. “For treating you like a child. I don’t need to know what you’ve been through with your team to be able to see how much you’ve grown. It wasn’t fair of me to disregard that. It’s clear you’ve come a long way.”

He paused for a second, his calm smile dropping into something more somber.

“Keith told me what happened on the mission.”

Lance stilled for a second before his head whipped around to stare at Keith. The dark haired boy averted his gaze, shifting his weight uncomfortably between his feet.

“I didn’t realise the kind of sacrifice you’d made for the team,” Shiro continued. “I can’t imagine what losing a word is like, but we’re all here if you need support.”

“Hey, it’s cool. I don’t wanna bother the team with any of that stuff.”

Lance lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. Shiro brow furrowed unhappily at his words.

“It’s no bother, Lance. We’re here to help each other.”

Lance turned his head back to look at Shiro, offering him an appreciative smile in response to his words. He lifted one hand to pat at the hold Shiro still had on his shoulder, and Keith saw the black paladin squeeze his fingers lightly in a reassuring gesture before letting go. He gave Lance another kind smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes ever so slightly, before his gaze shifted into something glassy and far away.

“You must really want to get back to your team,” he murmured.

It was so quiet Keith had to strain to catch it. But Lance had obviously heard it loud and clear, and for a split second his eyes drifted over to Keith’s, something painfully sad tainting their blue shades. Keith felt his breath catch in his throat as the gaze pierced him, sharp as a barb, but before he could even begin to parse what it meant, Lance was looking away.

He hiked a smile up onto his face, eyes crinkling at the corners into familiar lines, even though to Keith the action seemed strained.

“We should probably start by finding that planet,” he said in a chipper tone.

It was the perfect response, expertly crafted to follow on from Shiro’s remark whilst avoiding delving any deeper beneath the surface. It had the desired effect - Keith could see Shiro shift from camaraderie into mission focus as easily as putting on a business suit. From this distance, he could also see that Lance had been right - Shiro’s ears did kind of stick out a bit.

“Thanks to the intel you managed to acquire yesterday, we now have a little more to work with,” he surmised. “The planet we’re looking for is called ‘Ecnes’.”

Lance hummed thoughtfully in response.

“Ecnes. I gotta say, it’s not ringing any bells,” he commented, scratching his chin in contemplation.

Across the room, Pidge hopped off her seat, gathering her tablet up in one arm before scuttling over to the control dock.

“You were right about it being in the Tarantula Nebula,” she informed them.

Settling the tablet into the crook of one arm, she swiped through a few things on screen before flicking her fingers upwards, shifting the small image from the device onto the big screen in front of them.

The image of the galaxy shimmered for a moment, expanding into the space of the deck until it surrounded the group on all sides, much the way it had when Allura had been locating the lions the first time they’d arrived at the castle. It slowed down once it had filled the room, hanging around them like a shimmering net.

“There’s not a lot to go on, since the nebula is largely uninhabited,” Pidge continued, swirling the glittering hologram of stars a little until settling on one spot. “From what I’ve learned going through the archives, the planet should be roughly within this area.”

Pidge pointed to a particularly dense patch of stars, the cluster standing out like a smudge against the more sparse areas around it.

“That’s great, but how are we actually going to find it?” Lance asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I…. Haven’t figured that out yet,” Pidge admitted, deflating a little.

“Maybe you’ll remember more the closer we get?” Hunk suggested.

His eyes lit up a bit with fresh hope, shining in the glowing blue lights of the hologram.

Keith surveyed him for a moment, a thin trail of thought running through his head as he observed his fellow paladin.

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Keith wondered if Hunk missed Lance, their Lance, at all. He’d assumed that the two of them had been close enough friends that the year age gap wouldn’t make a difference, but the more he thought about it, the more Keith contemplated that just as this Lance’s familiarity had taken him by surprise, perhaps Hunk wasn’t all too confident on where he stood with the blue paladin in the future.

Lance nodded sagely in response to what Hunk had said.

“Maybe… Guess there’s one way to find out, right?”

“I’m setting a course for the nebula,” Allura spoke out from where she stood at the castle’s controls. “It’ll take us a few quintents to get there.”

“A few quintents? Really?” Hunk queried. “Can’t we just wormhole there?”

Allura frowned, the corners of her mouth pointing down. Her bottom lip jutted out slightly. If Keith didn’t know better, he would have thought she was pouting.

“Since the nebula is largely abandoned, the planets there are exceptionally brittle in material. This causes them so fracture and disperse quite frequently.”

“So we’d be wormholing into an asteroid field,” Shiro concluded.

“Yes, it is rather… Annoying.”

Keith was wrong. Allura was definitely pouting.

Shiro sighed, a clear indicator of the team’s collective psyche. He sank down into his chair at the front of the bridge, propping his head up with his Galra hand settled under his jaw as he gazed out at the vast expanse of space.

“Well, gang. Looks like we’ve got a long road trip ahead of us.”

Keith suppressed a groan long enough to hear Coran hunch over and whisper to the mice, “What’s a road trip?”

*

Things around the castle settled into something of a pattern.

Keith would wake up early, train, grab breakfast, and head to the bridge.

He hadn’t encountered Lance on the training deck since the first day, and part of him wondered if it was just a one off chance that they’d bumped into each other that one time. He wasn’t sure what to make of the disappointed way his heart sank in his chest at the idea.

For the amount that Keith thought about Lance’s absence on the training deck every morning, the blue paladin didn’t seem to be avoiding him. Rather, he seemed much more amiable towards Keith than the red paladin was used to. Whenever Keith turned up at breakfast, Lance would ask him how he slept before handing him a plate. He’d make a huge show of grimacing at the green goo that came oozing out of the wall hose, complaining loudly about how tragic it was that they hadn’t discovered how to work it yet.

“If it’s so bad, why don’t you do something about it?” Keith had challenged him one morning, whilst Lance had been making an absolute spectacle of falling on the floor in anguish.

Keith suspected it was mostly for Hunk’s benefit, and the large man had lamented that he hadn’t been able to pick up any new ingredients since they hadn’t been stopping at any planets on their way to the Tarantula Nebula. Lance had taken that as a cue to dial up the volume and perform an entire soliloquy dedicated to how wonderful Hunk’s food was, how the neon goo could never compare, how starved they were, both literally and metaphorically, with the vacancy of his cooking.

Lance had just shrugged at Keith’s question, not rising to the bait at all. It was something Keith had noticed more and more as well. Lance not taking as many cheap shots as he could.

“I was never really any good at it,” he’d said mildly. “Shiro was always pretty good at working it out. I think he managed to make ice cream once. It was pretty impressive.”

“What flavour?”

“What?” Lance blinked.

“What flavour was the ice cream?”

Lance stared at Keith for a second, his face completely blank with surprise before he burst out laughing, nearly dropping the plate he was in the process of handing to Keith as he doubled over to catch his stomach.

“Man,” he gasped. “You are so weird. I love y- I love ice cream. ”

Lance’s eyes blew wide, and he looked at Keith with a flash of terror. His cheeks burned a violent scarlet, and he coughed awkwardly, shoving the plate into Keith’s hands as he looked away. Keith nearly dropped it, he was so unprepared.

“Strawberry. I love strawberry ice cream. Yup! That’s what flavour it was. Love it. Loooooove strawberry…”

“... Right.”

Lance patted Keith on the head, pap pap, turning and walking over to the table without meeting his eyes.

That was weird.

A lot of weird things had been happening with Lance recently.

Shiro would say something about their plan, or about Voltron, and Lance would turn to Keith with a wicked smile carving his face, eyes alight with something secret and amusing. And then it was like he’d flick a switch, face going carefully blank before looking away. It left Keith with the distinct impression that he was missing out on a private joke. Maybe they had those in the future, he wasn’t sure. The idea that they might be close enough to share something like that… It left him with a warm glow inside. Keith wasn’t sure what to make of it, so he ignored it.

Allura had announced that they would be arriving at Ecnes in two quintents, and as such, Shiro has suggested they all gather to start strategizing the approach to the planet.

Keith turned down the hall towards the bridge, his eyes immediately landing on the person already standing there.

Expect they weren’t standing.

Lance was already in his paladin armour, but he was leaning heavily against the wall of the corridor, his shoulders slumped forward as he took a heaving breath.

“Lance?” Keith asked, trotting over to the other boy.

As he rounded to Lance’s front, he could see the other boy’s eyes screwed tight shut. His face was flushed, skin a warm pink that sat beneath a thin veneer of sweat.

“Lance!”

Keith rushed forward, arms reaching out ready to help. But Lance was faster. He lifted one arm, waving Keith off before he could get to him.

“What happened?” Keith demanded.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Keith countered. “Maybe you should go see Coran.”

Lance shook his head, his longer hair brushing against his collar with the movement.

“Really, Keith. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Keith,” Lance whined. “I’m not going to pass out. I’m okay, really.”

Keith shook his head, mirroring Lance.

“No, you’re not. You might be sick.”

Lance groaned, his entire body slumping as he rolled sideways to rest his back against the wall.

“Keith, I’m not sick, okay? I’m just... Really horny.”

Keith choked.

“Wh- What?” he sputtered, thumping one hand against his chest.

Lance grinned at his reaction, but at least had the decency not to say anything about it.

“Happy now? Look, I miss my boyfriend and his sweet ass, alright? I’m a growing boy. So sue me.”

Keith just stared at him, failing to compute the words that were coming so freely out of Lance’s mouth. With herculean effort, he kept his eyes trained on Lance’s smug smirk, refusing to allow them to wander down to where Lance’s legs were crossed at the  ankle.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look-

“You- You’re just-”

“Horny,” Lance affirmed, his smile turning devilish. “Really fucking horny. I miss my man - He’s butt is so tight you can hold it in like, one hand. Pretty convenient for when we-”

“Stop!” Keith waved his arms haphazardly in front of his face in an attempt to hide to violent shade of red colouring his cheeks. “Oh my God, stop . I don’t need to hear that.”

He didn’t want to hear it, either. Hearing Lance talk about his boyfriend left a leaden feeling in Keith’s belly, one that he wasn’t wholly comfortable with. I didn’t help that Lance was grinning at him with that secretive twist in his mouth. A twist that shouted, “I know something you don’t know”.

“Man,” he chuckled. “I forgot how blush-y you are.”

Keith paused, dropping his arms to frown at Lance. Lance seemed to pause as well, his smile freezing in place on his face.

That happened a lot too, Keith realised. Lance would say something and promptly stop, like he’d said too much. Before Keith could so much as open his mouth, Lance was pushing off the wall and brushing by him, striding towards the bridge with a carefree, “Keep up, samurai.” thrown over his shoulder.

Keith shook his head against the intrusive thoughts that threatened to pool in his ears, instead turning and following Lance down the hall.

The rest of the team was already on the bridge when they arrived, turning when they entered. Keith snuck a sideways looks at Lance. Most of the flush had faded from his face, nothing more than a shade darker than normal hovering over his cheekbones. He didn’t appear to be struggling for breath either. To all intents and purposes, he looked absolutely fine. Keith decided not to dwell on it. If Lance had a problem, he would say.

He would say, right?

“Hey,” Shiro greeted them. “Now that you’re all here I wanted to propose something.”

“Here we go,” Lance mumbled, quiet enough that only Keith could hear. It wasn’t a malicious comment, rather it was laced with the kind of patient humour bred from familiarity and comfort.

“Since we’ve got some time left before we reach Ecnes, I thought we could use it to improve our bond as paladins.”

“Classic,” Lance whispered, winking at Keith.

Keith felt the tips of his ears burn.

“Allura’s set up the headsets so that we can have another go at bonding with each other. She said that regular practice will help us reach our full potential as Voltron.”

“Nice try, Takashi,” Lance said nonchalantly. “But we’ve already talked about this: You’re not getting into my head.”

He crossed his arms over one chest, cocking a hip as he gave Shiro a flat, unimpressed stare.

The older paladin frowned at the accusation.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do. I just think we could really benefit from-”

“Look, I get that you’re being a good leader and stuff, and I love it, I do. But don’t you think you should be strengthening your bond with your Lance? You know, Past Lance?”

Shiro’s mouth closed as he blinked once, twice.

“He’s right,” Pidge affirmed. “There’s no point doing any mental stuff if Lance gets back and doesn’t know any of it yet.”

Shiro’s head snapped to survey her. He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment of hesitation thought better about it.

With a sigh, he rubbed one hand over his face. The action made him look older than Keith knew he was.

“Does anyone have any other suggestions?” he asked wearily.

“As a matter of fact, I do!”

Lance shot him a winning smile, unfolding his arms to plant his hands on his hips.

They were nice hips, Keith thought. Narrow in comparison to his broad shoulders. Good hips. Underrated.

“We could do some group training.”

The sound of Lance’s voice snapped Keith out of his brief reverie, and he fixed his eyes firmly on Lance’s face.

Group training… Keith was interested to see how Lance would do in a fight.

He’d seen him against the gladiators. He’d fought in hand to hand. But this Lance in a team setting…

Keith couldn’t help but be a little apprehensive.

Shiro didn’t seem to be dwelling on it that same way Keith was, however. Before the red paladin could even blink, Shiro had turned to Lance with an encouraging smile.

“Good idea, Lance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to teach us a few tricks you’ve picked up along the way?”

Lance shot him grin that erred on the side of wicked, to curved to be merely cheeky.

“Well I don’t like to brag-”

“Not true,” Keith interrupted.

Lance stuck his tongue out at him, and Keith couldn’t help the huff of laughter that leapt out of his mouth. Some things apparently never changed.

“You might wanna watch closely, Keith. You could learn a thing or two from a master like myself,” Lance said with a wink.

Keith shook his head as Lance puffed out his chest proudly. Yep, some things clearly didn’t change at all.

“I’ve actually been meaning to get some practice in with my bayard,” Pidge piped up. “I’ve been so distracted with tech stuff, I haven’t really had time.”

Hunk sidled over closer to her to join the conversation.

“Me too. I mean, it’s great that I have a canon and everything. I feel safer with that kinda fire power, but I’d feel safer if I knew how to use it better.”

Lance took a step towards his best friend, clapping him heartily on the shoulder with a firm nod.

“I can help you with that, buddy. We’ll have you shooting drones between the eyes from half a click away in no time, I promise.”

“Yeah, and maybe I can unlock an upgrade or something. You’ve got a sweet sniper rifle, I wanna see what I get. You think I could make like, a pair of nunchucks? Or a pizza wheel?”

Lance laughed, the sound sending a rush of warmth to Keith’s core.

“One step at a time, pal. Why don’t we focus on skills first and let the other stuff come later? Walk before you can run, right?”

“I’m just saying!” Hunk persisted. “If they can change into other weapons, what’s to say we can change them into like, a TV or a skateboard or something?”

Lance stepped back, his head cocking to the side as he took a moment to genuinely consider the question.

“Well, I haven’t seen our bayards change into anything other than weapons… Yet,” Lance tacked on mindfully. “But who knows?”

“It’s settled then. Today we’ll be doing group training. Everyone suit up and meet down on the training deck,” Shiro ordered.

The team turned dutifully, trudging out of the deck and towards their respective rooms.

Keith one last glance at Lance before he disappeared into his room. He was wiping his mouth with one gloved hand, head dipping as he stared at something in his palm. With Lance’s back to him, Keith couldn’t see what he was looking at, but whatever it was made the older boy’s shoulders tremble.

“You’ve already got your paladin armour on,” Keith stated from where he stood my his door.

Lance whirled around, wide eyed with surprise, and if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. When his eyes met Keith’s, his hand flew to his mouth, balled into a fist as he scrubbed at the corner of his lips.

“Why don’t you just head to the bridge?”

Lance’s eyes flickered down to his knuckles as he drew his hand away. Whatever he was looking for, he appeared not to find it, his expression relaxing as his hand dropped to his side.

“Just gotta make sure I look extra beautiful for when I kick your butt,” he fired back with a grin.

It was a little too tight around the edges. Lance gave Keith a two fingered salute, tapping his temple before he vanished behind the door to his room.

Keith sighed. Whatever was going on, Lance clearly didn’t want him to know about it, and so in resignation Keith shrugged on his paladin armour and made his way to the training deck.

*

“Alright, team,” Shiro began. “Today we’re going to be focusing on tackling your bayard’s range.”

The team huddled in a small semicircle around their leader, each with their bayard in hand. Keith eyed Lance’s suspiciously. He’d already seen it change form once, but he was curious if it could transform into anything else. Lance seemed to favour long-range weapons, so Keith couldn’t help but wonder if his bayard would adapt for situations involving close combat. Would it still be a gun? A pistol, perhaps?

“We’ll be splitting into teams of two - I’ll be sitting the first round out. You’ll be paired up so that each team has one long range and one short range weapon.”

The team exchanged equal looks of surprise and interest. Keith caught Lance staring at him, looking up fully to stare back. Lance just waggled his eyebrows at him, pushes him like forward to blow an air kiss. Keith huffed, turning away so that Lance wouldn’t see smile forcing its way onto his face.

He was starting to feel jittery under his skin, a low thrum of excitement building in his veins at the thought of the exercise. They hadn’t done anything like this before, and the idea was piquing Keith’s intrigue, small sparks of half formed strategies firing through his mind. What if he got paired up with Lance? He’d seen the other boy fight already. It was… Impressive, and Keith wanted to use that. He wanted that smart mouth and those quick reflexes in his corner.

“Lance, you’ll be with Pidge.”

Keith felt himself deflate like a balloon, his shoulders involuntarily sagging as soon as the words left Shiro’s mouth.

It was followed by a strong sense of surprise directed at himself. Had he wanted to be on Lance’s team that badly?

Lance seemed unaffected, tucking his bayard against his hip as he made his way over to stand by Pidge. He turned when he stopped beside her, wiggling his fingers at Keith.

“Try not to miss me too much, babe.”

Keith snorted, and Lance made a high pitched gasp of mock offence, using his free hand to toss a lock of imaginary hair of his shoulder.

Pidge smirked, elbowing him roughly in the ribs.

“Diva,” she snarked.

Lance ruffled her hair, and she let of an angry yelp, smacking his hands away.

“Alright, you two, save it for the training exercise,” Shiro said in his Dad Voice. “Hunk, you’ll be with Keith.”

“Heheyyy, alright!” Hunk cheered, smacking Keith a little too hard on the back. “Team sword ‘n’ shield!”

Keith grinned at the broad boy’s infectious enthusiasm.

“So, we got a plan or are you thinking of like, just charging in guns blazing?” Hunk asked.

Keith gave him a quizzical look. He couldn’t tell if the question was intended as a jibe, but Hunk didn’t seem to be teasing him, his eyes open and friendly waiting for a response. The shorter boy glanced over at Lance and Pidge. Lance was leaning down, murmuring something to her in a low voice as Pidge listened intently, nodding occasionally at his words. She lifted her bayard between them, hey eyes roaming the sleek way it curved to accommodate her grip. Keith watched as Lance rested his hand over it, looking into her eyes earnestly. A small pinch formed between Pidge’s eyebrows, and she tilted her head up to ask him something. Lance afforded her a kind smile, curling his hand into a loose fist and rapping his knuckles against the symbol on her chest. Pidge didn’t swat him away the way Keith expected. Instead, her eyes got big and round, staring up at Lance as if he’d just told her the answer to life. Her face split into an eager grin, head nodding fervently in agreement to something.

“Uuuuh, hello? Earth to Keith? Anyone home, buddy?”

Keith forcefully dragged his attention back to Hunk, seeing the other boy waving one gloved hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled hastily.

Taking one quick glance at the other pair standing across the room, Keith made a fast mental catalogue of what he knew about his fellow paladins strengths and weaknesses before starting to build a strategy in his mind.

“Okay, so, they’re both pretty fast,” he began.

Hunk shuffled a little closer, leaning in to hear Keith’s hushed voice.

“I’m going to attack first and split them up. You go for Lance because he’s a bigger target, and you both have long range weapons. I’ll take Pidge. She can shoot a cord from her bayard, but it’s not well designed for long range attacks.”

Hunk nodded in firm agreement. Keith was aware how nervous Hunk could get. He felt safer when there was a clear plan of attack - And usually one that involved staying at a safe distance where he could take full advantage of his bayard’s power.

“Okay, guys. Into position,” Shiro ordered.

Keith and Hunk took their places on the opposite side of the training deck, turning just as Pidge and Lance settled next to each other. Pidge took a quick glance at the blue paladin as she shoved her helmet on. Lance grinned at her, lifting a hand to bump his fist twice against his chest. Pidge gave him a confident smile in response, shift her grip on the green bayard, forcing it to transform into her electric blade.

Keith gave Hunk a firm nod of reassurance, pleased with the way the yellow paladins shoulders relaxed just that few centimeters down from where they were bunched by his ears.

The four paladins took up their offensive stances just as a small, familiar voice drifted through the back of Keith’s mind.

“Avoid the right.”

Keith felt a small self assured smile quirk the corner of his mouth. Lance seemed to catch it, his eyes managed to glint dangerously even through the visor of his helmet.

Without leaving time for thought, Keith charged forward, aiming a swing directly at Lance’s legs. The blue paladin skipped back, easily dodging the sloppy attack. It was exactly what Keith had been hoping for. Spinning on a dime, he quickly changed the trajectory of his offense, rushing towards Pidge. She let out a startled cry as Keith swung his sword down at her, lifting her bayard at the last second to parry the blow. Keith swung again, lunging forward far enough that it forced the girl to leap back, further away from Lance. He could hear the sound of Hunk’s bayard firing off powerfully behind him, accompanied with a hearty battle cry from the yellow paladin.

He dropped down, taking a swing at Pidge’s ankles with the side of one leg. Pidge dived to the side, rolling with the momentum to gain purchase with her feet again before taking a wild swing at Keith’s chest. He blocked the attack easily, pushing her further backward as he advanced. Keith didn’t spare the others behind him a glance as he continued to attack Pidge. Hunk and Lance had long range weapons, there was only so much damage they could do to each other.

At least that was what he thought until-

“Pidge, remember what I told you!”

Lance voice cut clear through the loud noise of gunfire, like a beacon in the dark. Pidge seemed to understand immediately, her face taking on a determined, calculating look. Keith lunged again, not wanting to give her time to think. This time, however, she parried the blow before launching into a side roll, putting as much distance between the two of them as she could. Rolling onto her knees, Pidge angled sideway and shot her bayard at Hunk. The broad boy let out a startled yell at the glowing green cord wrapped around his helmet, all at once obscuring his and hindering his movement. With a grunt and an almighty tug, Pidge yanked the helmet off of Hunk’s head. It went clattering to the side of the training deck, falling out of the slackening cord as it skittered out of reach.

It was all the time Lance needed to swoop forwards, dropping his stance to angle his rifle upwards, the butt resting snugly against Hunk’s chin.

Keith was only stunned momentarily. He collected himself, lifting his sword as he dashed at Pidge again. He saw her take a deep breath, eyes becoming laser focused as she stared at her bayard. And then it was glowing, shifting beneath her fingers as it engulfed her hand in green light. Keith didn’t stop, his legs driving him forward on instinct. He made it one stride, two-

Before he felt the muzzle of a pistol pressed against his forehead.

He skidded to a stop, feet slipping haphazardly on the floor as one leg folded and he dropped down onto one knee. Pidge was standing above him, a triumphant grin shining on her face.

Keith blinked at the completely unexpected turn of events. He could knock the weapon away with the butt of his sword, sure, but complete bemusement had him frozen in place as he gazed a little cross-eyed at Pidge’s bayard.

“Woah,” he breathed.

Pidge snickered.

“Lance, I did it!” she cried, voice filled with excitement.

“Good job, Pidgey,” Lance responded.

He couldn’t even try to keep the smugness out of his voice this time, but it was softened with the gentle hues of pride that coloured his tone.

“Alright, good work everyone,” Shiro called from across the room. “Lance, Pidge, well done. I don’t know what you did to help unlock another form for Pidge’s bayard, but if we can get everyone doing it, that would benefit the team immensely.”

Lance saluted, a lazy smile lining his face.

“Anytime, dude.”

Keith wondered what Lance had said to Pidge. She was looking at her bayard with unfiltered admiration, her small fingers running over the barrel as she turned it over in her hands to inspect it closer. Lance had helped her unlock a completely different type of weapon. A gun, in fact. Something Lance seemed to favour. If he helped the rest of them, would they all unlock firearms? Or was it just a coincidence in Pidge’s case?

Allura had vaguely mentioned that the bayards were a reflection of their paladins. Keith hadn’t been all that surprised when his had converted into a blade, but now he was starting to question that logic.

“Okay, team. Round two,” Shiro spoke up. “Pidge, since you’ve got a new bayard form to test out, you’ll be with me. Keith, you’ll be with Lance.”

“Oh thank quiznack,” Hunk breathed. “I dunno about you guys, but that last round gave me the fright of my life.”

Lance threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend.

“I wouldn’t have hurt you, big guy,” he promised.

Hunk pat Lance on the back, one thick arm curling around his waist. Keith was surprised to see that it reached almost the whole way round, completely dwarfing the older boy.

“I know, buddy. You were pretty scary though.”

Lance just gave him a kiss on the cheek before wiggling out of Hunk’s hold, stepping over to Keith.

“Guess it’s you and me this time, partner,” he said with a cocky grin.

Keith felt himself flush scarlet at the word.

Partners.

“Guess so,” he replied.

It sounded softer than he meant it to, and Lance wrapped one arm around his shoulder to give Keith a light squeeze. Keith peeked up at him through his dark bangs, hoping that his hair and the visor would hide the blush staining his cheeks. Lance’s arm was still around him, a warm reassuring weight that made something rosy glow behind Keith’s sternum.

He had half a tick to appreciate it before it was instantly extinguished.

Something flickered in Lance’s face, and for a split second, his usually unwavering smile dropped at one corner. Keith doubted he would have caught it had he not been staring so intently at the other boy, and his instinctively took a step towards him before realising that his body was moving of it’s own accord.

Lance caught himself, hiking his smile back up to its peak without so much as a blink of an eye, and for a second, Keith felt he could breathe a sigh of relief. As if whatever had been bothering Lance had been put out of his head.

But that relief was short lived as Lance blinked slowly, his eyes taking on a hazy unfocused glaze. His boot scuffed against the floor of the training deck as his weight swayed precariously on his legs, and he lifted one hand to press against his temple as his head lolled heavily on his shoulders.

“Lance?” Keith started uneasily.

Lance blinked slowly, once, lifting his head as his eyes searched sluggishly for the source of his name. They half-latched onto Keith, spinning strangely in their sockets as if they couldn’t quite grasp the image of the red paladin. When he opened his mouth to speak, his words were half-formed and uncertain, as if his tongue was suddenly being uncooperative.

“I feel kinda… Funny…”

The toe of Lance’s boot caught against his opposing ankle as tipped hazardously forward, and his arms flew out on blind instinct to cushion his fall. Keith was already halfway across the room, and Lance stumbled bodily into his outstretched arms as his legs buckled underneath his weight. The shorter boy huffed as Lance fell into his hold before belting his arm around the boy’s waist, lifting him awkwardly upright as Lance struggled to find some sort of purchase with his feet.

“Whoooaaaa,” he slurred, grasping weakly onto Keith’s shoulders with shaking fingers.

“Lance!”

Shiro was there in a second, coming up behind the blue paladin’s to loop his strong hold under Lance’s armpits, bracing the majority of his weight.

“Lance, are you okay?” he asked, the tone of his voice rife with worry. “What happened?”

Lance shook his head, making a downwards motion with his hand. It looked like he was having trouble speaking, Keith noted, as he winced with every flex of his jaw, one hand fluttering as if he wanted to reach up and press his fingers against his temple again.

Shiro and Keith complied with his gesture, lowering Lance shakily to his knees. He slumped the majority of his weight against Keith’s chest, one cheek pressed against the shorter boys armoured shoulder.

“I don’t feel so good,” he mumbled.

Under other circumstances, Lance probably could have passed for sleepy with the way he was only just managing to speak. But the sallow shade of his usually rich skin tone betrayed that notion, face ashen and forehead barely shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

“You don’t look so good,” Pidge remarked.

Keith looked up to see her adjusting her glasses with a nervousness he wasn’t familiar seeing on her. Her young features were pulled at the edges, taught with concern as she gazed at her friend.

Hunk’s fingers were pressed against his mouth, locking down any words of anxious gibberish that might have been threatening to spill out. His shoulders were hunched over, making him appear much smaller than his was, and his brown eyes were wide and shiny with troubled thoughts that he was clearly trying not to vocalise.

“What’s happening?” he asked after a second. His voice shook as he spoke.

Lance looked about two seconds away from passing out, but he still managed to raise his gaze extraneously to look at his best friend, eyes rolling in his sockets when the effort made to lift his head failed him.

Keith had a sudden flash of memory, sparking like gunpowder in the back of his mind: Lance letting Keith pull him to stand, how he’d teetered on his feet, eyes swivelling sideways as he tried to stay upright. Lance leaning against the wall in the hallway, his shoulders curling inwards as he struggled to catch his breath.

“I don’t wanna bother the team with any of that stuff.”

Keith involuntarily growled at the boy sagging bonelessly against his chest. Of course. Of course Lance had been feeling sick earlier. But like an idiot, he hadn’t said anything.

“I’unno,” he murmured in response to Hunk’s question. “Feels kinda like… Travel sickness. Time travel sickness, hah.”

Lance’s head lolled like a nodding dog, slipping down Keith’s shoulder to rest against his bicep. Keith tried to maneuver him carefully into a more upright position without jostling him too much. Lance appeared to be making a concerted effort not to be sick, and Keith didn’t want to set off that bomb if he could help it.

“We need to get him into a pod,” Shiro said abruptly.

He made to stand, guiding one of Lance’s arms across his broad shoulders as he looped the other around the lithe boy’s waist. Keith didn’t let go of Lance, sticking fast to his other side as he mimicked Shiro, tucking himself under Lance’s arm to help support his weight.

To give him credit, Lance tried his best to help relieve the burden, groaning slightly as he lifted his legs in dragging, half steps. He seemed to be acutely aware of the tension surrounding the team, trying as well to brighten the atmosphere by making slurred, broken off jokes and occasionally shooting a finger gun in no particular direction.

Keith kept shooting him sideways looks, trying to discern if he was holding Lance in a way that might be causing him discomfort. It was hard to tell when the blue paladin was already looking so afflicted, his face strained and his breath comes in quiet shallow gasps. A few times, Keith’s head whipped to the side because he thought he’d heard Lance stop breathing.

On the third time, he was met with a slitted blue gaze watching him blearily. Keith cut off a small gasp that jumped up his throat, and Lance cracked a rather lopsided grin.

“Careful, Mullet. People might start to think you care about me.”

“Of course I care about you, Lance”

Keith’s tone was clipped, and he worried for a second that it had come out harsher than he intended. But it was genuine, and he felt his heart constrict slightly at the conviction behind his own words.

Lance didn’t respond, and when Keith glanced at him again, his eyelids were sliding shut with a deep sigh.

Hunk and Pidge trailed silently behind the entourage as Shiro lead them towards the pod bay.

Coran started when the bay doors whooshed open and the team traipsed in looking exceptionally solemn, half dragging a barely conscious Lance over to one of the pods.

“By the lions, what has happened here?”

Lance perked up a bit at the sound of the older man’s voice, head lifting in a small bounce before rolling to the side. He swallowed thickly before he spoke.

“Heeeeeeey, Coran. The Gorgeous Man.”

Lance grin was still crooked, and he waved his hand awkwardly as his wrist was still in Shiro’s grasp.

“Oh dear,” Coran said mildly. “We’d better get him into a pod. You can leave him in his paladin armour for now, it’ll be fine for a varga whilst we work out what’s wrong.”

Coran lifted Lance easily out of Shiro and Keith hold, and for a second Keith blinked nonplussed before remembering how strong Alteans were. Lance wiggled a little, adjusting to the new grip. Once Coran had half lifted half steered him into a pod, Lance lay back into the space, breathing out a relieved sigh as his head pressed into the soft lining. His eyes opened slightly, enough to fix Coran with a quizzical gaze.

“Hey, didn’t your grandfather visit Ecnes once or somethin’?”

Coran paused with his hand above the console, his eyebrows lifting high, moustache twitching.

“Why, yes he did, dear boy. I suppose that’s something I must have told you in the future. Did you know, that when he was there-”

“Coran,” Shiro interrupted with a sense of urgency.

“Oh, yes! Right!”

Coran forsook the opportunity to tell his story by pressing the button on the side of the pod, lifting the enclosing door.

The team watched as Lance’s breath fogged up the glass, his features rippling before his face and entire body went slack, and he slumped against the back of the pod.

“Did he say how he was feeling?” Coran enquired.

He tapped a few buttons on the side of Lance’s pod, head cocked to the side thoughtfully.

“He said something about travel sickness?” Hunk replied.

“Time travel sickness was his exact wording, I think,” Pidge interjected.

“Ah-”

Coran made a rather concerned noise. The team turned to face him abruptly, their faces a myriad of varying shades of apprehension. Keith couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding over to Lance propped up in the pod. He kept watching, eyes trained on the unsteady rise and fall of Lance’s chest. The thought of the other boy suffering had Keith’s gut twisting uncomfortably, and he tore his eyes away to focus on what Coran was saying.

“Well, yes. This is something we should probably inform Allura about as well,” Coran started.

“I’m right here, Coran.”

Allura came striding through the double doors, hair twisted up on top of her head to keep it out of her eyes.

“I saw you carrying Lance through the camera feed. I thought it best to be present.”

“Very good, Princess,” Coran assessed. “As I was saying, Lance was rather correct when he called it ‘time travel sickness’. On Altea we called it Chronolomia .”

“You had a name for it?” Pidge interrupted. “I thought you said time travel didn’t happen on Altea.”

“I said it wasn’t common ,” Allura corrected. “It was banned because of the possibility of irreparably damaging the timeline, and also because of the dangers that came with it. Time travel was only studied theoretically and under strict guidelines.”

Hunk stepped forward, and slightly closer to Lance’s pod, judging by the way he tilted his body towards it.

“Soooo what does this Chrono- Chronolomia? What does it do?”

Coran and Allura shared a heavy look. Worry immediately flared in Keith’s mind, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d already taken a step forward.

“What’s happening to Lance?!”

His voice rang out loud, reverberating around the high ceilings of the castle. The silence in the bay following his outburst was arguably louder. Keith felt a hand settle on his shoulder.

“Take it easy, Keith,” Shiro murmured gently. Like he was approaching a wild animal. “We’re all worried about Lance.”

Keith ground his teeth before catching himself and unhinging his jaw to let out a steady breath. He let his fingers drop from the fists he’d instinctively balled them up into, and was suddenly grateful that he was wearing gloves. He was sure that his fingernails would’ve dug into his palm otherwise.

Keith felt Shiro’s fingers tighten on his shoulder, giving him a small tug to place him back into a less threatening position. When it seemed clear that Keith wasn’t going to attack again, Shiro let his hand drop.

“What does Chronolomia do, Coran?” Shiro asked in a steady voice.

His face was a carefully crafted mask of calm, but Keith thought he looked more grim than anything. As if he was expecting to hear a death sentence.

“It’s a little complicated to explain,” Coran started uncertainly. “But essentially, this Lance doesn’t belong in this time.”

Keith blinked in confusion.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Aah well, you see, it’s a bit like muscle memory?” Coran explained. “The timeline recognises Lance, and that he belongs in this time. But it’s used to a younger version of him, so it’s trying to mould him back into how it thinks he should be. Which is a year younger than he is now.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Hunk held up his hands to stop the older man talking anymore. “You said that like time is a thing that’s alive. Like it has a mind and stuff.”

“I said it was complicated,” Coran replied, shooting the yellow paladin a sympathetic look. “ A Lance belongs in this timeline. It’s just not this Lance.”

“So it’s kind of like a game save file?” Pidge pondered. “Like, if you make loads of progress in a game but you don’t save it, the game will just go back to the earlier saved version.”

“Yes, quite right, number 5. Something like that!”

Pidge face grew concerned. She turned to look at Lance in the pod, an anxious pinch folding between her eyebrows.

“So why is it making him sick?”

“Lance’s body is trying to force itself back through an entire year of growth and exertion,” Allura spoke up. “This is one of the reasons time travel was so dangerous. It can have terrible physical repercussions that often resulted in d-”

She cut herself off, looking pointedly at the floor.

“In death,” Keith finished, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Hunk beside him.

“Yes,” Allura confirmed in a hushed voice.

A heavy silence settled on the room, everyone turning to look at Lance’s still frame resting inside the pod. From this distance, Keith could see that his breathing had evened out, and his skin didn’t look quite as grey as it had when they’d carried him into the bay. There was some relief in that, he supposed. Small victories.

“I’ll admit, his condition does seem to have deteriorated quite rapidly,” Coran mused.

Keith’s eyes snapped up to look at him. Coran was stroking his chin thoughtfully, his forehead creased into uneven rows on frown lines. It struck Keith, for a moment, just how old Coran was. How many things he must have seen.

“Normally Chronolomia doesn’t set in for about four vargas. It’s a rather slow process, and frankly not the nicest way to go.”

Hunk visibly gulped.

“What does that mea, is that like- Is’at something like Super Chronolomia? Chronolomia Plus?”

Coran gave his mustache a pensive tug, twirling it absently between two fingertips of his gloved hand as he peered at the Altean symbols on the pod screen.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because this is the second instance where Lance has travelled through time. By his chronology, he’s made this trip once before. It must be having an accelerated effect on his body.”

“How long does he have?” Shiro asked, all business.

Keith knew it was to stop himself from fretting. He was putting up a strong front for the benefit of the team.

“It’s hard to say,” Coran replied, leaning forwards to tap at the buttons on the pod again.

“A movement, perhaps? Maybe more?”

“Great,” Pidge huffed. “So we’ve got a week to get Lance back to his own timeline before his internal organs liquefy. Except the only thing we’ve got to go on is the name of an abandoned planet from some shady word-eating alien.”

“We’re not giving up!” Keith snapped. “We need to get to Ecnes as fast as possible and work out just how to get Lance back!”

He wasn’t sure why he felt so angry. Perhaps it was the ticking time bomb they’d just discovered, or the fact that Pidge was right - they had very little to go on.

Keith thought about their Lance in the future. Was this happening to him? Did their future selves know how to deal with? Were they better equipped to do so if they’d already done it once before?

“Hold on a second, Keith. Nobody’s giving up,” Shiro informed him firmly. “We just need to work out a plan. I say we get to Ecnes as soon as we can and see what we can find. We can take things from there.”

Pidge and Hunk nodded in agreement. They looked like a pair of bobblehead dolls, except their wore matching expressions of grim determination, mouths pressed into hard lines.

“Is he gonna be in there for long?” Hunk asked quietly.

He pointed at the pod as he asked, a small movement that left his elbow tucked in tightly to his side, as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

Coran gave him a warm smile, sensing the boy’s distress.

“He shouldn’t be more than an hour. As I said, this sickness takes rather a long time to develop under normal circumstances. He should be up and functioning in no time.”

Hunk didn’t seem all that reassured, but nevertheless he gave Coran a watery smile of gratitude.

Pidge swung her arms above her head, grabbing one wrist as she stretched out the clicks in her small body.

“Well, not that staring at Lance isn’t fun and all, but if training’s over I’m gonna go hit the shower.”

Without even waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and marched purposefully out of the pod bay. Shiro sighed wearily, resting his hands on his hips as his head hung forward.

“I’ll see if I can dig up any more information on Ecnes. I remember Lance saying it was in the Eastern Solar System so maybe I can find it on one of the star maps.”

Shiro dropped his hand, offering Keith a nod before turning to leave the bay as well.

“I’ll help,” Allura piped up.

Shiro paused to wait for her as Allura gathered her skirts and stood up, and together they made their way out into the hall.

“I’d better go and help them too, I suppose,” Coran hummed. “I’ve found it often comes in handy, having an encyclopaedic knowledge of the known universe!”

As the doors hissed shut after him, Keith turned to look at Hunk still standing in front of Lance’s pod. He fingers were wringing together in a way that almost looked painful, and Keith instinctively reached out to calm them. Hunk’s head whipped around as Keith covered his hands with one of his own, thick eyebrows shooting up so far they almost disappeared underneath his headband.

“He’ll be okay, Hunk,” Keith heard himself say.

It was what you’re supposed to say to people who are worrying, but Keith couldn’t help but feel that he was trying to convince himself as well. Hunk shot him a teary smile, his fingers squeezing Keith’s briefly before he dropped his hands all together.

“Thanks, man.”

Keith turned to look up at Lance settled in the pod. He looked completely peaceful, no hint of exertion or struggle visible on his face. The only real indication that he was alive at all was the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, still clad in the thick paladin armour.

“Could you stay with me?” Hunk asked suddenly. “Just for a little bit, like just a little while?”

It was selfish, but Keith felt a rush of gratitude towards the other boy. He’d wanted to stay himself, but doing so felt like he would owe the team an explanation. Lance and him hadn’t exactly been close before he got zapped through time, and although this version of Lance seemed a lot friendlier, there was still the firm knowledge that their was a rift in the relationship of their past selves.

That being said, Hunk was giving him a strange look, head tilted to the side as he stared at Keith in a way that seemed almost analytical.

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Keith.”

Hunk plopped down heavily on his butt on front of Lance’s pod, crossing his legs as he braced his elbows on his knees. Keith followed suite, shifting a little so that he was leaning back, supporting his weight on his hands.

“So… Pidge got a new bayard form, huh?” Hunk said nonchalantly.

Keith nodded silently. He wasn’t very good at small talk.

“I wonder what mine’s gonna turn into,” Hunk continued, undeterred by Keith’s lack of conversation.

“Giant pizza wheel?” Keith teased.

Hunk barked out a laugh, his whole body shaking with the sound.

“Man, I hope so. I wonder what yours is gonna be.”

“Mine?”

The statement caught Keith by surprise, and he raised his eyebrows at Hunk.

“Yeah,” the yellow paladin affirmed. “Do you think it’s gonna be another type of sword or…?”

“I dunno,” Keith shrugged. “Maybe? Like a dagger?”

Hunk hummed in acknowledgement. His gaze drifted up to Lance again, still lying quietly behind the screen of the pod.

“Maybe a gun,” he said. It was more of a statement then a suggestion.

“A gun?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said quietly. His voice sounded strangely confident. “I bet it’ll be a rifle.”

Keith blinked, following Hunk’s line of sight until his eyes landed on Lance’s face.

“You mean like Lance?”

Hunk nodded, a secretive smile playing on his lips.

“Yes,” he said, and his voice didn’t waver. “I bet it’ll be a rifle just like Lance’s.”

Chapter Text

True to Coran’s word, Lance wasn’t in the healing pod for more than an hour. Keith had sat with Hunk as they chatted idly about bayard forms and alien hypothesis. Once Keith had made the mistake of mentioning Lance’s gofer idea, he’d all but lost any control over the conversation as Hunk had taken off a lightspeed with a string of “highly plausible” theories, as he put it. Keith took the time to zone out, letting his mind drift with leisurely curiosity to the memory of Lance rapping his knuckles across Pidge’s cuirass. He made a mental note to ask he what he’d said later.

“Why don’t you just ask Lance?” Hunk queried when Keith brought it up.

There was a glint to his eye, and echo of something Keith had seen in Lance’s face earlier in the hallway, and he belatedly wondered how close the two must have been at the Garrison if such behaviours were rubbing off on each other. Keith shrugged.

“You think Lance is gonna tell me how to unlock my bayard? He’s probably thrilled he gets to one-up me about something.”

A strange look passed over Hunk’s face, something that looked like a mixture of surprise and disappointment. Keith felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut as he realised that maybe he’d said something wrong.

“I think you’ve got him wrong, Keith,” Hunk said after a moment. “Lance really cares about team Voltron, and that includes you. If it’s gonna help us defeat Zarkon then yeah, I think he’s gonna tell you how to unlock your bayard.”

A small rush of something swam through Keith’s veins. It was like someone had shot him up with a tiny dosage of joy, and he felt it keenly throughout his body. Keith turned his head away from the weight of Hunk’s gaze, tilting his chin up to steadily survey Lance’s still body suspended in the healing pod.

“You two have know each other for a long time, huh?”

“Oh man, you don’t know the half of it!”

Hunk’s tone immediately lightened, a broad grin stretching across his face that lifted his features.

“Me and Lance grew up together. I remember we met when he stuck up for me against the school bullies. My mum had made me a traditional Samoan dish for lunch and obviously these kids didn’t know what it was, so they just decided they hated it. Threw it all over me. And BAM! There’s Lance standing in front of me, telling them all just where they could stick their Dairylea lunchables.”

“Woah.” Keith spoke softly, voice filled with genuine awe. “Lance defeated a whole group of bullies?”

“Defeated? Are you kidding?” Hunk snorted. “They beat the crap out of him. He managed to get in a few good hits though. Pretty sure he bit one of ‘em. Lance was scrappy like that.”

Keith huffed.

“Still is.”

Hunk shot the shorter boy a fond look, his smile softening around the edges.

“Yeah, he tried to use it to impress the girls in our class. Didn’t really work though. He had a black eye and a missing tooth for weeks. His mum was furious!”

Keith blinked up at Lance, trying to imagine him as the tenacious child Hunk had described him to be. He imagined those broad shoulders shrinking down, collarbones sticking out starkly against warm brown skin, an old T-shirt slipping off his lithe frame, a gap breaking the militant line of his teeth like a missing puzzle piece. He imagined Lance fumbling over himself as he tried to impress the girls in his class.

“Lance has a boyfriend.”

The words were out of Keith’s mouth before he’d had even a second to consider them. He instantly regretted it. The sentence hung in the air like a guillotine, waiting to drop. Keith saw Hunk shift in his periphery, turned to fix him with an unreadable expression.

“Oh. Yeah. I kinda knew that already…”

Hunk trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Lance told you?”

“Uh, yeah? Best friend, remember?”

Keith turned at that, peering out at Hunk from behind the curtain of his bangs. It was more so that he could finally tear his eyes from Lance’s form slumped in the pod.

“I’m surprised Lance told you , actually,” Hunk mused.

He seemed to catch what he said, freezing for a second as his eyes blew wide and anxious. Hunk’s fingers drummed agitatedly on his knee as he looked up at Lance again, his other leg bobbing as he hunched his large body inwards, trying to take up as little space as possible. He couldn’t seem to sit still.

Keith narrowed his eyes. It was typical for Hunk to fidget when he was hiding something, but in this situation it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. His words settled sharply around Keith, prickling his defence mechanism, tripping all his wires. Keith could feel his skin heating up, and he was sure that if he had feathers, they’d be puffing out right about now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, man, that’s not what I meant,” Hunk backpedalled immediately. He lifted both hands palms forward in a gesture of surrender. “I just meant that for all his show, Lance is actually pretty serious about relationships. I thought he might’ve avoided telling anyone in case- I dunno, they’d scoff at him or something?”

All the steam hissed out of Keith like a run down engine, his rousing anger settling back into its languid dormancy. He dropped his gaze down to his hands. It felt like it was the only safe place to look. Keith felt embarrassed to peer at Hunk when he’d nearly blown up, and watching Lance in the pod was… Painful.

Keith frowned at his own words. Since when had he cared so much?

“I think… Maybe I don’t really know Lance all that well.”

The words sounded sadder than he’d intended, and Keith belatedly wondered if Hunk could hear it in his tone as well. A sturdy weight dropped onto his shoulder, and Keith lifted his head to see Hunk resting his hand over Keith’s back. His brown eyes had taken on a warm honeyed glow that made Keith’s insides feel all wobbly.

“Well, you’ve got all the time in the world to get to know him. Who knows? Maybe you guys will get along better than you think?”

Hunk winked. Keith chuckled, though he felt his cheeks glowing.

“Yeah, and maybe Zarkon likes to take tap dancing classes every Tuesday night.”

“Never say never. He’s probably got a real spring to his step under all that evil ‘conquer-the-universe’ stuff that’s going on.”

They were interrupted by a soft hiss, and Hunk and Keith’s heads snapped towards the pod in frightening synchronicity. The transparent visor of the pod slid away, revealing Lance’s still-closed eyes. The tall boy stood perfectly still for a solid heartbeat before he began to tip precariously forward. Hunk made to scramble to his feet but Keith was faster. He was up from his seat on the floor in a second, taking two long strides towards Lance just as the ship’s artificial gravity took full effect. The blue paladin pitched forward straight into Keith’s outstretched arms, and the red paladin caught him with an oof!

Lance was a lot heavier than he looked. Keith supposed it was the muscle he’d put on in the extra year. He slumped bonelessly in Keith’s hold for a few seconds, a deadweight settled against Keith’s chest that made his back bend at an awkward angle. And then Lance let out a long whistle of breath, all the air seeming to leave his lungs in one big gust. His hands lifted sluggishly, patting their way up Keith’s hips, his ribcage, fingers scaling the footholds of his vertebrae until they came to rest just above the short boy’s shoulder blades. Lance’s fingertips sank into the fabric of Keith’s jacket, curling into a firm hold that allowed him to adjust himself until his sharp chin was slotted high up on Keith’s shoulder.

“Lance?” Keith asked, unsure.

Lance mumbled something unintelligible, his eyes barely peeking open before he turned his head to the side and wormed his face into the crook of Keith’s neck. The red paladin made a best effort not to let out a shocked squawk. He clamped his jaw shut, biting off a twisting yelp of surprise at the unfamiliar feeling. The flutter of Lance’s eyelashes tickled where they brushed against the small slip of skin his collar had left vulnerable. Lance grumbled again, wiggling his head closer until his entire face was tucked under Keith’s ear.

“Uh, Lance, buddy?” Hunk began tentatively.

Lance hummed, his fingers loosening and tightening as he curled his body ever closer to Keith’s. With a slight shift of his chin, Keith felt the soft slide of what he was sure were Lance’s lips grazing over his jugular. He prayed to every deity there was that the older boy wouldn’t feel the jackhammer of Keith’s pulse beating out a rhythm against his mouth. The dark haired boy felt his breath coming in short gulps, his hands pressing delicately over Lance’s back, completely at a loss for what was appropriate right now.

Lance was hugging him.

Lance was hugging him. And those were definitely Lance’s lips brushing over his skin.

Keith felt himself flush from head to toe, his entire being heating up until he was sure he was as red as a fire hydrant.

This was too much. It was too intimate. This was something for someone else. This wasn’t for him. And there was a loud, raucous voice in the back on Keith’s head kept screaming, HE HAS A BOYFRIEND!

He twisted his neck as much as he dared, shooting Hunk a pleading, desperate call for help with his eyes.

“Lance!”

Hunk’s voice was firm, sharper than Keith had heard it before. It had the desired effect, jolting the blue paladin out of whatever reverie he was in.

Lance moved his face out from under Keith’s jaw, blinking his eyes blearily to the source of his name.

“Lance you’re-ah… You’re hugging Keith.”

The words were clipped, measured, as if the wrong amount of implication could set off a bomb. Keith’s ears strained at the sound of them, trying futilely to dig beneath the thin facade covering them and expose their true meaning.

“Hm?”

Lance blinked groggily, inhaling long and slow through his nose. Keith felt the iron grip on his jacket loosen, and he shifted slightly to help Lance get his feet. The older boy turned his head at the movement, and at once Keith felt ocean blue eyes lock onto his like a steel trap. Lance’s entire vision seemed to focus, unfocus, then refocus, taking in the sight of Keith with a slightly pained expression on his face.

“Oh.” A soft noise of surprise. Lance blinked again and his eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh!”

Lance practically tore himself away from Keith. He stumbled backwards, ripping himself free of Keith’s grasp in his haste to get away. Unfortunately, it seemed that his equilibrium hadn’t caught up with him quite yet, and Lance wobbled dangerously on the spot. He looked like a baby giraffe, all long limbs and lack of coordination. It might have been funny if he hadn’t look so panicked and Keith’s heart sank, his arms suddenly feeling cold in the absence of Lance’s heat.

And suddenly Hunk was there, scooping Lance up into a hug of his own whilst simultaneously setting him right.

“I gotcha, buddy,” he chirped, lifting Lance with one arm as easily as if he were lifting a cushion.

Lance’s legs swung a little as he was lifted off the ground, whirling around to grab onto the assured sturdiness of Hunk’s broad frame. After a second, the initial panic seemed to bleed out of him and he let out a sigh, the muscles in his tense body uncoiling as he relaxed into Hunk’s hold.

“Thanks, man.”

Hunk set Lance down gently on his feet, keeping one arm belted around his waist in case he started swaying again. Once it seemed like Lance could hold himself upright without assistance, Hunk slowly uncurled his hand from lance’s hip.

Lance seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at Keith, his feet shuffling hesitantly as he rested one hand against his chest.

He took a steadying breath, slowly lifting his eyes up. Keith held his breath, hoping that the red flooding his cheeks had calmed somewhat. A beat passed between them, no one doing or saying anything.

It might as well have been a shootout.

But as always, Lance shattered the tension with a lopsided smile.

He lifted the hand from his chest to shoot a finger gun at Keith, making a clicking noise with his tongue.

“Heeeeey…”

Keith shoved aside the awkwardness with a firm thought. If Lance was pushing past it then dammit, so was he.

“How do you feel?”

“Eurgh, pretty rough. Feels like someone tried to microwave me. What happened?”

“Lance.” God, Keith sounded like he’d swallowed a bag of marbles. He gulped in an effort to clear his throat. “You kinda passed out.”

“Aw,” Lance cooed with a smug grin. “And you were worried about me.”

Keith felt his mouth twist.

“Of course I was worried about you!”

Had he always sounded that scared? Keith gritted his teeth, balling his hands into fists at his side. A burning emotion flared behind his sternum, too big to condense down into words. It was a feeling that spurned action. Keith was always more of a doer than a talker anyway.

But Lance and him… They didn’t do things. They bickered and challenged one another, sure. But sentiment?

Keith stamped out the fire in his heart with all the adamance of a child stomping their foot.

“Don’t grind your teeth,” Lance murmured.

And for a second, Keith was caught up in his easy smile, in the soft understanding look in his eyes.

They really were like cool water, flowing over Keith in long, slow, soothing strokes.

“Coran said being in this timeline is making you sick!”

“Chronolomia,” Hunk interjected. “That’s what they said it was called.”

“Chronolomia,” Lance echoed. He rolled the ‘R’, lips moving as if he was tasting the word on his tongue. “Sounds fancy.”

“Looks fancy, too.”

Three pairs of eyes whirled round as Pidge came striding into the pod bay, a tablet tucked under her arm.

“If by fancy you mean totally horrific and gory. I’m telling you, this thing puts slasher films to shame.”

“Wow, thanks Pidgey,” Lance deadpanned.

“No problem. You wanna see?”

Pidge took the tablet out from under her arm, tapping a few buttons on the screen quickly. She had just moved her fingers to swipe the image onto the holoscreen when Hunk snatched the tablet out of her hands.

“Hey!”

“Oooooh nope! No no!” Hunk cut Pidge off immediately, effortlessly holding back her small frame with one hand as he waved the tablet over his head, high out of reach of her madly clawing arms.

“Seriously, even if Lance did wanna see that gross stuff, I don’t. That is a no gracias from me.”

Hunk yelped as Pidge bit his finger, jerking his hand away from her fangs with a look of extreme indignation. He looked more surprised than actually hurt, and Pidge smirked in triumph.

“Scrappy,” Keith mumbled under his breath.

Hunk shot him a private grin.

“Who d’you think taught her?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Lance asked.

He was shooting Keith a sideways look, suspicion wearing on the pinch between his eyebrows. The red paladin schooled his features into an effortless expression of neutral indifference.

“Nothing.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed further, but he didn’t make any further comment. Hunk caught Keith’s gaze and winked.

“Something you wanted to show us, Pidge?” Lance asked.

“Yes, actually. We think we may have located Ecnes.”

Keith started at the words, taking a step forward before he’d even realised he was moving.

“Well? What are we waiting for? We should get to the bridge and have Allura plot a course for us.”

Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Why do you think I’m down here, nerd?”

“Alright, alright, forest fire, let’s get to the rest of the team,” Lance interrupted, holding his hands out as if to quell the rising tension.

Keith and Pidge blinked at each other as Lance passed between them, fingers laced behind his head and a bored expression on his face. He was the picture of nonchalance. It was like being rushed into a healing pod was barely a blip on Lance’s radar, his own impending mortality a mere road bump in the day.

It didn’t stop Keith from hovering close to his side as the group trudged their way to the bridge. He kept a sidelong glance trained on the blue paladin, watching like a hawk for any signs of wobbliness or discomfort.

Lance caught his eye, shooting Keith an instant smirk.

“Aw, you do you care.”

Keith felt his cheeks glow, and he quickly averted his gaze, folding his arms over his chest: It was his default armour, the last line of defense between the world and his heart.

He felt Lance stare at him a little longer, a small prickle in his skin alerting him to the older boy’s steady gaze. Keith did his best not to squirm.

Allura, Coran, and Shiro turned as the rest of the team made their way through the doors to the bridge.

“Ah, good!” Coran cried. “You’ve arrived just in time. We were just about to begin planning the navigation to Ecnes.”

Hunk frowned.

“Can’t we just fly down to it in the lions?”

In response, Allura tapped something on the ship’s dashboard. A camera feed filled the large holographic screen, showing a live image of Ecnes. Keith felt himself grimace.

True to what Allura had described, the solar system looked like a desolate wasteland. Large jagged chunks of asteroid floated around each other in such chaotic array it looked like a shattered mirror. What was worse was that the asteroids seemed to be multiplying at a languid pace: The brittleness of the rocks was quickly made apparent when a few of them collided. The asteroids fractured against each other with the impact, splintering off into smaller, sharper needles. It looked like a minefield if Keith had ever seen one. Attempting to fly the castle ship through didn’t even seem like an option.

“Ecnes is behind that? ” Pidge sounded incredulous.

Coran tapped another button. A smaller screen popped up in the foreground, the camera zoomed in on the details behind the asteroid field.

The murky, misshapen form of a planet loomed beyond the debris. It looked stale, not much more than a lumpy, ashen chunk of rock. It was a desaturated yellow in hue, as if it had once been bursting with glowing green vivacity that had since withered and died.

“There’s no way any of us could maneuver through that!” Hunk sounded equal parts terrified and impressed.

“Keith could probably do it.”

Keith felt his ears ring like a bell. The whole world seemed to slow a few ticks, the atmosphere of the ship feeling a little lighter than usual, as if someone had messed with the artificial gravity. Keith turned his head as his brain absorbed the words, letting them soak into his psyche long enough that when his eyes finally turned on Lance he was maybe halfway to believing that it was the blue paladin who had spoken.

Lance wasn’t looking at Keith. His eyes were carefully trained on the holographic screen, cool and calculating. His face held no trace of mirth or sarcasm.

The lack of jest in Lance’s body language tipped the scales dangerously in favour of the statement’s sincerity. It was like someone had injected with Keith with adrenaline, the heat of a full body flush shooting straight to his toes. He could feel it in his spine, all the way through to his fingertips, and Keith curled his hands into fists to stop them from trembling.

Now, see, Keith knew he was a good pilot.

He knew he had natural talent, and he knew he could pull of a lot of tricks that other pilot’s wouldn’t even dream of attempting.

But the Lance he knew would never in a million years admit that.

The Lance that Keith knew would have insisted he could do it too, would have insisted that they both try to see who the best pilot really was. So hellbent on fuelling their rivalry without airing caution for the budding friendship.

And yet, here Lance was with a perfect opportunity to preen.

And he wasn’t taking it.

Hunk had said that none of them could navigate a cluster that treacherous, and instead of demanding everyone acknowledge his own skill as a pilot, Lance had, without a whisper of hesitation, announced that Keith could.

It left the red paladin’s head spinning. Left a hot feeling in his belly that made Keith feel as if he might inflate like a balloon and fly away. If he was a computer, he was sure he’d be overloading. Error 404, bluescreen of death.

Keith kept remarkably silent, arms folded over his chest, eyes straight ahead. Silence was good. Silence was safe.

Which was great, because he felt like his tongue had cemented itself to the roof of his mouth. It certainly wasn’t coming down anytime soon, that was for sure.

He felt Lance’s eyes flicker over to him, the small movement catching in Keith’s periphery. He refused to make eye contact, but could feel Lance’s smirk radiating off of him like a frequency tuned especially for Keith.

This was were Lance had changed, Keith thought. It wasn’t just the new confidence that felt so much more legitimate, nor was it the scars the marred his skin and the battle-worn voice that permanently held a slight rasp now.

No. The real change was in Lance’s ability to weigh a situation and make an informed point. Perhaps it had always been there, Keith wondered, lying underneath all that bravado and misdirection. Perhaps Lance had always been this deliberate, this tactical, but he’d only started vocalising it in the past year.

Keith was once again struck with the thought of just how little he knew Lance.

“Maybe,” Shiro mused in answer. “But I think we could muscle through with the yellow lion. Those rocks may be big but they don’t seem that strong.”

“I think Shiro’s right,” Coran agreed. “The structure of the asteroids is actually incredibly fragile. You should be able to simply blast right through them. The yellow lion’s armour should be strong enough to protect you from any debris.”

“Then it’s settled,” Allura’s authoritative voice came from her platform. The team turned around the face her. “We’ll travel in the yellow lion to the surface of Ecnes.”

“Uuuuuh,” Hunk raised one finger shakily. “When you say ‘we’ do you mean, like- Like all of us? In the yellow lion? ‘Cause I just gotta say, that might be a squeeze.”

“Of course not! Coran and I will remain here and give you direction from our scans of the planet’s surface.”

“Really?” Lance’s voice sounded baffled. “You’re not gonna come with us in case we need your- You know-”

He waved his arms around in a series of what looked like bad dance choreography, the movements punctuated with short little “Pow! Blam! Yaaaaa!” noises that came from his mouth.

The whole team stared in silence for a moment as Lance’s arms returned to his sides. He looked up at Allura expectantly.

“Um- What are you doing?”

Lance blinked. His head ducked low, the boy suddenly looking very sheepish.

“Uh- I guess you don’t do that yet?”

Allura’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do… What exactly?”

“Nothing! Moving on! Yellow lion to ground control!”

Allura pursed her lips but didn’t push the matter.

This was something quickly becoming a pattern around the castle, Keith noted.

Lance would do or say something that clearly made a lot of sense to him, eyes alight with humour, as if he were awaiting a chorus of laughter in response to an incredible punchline he had delivered.

And then he’d freeze. The sparkle in his irises would dull, his grin would slip a little, and for a fraction of time it would look as though Lance was experiencing that entire past year of his life all at once.

And then he’d move on. His smile would rise like the billow of a sail, pulling with it the rest of his features into an expression that could cruise by as unworried and unhurried. As if the hiccup in conversation were nothing but an awkward faux pas.

It was uncomfortable, Keith thought. He often found himself wondering what was so different about their team in the future. What had changed about them so much that Lance felt the need to cull his expressiveness, to shave off important elements of his persona for fear of rupturing the team’s dynamic.

It seemed like such a waste.

“Hunk, Lance will be accompanying you to Ecnes.”

Allura’s voice dragged Keith out of his own head, crisp and clear as she made her decision.

His mouth was already open in protest before Shiro cut him off.

“I think that’s a good idea, princess. If we can get Lance back to the planet where the switch happened, perhaps something he sees will jog his memory.”

“I’ll go too.”

Keith was surprised at the insistence of his own tone. Shiro turned his head to fix the younger man with a flat stare.

“No, Keith. You stay here with Pidge. I don’t want to put the whole team out there in case we need air support.”

“But I can help-”

“You can help by following Hunk in the red lion. He’ll clear a path for you and then you can cover both him and Lance from above in case anything attacks us.”

Keith swallowed his bark of argument. He was having trouble trying to remember why he wanted to go with Lance in the first place.

The blue paladin was still eyeing Keith, his features loose and neutral, as if he was holding back his own words with a practised patience.

“Alright team. Hunk and Keith, get to your lions. Lance, you’ll be in yellow. Me and Pidge will relay information from here.”

A set of heads nodded their assent. Hunk and Lance turned towards the exit, their arms brushing with how closely they walked next to each other.

The sight made something hot coil through Keith’s muscles. It was a feeling he wouldn’t put a name to, an unfamiliar thing that he refused to acknowledge.

Jealousy, his mind provided helpfully.

Shut up, Keith whispered to his thoughts.

When the pair reached the door, Lance turned back to watch Keith, hovering in the doorway as Hunk continued ahead. With a sigh, Keith unfolded his arms and started off in the same direction.

As he passed Lance, the blue paladin wordlessly fell into step beside him. After they’d walked a few paces, Lance turned to lean in closer to Keith, lowering his voice so that it was only audible for the two of them. The gesture made Keith’s heart stutter.

“Hey man,” Lance murmured. His features were soft and open. “I’ll- We’ll be okay, so don’t chew a hole through your tongue whilst we’re gone, alright?”

Keith wasn’t sure how Lance had know, but it was exactly what he needed to hear. The small reassurance had his muscles releasing their strangle hold around his bones, his whole being feeling a little a little more flexible.

He managed a small smile in response. Lance returned it tenfold.

*

Despite Lance’s conviction, Keith wasn’t entirely convinced that he really would have been able to fly through the asteroid field if given the chance.

The starburst of rock shards seemed to align into a specific pattern, tessellate something incomprehensible that made Keith squint as if he were trying to decipher a Rorschach test. Then they’d reshuffle into something else before breaking apart again. Just watching it happen made Keith’s eyes ache. He was grateful to be following behind the yellow lion rather than having to pick a path through the constant movement of the debris.

Hunk had been blasting the rocks with his cannon, clearing a gaping hole in the mess to move through. The remaining shrapnel bounced off the yellow lion’s thick armour, dissipating it enough to leave space for Keith to pass through in close pursuit.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult method of steering clear of the larger rocks - Coran had been correct about the fragile density of the meteors. However, it was a painfully slow process.

Hunk would blast a chunk of the belt away, move through, then wait for Keith to follow. Getting through the majority of it took the better part of a varga.

Keith could feel his fingers twitching with the effort of restraining his impulsive nature, curled tight, choking the joysticks.

When they finally began to breach the planet’s atmosphere, Keith felt his stranglehold on the controls loosen somewhat. He breathed a tight sigh - two parts relief, one part resignation.

A soft beep from the hologram on screen and the image of Shiro popped into Keith’s periphery. He stood framed by the background of the castle’s main deck, the pale grey marking him out as a solid silhouette, dark and firm.

“Remember, team. This mission is strictly recon. We don’t know if there’s anything still living on this planet, or what we’ll find.”

Keith breathed out another sigh, forcing the tension in his muscles to ease. He let the commanding tone of Shiro’s voice fill his ears, latching onto it like a target. It gave him something familiar to focus on.

“If you encounter any alien life, do NOT engage. Keith, I want you to stay in the red lion in case of any potential hostiles. Hunk and Lance, you’re on the ground.”

Keith felt a pinch form between his eyebrows.

He didn’t like the plan. He hated the thought of sitting in his lion, surrounding my comfort and heavy firepower whilst his teammates were putting themselves in harm’s way. It made him feel unnerved all the way down to the very marrow of his bones. There was just something that felt so fundamentally wrong about sitting back on his haunches whilst he let the people he cared about take all the risk. It made him grind his teeth in frustration.

“I could-”

“We’ll stay in contact over the comms,” Shiro cut him off. “Report back in once you leave your lions.”

“You got it, Shiro.”

Lance’s voice chirped to life over the intercom. Keith felt his ears prick up at the sound, and his heart did a weird little wobble in his chest.

“I’ll- We’ll be alright.” Lance had said. “So don’t chew a hole through your tongue whilst we’re gone.”

Keith unclenched his jaw immediately.

They set the lions down on the planet’s surface with a dull thud. Through the screen, Keith could see a thick plume of dust erupt from where the lions had settled their paws. It gave the horizon line an eerie yellow green veneer, and Keith swallowed the hard lump that had surfaced in his throat.

“Shiro, come in. This is Lance. We’re leaving the yellow lion now.”

“Copy that, Lance. Keep us updated.”

Through the dreary wash of colour, Keith saw the mouth of the yellow lion open wide. A second later and a twin set of lights followed each other from the machine’s giant maw. As the dust settled, he could just about make out the muddy shapes of Lance and Hunk descending the platform out onto the surface of Ecnes, dual smudges amongst the craggy rock faces.

Their head torches were like two fireflies, dancing and swooping with every turn of a head, every emphatic nod of conversation.

Keith watched as their jet packs lit up for a split second, carrying them over some of the more jagged terrain. A few more steps and they were gone, blurry silhouettes dissolving into the obscure sheet of fog that lay around them like still breath. A dying gasp of the planet they stood on.

His knee bounced restlessly. Keith clenched and unclenched his jaw several times with a dobash. He gripped the controls, dropped his hands into his lap, only to lift them back into their seat around the joysticks again.

Rinse. Repeat.

It was the worst kind of waiting. The silent kind that makes you itchy in your very being, like ants crawling under your skin. Keith felt as if he were wired up to a bomb - one wrong step and it would trip an explosion. His eyes kept darting to the Altean symbols on screen that he was fairly sure represented time. They moved at a snail’s pace, mocking him.

After what was probably fifteen dobashes, Keith gave up the effort of keeping his hands in one place and tapped a button on the bottom of his screen.

“Keith?” Shiro’s questioning tone filled the cockpit as his image flickered up.

“They should have checked in by now.”

“Easy, Keith.”

Shiro’s tone was a gentle reminder. Patience.

But Keith had no time for patience right now. There was something weird about being on a dead planet. It felt like he was sitting in the opening scene of a bad horror film. His nerves sat on the edge of a cliff, waiting for something to make them jump.

The wind blowing over the surface of the planet made the entire landscape feel barren, endless, lifeless. A vast wasteland that Hunk and Lance had just disappeared into.

A burst of static crackled to life over the intercom, jolting Keith back into focus.

“-eally weird down h-.”

“Lance! Hunk!”

There was a shade of worry in Shiro’s tone.

“Can you hear me? Report!”

“-t sure if we c-”

“-ear us? Guys-”

“Lance!”

Keith could hear Shiro’s worry mirrored in his own voice. There was a steady sense of panic scratching it’s way up the back of his spine, sharp as a needle.

The intercom continued to crackle, white noise layering over the sound of the wind in a ghostly exhale. It felt like the whole environment, the very core of Ecnes, was wheezing.

A tick later and the intercom went silent, dying with a coughing whistle. It snapped the shaky audio off like a branch breaking from a tree.

Keith was out of his lion in seconds.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice barked over the comms in his helmet. “Keith, come in! Do not leave your lion! That is an order! Keith!”

The red paladin ignored it.

Under different circumstances he would have turned his comms off altogether, but he needed to keep an ear out for Lance. And Hunk. If they came online.

The wind battered at Keith as he stepped out his lion, trying to swat him down like a fly. He planted a firm foot to keep himself upright, lifting one arm on instinct to try and shield himself from the powerful gusts. From down on the ground, Ecnes looked even more barren.

What Keith could make out of the horizon was a long jagged line of craggy rocks, their silhouettes chipping the flat colour of the sky. The tempest swirled around him, flinging flecks of debris and small stones that made musical pings as they collided with Keith’s armour. The boy bared his teeth, tapping his helmet to bring up Lance and Hunk’s homing beacon. The display image flickered in short, stuttering starts, the screen brightening and dimming at a maddening speed. Keith squinted against the assault on his eyes before stepping forwards, doing his best to follow the protesting navigation.

His steps felt long and slow, the constant push of the wind impeding his pace. Keith walked for what felt like an entire varga, yet when he turned around, the tall shadow of his lion was still visible, letting him know he hadn’t gone far. He walked until his legs began to ache, feet feeling heavy as if he was wading through treacle. And underneath the strain in his muscles was the hot fever of worry. That something might have happened to his teammates whilst he’d been sitting idle. A million and one scenarios played through Keith’s head as he trudged dutifully on. Some completely nonsensical, driven purely by anxiety and a wild imaginative. Others seemed more plausible, and they gave Keith a cold sense of dread that shuddered down his spine with the weight of their possibility.

When his lungs began to burn, Keith finally looked up to see a mess of ruins. It looked as though it may have been a temple, once. Now, the structure was almost entirely dilapidated. Great chunks of stone had torn from their still standing brothers, fraying and fracturing as they hit ground level into a shapeless cluster, weathered from age and the environment. Others remained erect, though clearly the ceaseless winds had taken their toll. Archways that looked as though they had once worn beautiful inscriptions and carvings had now absorbed their embellishments, harsh lines and cracks tracing their own venous system through the rock.

Keith’s eyes flicked to the screen. Hunk and Lance’s signals sparked and wavered on the screen, but they were extremely close. Keith made an informed decision that they’d probably gone to take shelter inside. That’s what he would have done, anyway.

He took a deep lungful of what available air their was, ignoring the bone deep burn of exertion in his legs and forging ahead towards the temple’s entrance.

Stepping through the crumbling archway was like someone pulling a plug on a tv. The white noise of the wind died out into nothing but a quiet background noise. The gusts that yanked at Keith’s body disappeared, the strong stone sheltering the red paladin from the extreme weather. It allowed Keith a long moment to catch his breath. He inhaled deeply a few times, feeling the painful throb of his heart as he forced it to slow. A burst of static in his ear had Keith wincing.

“-wear it was her-”

“-st… -ight, bud-.... I mea-”

“-unk! I said it w-”

Keith tapped his comms hurriedly.

“Lance! Hunk! Do you copy? Lance?! Are you there?!”

The static popped a few more times, crackling like popcorn, a few cut off words from Lance and Hunk slipping through. Keith eyed the image on his screen with a frown. He should be right on top of them. He took a few more tentative steps into the temple. The stone inside was less beaten and yet less shapely. It appeared that the Ecarians had spent most of their attention on carving the exterior of the structure. As Keith walked, the stone seemed to flatten out, tapering into something that looked more like it had been carved naturally with the movement of the earth. The beacon on his helmet screen quivered for a moment before brightening, the signal strengthening.

“-nd there was this big white light and like this WHOOSH! But it didn’t look anything like this, Hunk, I’m telling you!”

Lance voice drifted through the comm link loud and clear.

“Lance!” Keith’s hand flew up to his helmet.

There was a startled noise from the other end of the line.

“Keith?!”

The red paladin heard his name in dual tones. One cry was coming from his comm link, the sound tinny and thin. The second was coming from an alcove on his right. The stones made Lance’s voice echo and warp, like it was blurring the sound somehow, hollowing it out into a shell. Keith’s feet were already moving. He took a veering turn into the alcove and nearly went tumbling down a tall flight of stairs. Keith took the steps two at a time, almost twisting his ankle in haste. Once he reached the bottom he turned sharply around a corner and found himself almost immediately in a wide, high-ceilinged room.

Hunk and Lance were standing in the centre atop a raised platform. Four claw-like pillars gouged their way out of the ground surrounding the platform, as if they were curling around it ready to grip.

“Keith!”

Lance’s mouth hung open as he stared at the red paladin in surprise.

“Uh, wasn’t Keith supposed to stay in his lion?” Hunk asked. He sounded anxious. “Y’know, in case we suddenly get attacked by scary alien dudes?”

Lance snorted.

“As if Keith could ever stay put.”

Keith held his tongue. Did that… Was that affection in Lance’s tone?

“We lost you guys on the comms,” Keith found himself explaining. “I got worried so I came after you.”

Lance made a swooning noise.

“My hero!”

Keith didn’t miss the sharp look Hunk shot his best friend. It gave him the distinct impression that he was missing part of the joke. Keith swiftly changed subject.

“Have you guys found anything?”

“Well… Sort of…”

Hunk glanced nervously at Lance. The boy in question was tapping his foot impatiently, arms folded across his chest and weight resting on one leg. He was glaring around the room as if it had insulted his ancestors.

“This is the place, I’m sure of it,” he growled, though it seemed as if he were talking to himself.

“What Lance is trying to say is that he thinks this is the place, but it’s not exactly how he remembers it.”

Keith frowned.

“Well… It is one year in the past, right? Maybe something changed in that year and that’s why it looked different when you found it the first time.”

“Maybe…”

Lance’s brow was furrowed in concentration. He brought one hand up to rub at the helmet where his chin sat, muttering something low under his breath.

“What’s different about this place? Was it like, marginally less creepy in the future?”

Hunk punctuated his sentence by eyeing a set of control panels Keith hadn’t noticed before.

Lance’s eyes travelled around the room, as if he was mapping out every detail in his mind.

“These pilar thingies were different. I remember them glowing, and the floor lit up when me and Pidge walked in. But nothing’s happening now.”

Lance’s fingers tapped his chin arrhythmically.

“Did you trigger something?”

Lance shook his head no. Keith frowned again, casting his eyes wide around the room. The ceiling spiked above giving the room an added depth, as if it were towering over them, watching their every move. It was a wholly unnerving sensation, and Keith felt it run through his instincts like an electric current.

“Is there anything else you can remember?”

Lance’s eyes traced a path over one of the walls searchingly.

“There was a load of Altean script carved into the rock,” he murmured.

With a small hop, Lance made his way over the the stone wall. He reached out, letting his fingers plot an imaginary map over the rough surface. The look on his face made a thickness settle in Keith bones, as if he had hit a direct tap to his hope and was draining it away with every small crease in his brow.

“It’s not here.” Lance’s voice held a facet of rising panic. “It’s not here anymore!”

He span around in a tight circle, hands flailing wide as he stepped away from the wall. Keith could see the growing desperation crawling over his features like a snake, filling his blue eyes with fear and confusion. It made the scar that fractured his skin twist into a long crooked finger.

“I don’t understand,” Lance mumbled. “This doesn’t make any sense! It was right here! Right here!”

Lance jabbed a finger accusingly at the wall. The wall sat silent and blank. It was almost mocking.

“Lance, calm down,” Keith started, but Lance whirled on him, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Keith!”

His name sounded like a strangled cry coming from Lance’s lips, a single note of raw hysteria tainting the inflection of it.

“You mean it will be right here.”

Keith and Lance both turned to look at Hunk. The broad boy was tapping his fingers together thoughtfully, his shoulders hunching around his form. Next to him, Keith realised that Lance was panting, and he shot him a discreet sideways glance. Lance’s chest plate was rising and falling fast, and Keith was suddenly struck with just how much Lance wanted to go back to his own timeline. How much he missed his own team. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“What?”

“Well, this is the past right? And you found the machine in the future. So if the writing isn’t here now then it’s going to turn up sometime in the next year, right?”

Lance’s jaw opened and closed like a drawbridge, wordless and gaping.

“But.. You think someone wrote it? It was in Altean, Hunk!”

“Yeah, I know, I just thought… I guess maybe I thought that like, Allura wrote it or something? Or Coran? Or maybe someone else?”

Keith’s mind whirled like a machine, churning out theories and possibilities. If the writing had been written in the following year, and in Altean no less, did that mean that Allura or Coran had written it because Lance had travelled to the past? Or was it someone else? Would they have written it had Lance not travelled back in time, or would they have done so regardless, if they had even inscribed the words at all?

The notion that all the pieces were aligning to enable Lance’s time travel made Keith’s head swim. It was like they were caught in a predestination paradox.

If things were just going to happen the way they already had done in the future, did any of their decisions even matter at all?

“Keith? Hey! You in there, mullet?”

Keith blinked rapidly as a hand waved in front of his face. His head snapped up to see Lance regarding him with a small amount of concern.

“Yeah, fine,” he croaked. He couldn’t quite bring himself to smile.

Lance pursed his lips as if he wanted to argue, but after a second he seemed to decide that the matter wasn’t worth pushing.

“So do you think… Maybe there are other Alteans out there?” Lance asked as he turned back to Hunk, voice quietly awed.

“I don’t know. Maybe? It could be another alien species.”

“Another alien species that happens to speak Altean?”

“You speak Altean,” Hunk pointed out.

Keith eyes shot to Lance in time to see the blue paladin freeze, eyes as round as dinner plates.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, so softly that it left Keith’s heart beating a staccato rhythm.

Lance looked like he’d seen a ghost. All the colour drained out of his face leaving it looking chalky and ashen, even through the helmet’s visor. His jaw worked silently, his arms moving up and down mechanically like a puppet. He couldn’t seem to decide what to do with them.

Before Keith’s mind could swallow him whole, two things happened at once:

First, Shiro’s voice barked over the comms at full volume, making all three paladins wince.

Second, there was an almighty rumble from the temple walls, one that Keith felt shake down to his very bones.

“Paladins! Come in!”

Coran’s voice wavered over the top of the groaning planet, faint and static.

“Coran! What’s happening?” Lance’s hand was at his ear, his face set with cool determination.

“We were right about Ecnes being unstable! The tectonic plates above you are shifting. You’re in a very dangerous area right now, you have to get to safety.”

“Get to your lions!” Shiro’s voice cut strongly through the line, harsh with worry. “It’s not safe there, you have to evacuate NOW!”

Lance’s face crumbled into something so heartbreakingly torn that Keith’s instinctual resolve wavered, wobbling like a loose stone on a cliff.

“But- The machine! It’s my only way back!”

“Lance, if you three don’t leave now there may not be a you to send back!”

Allura’s voice broke the conversation, caught high in her throat with urgency.

“Lance!” Hunk wailed.

The blue paladin looked as though he was completely divided, caught between a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow him with his indecision.

So Keith made the choice for him.

Without a second thought, Keith buckled his arm around Lance’s waist, yanking him backwards and away from the machine.

“Wait!” Lance cried raggedly. “Keith, STOP!”

The rumbling grew louder, as if the earth around them was vocalising it’s indignation at their presence. Dust and small rocks fell from the ceiling, spattering the ground with flint rain that chinked dangerously against their armour. Keith grit his teeth, half dragging half carrying Lance back up the stairway, Hunk close on their heels.

“Keith! No!”

Lance clawed weakly at his hold, but Keith dug his fingers in, refusing the release his vice grip. After a moment of struggling, Lance seemed to accept the situation. The rocks around them gave a shuddering groan as he found his feet, turning to run in the direction that Keith was pulling him. Shiro’s voice jumped through the comm link at choppy intervals, hacking out half instructions over the noise of the booming earth.

“-ave to get to safet-.... eturn to the ship! Regr-.... -ome in! Do you c-”

As they reached the mouth of the temple, Keith could have cried at the sight of the lions looming over them, massive shapes that broke the skyline. He barely even noticed the wind as Red dropped her head to her paws, opening her maw wide to let Keith and Lance to stumble up the gangway.

They practically fell into the cockpit. As soon as Keith liberated Lance’s body from his hold, the blue paladin sank to the ground, his breath coming in short gasps as he folded forward, head bent. Keith flung himself into the pilot’s chair, hand wrapping around the controls as the screen glowed to life. From this high up, he could see the ground shift and churn underneath them, and chunky soup of craggy rocks and shingle. He didn’t spare it a second glance as he launched Red into the air. Hunk followed not a second after, the yellow lion hovering in Keith periphery as they drove the ships upwards and off the planet.

It was only when Keith had steered them out of Ecnes’s atmosphere did he take a moment to look at Lance.

The older boy was propped up against the wall of the cockpit, knees bent, one arm cradled around his waist where Keith’s had been. As if the touch had burned him. His face was turned away, staring back down into Red’s body.

Back to Ecnes, Keith realised.

He looked so small, curled up like that, arms wound around his body as if to comfort himself. Keith felt a strong tug of yearning pull his heart up to his throat. He felt responsible for that. For comforting. Like he needed to do or say something to make Lance’s feel better, that it was incredibly important in this very moment. It was an emotion that was both foreign and overwhelming.

“It’ll be okay,” Keith said. His voice sounded raspy even to his own ears. “The machine. It’ll be okay. The temple was deep underground. It’ll survive.”

Lance’s head turned to him slowly. His face was hauntingly blank.

“We’ll get you home, Lance,” Keith assured him. But he didn’t feel sure himself. He honestly didn’t know if they’d ever get Lance back.

“Home,” Lance echoed eerily.

It was a perturbing allusion to when Keith had suggested Lance use an alternate word to “familia”. And the way Lance said it, with an empty face and vacant eyes, made him feel sick.

*

Returning to the castle of lions was a strange experience. For one thing, Lance was quiet almost the whole way. He responded to Keith’s strained attempt at small talk, allowed his features to lift with a hint of a smile, but it was like watching a lightbulb die. His grin would flicker to life for a moment before fading away, as if it had never been there in the first place. He kept looking back down the length of Red, as if somehow the machine would miraculously appear in the red lion’s cockpit.

Hunk pulled them both into a tight hug in the docking bay, his eyes glittering dramatically with anxious tears.

“Ah, man I really thought we were gonna get squished in there,” he gasped between breaths.

Lance just let out a small chuckle, patting his friend consolingly on the back.

When they stepped onto the bridge, Pidge leapt up from her seat, her face a chalky white as she adjusted her glasses twitchily.

“Are you guys alright?”

“We’re fine, Pidge,” Keith sighed. He suddenly felt very, very tired.

“Speak for yourself,” Hunk argued. “I am seriously not alright. And I would very much like to never do that again.”

Lance remained silent, folding his arms across his chest. He wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes.

Shiro stepped over to them, his face grim and his mouth pressed into a hard line. Keith steeled himself, waiting for a hard reprimand. Instead, he felt one of Shiro’s thick arms curl around his shoulders, pulling him roughly into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re all safe,” the older man said gruffly.

Keith felt himself relax a little, managing to give Shiro as small nod as he stepped back.

“You guys alright? You seem more shaken up than we were,” Lance started.

Keith shot him a look, trying to assess the blue paladin’s mood. Despite his question, Lance looked rattled. His hair was sticking up from where he’d run his fingers through it, sharp points poking out at random angles, and his eyelids hung heavy, as if he was struggling to keep them open. His jaw flexed occasionally, making the deep scar that ran across his face ripple like a wave.

“You disappeared from the scanners,” Pidge cried, knocking her glasses askew. “We were completely blind up here, we had no idea where you’d gone!”

Lance finally did crack a grin at that.

“Aw, you do care!”

Pidge marched right up to Lance and cuffed him round the ear. Lance stepped back with a chuckle, making a little heart shape with his hands.

“Stop that! We were worried, you idiot!”

Lance smile softened around the edges. He snaked out an arm, catching Pidge around the shoulders and pulling her into a half hug, much the same way Shiro had done with Keith.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Pidge slumped her weight tentatively against him, seemingly unsure of whether she should let herself relax into the embrace. After a second she went limp, allowing Lance’s arm to wrap that much tighter around her small frame.

“Did you find anything?” Shiro broke the moment, suddenly all business again.

Lance’s eyes blew wide for a second, a familiar look of fear sweeping across his face. Keith cut in immediately.

“Yeah. Lance said there was Altean writing on the wall when he went there in the future, but we didn’t see any just now.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You mean someone wrote it sometime in the next year?”

“We… Don’t know…”

Keith eyed Lance warily. He’d since let go of Pidge, but judging by the way he was ducking his head, it didn’t look as if he wanted to join the conversation any time soon.

Allura let out a small gasp, her eyes growing wide as saucers as her head whipped around to where Coran was straightening from the console.

“Coran!” she gasped. “Maybe…? Alteans!”

“We don’t know.”

Lance voice severed the budding hope in Allura’s face, cutting it off like he was flipping a breaker. Allura’s expression dropped immediately, quickly replaced with mild wariness.

“The machine was completely dead,” Lance continued. His voice was hard, strained like a wire ready to snap. “It didn’t light up like it did the first time. I’m not… I don’t understand. What are we meant to do?!”

Keith watched the hysteria rise in Lance like a pot about to boil over, bubbles shooting for the surface. His hands flapped in agitated circles at his side, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked wildly around the room. As if he was trying to focus on something. As if he might bolt-

Without even realising he was doing it, Keith had already slipped off a glove. He pulled the hair tie from around his wrist and strode over to Lance, catching one of the older boy’s flailing hands in his. Lance span around at the contact, eyes darting down to where Keith’s fingers curled around his own like vines. Keith pressed the hair tie into Lance’s palm before folding the other boy’s fingers around it, giving him a short nod.

Lance’s eyes drifted from Keith down to the hair tie, looking utterly surprised.

A small beat passed between the two of them. Lance’s fingers twitched in Keith’s hold, and he looked as if a million and one things wanted to pass from his lips. But after a moment, his stricken expression melted into something a fraction less tense, his eyebrows relaxing as he let out a long sigh.

“Thanks,” he whispered with a small smile.

Keith just nodded, and he watched as Lance looped the hair tie around his fingers, twirling it between his digits with a practised ease.

Keith felt a little rush of warmth engulf him. Easing some of Lance’s worry made him feel… Nice.

“It’s okay, team, we’ll figure this out,” Shiro said, in that strong reassuring way of his.

Keith turned back to look at him.

There was something… Off … About the air around him. No. It was the air in front of Shiro. That hung between him and the team. It shimmered like a tiny mirage, warping the light surrounding it. Keith squinted at the space, taking a step forward to get a better look. It was like staring through a fish tank, the rippling expanding sideways as Keith drew closer.

“Keith?”

Lance’s voice drifted over to him, curious and uncertain.

“Do you guys see th-”

Something shot out of the shimmer as lightspeed, smacking Keith cleanly in the forehead. He let out a garbled yelp as his feet lifted out from under him, tipping him over backwards with a sudden wave of vertigo. Keith’s head hit the ground before his body, and his vision darkened for a tick.

“KEITH!”

Lance’s voice span through the darkness with a grounding clarity, one that Keith latched onto as he blinked through the spots dancing in his vision. He made a small move to get up and instantly a spike of searing pain jolted through his skull. Keith hissed at it, barely biting back a groan.

“Keith!”

Lance’s voice again, quieter, closer. And there was the weight of his hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“What the fucking hell was that?”

“Pidge, language.”

“Sorry, Shiro. What the fucking heck was that?”

Keith groaned again. The lights above him suddenly seemed too bright, and he turned his head towards the ground in an attempt to escape the harsh glare.

“Oh no you don’t, buddy,” Lance said, catching Keith’s face in his hands.

He made a whine of protest, but the spots were already clearing from his vision. The lancing pain that fired through his head had dulled so a steady ache right between his eyebrows. Keith frowned before realising that furrowing his brow hurt, and he relaxed his face with a heavy sigh. Lance’s hands cupped his cheeks in a warm cage, one that Keith didn’t want to leave. The older boy’s fingers slipped around to the back of his neck, rubbing small, soothing circles as he helped Keith sit up.

And suddenly Lance’s face was right there, sitting inches away from Keith’s, blue eyes engulfing everything like Keith had fallen into the ocean.

“Are you okay?” he breathed.

His voice was thick with concern, and he murmured so gently that Keith’s eyes flickered down to Lance’s lips just to catch the words. When he looked back up, Lance was staring at him curiously, head tilted to the side slightly. Not trusting his voice, Keith simply nodded, taking the hand that Lance offered and letting the other boy pull him to his feet.

Hunk bent down to retrieve whatever had hit Keith from off the floor. He lifted it up to the light, peering at it closely. It was small and sleek in design. White overlaying gray with glowing teal fissures carving paths up the length of its body. It was unmistakably Altean.

“It looks kinda like… I don’t actually know.”

Hunk turned the small device in his hands, tapping it once or twice as his face cracked into a triumphant smile.

“It looks like a memory stick!”

Pidge peeled away from Lance and swiped the device out of Hunk’s hands. The big guy let out a cry of protest but she ignored him, swatting him away as he reached to take it back.

“Where did it come from?”

“Be careful, Pidge. We don’t know what it is,” Shiro said sternly.

“I think it’s a storage device. For files maybe?”

“Huh, cool,” Lance remarked. “Like a space-USB.”

“Yeah, more or less.”

Pidge slipped into her chair as she jammed the stick into a port on her computer. The orange outline of a box popped up on the screen, filling with a series of numbers. Pidge stared at the numbers in perplexion, a small frown crossing her face.

“What is it?” Hunk asked.

“It’s… I mean, it would be my birthday but… The date is wrong.”

“Wrong?”

Shiro leaned forward, bracing one hand on the arm of Pidge’s chair as he peered at the screen.

“Yes. The date is one day off. It could be nothing but… The numbers are-”

Pidge stopped talking abruptly, her sentence snapping in half as she bent her head and typed furiously.

“What is it?” Shiro repeated Hunk’s question.

“It’s a code I used to use with Matt and my dad. We’d send quantum frequencies and cross check them with our cipher, and then factor in additions and subtractions…”

Pidge tailed off, muttering to herself under her breath as her fingers flew over the keyboard. Keith felt the team’s collective curiosity prick up, and they shuffled forward as a group, huddling around Pidge’s chair to get a closer look at her screen.

A few seconds passed before Pidge flicked her wrist and sent her screen onto the bigger one that hovered above the controls. An innocent box hung in the air, flashing between two highlighted options.

Play video?

> Yes No

Pidge tapped a button on her keyboard and the box flickered into nothingness. A second later and a new window filled the screen, a wave of static filling the room with shuttering light before the image of Allura’s face popped to life above them.

Keith heard Lance suck in a breath.

The blue paladin had been telling the truth: Allura had definitely cut her hair in the future.

It sat just above her shoulders, sharp and straight save for the ends that curled attractively around her jaw. Though she appeared to be aiming for casual, her expression was set, eyes glinting with a weight that Keith had seen mirrored in the version of Lance that now stood next to him. The red paladin was incredibly conscious of how his team had frozen into statues as soon as the video had started playing, all heads tilted up in awe as they gazed at what was essentially their future.

“Hello paladins of Voltron. This is Princess Allura of Altea- I mean, I’m sure you know already…”

Her firm expression flaked into something much more personable, and Keith watched as the huge screen-Allura waved awkwardly as her formal facade crumbled. Lance snorted.

“Yes, anyway. I’m sure you’re all aware of the situation, but to clarify - A version of Lance from almost one year ago to the date has ended up in our timeline. We are operating under the assumption that our Lance is in the past with you.”

There was a clattering noise from somewhere behind the camera, and Keith watched silently as Future Allura frowned, a resigned look crossing her face.

“Hey, no, you said I could say hi!”

Keith’s heart stopped in his chest.

That was Lance’s voice. His Lance’s voice. He was right there!

“When Allura gives you your cue, yeah!”

“Well it’s basically my cue now, isn’t it?”

“Don’t make me start this recording again.”

That sounded like Pidge. Keith glanced at the Pidge sitting in front of him. Her eyes were wide, magnified by her glasses making her look like a fish.

There came the sound of scrambling and suddenly Lance slide into the frame next to Allura, throwing one arm casually around her shoulders.

“Hey! Guys, I’m in the future! The future! Can you believe this?”

Keith could barely breathe. He was watching Lance closely, scanning his face for any signs of ill health, any shortness of breath, anything!

But Lance looked fine. Save for a few bags under his eyes, he was as bright as a button, smile wide and pearly as he shot a set of finger guns at the camera.

Next to him, Keith heard the older Lance mutter, “Oh my god, I’m adorable. ”

“As I was saying ,” Future Allura shot a pointed look at Lance, who bit his lip and unwound his arm from around her neck. “We hope our Lance is safe in the past with you. We are extremely aware of some of the… The side effects that come with time travel.”

At this, she gave the camera a lingering look. It was very subtle, but Keith got the message loud and clear.

The future team knew about Chronolomia. And judging from the puzzled expression on the younger Lance’s face, he had absolutely no idea.

“It’s important for you to know,” Future Allura continued. “That shortly after the switch took place, Ecnes in this timeline collapsed. There isn’t anything left of it, including the machine that caused all of this in the first place.”

Keith mouth went dry, and his stomach sank like a stone. In his periphery, he could see Lance fingers fold the hair tie over, under, over again, like some frantic game.

The camera on-screen tilted, throwing Lance and Future Allura off kilter, pinning them to the corner of the frame for a second before it swerved to face a very chaotic looking Pidge.

Keith’s eyes balked at her hair. It was an absolute hive of hair pins, longer than it was now but more choppy. Like someone had hacked at it with a pair of blunt scissors.

“We managed to get scans from the planet before it collapsed, and we’re pretty confident that we can guide you into triggering the machine.” Future Pidge explained.

There was more shuffling, and the camera whirled again, coming to settle on Future Coran’s face.

“You’re going to need to get some pretty hard to find stuff. I’m sure we don’t need to remind you that time is of the essence! The sooner we make the switch back, the better for everyone!”

Keith’s eyes slid over to Lance again. Future Coran’s words were sticking to him like glue paste, coating his brain with images of Lance in the healing pod, Lance leaning against the hallway walls, Lance swaying unsteadily on his feet, eyes lidded and sweat shining on his brow.

Future Allura’s face filled the screen again, Lance still sitting next to her looking cheery.

“We’ll do our best to help you as much as we can.”

Lance’s head joined Allura’s in frame, his smile lopsided and sheepish.

“You heard the lady! And whilst we’re here I just wanna say, I hope future me is doing good and you’re all finally seeing me for the awesome sharpshooter that I am!”

“Lance.”

Keith froze, his jaw dropping open.

That voice had come from behind the camera. That voice had sound distinctly like him.

“Okay, okay, jeez, keep your mullet on.”

“It’s not a mullet!”

“Yeah, anymore. Yikes.”

Keith’s hand drifted unconsciously up to curl in the longer tresses that looped around his ears. Was it… Longer in the future? Duh, obviously it would be longer but… How much?

“Anyways,” Lance continued with a slight shake of his head. “I just wanna say thaaaaat, I hope everything’s going alright and stuff. And just, you know. Te extrano, okay? I miss you guys. You’re like mi familia sort of.”

Keith heard a strangled noise next to him, and his head whipped around to see the older Lance staring at his younger self with an utterly pained expression. His mouth was twisted like he was trying to hold back a sob, and his fingers span so fast that Keith was sure he was going to snap the hair band. It made Keith feel a hot ache behind his ribs, a desperate need to do something. To help.

He reached out on pure instinct and wrapped his hand around Lance’s own. The blue paladin’s head snapped to the side, eyes locking onto Keith with a frenzied look of confusion and fear and deep sadness. It was a gaze that bore into Keith’s very soul. Like he was looking for something that just wasn’t there.

After a second, his fingers dropped, allowing Keith’s to weave between them with a gentle squeeze as Lance shot him a grateful smile.

“Yeah, so anyway,” Lance on-screen continued. “I love you guys and I hope to see you all soon! Oh! And we totally have space-bacon in the future!”

Lance finished his sentence by touching a two-fingered salute to his temple, eyes shining with excitement.

Future Allura’s eyes drifted to something off screen, and a small knowing smile quirked at her lips. The camera shifted again, and this time Keith didn’t even have the words to describe what he felt as the frame was taken up by someone that looked almost exactly like him.

It’s a very strange thing, to see yourself in the future.

It felt like it was Keith, but at the same time, it was not Keith. The boy’s hair was definitely longer. Shaggy, even. His jaw was a little more defined, his neck a fraction thicker. It was hard to tell what he was wearing since the camera kept moving, but Keith caught a glimpse of a grey hood and a flash of… Was that green? No, it was too dull. Khaki maybe?

But there was something about his face, his demeanour, that felt completely foreign to Keith. He seemed… More open. His face didn’t look as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t look… Lonely.

It was something that simultaneously had Keith yearning to reach out and cringing away with fear.

“Hey, Lance.”

Future Keith’s voice was deeper, raspier, but more… Light? Was that the right word for it. Keith was extremely aware of the way that Lance’s fingers tightened dangerously around his.

“We’re all really worried about you. It’s… It’s different having younger you around. He’s a total dork.”

Keith heard an indignant “ Hey!” from off screen. Future Keith let out a small chuckle. The sound had Keith’s own heart stretching like elastic, reaching, reaching.

That’s going to be you one day, a small voice in the back of his head whispered.

“I wanna say more but Allura’s being super strict about spoilers so…”

Future Keith sighed and the sound was like lead, weary to the core.

“But... You know, anyway. You know. So… If you receive this message, I want you to write a reply, okay? I want you to hide it where I hid the bomb every night when I slept.”

Keith’s own fingers strangled Lance’s with a hot flood of panic and confusion.

The bomb?

What was Future Him talking about?

“Take care. And Lance?”

Future Keith shot a devastating smirk into the camera. There was a secret in every crease of that smirk.

“Try not to cry.”

With a soft beep, the transmission ended, the video disappearing from view as the screen minimised itself back onto Pidge’s monitor.

The bridge was so silent you could have heard a pin drop.

Keith turned to his teammates to see them all wearing matching expressions of disbelief and awe. He was having trouble absorbing what he’d seen, so much so that he didn’t really feel it when Lance pulled his hand out of Keith’s grip.

But he did hear the words that followed, hushed and fond and clearly not meant for his ears.

“I promised I wouldn’t cry,” Lance chuckled, shaking his head.

Keith peered at him. Lance didn’t look like he was about to cry at all. In fact, he looked like he’d just been told a very amusing joke, shoulders bunching up with a shade of mirth that Keith wasn’t privy to.

“What did he mean?”

Hunk’s voice was the first to break the stillness that had settled over them like fog. He looked stricken as his eyes turned on Keith.

“Keith, what did he mean about a bomb? Are you hiding a bomb on the ship?”

Six pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Keith reflexively took a step back, physically pulling himself away from the team.

“What?! No! No, I’m not hiding a bomb!”

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice was clipped, wary. As if he might set off a trip wire. “Do you know what the other Keith was talking about?”

Alarm snatched at the edges of Keith’s mind, tugging away strands of his cool demeanour like unravelling a thread, and he felt a shudder of bewilderment as he realised that no. No, he had no idea what the Future Him meant.

“ I do,” Lance cut in.

The team turned to look at him, a gallery of concerned gazes.

“It’s not ‘bomb’, B-O-M-B. It’s a message. For me.”

“What did Future Keith mean?” Pidge pushed.

Keith glanced at her. She didn’t look troubled by the message, but she did look ravenously curious. Pidge liked answers, and Lance had one that she wanted.

“Sorry, guys,” Lance held his hands up in a lazy gesture. “But the message was for me, that’s why Keith, my Keith, kept it secret.”

“Lance-” Shiro began.

Lance cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Nuh uh, my lips are sealed!”

Shiro let out a long sigh, running his hand through the small white forelock on his forehead. It was clear he didn’t think that Lance would budge. His eyebrows drooped in that way they used to when Keith was being stubborn.

“Fine,” Shiro said tiredly. “We should send a response. We need to let the other team know that we found-”

“Oh I got this!” Lance chirped happily, interrupting Shiro.

“Lance we need to-”

“I got it!” Lance called again.

He darted over to his chair, popping one of the arms open with a hearty slap. After a second of rummaging around, yeah pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper and what looked unnervingly like a biro, save for the glowing teal tip. Keith wasn’t even sure where he’d found a pen and paper since everything in the castle of lions seemed to be digitised, but he chalked it up to the long list of things that Future Lance seemed to mysteriously know.

Lance plonked himself down in his chair, bending his head low over the paper as he began scrawling furiously. The rest of the team crept closer gingerly. Lance looked slightly mad, hand whisking over the page like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

“Should we…” Pidge trailed off, looking startled.

Keith screwed his eyes up as he leant over Lance’s shoulder, trying to read the message.

It took him half a second to realise that it was written in a language he didn’t understand.

“You’re writing in Spanish!” he breathed in a mixture of surprise and awe.

“Yup!” Lance confirmed. His lips popped the ‘p’.

Shiro frowned, his lips twisting at the corner.

“Aren’t you going to be the only one who can read this?” he enquired.

Lance’s hand slowed, the pen curling a lazy curve around a ‘g’.

“Ummm… Not exactly.”

“Lance, what are you-”

Shiro was interrupted by Hunk slapping one hand on the back of the chair. Keith eyes shot up to the yellow paladin, taking in his wide-eyed stare and his indecipherable expression.

“Dude, what?!”

Hunk sounded incredulous, shocked, excited? He was staring at the page with glimmering eyes. Keith followed his gaze down to Lance’s swirling script, messy with haste, and his mouth went desert dry.

“Dear Keith” was printed clearly and deliberately across the page. There was no mistaking it. Lance was writing him a letter in Spanish.

“Dude,” Pidge shot Keith a sidelong looked the was laced with scepticism. “You speak Spanish? That’s so random.”

“I… Don’t…”

He could feel the weight of his team’s eyes on him, a tapestry of confusion and bemusement and flat out incomprehension.

“Not yet you don’t,” Lance said threateningly.

Keith look at the blue paladin. His grin was borderline maniacal, but there was a smugness hanging around it like a picture frame. Lance in that moment looked incredibly, expressively, undeniably pleased. Keith felt a weird sensation pass under his skin, a sort of tingling that ran over every single nerve ending, filling him with an emotion that he couldn’t put a name to. It wasn't happiness or joy or satisfaction. It felt… Preemptive, a novice emotion. The anticipation of happiness. The whisper of joy. The impression of satisfaction.

“Lance,” he spoke softly. “Did you… Teach me Spanish?”

Before he’d even finished his sentence, Lance had sprung up from his chair, arms flung high as he jumped his legs into a wide stance, stretching his body into a starfish.

“Aaaaand DONE!”

With that announcement, Lance bolted from the room. The paper squashed into his fist, flapped uselessly, the words on its page escaping with the blue paladin.

“Ooooh well that’s just great!” Hunk sighed. “Is anyone gonna go after him to find this bomb or what? ‘Cause I’d really like to not get blown up. Just an option, I’m just sayin’.”

“He did say it wasn’t a bomb,” Pidge reminded him. “Besides, have you seen Lance’s legs? They’re total beanpoles, we’ll never catch him.”

Shiro sighed wearily as Allura stepped back over to her platform in the centre of the bridge.

“I suppose we’d better just let him go,” she said resignedly. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

She didn’t sound very sure, Keith thought. But if nothing else, this version of Lance had proven already that he was more than capable of executing a simple plan. Still, Keith felt curiosity pinch at his mind, pricking his muscles, pushing him to follow after the other boy.

“Alright,” Shiro agreed. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to sleep. “I guess we should let Lance place his reply letter and just… Wait and see what happens.”

The mere suggestion made Keith feel antsy. Patience wasn’t exactly his style.

But the rest of the team were already shuffling out of the bridge, so Keith resigned himself to their dismissal, following Hunk and Pidge through the main doors.

They each broke off to their respective rooms, Hunk with a small wave, Pidge with a short nod. Keith thought about going to the training deck, but the dull throb in his legs from walking across Ecnes lent a strong persuasion against it. One that Keith ultimately gave in to.

He let out a bone deep sigh, shoulders drooping as his arms dropped to his sides. The paladin armour across his back suddenly felt far too heavy, an adornment to his limbs that may as well have been made of concrete. Keith could barely muster the energy to finish the walk to his room.

As he rounded the corner, he heard the telltale whoosh of a bedroom door opening. A single step closed and Keith was met with the image of Lance walking out of his- out of Keith’s bedroom. He stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes locked with Keith’s his jaw dropping with shock. It was transparently clear that he hadn’t meant to get caught.

“What are you doing in my room?” Keith demanded.

He closed the space between them, striding the last few steps up to Lance and planting himself right in the older boy’s path. Lance’s blue eyes filled Keith’s like a pool, swimming and bright in the fluorescent lights of the hallway. He seemed to make a conscious effort to calm himself.

Lifting both arms, Lance laced his fingers together behind his neck, shooting Keith a shaky smirk.

“Heeeeey, buddy.”

He tried for nonchalance but it fell short and dove head first into guilty.

“So um… funny story. A little while back I left a dirty sock in your room. I mean like, really gross sweaty and I hadn’t cut my toenails or-”

“Get on with it Lance,” Keith snapped.

Lance had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Um, yeah, well long story short I forgot about it and I was just checking to see if it was still there but it’s not so I guess I moved it. Guess my timeline is still off.”

Lance made a big show of yawning, his spine curving upwards in a satisfying arch.

“Anyways, sorry about that lindo. I’m going to bed. That mission wiped me out. Night!”

Keith didn’t even get the chance to draw breath before Lance was breezing past him, whisking away down the corridor and into his own room. The doors slid shut behind him with a firm sense of finality. Keith frowned. He could feel his mind kicking into high drive, the cogs spinning and gears whirring into place.

What if…

Keith darted through the doors of his room, spinning a tight coil on the spot. His head spun on his shoulders like the damn exorcist as he tried to take in his entire quarters at once. His gaze landed on some book, and in an instant he’d shot over to hem, pulling them off the small shelf. He thumbed through the pages, tipped them upside down, shook them. Nothing fell out, and so Keith moved on to the next place.

He pulled his duvet off his bed, then his pillows, sticking his hands in the sheets, patting down the squashy softness whilst listening for an incriminating rustle of paper.

If I was Lance, he thought, where would I hide an important message?

Keith practically tore his room apart as he rummaged through everything, any place that Lance might have hidden the letter.

But after half a varga of searching and coming up empty handed, Keith finally let himself entertain the notion that just maybe… Lance hadn’t put the note in his room at all. Not that it even mattered that much, he realised. It wasn’t as if Keith could read the letter anyway.

Not… Not yet. That was what Lance had said.

Keith threw his weight bodily onto his mattress, letting the puffy Altean bedding swallow him as he slumped into it.

The note was for him. Lance had addressed it to him. In Spanish.

Whatever they’d been through, however many Galra they defeated, Keith would have never even dreamed that somewhere along the way, Lance would have found the time and the commitment to teach him his mother tongue.

It seemed like such a simple thing. They fought in an intergalactic war that had waged on for thousands of years, and yet here Lance had taught Keith Spanish.

It was almost… Sweet. Such an innocent gesture in all of the chaos that surrounded them.

It left a lightness in Keith’s heart. For a second, he wasn’t a soldier fighting in a war, he wasn’t a paladin of Voltron, the weight of the entire universe resting on his shoulders.

For a second, he was just Keith. Lance’s friend.

It took a full dobash for Keith to realise that he was smiling.

Chapter Text

Now, see.

Keith liked to think that he knew himself pretty well. He knew what he liked, and what he disliked. He knew what made him comfortable, and the things he was good at.

Keith also knew that he had a tendency to be an all or nothing kind of guy at the best of times. He had the unwitting talent to go all in, burn as bright as a flare, until he ran out of steam and rolled to a gentle (but definite) stop. It felt like a bastardized fight or flight reflex sometimes. But nonetheless, it was something Keith could count on about himself; an uninterrupted pattern that felt more like muscle memory than actual instinct. Run fast, fight hard, sleep long.

The perfect formula for a young soldier.

Which was why Keith found himself grinding his teeth in frustration in the pitch black of his room. Because try as he might, he just could. Not. Sleep.

It made no sense whatsoever. After a stint like their escape from the crumbling shell of Ecnes, Keith would have normally been wiped out. He could have shut his eyes as he fell towards his mattress and been asleep before his head even hit the pillow. So the fact that he was lying here in the darkness, tossing and turning and knotting himself up in the sheets had him growling with irritation.

After what felt like at least three vargas, Keith sat up in his bed, bundling up the covers and throwing them with great distaste across the room, as if they personally had been keeping him awake. He drew his knees up to his chest before crossing his arms over them, resting his chin on his forearms.

Why couldn’t he sleep?

Keith breathed out a deep sigh, letting his forehead fall onto his crossed arms. He had an inkling of what it was.

Every time he shut his eyes to sleep he saw Lance’s staring back at him from behind his closed lids, bright blue and terrified. He heard Lance’s voice ringing in his ears, cracking with desperation and fraught horror.

“But- The Machine! It’s my only way back!”

Keith sighed again. It felt like the breath twisted out of the very core of his being, leaving his limbs feeling heavy.

He’d ripped Lance away from the only thing that could have sent him home, and he’d done so without any thought to the consequences. Keith could console himself that he’d done it for Lance’s safety, and he had, mostly. But the more he dwelled on it, the more his thoughts stewed, muddying with self doubt and anxiety. Because maybe Keith liked having Lance, this Lance, around. Maybe he’d dragged Lance away from the time machine because somewhere, deep down, he couldn’t bear the thought of having to face the Lance from this time and lose all the recognition and understanding and, heck, affection that he’d experienced over the past week or so. Maybe he really was just that selfish.

Keith abruptly swung his legs over the side of his bed, standing straight up so fast that his head almost hit the lip of the alcove in which he slept. After a tick of deliberation, Keith snatched his dagger out from under his pillow and fastened the holster of it around his waist. He was malcontent to sit with such dark thoughts. That was a scab he too often forced himself not to pick at. Because with self reflection came internalisation. And with internalisation came inaction, and inaction made Keith feel itchy and restless and too much like he was wearing the wrong skin. So instead he stepped out into the hallway and made a beeline for Red’s hangar.

Keith liked the castle at night: It was calm, quiet. The teal lights that glowed were a small yet constant reminder that he was not on his planet, nor in the Garrison, he was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere far removed, that felt intangible and transcendent. The depth of the stillness was something that could only be obtained when deep in space, he supposed. Keith vaguely wondered if he’d miss it when he got back to Earth. If he got back to Earth.

Though he usually slept in his clothes, ready for an attack at any time, Keith had foregone his black shirt and jeans in favour of the standard issue Altean pyjamas they all had stored in their rooms: A last ditch effort to sleep.

Now, he tugged at the long hem of one sleeve, pulling agitatedly at a loose thread. He wasn’t exactly cold, but there was a slight chill in the air that made the fine hair on his arms stand up. Keith just shook his shoulders, as if he could shrug off the strange atmosphere. The castle seemed all at once very big and very empty, making Keith feel very small and even emptier. He shoved the feeling to the back of his mind, into a small jumble box labelled “Address later… Or never”, continuing his path towards his lion’s hangar.

As he rounded the corner, Keith heard the muted, unmistakeable hum of someone speaking. He stepped into the hangar, curiosity prickling through his skin. He had more than a inkling of whom it could be, but his natural wariness pushed him towards the confirmation. The person was talking softly, a slight lilt to their words that suggested camaraderie and comfort. It seemed so out of place in the Red lion’s hangar, like a hue that didn’t quite match it’s colour scheme.

The sentiment was more accurate than Keith had intended - As he crept closer, he could make out the shape of Lance sat casually on the red lion’s paw, one knee drawn up to his chin, a blue and khaki spec against the faded crimson of the giant mechanical beast. From this angle, Keith couldn’t make out much of his expression, but Lance’s voice sounded clearer with every step he took closer to them. There was something achingly wistful about his tone, a low rumble that sounded both fond and heartbroken. And when Lance let out a small chuckle, it was like a melancholy lullaby.

It was only when Keith got close enough that he realised Lance’s voice sounded different, too, thick with accent and ease.

He was speaking Spanish, Keith noted with a start.

Lance let out another gentle laugh.

“ ' 'Es tan estúpido. Lo extraño tanto aunque, él está justo ahí . Supongo que ya sabes como es ¿Así te sentías cuando Keith pilotaba el León Negro?' ' ”

As he spoke, his head tipped forward, nestling in the crook of the arm that sat on his lifted knee.

''¿Qué es lo que haré?''

“Why are you talking to Red?”

The bluntness of the question might as well have been a battering ram: Lance yelped as he half jumped, half twisted around to spot Keith, a wild look in his eyes. The momentum of his spasm sent him tumbling sideways off Red’s huge paw where he slid rather gracelessly onto his butt with a loud “oof!”

Keith jolted forwards, arms already outstretched to- To what? Help?

He froze for a second, halfway through the motion of going to comfort, stuck with the sudden fissure of uncertainty that had split his mind like a cleaver. But Lance was already rubbing his lower back with a displeased grumble.

“Jeez Louise, would it kill you to cough or something?”

“You didn’t have to fling yourself onto the floor,” Keith bit back, on reflex.

Bickering with Lance was familiar, and familiar was really what he needed right now.

“Well I wouldn’t have jumped if you hadn’t snuck up on me!” Lance argued back.

He was still sat plopped on the floor, rubbing his butt more than he probably needed to and glaring at Keith in a way that looked so much like- Like…

Keith mentally slapped himself at wanting to think so much like Lance. Lance was right there, in front of him, shooting him a look that was undeniably Lance grade haughtiness.

“What are you doing here anyway?” the older boy demanded.

It was enough to break Keith out of a dangerously impending mental loop. He shrugged.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Lance continued to stare at him, but his brows shifted into something that was less haughty and more concerned. It made Keith feel… Unfamiliar.

“You?” he prompted when Lance didn’t say anything.

It was enough to get the older boy to tear his leaden gaze away.

“Same,” he replied shortly.

Lance was pointedly avoiding Keith’s gaze, his eyes cast stubbornly downwards. The pair of them watched as Lance folded his cuffs back, then rolled them down, only to fold them back again in reverse order. To Lance it was a distraction, to Keith it was plain avoidance. The thought alone made something uncomfortable twist in his chest.

“So… You couldn’t sleep so you decided to come and visit Red?”

Apparently defensiveness was the only rope strong enough to pull Lance’s gaze up.

“It’s not illegal to chill with each other’s lions, Keith.”

“I didn’t say it was,” Keith snapped back, quick as a whip.

Lance fell silent again, and Keith held back an exasperated snarl.

This wasn’t right. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Bickering with Lance was a familiar pattern, an easy push and pull that they could both fall into like a tandem step. But that wasn’t what Keith wanted. And it sure a shit didn’t look like it was what Lance wanted either.

In fact, Lance looked very out of place, Keith observed, curled up at the foot of the enormous Red lion, as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible. It was the complete polar opposite to what Lance quintessentially was.
Lance was big, and loud, and sure, annoying at times. But he filled up a room like a personal sun. And it looked like someone had just chucked a bucket of water on him.

Keith felt antsy, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he tried to get comfortable. He felt an overwhelmingly desperate desire to fill the space that Lance was trying to shrink away from. To reach out, to coax Lance out with him.

“You were speaking Spanish?”

The question that fell from Keith’s lips was softer than his first. He silently thanked the lions that it lands right on the money: Lance’s mouth flitted up a fraction at the corners. It looked bittersweet, tainted by sadness, but it’s a hint of a smile, and so Keith latched onto it like a lifeline.

“Yeah,” Lance breathed. His tone was fond and melancholic and nostlagic. “Yeah, I was. Spanish is a fiery language, you know? Perfect for a guardian of fire. I think she prefers it to English.”

“What makes you think she speaks Spanish?”

“What makes you think she speaks English?” Lance argued back.

It lacked all the barbs from only moments ago, it was simply a counterpoint, a soft prod at Keith’s mind. Not forcing him to question, but asking him to consider.

“Spanish reminds me of home,” Lance said quietly, in a tone that made Keith’s heart wobble. “Of my ff-” Lance cut off with a wince. “Of the people I love.”

He looked up at Red as he spoke.

“The people I love,” he echoed in an almost inaudible breath.

In a move that seemed so natural it was almost unconscious, Lance reached up with one hand to fish his abuelita’s wedding ring out from under his shirt. Keith’s eyes tracked the ruby as it glinted in the harsh overhead lights. It was darker than his lion, more crimson than scarlet, more love than instinct.

Oh.

There was an unwelcome thought.

The people that Lance loves. The person he was going to give his ring to.

His boyfriend, Keith thought bitterly. Lance has a boyfriend whom he loves.

His fingers curled into fists before he could stop himself. It was an aggression that wasn’t even subliminal at this stage. And so Keith grasped for something that he knew he had with Lance, something that he knew was theirs.

“Did you really teach me Spanish in the future?”

The effect is exactly what Keith had wanted. Lance’s smile flashed wide and broader than the Hollywood sign.

“Man, DO I!” he whoops, eyes bright and glittering. “You were not an easy student, let me tell you. Always arguing about pronouns and syntax , whatever that is.”

“It’s the arrangement of words! It’s literally how you arrange a sentence.”

“Well you arrange a sentence in Spanish badly. At one point you tried to rewrite my entire language to “make it better”, you said. That was not a good day for us. I’m pretty sure Hunk had to stop me from chucking my shoe at you.”

“Wow. Can’t wait for that to happen,” Keith deadpanned.

Lance chuckled, and the sound bends as it passes his lips, starting affectionate in his throat, turning wistful in his vocalisation. And there it is again, the unhappy atmosphere that Keith has stumbled into. He despises the way it feels like he’s trespassing on something that isn’t his.

Because it is his. It’s his and Lance’s. Or it’s going to be, anyway.

He knew it made him sounds like a petulant, sulking child, but Keith wanted it NOW. Patience had never been a virtue he’d possessed, and he sure as hell wasn’t graced with it now.

“Can you teach me some?”

Lance blinked up at him, all sorrow and inhibition wiped clean like a slate, replaced by naked surprise.

“What?”

“Spanish,” Keith clarified. Now that Lance was staring at him like he’d asked to see a nude, Keith felt promptly foolish.

“Can you teach me Spanish?”

Lance’s grin was brighter than a comet. And Keith had seen comets up close.

“S í .” Then, “That means ‘yes’, by the way.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

“I know what ‘yes’ is in Spanish, Lance.”

“Sure, buddy.”

“I don’t live under a rock.”

“You lived in a shack in the desert!” Lance cried incredulously, his arms flailing out wildly. “For a year! ”

“I had books!”

Lance actually snorted.

“Yeah, either that or you’ve got some secret Spanish boyfriend I don’t know about.”

The joke came with a frozen smile, a slight widening of the eyes. For a second, Lance looked like he’d just let slip the secret to defeating Zarkon, a streak of terror crossing his face like a fork of lightning.

“Does your boyfriend speak Spanish?”

Keith almost kicked himself as soon as the question popped out of his mouth. Seriously. Nearly bent double and just roundhoused himself right in the teeth. What a stupid thing to ask.

Lance’s petrified expression dropped instantly. His brow furrowed as he peered at Keith curiously, a tapestry of inquisitiveness threading through his features. He looked bewildered, then hopeful, then… Smug?

“Does that… Bother you?”

Keith shrugged, folding his arms over his chest in a practised defense.

“Why would it?” he said with a shrug. And hopefully a nonchalant tone. Hopefully.

Lance just kept looking at him like he was waiting for something, like he was waiting for Keith to split open like a coconut and spill all his nasty jealous thoughts over the hangar floor. Keith ignored him, tapping his fingers against his arm in an effort not too appear to statuesque.

You tap out Rascal Flatts on your arm when you’re lying.

The thought slapped Keith across the frontal lobe like a freight train. His eyes shot down to his traitorous fingers before snapping back up to Lance’s. But the damage had already been done.

Lance looked like he may well pop a blood vessel with the amount of effort he was using to tamp down his smile. Keith dropped his crossed arms immediately, letting his arms hang lamely by his sides. He tried not to grimace as he felt his face heat up.

Betrayed by his own damn body, Keith bit the inside of his cheek as though he could forcefully will away the blush creeping up his throat. Could he be anymore obvious.

Incredibly, incredibly, Lance had the good grace not too comment on it.

He didn’t even start at the absolutely golden opportunity to insinuate that Keith had a crush on him. Not even a flicker.

“Do you wanna go see something?”

The sudden change of topic had Keith blinking away the whiplash, his flush thankfully fading with it.

Before he could answer, Lance had scrambled to his feet to circle the long fingers of one hand around Keith’s wrist. He tugged them out of the hangar and down the hall, keeping a few steps ahead of Keith as he did so. Keith let himself be pulled along, curiosity and he simple fact that he liked Lance holding onto him keeping him from pulling away.

He didn’t get to pursue this feeling, Keith told himself sharply. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the scraps he was tossed. Even if it did make him feel ashamed and low and all the worst things he thought about himself after. He was a victim of his own design, and Keith though that that was just fine. As long as he wasn’t hurting anyone else.

Lance very clearly knew where he was going. He marched down the halls with single minded intent, leading them through arches Keith hadn’t ever noticed before. Somewhere along the way, Lance’s fingers slipped from their hold around his wrist into his palm where they fit snugly around Keith’s own digits.

Lance didn’t seem uncomfortable with it, nor did he say anything about it, and so Keith didn’t either. He was more than content to indulge in the way Lance’s hand felt in his, how they slotted together like puzzle pieces, even if just for a few minutes.

It felt nice. And ‘nice’ wasn’t a word that was dominant in Keith’s life. So if he squeezed a little harder, held on a little tighter to Lance’s hand that was strictly necessary, maybe Lance could forgive him for that selfishness.

“Here we go!” Lance announced suddenly.

Keith nearly ploughed into the back of him, too encapsulated by his own thoughts. He took a step back, moving his face away from where he’d nearly painted it onto the back of Lance’s jacket. The action caused Lance’s hand to slip out of his own. Keith regretted it immediately.

But Lance was already stepping forward, flinging his arms wide as if he could hold the entire space between them.

“Tadah!”

Keith looked around at the space they were stood in. The hallway was illuminated by the soft glow of starlight that filtered in through the row of windows lining the wall, each deep set enough to create a small alcove. It was, frankly, unimpressive. That was until Lance ducked his head and shimmied into one of the alcoves, lounging back against the wall as he rested his shoulder against the window.

“C’mon, this place has the best views,” he chuckled.

Keith took the invitation silently, gratefully. Mimicking Lance, he dipped his head as he slid into the alcove as well, positioned opposite Lance. With his back pressed to the wall, he can feel the hilt of his dagger digging into his lower back. Their shins bumped awkwardly, and Keith found himself twisting uncomfortably until Lance took the initiative to slot one of his ankles between Keith’s.

They sat silently for a few minutes, squashed into the little dip in the wall. Lance’s temple rested gently against the window as he looked out at the stars. They glittered in his eyes, refracted onto his skin like flecks of paint. Blue, purple, pink, green, blue again.

Keith didn’t realise that he was staring until Lance turned his head to lock their eyes together.

For a moment he just looked, as if he was absorbing the image of Keith sat across from him, letting himself process it before he spoke.

“I like to come out here to think sometimes,” Lance admitted softly.

“You have thoughts?” Keith quipped.

Lance poke a toe into one of Keith’s calves in retaliation.

“If you can have jokes, I can have thoughts, Kogane.”

Keith poked Lance right back, managing to tug a disgruntled smile out of the older boy. They way Lance’s features opened with a breathy laugh made Keith’s stomach do a weird little flip. He clenched his abdominal muscles in an attempt to squash it.

“Yeah,” Lance hummed. “This is kinda my spot. Whenever you wanna find me, you usually check here first.”

Keith felt a minute thrill shoot under his skin at the idea that he knew Lance well enough in the future to habitually know where to look for him. It felt like a promise of companionship, a whisper of a greater depth to their superficial squabbling, and it made Keith’s chest tighten with a feeling he thought he’d forgotten. Hope.

He hummed in response, at a loss for an appropriate answer. And also, he thought, that maybe if he was quiet enough, Lance would elaborate. He had a habit of filling empty spaces with words, and Keith silently prayed he would do so now.

“It’s nice to just chill here sometimes, when things get a bit-” Lance waggled his fingers next to his free temple. “Noisy.”

Keith nodded in wordless agreement. Staring out of the window, he could easily see the appeal of such a space. It was secluded and private and out of the way of the hallways that had more popular footfall. And when Keith stared out the window he could literally see the universe, in all its vast twinkling dichotomy. He found the way that something could be so broad and empty, and yet so full and vivacious at the same time far beyond his comprehension, a loud juxtaposition that demanded to be heard. Space felt infinite, yet within the castle it felt compact. Space felt cold, yet amongst is team Keith felt more warmth than he’d known in his lifetime. Space felt impossibly lonely, yet it was filled with beings in every shape, size, colour, and creed. More than could ever be counted or categorized or boiled down into something as banal as “conquered” or “free”.

Everything seemed far too big for one person to even try to comprehend. No wonder Lance missed Earth.

“You like to sit with me, sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

Keith’s eyes slid over to Lance. He was staring out the window again, the ghost of a smile hanging over his mouth.

“Yeah,” Lance affirmed. “You’re pretty good at staying quiet so sometimes you just let me ramble until I talk myself out. Or you just… Let me be quiet until I want to talk.”

Keith poked Lance in the knee in a childish attempt to get the other boy to look at him. It worked, though.

“What is he like?” Keith asked quietly.

The question, too, felt too big.

“Who? My boyfriend?” Lance enquired.

Keith felt his brows furrow. He made a conscious effort not to bare his teeth.

“No. I didn’t mean him,” he said in a hard voice.

Letting out a steadying breath, Keith tried again in a more mellow tone.

“I meant… Me. What am I like in the future?”

“Still a pain in the butt.”

“Lance,” Keith warned.

Lance’s flash of grin lessened slightly, the mirth dancing in his eyes dimming into something more serious.

“In the future,” he echoed. “He’s- You’re- ” Lance’s mouth twisted. “Different.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Care to not be a jackass?”

Keith felt himself deflate. “Sorry.”

Lance’s shoulders lowered from where they’d shunted up towards his ears defensively.

“No, dude. I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m still kinda freaked out about today.”

Keith felt as if someone had put a ten ton weight on his heart.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again. “For pulling you away from Ecnes. I know that machine is your only way home.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Keith. You were right. If I’d stayed, we’d have all been crushed.”

“Yeah but-”

“Keith.” Lance’s voice was stern. “I know you were just trying to protect me.”

His face was calm and understanding, and Keith was so distracted with his own relief that he nearly missed how Lance’s didn’t correct himself to “us”. Even when Keith waited, Lance seemed to make no move to review his phrasing. He didn’t even appear to have noticed the slip.

They lapsed back into comfortable silence, feet tucked together as they gazed out at the galaxies the ship sat amongst. A comet streaked by, momentarily lighting up the alcove like a flare, their own private one second sun.

“Kind.”

Keith had been so immersed in the brightness of the stars, it took him a few seconds to realise that Lance had spoken. When he did, he turned his head to look inquisitively at the other boy. What he saw made his breath still in his chest.

Lance’s face was softer than Keith had ever seen it, his eyes misty with reticence and a quiet warmth that Keith felt in his very core.

“Future you is kind. And driven. And strong, and loyal, and infuriatingly selfless.”

Keith smirked. Lance was doing that thing where he got really into talking about something and started rambling. Keith wasn’t sure how long ago he’d started noticing.

“Anything else you wanna add?” he prompted cheekily.

“You’re a heck of a lot more patient with me.”

Lance bit his lip. He looked like he immediately regretted adding that last part. But his smile was still there, slipping past the gaps in teeth, edging around the corners of his mouth.

It was like all the edges of his person had smoothed out, all the rough arrogance that shielded him falling away like raindrops down a window pane. In that instance, Lance looked like the year hadn’t touched him. Even the scar slicing through his face seemed to have faded, like it was diminishing in order to make room for the openness of Lance’s expression. He looked younger, and yet, Keith reminded himself, he looked so very much his own age. It was easy to forget when they were fighting an intergalactic war, that they really were just teenagers.

“Sounds like you don’t hate me anymore. In the future, I mean.”

Keith didn’t regret the hope in his voice. The way Lance spoke about him now… It was nice. It was something that Keith hadn’t realised he’d wanted. And he did want it. Now that he’d been given a taste, it was hard not to grab for the whole glass.

“I don’t hate you,” Lance answered without missing a beat. “I never hated you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Keith argued back, even though a flicker of happiness lit up inside him like a sparkler.

Lance sighed. It aged him instantly.

“I never hated you,” he repeated, and this time it sounded like grim acceptance. “I was just frustrated. It was always like you got everything so easy, like you didn’t even have to try. You just waltzed in and jumped straight to the top of the class for fighter pilots. And I worked my ass off and I still only made cargo. I think I really just hated myself, and lashing out at you made it easier. Someone to blame, you know?”

Lance took a breath, and it was shaky as hell.

“I was immature. I’m sorry.”

The admission was like a punch in the gut. Keith stared at Lance with a fresh horror, comprehension tangling with incredulity in his mind. He wanted to ask how Lance could have ever hated himself, wanted to demand why Lance thought he had to compete or compare or draw parallels between them in anyway in order to recognise his own worth.

But what came out instead was, “You think I had it easy?”

Lance’s face contorted into one of guilt. It was an ugly colour on him.

“Well, I know you didn’t now. But you were always a better pilot than me and I-”

“You’re an amazing pilot, Lance,” Keith snapped, cutting the other boy off at the knees.

Lance paused, mouth open and eyes wide, like Keith had just told him that his hair is green. But in an instant, his expression changed into one of fondness and quiet mirth.

“You forgot funny, smart, handsome, and suave,” he added, counting the various attributes up on his fingers.

Keith rolled his eyes, but it was a friendly gesture.

“Yeah, sure, those too.”

There was a mild choking noise from Lance, and Keith thought for a split second that Lance’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. But it was probably just a passing star. Probably. So Keith didn’t dwell on it.

The way he was sat, cooped up in the chip of space the alcove had to offer, forced Keith’s shoulder to squash up against the window. The coolness of the glass seeped in through the threads of his pyjamas, causing his arms to erupt in gooseflesh. Keith shivered, wrapping his arms around his knees protectively.

“Are you cold?” Lance asked suddenly.

Before Keith could even open his mouth to respond, Lance was tugging off his jacket, shifting his weight forward so that he could peel it off of his back. He motioned for Keith to lean forwards, and when the shorter boy replied, he draped the jacket dramatically around his shoulder, finishing it off with a flourish of his hand. The warmth from Lance’s own body still lingered between the threads, as if it had been woven into the stitching itself. It swept away the chill that sat on Keith’s skin, replacing it with something cosier. Keith looked up at Lance in bewilderment. The older boy was surveying him strangely, his head cocked so far to one side that it was almost touching his shoulder. A second later and he darted forward to pull the hood over Keith’s head.

“There!” he announced once the grey material settled around Keith’s cheeks. “Now you look more like yourself.”

“Like myself?”

“Like your future self.”

Keith drew his knees up to his chest, trying to hide the way his breathing hitched it the implication behind Lance’s words. He didn’t dare to hope. And yet…

“Do I wear your jacket a lot in the future?”

Lance looked away like Keith had slapped him. His hands wrung in knots from where they sat perched atop his folded knees. It was an action that Keith was quickly being to understand translated to “I’ve said too much”.

“I guess?”

“Is that why you said it had been stolen?”

“What?”

Lance looked completely nonplussed.

“Before,” Keith reminded him. “When you said your jacket was tighter than you remember. And that someone had stolen it. Did I steal it?”

Lance was looking more and more uncomfortable the more the conversation dragged on. But Keith couldn’t stop himself. He knew he should drop it, knew that he should respect Lance’s privacy, and to try and preserve the timeline. But he had to know.

Lance didn’t grace him with more than a noncommittal shrug, a universal signal for when someone doesn’t want to talk. And so Keith forced himself to swallow down the questions that burn his tongue like acid. To distract himself, Keith sat forward slightly to give himself enough room to properly slide his arms into the loose sleeves of Lance’s jacket. The cuffs were a little long on him, reaching down to wrap over his knuckles inside of halting at the wrist. It made him feel smaller, safer, somehow.

As Lance continued to gaze pointedly out the window, a soft rumble came from his throat. Keith listened in silence as Lance hummed a quiet lilting tune, the melody drifting through the air like stardust. It sounded like a lullaby, and Keith rested his head against the cool glass window, content just to listen as Lance sang the small song.

When the tune drew to a conclusion, Lance went back to the start, humming sweetly to the stars beyond their little alcove.

“What are you singing?” Keith asked gently.

“Hm?” Lance started. He blinked, like he was just now noticing that he’d been humming along to something that Keith couldn’t hear. “Oh. Just this dumb song I made up to remember these numbers.”

Lance waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Keith turned his head dutifully to glance at where Lance had gestured. The wall sat blank and plain across from them, the same pale grey metal as the rest of the corridor. Keith felt confusion circle in his mind, and his mouth turned down into a frown.

“What numbers?”

Lance turned to look as well. A puzzled look crossed his face. He seemed faintly disappointed, as if he’d had a different expectation of the wall, and it had ultimately let him down.

“Huh,” he remarked. “That’s weird. There used to be- Or I guess, there’s gonna be these crazy Altean numbers in that wall. I used to see them all the time before I started learning Altean. I just thought it was old paladin graffiti or whatever.”

Lance’s face screwed up as if he was pondering very hard about something.

“I wonder…”

Lance’s head whipped round so quickly it made Keith start.

“Do you have anything sharp? Or pointy?”

It was like the words had a gravitational pull on Keith’s knife. The hilt seemed to dig deeper into his spine, as if it were reaching for Lance, drawn by the need to be used, to be useful.

Keith chewed the inside of his cheek. He wanted to be useful to Lance, too. But there was the chance that the binding of the hilt could come undone, exposing the glowing purple symbol, exposing him. Funny to think that one wrong tug on a loose threadbare cloth had the potential to destroy a world. Funny how it made Keith contemplate the fragility of his own existence.

And yet, there was his hand, reaching behind him to tuck under Lance’s jacket, under the shirt of his pyjamas to grasp the hilt and draw the dagger from its sheath.

As he held the blade out to Lance, handle first, a strange look crossed the other boy’s face. It was reminiscent of how he’d looked at the wall, and Keith wondered if, perhaps, Lance had had a different expectation of him too.

He didn’t comment, however. Instead, he took the knife from Keith with a mumble of “thanks” before crawling out of the low alcove. He held the knife gingerly, Keith observed, his fingers barely grazing the strip of cloth that tightly bandaged its way around the hilt. In a few broad steps, Lance had crossed the width of the corridor to crouch in front of the wall. It took Keith a fraction of a moment to realise what Lance was about to do.

In one swift movement, the older boy lifted his hand and slammed the tip of the knife into it.

“Hey!” Keith barked. He was up and out of the alcove in an instant, crossing the short space between them in almost a single stride.

Lance tensed at the volume of the words, turning his head just enough to shoot Keith a startled look over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh come on , Keith,” Lance teased. “When have you ever shied away from petty vandalism?”

Keith… Wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Lance had a point; he’d never hesitated to break something if he’d needed to. Why exactly Lance needed to damage the wall, though, Keith couldn’t be sure.

“This is Allura’s castle.”

Lance made a ‘ psshhaw’ noise. It would have sounded flippant coming from anyone else, but from Lance it was doubly so.

“She literally never comes down this hallway. It used to be for, like, maids or something.”

“This is a war ship, they didn’t have maids! ”

“Yeah, a war ship that housed royalty, Keith. Sure they had maids.”

Keith made an exasperated noise. It sounded doubly so, coming from him. Lance ignored him, choosing to focus on carving a row of jagged foreign symbols into the tough metal of the wall.

“What are you even writing?” Keith demanded.

“Well, I figured since it’s on the wall in the future but it’s not here in the past then it probably gets here sometime in the year. So why not now, right? It’s like, I remember it being here, but I don’t know who wrote it, but since now I’m the one writing it, it kinda seems like I was the one that was meant to write it, you know?”

“Write what? ”

Keith didn’t think he’d ever heard such a long sentence in his life.

“Man, my brain hurts,” Lance grunted. Keith felt the sentiment keenly. “Time travel is confusing.”

He finally turned to fix Keith with a look.

“It’s this bunch of numbers in Altean. I have no idea what they mean, it’s so random. But since, you know, this is my spot, I used to see them all the time. And I made up this dumb song to remember them, it kinda used to calm me down sometimes. I wasn’t- Let’s just say I wasn’t always… Happy when I came here.”

Lance had turned back to the wall as he spoke. Keith could recognise vulnerability when he saw it. He could also recognise defensive body language - It was an old coat he wore often, but it seemed Lance had borrowed it for now. The way he hunched over his work made it look like he was trying to catch his own words before they escaped past his shoulders, like waves breaking against a quay.

With singular grunt of effort, Lance chipped the final divot in the wall before sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork. To Keith it looked… Exactly how Lance had described it; just a random bunch of foreign symbols in two staggered and slightly uneven rows.

“Aaaand voila! ”

Lance gestured to the wobbly carvings with wide spread hands, fingers bursting out in ten different directions. It was like each digit pointed directly to a number.

“Feel better?” Keith quipped.

It was meant to be a jibe, but Lance cocked his head as he seriously pondered the question.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” he surmised.

“So what now?”

Lance promptly opened his mouth in a wide yawn, lifting his arms high above his head. Lance watched him stretch out long and tall. His spine might as well have been made from elastic. The action made the hem of his shirt lift away from the waistband of his jeans. Keith found himself tracing the motion with his eyes, watching with held breath as a sliver of rich brown skin peeked out from underneath the fabric.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m just about ready to hit the hay.”

In one fluid motion, Lance rolled back on his heels and straightened up. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, finding his balance. In contrast, watching Lance rise to his feet had made Keith’s head snap up, and he swayed a little in his crouch. He reached out a hand to steady himself, and his fingers grazed the jagged edges of the carvings Lance had just made. The older boy looked down at him as Keith used the lean to stand up himself.

“Oh, here’s your knife by the way. Thanks for letting me use it.”

Lance held out the knife for Keith, hilt first. Keith noticed that he was making sure not to touch the bindings, his fingers pulled far back from the ragged strip of fabric. It meant that his skin was pressed into the dark metal of the blade, rough and calloused.

Keith blinked owlishly down at where his knife was held out in offering. He’d entirely forgotten that Lance had been using it. Just for a second. Far too preoccupied with how Lance’s long torso and slim waist made his shoulders look that much broader.

Dumbly, he took the knife without a word, lifting the long stretch of his night shirt to tuck it back into the sheath at his hips. When he looked back at Lance, the other boy’s eyes had fogged over. He seemed to be staring fascinatedly at something in Keith’s middle.

“Uh, you okay?” Keith queried.

Lance looked as if the proverbial bubble he’d been encased in had popped. His eyes focused back in so quickly it looked like a camera shutter.

“Huh? Oh. Yup.”

He span on his heel, making a rough ‘forward’ motion with his hand.

“Bed.”

Keith skipped to catch up as Lance took off without a single other syllable. His loping strides made him that much faster, but Keith walked quickly until they fell into step beside each other.

As they travelled the halls in companionable silence, Keith allowed himself a moment to just… Feel. With Lance a steady presence at his side, the castle didn’t seem quite so big. Didn’t seem quite so lonely. Even their steps fell into an easy rhythm as they continued to walk towards the dorms. Keith thought he felt Lance’s gaze on him a couple of times, but whenever he turned to catch the other boy’s eyes he was looking elsewhere. It didn’t help that he felt the warmth of Lance’s fingers glance by his a couple of times. If it weren’t for their synchronized pace, Keith might have thought it was intentional. On his part, obviously. Lance would never intentionally try to brush their fingers together. Why would he? He already had a boyfriend.

The intrusive thought had Keith stuffing his hands into his pockets. Except they were Lance’s pockets. It was Lance’s jacket. And that in itself had Keith grinding his teeth in sour denial.

Lance was definitely looking at him now. But of course, Keith stubbornly kept his eyes on the corridor ahead. If it hadn’t been for the silence, he wouldn’t have heard the soft snort of laughter coming from the older boy’s nose. It stoked a practised fire in Keith’s chest, and his teeth ground harder with the exertion of biting it back. He didn’t like the thought that Lance was laughing at his internal struggle. But then again, there was no point provoking a fight before bed. Especially not one where Keith barely had a leg to stand on.

So he hid in obstinate silence where it was safe.

The pair of them finally made it to the hallways where there rooms were, Keith in grudging recalcitrance, Lance in apparent ignorance. As they approached the door to Lance’s room, the boy in question slowed his steps. Keith hesitated next to him. He was unsure of what was and appropriate farewell in this sort of situation. He was also unsure of what Lance would consider to be an appropriate farewell. The two of them didn’t have the best track history of like mindedness.

Thankfully, Lance didn’t seem to have such qualms. Without any apparent faltering, he reached out to grasp Keith lightly around the elbow, preventing the shorter boy from progressing any further down the hallway.

“Hey, Keith, thanks for tonight. I actually feel better about, you know, everything.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Keith shrugged. “But you’re welcome.”

“Nah, dude, you’re selling yourself short. Remember what I said about just listening? It seriously helps.”

“I guess,” Keith agreed skeptically. “Thanks. To you too, I mean. I think listening to something other than my own head was what I needed.”

“Hey, anytime you want me to bore you to sleep with my whacked out thought stream is fine by me. The Lance Man is always happy to deliver.”

“It’s not boring.”

Keith felt like he’d said the words on autopilot. They were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It felt like that had been happening far too much around Lance.

The older boy just looked at him for a moment, eyes round and surprised before he threw back his head with a sharp bark of laughter. It felt far too loud in the silence of the hallway, and Keith reflexively winced.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He reached out to clap Keith heartily on the shoulder, hard enough that the younger boy’s knees almost buckled. But he didn’t remove his hand right away. It seemed to linger on Keith’s arm for a breath too long. The sensation sent a tingle firing all the way up Keith’s shoulder.

Lance was still watching him, something unspoken and nervous shifting in his azure gaze. It looked like he didn’t want to leave quite yet. Keith tore his eyes away from the piercing blue of Lance’s stare long enough to occupy himself with shrugging his sleeves out of the khaki jacket.

“Keep it.”

Lance’s voices halted any progress in the jacket removal process.

“Like I said, it’s kinda small. And it looks better on you anyway.”

Keith didn’t trust himself to speak, but he was painfully aware that he must have been gaping like a fish. Lance just shrugged, a small smile tugging playfully at his mouth.

“Uh, thanks,” Keith grunted.

Lance shot him a pair of finger guns in response as he leaned his weight back enough to light one leg sideways. The doors of his room hissed open obligingly, and Lance used the momentum of his leg coming back down to swing his form through the frame.

“Night!”

The doors whoosed shut in Keith’s face as he stuttered out a choppy, “Goodnight!”

He hung in the corridor for a second, just staring at Lance’s closed door.

Had that gone… Well?

Why did he suddenly care so much?

These were questions for a more alert Keith. As it was, Keith was beginning to feel the edges of fatigue corner in his mind. He turned and padded softly to his own room. As the doors slid shut behind him, he carefully unbuckled his belt and placed his knife ritualistically under his pillow. As he did so, Keith thought he felt the papery edge of something brush against his knuckles, but he chalked it up to his suddenly emerging tiredness.

Throwing himself down on the mattress, Keith peeled back the duvet to slip between the sheets. The bed felt much comfier than it had a varga ago, and he curled himself into a small ball as he felt his bones begin to sink into the soft squishy springs. He felt warmer after talking with Lance, his mind more at peace instead of warring with itself, thoughts pinging back and forth erratically off the interior shell of his skull. He breathed deeply, wrapping the bedsheets a little tighter around himself. He smelt earth and salt and something else, something that felt familiar but escaped identification from his sleep addled mind. In his drowsiness, a soft, dangerous thought came to Keith.

This must be what home smells like.

It was only when he awoke in the morning that Keith realised; he’d never taken off Lance’s jacket.

*

The castle seemed to settle into a routine after the mission. All the excitement that the video and subsequent terror on Ecnes had been funnelled expertly by Allura into action. Keith felt that the following few days left him exactly zero opportunities to be idle.

What was frustrating about it was that there really wasn’t a lot for them to actually do. After the scare on Ecnes, the team had made an almost unanimous decision not to set foot on the planet in case they caused it to degrade prematurely. Almost unanimous, because despite the fact that Lance had begrudgingly conceded with the rest of them, Keith had seen how his mouth twisted with distaste, locking the distressed protests behind his lips.

If there was one thing that Keith and Lance had in common, it was mostly definitely that neither of them was comfortable with inaction. This came with variation, however. Lance’s agitation seemed to stem from an overflow of thoughts. Such malady could be remedied with doing pretty much anything other than sitting still. Which is why Lance threw himself into the long list of chores that had stockpiled in the wake of the time switch. Keith hadn’t gone a day yet without seeing him madly scrubbing at the pods or washing up the dishes Hunk has used for cooking, or performing routine maintenance on Blue. He’d caught Lance on the training deck a few times, usually tallying up headshots with his standard blaster rifle. Though once or twice Keith had witnessed him finishing up a particularly rigorous training session with a bo staff, rounding up an impressive number of hits on the gladiators. It was clear that in the year that separated them, Lance had not been slacking in his training as Keith would have expected.

It wasn’t that he thought Lance was lazy, but he usually submitted to training with a groan that seemed like it had been drained out of his very lifespan. However, whenever Keith had caught him spinning the staff at a lethal velocity, the movements had always appeared practised, refined, controlled to the point of causing Keith to flinch everytime Lance brought the weapon down to strike with brutal force.

Usually Lance would smirk in victory, that smug curling of his lips that made Keith flush all the way down to his toes. Occasionally he would attempt a swagger and end up tripping over the very staff he’d used to incarcerate so many gladiators, and Keith would snort as he realised that yes, despite the precision and the deadly intent, it was still very much Lance.

Keith himself suffered from a different strain of restlessness. In almost direct contrast to Lance, his own disturbance came from singular thought, singular goal. And the resulting impatience was triggered by the inability to act on that goal. It didn’t matter what he was doing, if it wasn’t what he was aiming for, it made him feel antsy.

Training was most often his go to resolution, action without action, a mimicry of battle. This was how he usually encountered Lance.

They hadn’t trained together again since the last time, and Keith wasn’t sure if he should ask. Or if he even wanted to. Sure, there were advantages to learning from someone with more advanced skill, but just how much one on one time could he take with Lance before they ended up butting heads over “spoilers”. Because Keith knew he would wind up pushing, and Lance would appropriately dig his heels in. It was how they functioned; push and push back.

It had only been a few days since the two of them had sat up in the alcove, watching the stardust dance around the hull of the ship, but Keith felt as if him and Lance were gradually finding their stride together. He was learning where the line was drawn. When Lance’s answers became monosyllabic, Keith trained himself to reign in his questions, even if they burned his throat with a fiery insistence.

He took to observing the other boy instead, hoping to learn more about their friendship and Lance’s role in the future through his interactions with the rest of the team.

What he ended up learning though was that his impression of Lance had been violently skewed from their first interaction. Keith had been convinced that Lance would forever harbour a private vendetta against him, Voltron or not. He’d felt it in the glares Lance used to send him across the room whenever he spoke, he’d felt it in the way that Lance seemed to go the extra mile to one up him or catch Keith out whenever the opportunity arose.

But this Lance…

Was this how Lance had always been? Had Keith just not noticed? Or had he been subconsciously refusing to notice because it was easier to pick a shallow fight than to recognise the hidden depth behind Lance’s cheeky smiles and perpetually firing finger guns?

Keith had walked in on him in the kitchen the morning after Lance carved the Altean symbols in the wall to find the older boy grinding something neon blue and gelatinous in a bowl.

“What is that?” Keith asked.

“Cream,” Lance answered briefly.

“For what?”

Lance tossed an imaginary ponytail over his shoulder, frame his palm around his jaw in gesture towards his smooth brown skin.

“Flawless skin takes maintenance, Keith.”

Keith rolled his eyes and swiftly exited the kitchen, leaving Lance to achieve flawless skin in his own time.

But later that evening, the red paladin had spied Lance from around a corner handing Shiro a small pot of the blue jelly.

“For your skin,” Lance explained.

He patted his bicep to elaborate before pointing to Shiro’s cybernetic arm, right where the flesh met the metal. Shiro had blinked in confusion, too polite to simply decline the gift.

“Just rub it on when it aches,” Lance told him.

Keith watched as Shiro’s eyes went wide with surprise, then lid as he gave Lance a grateful, albeit slightly flummoxed smile.

“Thanks- Thank you, Lance.”

“No problem, buddy,” Lance said with a bright smile.

He span on his heel and marched off down the hall, leaving a bewildered Shiro in his wake. Slowly, the black paladin lifted his free hand to rub distractedly at the inorganic break in his arm.

Keith regretted that he himself had not recognised it was a common behaviour for his oldest friend.

But Lance had, and he’d been savvy enough to act on it, to find a solution.

Keith had seen him do similar things with the rest of his team as well: When Pidge had been typing away at her computer for hours, Lance loudly burst into the room brandishing a bowl of food and a pouch of water for her. He’d made a huge scene about it, throwing his body dramatically across the keyboard in a blatant attempt to hinder the green paladin’s rapid typing. Pidge had batted his hands away in unbridled irritation, trying her best to continue with her work. Keith even saw her try to take a bite out of Lance’s hand as he waved the water pouch in front of her face. The exchange had brought a smile to his lips and the word ‘scrappy’ to his mind.

Eventually Pidge acquiesced, even if only to stop Lance from belting out Abba at the top of his lungs to distract her.

The older boy sat with her as she ate, the two of them cross legged on the floor, Lance watching every mouthful his friend took like a hawk. As soon as he spotted Keith hovering in the door frame, he waved him over, grin as wide as could be, and the three of them chatted idly about crazy space theories. Only when Pidge had finished her bowl of food and Lance seemed satisfied that no, her eyes weren’t really turning square, did he leave her to work in peace.

As he walked ahead of Keith, the red paladin wondered how many times before had Lance hidden an act of genuine kindness behind noise and bravado? How many instances had he shrugged Lance off as melodramatic to the point of hysteria and failed to notice the profound care that was veiled behind?

Without noticing, Keith had lengthened his stride enough for him and Lance to fall in step with each other. He automatically dug his hands into his pockets to avoid their fingers brushing. Keith wasn’t sure he could process that on top of his dawning revelation.

“Hey,” he started.

Lance hummed his question in response, eyes sliding sideways over to where Keith was walking beside him.

“That was nice of you.”

The older boy shrugged.

“She forgets a lot of the time. You’d have done the same.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

Keith said it like a fact. It felt like a fact, he’s so sure he wouldn’t have noticed Pidge drowning herself in work. And even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have had the foresight to do something about it. But the way Lance frowned at him made his sureness stutter.

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Lance spoke in a soft way, devoid of any humour or that familiar tone of provocation. It sounded simply like an honest thought. One that made Keith glow at the tips of his ears.

He’d even noticed that Lance had braided Allura’s hair, to help her keep it out of the way when she was running scans. Something inside Keith bristled as his eyes rolled over the crisscrossing threads of white hair, thick as a coil of rope. Something that reminded him of when Lance had run his fingers through Keith’s hair, cooing at the texture. It felt like a territorial instinct, and Keith felt keenly ashamed of himself. Lance wasn’t his, after all. It was something he felt he had to keep reminding himself of.

Each time was like a knife twisting deeper.

*

It had only been two days since Keith’s midnight prowl around the castle, but he’d already hit peek antsiness hard. He sat in his chair on the bridge, rapidly drumming his fingers on one of the arm rests as he rested his cheek on his knuckles. He’d been listening to Allura and Shiro talk in circles for what seemed like vargas, hearing them argue back and forth about how best to approach the problem of the crumbling Ecnes.

Lance was thumbing a button on his console, the holographic screen suspended in front of him scrolling down a long list of pictures and paragraphs. Keith realised with a start that it looked like a magazine. Lance was literally reading gossip columns out of sheer boredom.

With a growl of frustration, Keith sprang to his feet. Lance’s eyes followed him sharply.

“I’m sick of just sitting around!” Keith barked. “There’s gotta be something we can do.”

Allura gave him a pained look at Keith started pacing. Shiro on the other hand looked utterly unsurprised at the outburst.

“I’m afraid that without any instruction from ourselves in the future, we are at a loss as to what we need search for,” Allura sighed.

“Can’t you find anything about time travel in the ship’s archives?”

“Keith, this ship was designed for diplomatic outreach. It is not a library.”

Allura’s tone had a bite to it. Clearly she was more irked about the situation than she’d let on.

“Why don’t we just fly down to Ecnes and try to get a better look at the machine.?!”

The look Shiro gave him was almost disappointed, and Keith internally cringed. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he felt wired with enough tension to snap.

“We can’t risk destabilising the planet’s surface anymore than we have already. Not unless we absolutely have to. We should wait until we have exactly what we need to trigger the machine.”

Shiro’s voice was steady and patient. Exactly two things Keith was short on right now. With a disgruntled huff, Keith crossed his arms over his chest, content to glare at one corner of the room until he felt the need to pop off again.

“Hey.”

A gentle voice sounded close to Keith’s ear. But what really got his attention was the tender pressure of long fingers curving around his arm, tugging Keith softly to turn around. Lance was watching him carefully, concern pinching his brows together.

“It’s gonna be okay, Keith.” Lance’s words were like a balm, soothing all of Keith’s frayed edges. “We’re gonna work it out. You’ve just gotta be patient, okay?”

“I don’t really do patient,” Keith grit out, but his words contained less bite than usual.

“You’re telling me,” Lance scoffed. Then, quietly, “It’s gonna be okay, Keith.”

Those words were like a cork popping, draining the tension out of the red paladin’s body. He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his weight a little heavier into Lance’s touch, pretending just for a moment that he wasn’t imagining the way the older boy’s fingers squeezed his arm reassuringly.

When Keith opened his eyes again, his gaze fell onto something shimmering in his periphery. He turned his head in just enough time to recognise the quivering patch of light hanging in the air before something dark and shiny came catapulting out of it. Keith had hoped his rigorously drilled reflexes would have spared him the assault a second time.

But no.

The small storage device that shot out of the miniature rift smacked Keith squarely in the temple.

The noise he made was extremely undignified, but Keith could hardly bring himself to care as he crumpled to the ground, clutching the dent in his skull. It had dented, surely? It felt like it had, like there was a rectangular shaped divot gouged into the side of Keith’s head.

“Keith!”

Lance voice had racked up several octaves, he all but squeaked Keith’s name. The tall boy dropped to his knees next to where Keith lay gasping against the pain that flooded his head. It made his vision swim, so he kept his eyes screwed tight shut, hissing through the ebbing burst of soreness.

“Hey, man…” Lance’s voice was muted, kind, yet tinged with worry. “Let me see. Hey, let me see, babe.”

Keith shook his head minutely. The tiny action made it feel like someone had kicked the inside of his brain across a football pitch, and he gritted his teeth to prevent the groan of discomfort from escaping his throat. Lance’s hand covered Keith’s where he pressed it firmly to the side of his head. He wiggled his fingers around Keith’s, trying carefully to pry his hand away. The warmth of his palm felt nice against Keith’s skin, and Keith swam out to it like it was an island in the middle of an ocean of hurt. He released a long sigh as the shock of the impact faded into a dull throb, relaxing into Lance’s touch. It allowed the older boy to finally peel Keith’s fingers away from his injured brow, and he leaned in close to inspect the damage.

At this distance, Lance was close enough that Keith could smell spice and florals. No doubt it was something he’d put on his skin. Keith took the opportunity to inhale deeply, savouring the lack of distance between them whilst it lasted.

“Man, they have got to stop sending those things directly to you. It’s like whack-a-Keith on this ship.”

Keith breathed out a lungful of air before planting his hand flat against the floor and pushing himself up.

“Whoa, take it easy there, babe. That’s the second time you got pegged by a flying space USB.”

Keith couldn’t bring himself to respond with more than a short groan.

“Hey,” Lance’s voice dropped low and worried again, and it made Keith’s stomach do a weird flip. “You okay?”

Keith nodded weakly, the throbbing in his skull slipping away slowly like water down the sink. With his eyes still shut, he felt Lance’s hand slip around the back of his neck, the pads of his fingers massaging tiny soothing circles into the tension that knotted his muscles. He took the chance of leaning a little more into Lance’s touch, his head tipping backwards on his shoulders so that Lance’s fingers could probe deeper. He felt selfish doing it, but Keith wanted to steal some of this affection whilst the excuse to do so lingered.

“I got it!” Pidge chirped from across the room.

Keith’s eyes slitted open enough to see her swipe the drive off the floor and wave it over her head like a baseball that had been knocked into the bleachers, a trophy.

“Aw, I wanted to catch it,” Hunk lamented.

“Guys, this isn’t a game.”

That was Shiro, responsible as ever.

Pidge ignored him, skipping back over to her seat with a tad more glee than Keith thought was necessary, given that he felt mildly concussed. She wasted no time in jamming the small drive into the console on her seat. The grin that sat on her face bordered on maniacal.

With one last huff, Keith rocked himself to a stand up. The process knocked Lance’s hand away from his neck to slip down between his shoulder blades. Keith didn’t protest the progression.

“Time to go back” Pidge wiggled her eyebrows madly.

Hunk opened his mouth to beg, “Don’t-”

“BACK TO THE FUTURE BABY!”

Pidge let out a whoop loud enough the make Keith wince, the noise bouncing around his skull in time with the throbbing behind his eyes. Hunk groaned at the joke, but he crowded around Pidge’s seat with the rest of the team. Keith felt a gentle pressure on his back, and realised belatedly that Lance was guiding him towards the huddle whilst still supporting him.

It brought a flash of memory with it: Lance holding out the pot of cream to Shiro, Lance sitting with Pidge until she ate a proper meal. It made Keith feel warm all over to think that he was included in the list of people Lance cared about.

Pidge’s delight was severely short lived: Unlike the first ‘space USB’ they had received, this one did not include a video. Keith tried his best to ignore the hot ache of disappointment that squatted inside his chest.

Seeing himself and Lance in the future had given him a sensation of raw, deadly hope. But it was like a drug, the effects of the high fading fast, leaving the memory of it that much brighter. It made Lance’s hand on his back feel that much heavier.

Pidge’s disappointment could have rivalled Keith’s own. Where her had features had lit up at the discovery of the drive, they’d now morphed into something of a pout. She adjusted her glasses and curtly cleared her throat before observing the contents of the drive closer. The holographic screen flitted up with a brief word from the other team detailing a list of things they would need, along with a short explanation of some of them and where to find them. Keith’s eyes scanned the words for anything that might tell them how Lance was doing in the future. A tight coil of worry had knotted itself in his belly, and he felt it gnawing away at him like decay, sick and anxious. He was keenly aware of how a different, older version of Lance was stood not a foot to his right, the thumb of one hand rubbing calming strokes over Keith’s scapula.

“Huh.”

Pidge was the first to break the silence.

“What does it say, Pidge?” Shiro asked.

“It’s weird. It’s like I’m reading the ingredients for a magic spell or something.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Hunk chimed in. “Feels like I’m reading a recipe for a cake or something. Like a time cake. What do you think that would taste like? Like you think- Do you think it would be chewy? Since chewy stuff takes a long time to eat?”

“Nah, obviously time cake would be dense, since dense things take a long time to digest,” Lance tagged on.

“Aren’t chewy and dense the same thing?”

“No way, bro. Dense is hard to chew, but chewy is like- It’s like when your jaw aches because you’ve been working through really hard toffee.”
“I’m confused. Is the toffee dense?”

“Alright, enough theorizing about toffee.” Shiro cut off the tangent like a branch snapping. “Pidge, does the message say anything else?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Pidge scrolled down to the bottom of the message. Keith’s eyes skimmed over the concise message at the base of the page, feeling a frown work its way onto his features.

“What the hell is a- What is that?” he said.

His confusion was mirrored in the faces of his teammates as they unanimously peered at the boggling line of text.

[THE COORDINATES ARE ON THE WALL]

Below it sat a singular line of Altean script. Lance, Allura, and Coran all squinited at it in joint puzzlement.

“So… We’ve gotta find some kinda worm- Womarque? Thing. That just happens to be super rare and basically impossible to find based on a bunch of coordinates that are apparently graffitied on a wall somewhere in this enormous castle.” Hunk surmised testily. “Oh yeah, thanks Future Team. That’s really helpful.”

“Hey!” Lance snapped. “They’re doing their best.”

An uncomfortable beat of silence passed between the group. It was evident that no one knew exactly what the appropriate response was. How were you meant to argue with someone who was essentially defending you? Keith turned his head to catch a glimpse of the older boy out the corner of his eye. Lance seemed surprised by his own outburst; his eyes were locked decisively on the screen, his lips pressed into a thin line. Keith felt the hand drop from between his shoulder blades like a stone.

Allura pressed on, breaking the tension that had settled over them.

“I’m confused about this line,” she said, pointing to the final sentence. “Why write it in Altean?”

“I’d guess that it’s because it’s meant for those of us on the team that can speak Altean,” Lance said with a shrug.

Keith did not like feeling as if he was missing a large piece of the puzzle.

“What does it say?” he asked, trying not to sound demanding.

“Literally?” Coran finally spoke up. “‘It’s in Altean.’”

“Uh, we know it’s in Altean, Coran.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “What does it say? ”

“Exactly that, Number 5,” the older man piped. He gestured to the Altean symbols. “This translates directly as ‘It’s in Altean’.”

Lance snorted a laugh. “Hahaaaa very clever.”

“‘The coordinates are on the wall. It’s in Altean,” Shiro read aloud.

Keith’s eyes popped wide as realisation slapped him. His head whipped around and he cried, “Lance!” at the very exact moment that Lance yelped, “Keith!”

“Pidge!”

Both boys looked at her. Pidge just shrugged.

“What? I saw Shrek 2. That film is a masterpiece.”

Shiro just blinked before turning a questioning gaze on Lance and Keith. Keith was gaping. Lance was grinning like he’d just won the lottery. He’d inadvertently reached out to grab keith by the bicep and was in the process of shaking the red paladin’s arm with an excitement that was spilling out of him in waves.

“I told you time travel was confusing!”

“Uh, okay, anyone else totally lost?” Hunk interjected.

“I’m afraid I, too, am confused,” Allura agreed. “Is there something you two would like to share?”

Keith barely registered the exchange. The cogs in his mind where whirring at full speed, wheels fully greased and flying.

The coordinates on the wall are in Altean.

“Those Altean numbers you carved on the wall-” Keith started.

“That dumb song I made up to remember them-”

“You said they just appeared one day-”

“And I didn’t remember because I don’t remember the time switch-”

“It was you-”

“It was me!”

“OKAY!” Pidge shouted loud enough to get their attention. Lance stilled his bouncing, giving Keith’s arm a brief moment of reprieve. “You guys have seriously gotta explain what’s going on before I smack it out of you.”

“I agree.”

Allura’s flat tone had both Keith and Lance turning to face her, heads moving in sync. The princess’s face was entirely displeased.

“Starting with why you are apparently carvings things into my castle’s walls. ”

Chapter Text

Though he hadn’t realised it, up until that moment, Keith had been acknowledging Lance with some pale shade of awe. From the moment he’d seen the blue paladin swerving between gladiator strikes the morning after the switch, through to Lance pick-pocketing a pass at the swap moon, and on to him helping Pidge unlock another form to her bayard. Each moment in between these vivid events, in the stillness amongst the seconds, Keith now understood that he’d been holding Lance to some imagined expectation. That he would know more, understand more.

Keith suspected that in some ways Lance had been holding himself up to that bar as well: In the way he sewed his lips sealed before unmitigated information fell from them. In the way he caged the truth behind dazzling rows of teeth and brassy displays of pride.

In many ways, Keith was sure, Lance had understood that he held superior knowledge to the team he was dropped into.

What he failed to understand, it seemed, was that all this infallible knowledge of the future was inconsequential in the face of Allura’s animosity.

No sooner had Lance opened his mouth, most likely to raise a shield of smoothly crafted words, than Allura’s deadly fingers had shot out and seized his ear.

Lance yowled like an alley cat as she tugged mercilessly, his neck bent almost at a right angle. Keith took a step forward protectively just as Lance took a stumble to the side, Allura’s grip pulling him upright like a puppet string.

“What in the name of Altea have you done to my castle?” she demanded.

Her words were clipped, manicured into needles as sharp as the curve of her brow.

“Owowowowowow Allura let GO! ” Lance wailed as he pawed at her hand.

All his superior fighting skills seemed to be inconsequential to Allura’s grip as well.

She did not let go, though she did appear to loosen her hold enough for Lance to tilt his head up and shoot her the most pleading set of puppy eyes Keith had ever witnessed.

It was not uncommon for people to resort to underhanded tactics in the wake of being bested, but this particular attempt served to tarnish some of the sheen Keith was now realising he’d polished Lance up to. Though he supposed that the pinching of ears was a dirty tactic that in of itself, and that perhaps the rules of regular combat did not apply here.

Allura frowned down at the blue paladin, a perfect cutout example of scathing disapproval, before asking, “What are these coordinates?”

Lance squeaked, “I don’t know?”

Allura twisted his ear viciously, setting off another sequence of garbled cries.

“OWWW ALLURA! I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW, OKAY??” He tried again.

The princess eyed Lance loftily for another second, making sure to prolong the pressure on his ear for a moment longer than strictly necessary until letting go. Lance straightened up with a slow swing, snapping back into upright like bamboo. He rubbed his ear dramatically, expression a picture of glumness as he regarded his assailant warily. Keith became aware of his hand moving towards Lance, but by the time he’d pressed his gloved palm to the tall boy’s bicep it was too late to abort the action. Lance barely acknowledged the gesture, with the exception of leaning just a fraction more into the touch.

Allura, however, did acknowledge the movement. Her barbed gaze swept over the path leading from Lance’s arm down the length of Keith’s, until it travelled up to level the red paladin with a look that had softened into thorny curiosity.

“I think I know what the coordinates are for,” Pidge interrupted the exchange. “For this right here.”

Her words attracted all the eyes present, and Keith’s focus zeroed in to where she was pointing at the screen. Luminescent teal script carved a word through the holographic screen in a way that didn’t look accurate. The letters looked like they didn’t quite fit together, but were trying their hardest anyway.

“Namthu- Namsuuur-” Hunk sounded out the syllables. His mouth struggled to form the shape of the word.

“Namthsurite.”

Coran saved him with a crisp pronunciation.

Allura’s eyebrows shot into her hairline.

“Namthsurite? Are you sure that’s what it says?”

She peered closely at the screen, squinting tenaciously at the English letters, as though they would mould into Altean symbols if she looked hard enough.

“Yeah, if that’s how you pronounce it.” Pidge confirmed. “I’m guessing it’s pretty difficult to find if the other team sent encrypted coordinates to go with it.”

At the mention of coordinates, Allura sent Lance a sour look. For once, he didn’t respond with a smirk, though Keith did think he saw Lance tilt his body away slightly to shield his ear from further assault.

“Difficult yes, and even harder to harvest,” Coran supplied helpfully. Though Coran’s brand of helpful was comparable to someone asking if you wanted bad news or worse news, in that it was helpful to know but scarcely did it present a solution.

Keith took another step forward to ask, “How do we harvest it?”

This step caused his hand to slip from its perch on Lance’s arm. His fingers felt strangely empty in the wake of it.

“It’s a similar process to harvesting scaultrite,” Coran began.

Keith knew it was going to be a “helpful” strain of beginning due to how the advisor straightened his back, clicked his heels together, and folded one arm neatly against his spine in military fashion. With his other arm, he lifted one index finger vertical.

“You see, Namthsurite can only be found in the skin of The Nomadthian Cornelia Wormaque. Extracting it is a delicate process.”

“That’s if we can find the wormaque in the first place,” Allura added. “They are extremely rare and elusive creatures.”

With a sweep of her fingers, she pulled up a digital image of the beast in question. Keith blinked hard as he attempted to take in the ghostly visual. It was hard to describe what it looked like. The image seemed to be indecisive of what shape it should take, flickering between silhouettes in a way that Keith’s eyes refused to absorb.

“Jeez, you’d think people would remember seeing something like that,” Hunk remarked. He too appeared to be having a hard time observing the picture, judging by the way his brow folded over his squinted gaze.

Lance waved a flurry of fingers at it, causing the holograph to sputter and cough at the intrusion.

“Ew, turn that thing off, it’s hurting my eyes!”

The image obligingly flickered and faded. The quiet that fell in its wake was akin to an elephant being in the room: No one person seemed to inclined to comment on it, even though the urge to do so pressed in around all of them.

Pidge was the first to break the stillness, if only in the simple form of leaning forward to peer at the message again.

“But this seems like the team knows where it’s going to be, right? Why else would they have included the coordinates?”

“I’m with Pidge on this one,” Shiro finally stepped in. His voice was like a dam breaking, sweeping through and over everything else. “I think we should head to the location and try and find this wormaque creature. From there we can launch a mission to extract the namthsurite and bring it back to the castle.”

Keith would always admire how Shiro managed to lace his words together with marionette strings. The second they threaded out of his mouth, the team stood taller. It was like a reflexive response, no doubt a side effect from the time spent at the garrison, running through drill after grinding drill - The captain is speaking, stand up straight!

“Princess,” Shiro turned to Allura. Even she lifted her chin a little higher. “Can you open a wormhole for us?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking a confident step up onto the podium.

The control panels obediently rose out of the floor to nose into her already waiting palms.

“Lance, give the coordinates to Pidge.”

Allua was a swift stab with a needle. Lance looked a little sheepish at the command, but leant across Pidge to type them into her computer nonetheless.

“Pidge, can you enter the coordinates for me, please?”

The politeness was less for Pidge’s sake and more to spite Lance. The blue paladin seemed content with petty revenge, however - Keith saw him stick his tongue out at the back of Allura’s head when she was preoccupied with activating the castle’s flight systems.

The green paladin tapped rapidly on her keyboard, jamming a button down firmly with her pinky. The screen in front of Allura pinged softly in response, and she pressed her fingertips against the glowing orbs beneath her hands.

Next to Keith, Hunk and Lance both moved to take their seats; Hunk trotting over to his with a quiet urgency, Lance vaulting over the back of his with a lazy ease. Keith quickly followed suit.

“Alright!” Lance’s cry ratcheted up the whole atmosphere a couple of notches. “Let’s go catch a time-travelling worm!”

Keith managed to buckle the seat straps over his hips just as he felt the lurching pull of the castle ship throttling into jump drive. There was a yanking sensation behind his belly button not one breath before his entire body was sucked against the back of his seat, irresistible as a magnetic force. The wide window in front of them streaked into a vortex as the wormhole opened, a hungry glittering mouth that swallowed them whole. Keith gritted his teeth as he held fast onto the arms of the chair. To the side, Lance let out a noise that under different circumstances may have been a joyous whoop, though it sounded like more of a half-hearted yelp. Keith turned his head as much as he could to look at the other boy. He was wearing an expression that too would have, under different circumstances, been a smile, but the strain of travelling at light speed had warped it into more of a manic grimace, Lance’s eyebrows pulled flat back against his scalp. And under different circumstances, Keith might have laughed at how ridiculous the other boy looked. But the feeling of his skin being stretched taught across his face told Keith that he most likely looked the same.

The wormhole chewed and rocked them before finally spitting the ship out its other side. There was a collective sigh across the bridge as the pressure released the team from where they’d been held captive in their seats, and the kaleidoscopic field of the jump drive cleared out into black empty space.

For several seconds, no one spoke. The moment stretched into dawning discomfort as everyone kept their eyes trained out the main window.

When Keith was eight, the orphanage had announced that they would be hiring a children’s entertainer for the weekend. Keith had announced louder that he hated entertainers, much to the unsavoury looks of the staff.

He remembered repeating the same sentiment quietly to himself under the thin duvet, hours after the house lights had been extinguished. When the weekend had rolled around, the children were ushered into a room and made to sit in a plaited crescent ready for some fun wholesome entertainment!

Only the entertainer never showed up.

Keith remembered hushed comments about how there had been a mix up at the agency, how the entertainer had been booked for a different event instead, how hysterically terrible it was but there was nothing do be done about it now. This memory was vague.

What Keith remembered better was the wilting sting he’d felt through to his bones. The dying of a hope he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. This memory was vibrant, and it throbbed in an anemic imitation of the pain he’d felt back then.

He had stuck firmer to his conviction of hating entertainers, but it was a feeling that paled in comparison to the hate he’d felt towards himself at allowing the hope to manifest in the first place.

That was this moment.

As the team stared out at the great black canvas of space, Keith felt a nostalgic and unwelcome swooping in his gut. But it was trivial when paired with the familiar burn of self loathing: He knew better than to let himself believe things would come easily.

Hunk rolled in his seat. “Sooooo is this where the worm’s supposed to be? ‘Cause I don’t see anything. Are you guys seeing anything?”

Allura frowned. Her expressions had an effect comparable to the power of Shiro’s words, in that as soon as she made them, they were often reflected by those around her. Keith looked about to see five faces that mirrored the dissatisfied twist in her mouth: Pidge wore a scrutinizing narrowing of the eyes, Shiro sported a malcontent pinch between his brows. Even Coran was showing a coolness that rang with disappointment.

“That’s a huge fat NO from me, big guy,” Lance was the first to confirm what they were all seeing. Or rather not seeing, as it were.

Allura’s frown deepened; as did the pinch in Shiro’s brow and the narrowing of Pidge’s eyes accordingly. Coran’s disappointment dropped another degree in temperature.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted. “The wormaque should be here.”

“Are you sure we’ve got the right coordinates?” Keith asked.

Pidge’s narrowed eyes turned towards him, glinting with fresh offense. Keith responded with a shrug. It was rare for her to make mistakes, so her indignance had strong foundations, but “rare mistakes” didn’t mean “no mistakes”.

“Let’s think about this logically,” she began. “We’ve got the place, but the other team didn’t send a time. Maybe they don’t know exactly when the thing is gonna be here, just that this is where it’s supposed to turn up.”

“So we’re meant to sit around and wait for some crazy giant jelly bean to just pop outta the atmosphere?” Lance asked in a particular tone that already preached flat out resistance to the idea.

Keith couldn’t help but agree. He didn’t do well with inaction, after all. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive literally sitting around and waiting for something to happen.

“I mean we don’t have much choice, do we?” Hunk, the voice of reason, always. “If this is where the wormaque is gonna show up, we can’t miss it.”
Coran was already nodding his head when he said, “Yes, I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with Hunk. If we leave this area there’s a chance we could miss the arrival of the wormaque entirely, and there’s no way of knowing where it’ll turn up next.”

His voice turned grave. On Coran, it sounded leaden.

“This could be our only chance to collect the Namthsurite and send Lance back to his time.”

Coran did not have the same effect on words that Shiro did. He had been an advisor for longer than Keith had been alive, and so his words would always mould themselves to sound advisory rather than commanding. Even so, the sage note in his voice had the result of hardening Keith’s resolve: This was their only chance to save Lance from a grizzly expiration. The decision was clear.

“I say we wait for the wormaque to show up,” Keith spoke with unwavering certainty.

His own voice had little more consequence than merely attracting the attention of the rest of them team. But Allura was already nodding, and so the rest of the team mimicked her actions. Shiro met Keith’s gaze with steel.

“That settles it,” he said in a firm tone. “We’ll wait at these coordinates until the wormaque turns up. Until then, I suggest we find out as much as we can about this creature and plan an extraction.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Keith caught Lance staring at him. He turned his head fully to lock eyes with the other boy. One of Lance arms was thrown over the back of his chair, his sharp chin hooked over his bicep as he regarding Keith with a curious gaze. After a moment, he smiled.

It was a magical smile.

The red paladin felt a strange shift inside himself: The solidness of his intention transmuted into something new and liquific. It didn’t dampen his conviction, but he felt it flow through him more evenly, a truth that slipped through his body rather than folding into blunt armour around his heart, readying it to be used as a battering ram.

Keith realised it had been a long moment that had passed with him simply staring at Lance’s soft grin. He turned away from it, folding his arms protectively over his chest: Armoured or not, something in his core felt exposed and vulnerable.

“Sweet! Time to get my chill on,” Lance announced victoriously.

It was a short lived triumph, as Shiro put out a hand to quell him, saying, “Hold on a sec, Lance. This thing could show up at any moment. We have to be prepared, and that means devising a strategy.”

Lance made a defeated noise to wear with his defeated motion of slumping back down into the seat, arms spilling over the rests as if they were suddenly superfluous to his being. The lack of greater protest suggested that he’d been expecting Shiro’s response.

“Coran,” Shiro turned to the advisor. “We need to know everything we can about this wormaque and how to extract Namthsurite.”

At the sound of his name, Coran’s fingers were already scurrying across the control panel. The eerie skeletal image of the wormaque appeared on the big screen in front of them, magnified to precise and horrid glory. Keith forced himself to look at the thing; his eyes complained at every glaring pixel of it.

“Right!” Coran’s helpful tone was back. “Nomadthian Cornelia Wormaques are ancient creatures that travel through space and time by using an organic compound they produce naturally to stabilize their molecules through the rift. It’s a sort of primitive version of the technology the castle uses. In fact, many people believe that travelling wormaques inspired the term “wormhole” in the first place.”

“Yeah but don’t we have that term on Earth, too?”

“I’m telling you, Hunk. We’ve got aliens on Earth we don’t even know about. Like Keith’s Mu-” Lance stalled. “... Mullet.”

Hunk nodded sagely. Lance nodded back. They were a pair a very misinformed nods.

But the hesitation hadn’t escaped Keith’s notice, and he eyed Lance with a fierce interest, even as the blue paladin pointedly refused to meet his gaze.

“So how do we get Namthsurite from-” Pidge waved her hand vaguely towards the floating image, “That.”

‘That’ was exactly how Keith would describe the wormaque. Even the holograph seemed to be disagreeing with it. The outline of the image battled with itself, arguing over which shape to take in spits of light and fragment. The closest it came to forming something solid gave Keith an ambiguous notion of a wingless dragon, though it feasibly could have been closer to a centipede.

“Good question, number five!” Coran piped. “The Namthsurite is a natural excretion from the wormaque’s skin. It hardens into a sort of thin armour before they make a jump. You simply have to land on the creature and scrape a good chunk of it off!”

“Oh yeah, easy peasy, no sweat, just hop out into space and grab some of the rarest substance in the universe,” Hunk huffed. “It’s not like it’s on a giant freaking millipede or anything!”

Lance looked at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“That’s baloney! Obviously it’s a snake with a lion’s mane.”

“Technically, it’s more like a worm…” Pidge added.

“Alright, enough!” Shiro gave a sharp yank to the team’s strings. “Besides, it looks like a dragon.”

There was a chorus of disagreement. Keith rolled his eyes: He was content with his own definition of “that”.

“Paladins! Focus!”

Allura’s voice cut through the noisy debate. The corner of her mouth betrayed her harsh tone; it quirked minutely as Shiro graced her with a sheepish grin.

This was a mixed display. Her authoritative tone held enough power to crush the rest of their voices into respectful silence, but the humour pulling at her features instantly made her look younger. These two things seldom aligned, but Allura probably came as close as anyone was going to get.

“Coran, if you would.”

“Right, Princess!”

Coran tapped a few buttons on the control deck and a small animation took the place of the wormaque’s 3D render. It displayed the wormaque grazing through a crudely shaped rift, vanishing into a burst of brilliant light. Coran was right: It really did look like a rudimentary version of the castle’s wormholes.

Keith blinked away the spots in his vision as the animation looped. It offered his eyes a brief reprieve from trying and failing to assimilate. It felt like there was a finite amount of times he could persuade his brain to make a decision about the creature’s appearance. He used the offensive holograph as an excuse to cast his eyes in Lance’s direction.

The blue paladin was rubbing his fingers absently over the scar on his face, brows tweaked together pensively. The gesture may have passed for idle were it not for the fact that Lance was curling his fingers in a destructive fashion, rounding them enough that Keith could see from where he stood how the nails of Lance’s hand scraped down the pink skin.

And were it not for the fact also, that Keith had never seen Lance so much as touch his face with unwashed hands if he didn’t have to, the act might have been utterly innocuous.

Wordlessly, he slipped the frayed hair tie off his wrist and held it out to Lance. When the blue paladin didn’t immediately take it, Keith nudged him right in the hand that was currently assaulting his skin.

Lance’s attention turned to him in the form of wide blue eyes and a full body jolt. He looked as if Keith had just dragged him back from a different material plane. His eyes drifted down to the offering in Keith’s fingers, and his eyebrows lifted in quiet surprise before accepting the hair tie with a grateful smile.

Keith withdrew his hand, watching with intent and coiling satisfaction as Lance wove the skinny elastic methodically around his digits.

“As far as we’ve been able to study, the wormaque coats itself in this substance before making a leap. It acts to maintain the structure of the creature’s molecules,” Coran supplied.

Shiro leaned forward to peer a little closer at the animation. Either the picture didn’t clash with him as much or he was a braver man than Keith. Both answers felt correct, and so Keith forced himself to look away from Lance and back at the dissolving pixels.

“How long does it take to harden?” Shiro asked. A negligible squinting of his eyes was the only indication that he was struggling with the holograph.

“We’re not sure,” Coran admitted. “Could be a dobash. Could be a movement.”

“So how long is there between this stuff hardening and the worm thingy jumping?” Hunk jumped in.

Coran’s chipper demeanour deflated a little. It was a physical reaction, the way his shoulders slumped just a fraction lower.

“Not too sure of that, either, number two.”

“Okay, better question,” Pidge weighed in. “What happens if we’re still on the wormaque when it jumps?”

“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” Coran’s tone was enough to convince them. “Without a molecular stabilizer, there’s nothing to keep your from rearranging into something else entirely.”

“Great, so you come out of the wormhole with eyeballs on your buttcheeks,” Lance groaned.

“Or you may not come out at all, if your molecules disperse through the rift and fail to reconvene on the other side.”

Hunk winced audibly.

Keith felt an insistent tug at his own mortality. He said, “The more I hear about time travel, the worse it sounds.”

“I dunno, Keith,” Lance’s grin was impish. “I think you’d like the future.”

Pidge said, “Yeah, if the chronolomia doesn’t turn him inside out that is.” Then she grimaced.

Keith suspected that Pidge didn’t know the power of her own words until they had already crossed her lips. She had a tendency to lay out the facts naked and clinical with little thought to how they may be received. Mostly it was helpful, though in this case it was a little closer to Coran’s version of “helpful” than Keith appreciated.

“How do we tell when it’s going to jump?” Lance saved them all an awkward silence.

Keith thought Lance had also saved himself a minute to reflect on his own plummeting health.

The advisor rubbed his chin, moustache quivering, and he appeared to chew his answer until it was palatable enough to release. (He was more experienced than Pidge in the power of language.)

“I largely suspect it will be similar to how Allura opens the wormholes for the castle. You just have to wait for the rift to open. It’s highly likely that there will be a physical preparation as well.”

“Okay,” Shiro was all captain again: Everyone stood up straighter. “As soon as the wormaque appears, we’ll launch for extraction. Keith.”

Shiro turned towards him. Keith lifted his chin higher at the address.

“I want you to take the red lion down to the creature’s skin. You can extract from there. Get the Namthsurite and get out. We don’t know how long we’ll have until it jumps so this mission will be about speed.”

Keith nodded his confirmation. Then he waited for Lance’s inevitable argument. That he should be the one to go out in Blue.

Only it didn’t come.

In fact, the longer Keith waited for Lance’s customary retort, the bigger the hole in the conversation grew, until it felt like the entirety of the bridge was being swallowed by the foul maw of silence.

Here was something Keith realised he wanted: A version of Lance that was everything he saw before him, but with the mercy of common ground.

Here was something Keith realised further: That judging by what Future Lance had told him, it was an inevitability.

The latter did little to assuage the keen itch of the former. Keith felt a bloom growing from his heart, reaching, reaching, for sunlight he’d never catch.

“Hunk,” Shiro turned to the yellow paladin. Hunk sharply turned the same colour as his lion. “I want you to go with Keith.”

“I’m going, too,” Lance chiseled in before Hunk had a second to revolt.

Shiro’s mouth bent unhappily.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he started slowly. Every syllable had its own weight, a purpose. “We don’t know enough about your physical state to send you out into the field. You could be putting extra strain on your body.”

“Pfffff, Shiro, I’m fine, ” Lance waved his hand in a fine sort of way to emphasise this fact. “Besides, I’m the one who’s going to be needing the nacho stuff-”

“Namthsurite.”

“That’s what I said. So it should be me who goes and gets it.”

Shiro didn’t look pleased at the announcement, but Lance was a force unto himself. Every inch of him stood firm, from the stern set of his brow that challenged a rebuttal, right down to the tight knot of his folded arms that outwardly repelled any negotiation.

“Fine,” Shiro conceded. “Lance, Hunk, Keith, you’ll head out to extract the Namthsurite. Pidge, I want you to get as much info as you can on this creature - We need to be prepared to detect any jumps so we can provide backup if needed.”

Shiro unfolded his arms, turning to face Allura.

“I’ll provide air support with the black lion. Until the wormaque shows up, everybody stay on alert.”

There was a circle of unanimous nodding that followed Shiro’s orders. Keith thought he saw Lance’s click his heels together, but it was an expression that was either satirical or a trick of the light. The blue paladin swung his legs over the arm of his seat and rolled off the edge to stand up.

“Okay, well while you guys do that I think I’m gonna go kick back with a lemonade or a space juice or something.”

“Lance-” Allura started.

But the warning in her voice was as thin as a cobweb and Lance brushed it away as such.

“Yeah yeah high alert, I know,” he wafted at her words. “But before that happens I’m feeling like a little ‘Lance time’.”

“Gross,” Pidge deadpanned.

“Very,” Lance confirmed.

He didn’t stop on his way out of the doors, gliding through them with his hands laced behind his neck. The bend in his elbow created a window for his scar to peek through, bobbing in time with his steps.

Keith was trotting after him in a second.

“Lance!”

The lanky boy slowed his pace but didn’t stop, turning his head just enough to peer at Keith around one long crooked arm.

“You’re-”

The motor that had driven Keith after Lance slowed, sputtered, and died, and he found himself gaping wordlessly at the older boy.

“Are you alright?”

The engine coughed back into life as Keith’s gaze combed over the scar, all the way down to where it slid beneath the suit tight at Lance’s throat.

Lance frowned, eyes wide and innocent.

“What? Yeah, dude, I’m fine.”

Keith’s eyes flicked up to Lance’s before drifted down the path of the scar again and back up. Lance wore a different expression when their gazes met again. It was an expression Keith had seen him use for Pidge, and Hunk, and on occasion Coran. A ray of surprise caught somewhere between pride and bemusement.

“You know, Keith,” Lance’s words were carefully placed, walking a wire. “You’re a lot more observant than people give you credit for.”

“I was just-”

What had he just wanted to do? The compliment had spread a layer of warmth through Keith’s skin, and the added temperature was melting his thoughts as fast as gallium.

By the time he’d managed to solidify them, Lance was already gone.

****

In theory, waiting for a giant time travelling space worm to show up was not a difficult task.

Keith had managed to get through the first day completely normally; by following a habitual routine designed to spend idle time efficiently.

His schedule often went something like: Wake up, training, breakfast, meet the team on the bridge, complete any/all missions or tasks or team building exercises, followed by “chill time” (as Lance insisted everyone called it), and then to bed.

Keith felt comfortable in using his spare time to further improve his swordsmanship, or explore the deeper recesses of the castle, should they ever be ambushed.

In practice, however, the task was proving to be a convoluted circuit that tested his mental athleticism.

The first day had passed quite unremarkably. Keith had woken up, trained, eaten breakfast, and continued with his routine dutifully.

The second day was less successful.

Keith had woken up and fulfilled his morning training session with relative ease, but there was a dull thrumming in his veins that felt awful and familiar as it rolled around the exertion in his muscles.

By breakfast it had developed into a nervous tick. Keith tapped his fingers unrhythmically on the tabletop as he poked a spoon at the luminous green food goo. Lance kept shooting him sideways glances, but for once, Keith couldn’t bring himself to pay it any heed.

He ditched his plate and any feeble attempts at conversation in the kitchen before making a beeline for the hangars. He felt that whatever was simmering in his blood would find sanctuary in the quaking presence of the red lion. A natural symbiosis that would neutralize the volatile chemicals he felt reacting under his skin.

The hope was short lived.

Keith had sat in the red lion, fingers wrapped loosely around the controls as he closed his eyes. He let his mind drift, the slowing of his thoughts allowing the red lion an opportunity to slip through the spinning gears of his psyche like a loose screw. The connection was slow at first, and then it jolted into full colour like a piece clicking into place. Keith could feel the life force of the red lion surround him like a blanket, hot and strong and fierce. He felt it as a raw tingling all the way through his fingertips, the spearhead of their physical connection.

But there was something different about the contact this time. It escaped proper description, but Keith felt a facet of the lion’s energy was being dulled, diverted towards something else. He reached out mentally, extending imaginary fingers to prod at the blank spot between their minds. There was a fleeting notion of navy.

Then it recoiled like an insect, leaving Keith with the stark sensation that he’d just pried into something extremely private. Red rumbled. She could appreciate his curiosity, but she did not encourage it. Keith felt her fold into a shape he couldn’t fully decipher, a picture that faced away from him.

His fingers tightened around the joysticks, a quiet apology. Red hummed back, placated: She didn’t mind.

Still, it muddied the interaction with a layer of awkwardness, one that Keith wasn’t confident he could rectify. He believed himself less than talented when it came to leaping over social hurdles, and this belief multiplied when interacting with an ancient sentient war ship. He excused himself from the cockpit, feeling even more agitated than when he’d entered.

When the afternoon rolled around, his restlessness had evolved into full blown pacing.

Keith wasn’t one for inaction. Even though he told himself that he was following orders by staying put, the lack of physical exertion abandoned him to the ambient notion of having too much electricity in his veins. This was reflected in the labyrinthine path his pacing took him around the castle. Keith only slowed once as he passed the infamous Altean coordinates Lance had so crudely chipped into the wall.

To say that Allura had been less than pleased when she saw the evidence of Lance’s arbitrary vandalism would be to say a bull is only mildly irked by the colour red. In reality, she had twisted her mouth into a shape that somehow perfectly fit the stream of Altean noise that had spun off her tongue. Keith would never know what she had said, but Coran’s horrified expression had been descriptive enough for him to guess.

Keith slowed his gait as he passed the carvings, enough to reach out a hand and brush his fingertips over the harsh ragged edges. His mind drifted back to Lance holding his knife, taking efforts to avoid touching the tourniquet around the handle. The memory slid through Keith’s mind at an angle, leaving him feeling strangely seasick. Perhaps Lance in the future knew what was beneath those bindings. Perhaps, Keith thought, he had the answers to what it meant.

The idea was both thrilling and terrifying, and Keith could neither decide which was winning nor which he favoured. That indecision itself was both thrilling and terrifying, and Keith pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to distract himself, as it was an unpleasant marriage of emotions.

When the sensation had faded into merely curious and dubious, Keith lifted his head. He was in time to catch a flash of brown and blue disappearing around the corner at the end of the hall. The two colours were enough for Keith the imagine the rest, his mind immediately working to compensate for the lack of silhouette his eyes had failed to provide. This had a side effect in the form of physical reaction, and Keith’s stride lengthened as he strode towards the corner the had just wiped Lance from his field of view.

No sooner had he rounded it than Keith saw the same flash of brown and blue vanishing around the next corner, a fleeting burst of colour that split the castle’s faithful teal monotone.

Again, Keith’s mind drew up the image of Lance, tall and confident and inexplicably out of reach.

Again, Keith’s stride lengthened to a fully formed march until he reached the corner.

This time, when Keith rounded it, he was in time to catch a little more than an ephemeral impression of blue. This time, the dual colours were joined by a shock of brunette that waved at him, two sparkling navy eyes, and a grin designed for mischief.

Keith’s legs responded in kind, skipping forwards with a fresh spur of elation. They carried him all the way to the end of the hall, and by the time he’d reached it, the playfulness had travelled up from his legs, all the way through his torso and into his mind where it curled wickedly into exhilaration. Lance’s wolfish smile did nothing but encourage it, and in a second, Keith was chasing him full pelt down the castle’s corridors.

Lance let out a whoop of joy, his jubilant laughter echoing off the tall ceiling and back down to the floor where the sound of it chased Keith as fast as he chased Lance.

Keith was gaining on the blue paladin. He could sense it, in every half a tick that the outline of Lance lingered at the next corner. His grin was still wicked, his laughter still bubbled around the hallways, and Keith was gaining on him.

He was close now. Close enough that Keith could reach out his hand, extend his fingers, and just-

Lance vanished around a corner with a gruesome twist, his entire body bending like a sapling with a speed that made Keith feel dizzy. He span on his heel, veered around the corner and-

Nothing.

The corridor was completely empty. It was like Lance had simply evaporated.

And then came a sharp tug on his hair, harsh enough to fold his neck back towards his shoulders with a startled gasp.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, Mullet!” Lance jeered.

There was victory in his call, loud and present, and more the enough to tell Keith that he’d fallen for a dirty trick. Lance had been letting him catch up.

Keith was after him in an instant.

For as long as he could remember, Keith had been chasing. Whether it was a dream or a hope, or a memory, he’d been running headfirst through his entire life, fingers outstretched ready to grasp. He’d chased a family when his father had died and his fingers had found Shiro. He’d chased a dream when he’d joined the Garrison and his fingers had wrapped around the joysticks of a spacecraft. He’d chased hope when he’d run after that ship that had tumbled burning from the sky and his fingers had grabbed on tight to what was now his team.

He’d been chasing what he wanted his entire life. And as he streaked after Lance in a blur of blue and red, Keith was acutely aware that this time his fingers would not catch the shining crackling spark of a boy in front of him. He would never catch Lance. It was a thought that ached hotly between his ribs.

But that didn’t stop it from being fun.

Lance’s smile was contagious, and Keith was quickly succumbing to the infection. But he suspected he’d been harbouring the virus for sometime now, since the corners of his mouth had been twitching skyward the second he’d seen Lance slip down the first hallway.

They shot down the halls, twin blurs of colour tied together with intent to win. Lance’s whoops of triumph were a string pulling Keith along behind him, as much an attraction as they were nice to listen to. Keith was faster, but Lance’s strides were longer, and his nimble agility meant that Keith kept losing momentum on him around the corners.

The rounded a bend in the corridor and Keith heard the leap before he saw it, Lance letting out a soft grunt of exertion from the left as Keith hurtled round the corner in time to see him rocketing through the air. His foot caught purchase on a small embellishment in the wall, and he stretched out the whole length of his body to reach a ledge some six feet above them before hauling himself up with a small swing.

The grin he shot over his shoulder was Cheshire with triumph.

Keith stalled, rebooted, and grinned as he gained momentum. Lance’s grin slipped slightly as the red paladin veered sideways, planting his foot on the adjacent wall and running up as far as he could. When gravity started to grab him, Keith pushed as hard as he could into the balls of his feet, the muscles in his core constricting as he span through the force of it. His arms snapped out sideways mid revolution and snatched the lip of the ledge by the tips of his fingers.

It was enough for him to land on the wall and push up.

Lance had taken a cautionary step backwards as Keith rolled to his feet, eyes alight with awe and mild horror and something else, burning just below the surface.

There was not enough time to appreciate it as Lance span on his heel and sped down the new hallway, away from Keith. His grin was tainted at the corners, the hints of a grimace pressing his teeth harder together.

Before he’d been able to realise, Lance had circled back around to the alcove, finally slowly his bounding gait into a light trot.

Keith barrelled into him at full speed: He may not be able to catch Lance, but he could at least console himself with the cheap victory of tackling him against the floor.

Lance let out a surprised huff as the wind got knocked out of him.

“Cool it, Keith!” he yelped as the other boy straddled him. “Man, I forgot how competitive you were.”
“No you didn’t,” Keith argued.

“No I didn’t,” Lance confirmed.

From above him, Keith could see a glint of smugness hiding behind the blue of Lance’s irises. It was gone in a blink, though, and Lance slowly rolled Keith off him as he sat up. The action was careful, each move measured as he reached out a hand to steady Keith’s shift sideways. His fingers lingered in the air for a second, a breath caught in time not three inches from Keith’s hips before they very deliberately hooked onto his elbow instead.

“I still won though,” Lance chimed with a grin.

Keith rolled his eyes: There was the Lance he knew.

“You didn’t win,” he argued.

Lance pouted at him, then said, “I managed to lose you. I think that counts as winning.”

Keith scowled as he rolled to his feet. He held out a hand to help Lance up and nearly fell back down when the blue paladin grasped it. The fleeting instance of a Lance he recognised had made him forget for a second about the bulk the older boy had put on. He rocked forwards on the balls of his feet to compensate for the sudden lurch on his arm.

There was nothing his heart could do to compensate for the sudden lurch he felt in his chest, however, as Lance let out a burble of laughter, his eyes crinkling with humour.

Keith could see years ahead in that moment, where those lines would fold into wrinkles, a skin deep brand of a life filled with joy. God, he hoped Lance would have laughter lines. Every person deserved happiness in their lifetime, but Keith found himself wishing that Lance would really truly own such a thing. That it would be as defining to him as the brown of his skin or the blue of his eyes or the slight curve in his accent when his heritage snagged on certain words.

“Sure, Lance,” he huffed without malice.

“Feeling better?” Lance asked, peering at him curiously.

Keith felt his face crease into confusion. “What?”

“You’re never good with sitting still, and neither am I. And training gets boring after a while sooooooo I thought, what’s better than a little game of chase?”

Lance’s eyebrows were performing a full waggle, and Keith couldn’t help the small smile that curled his lips, still waning infection from the chase.

“I can sit still if I want,” Keith started.

Lance’s scoff was rebuttal enough, but he added, “Yeah, and I pilot the black lion.”

Keith’s attention snapped taught as a bowstring.

“ Do you pilot the black lion?”

Lance’s grin was two shades too sly to be genuine, but that didn’t prevent Keith’s interest from being diamond sharp as he narrowed his eyes at the older boy.

“I’d say ‘spoilers’ but I honestly don’t think you’d believe me anyway so… No, Keith. I don’t pilot Black in the future.”

Keith felt his shoulders sag, whether with relief or disappointment, he wasn’t sure. He was at an emotional stalemate when it came to learning about the future. On one hand, he wanted to know with a burning desperation that came in three facets:

Firstly, there was the advantage of having knowledge about battle tactics beforehand, missions that had gone less than smoothly already prepared for with the help of prior knowledge. Lance held information that had the potential to turn the tide in their war, and yet he kept it to himself out of fear of doing irreparable damage to the timeline. This lit a match under Keith’s frustration and kept it smouldering in the back of his mind at all times.

Secondly, there was the curiosity about his own position. He harboured secret questions from the team about his own ties to space and to the universe wide war he felt inextricably linked to. Did he have the answers in the future? The familiarity with which Lance behaved around him made Keith question if he’d reached a point in his own being where he felt comfortable enough with his team to share these personal problems. This rubbed an itch under Keith’s skin that he was incapable of scratching.

And finally, there was blistering desire to know about how Lance and he were in the future. It felt as if the answers were laid out in front of him in a pattern he couldn’t understand. Every lingering touch, every casual throwaway one liner about some private joke that Keith didn’t get yet, every glowing look Lance shot him felt like a whisper in a language he didn’t speak very well. This was arguably the worst of all three, as it made something flower and wilter and flower again in an endless loop inside his chest. A fluttering against his ribcage that would die in swansong only to rise again the next time Lance shot him a smile that felt like it was for someone else. It was the worst because it was a feeling Keith resurrected himself, over and over again, decay only serving to feed the bloom.

On the other hand, there was a part of Keith that was hesitant to find out what Lance knew of their fate. Keith rarely felt afraid. This was something that was less about being bold and more about his own judgement. For him, being afraid was a response to what he was informed about, and how he weighed up risk versus reward. He would feel afraid in the face of an assailant, for he would be informed about the threat to his own life, or in the face of a fleet of Galra ships, for he would be aware of the treat to his teammates and the grief that would come in the wake of loss.

But this was a different breed of animal. The thing Keith felt was budding fear, and it thrived in the absence of information like a weed thrives in sunlight. Keith feared that the answers he craved with a gut deep hunger would leave him thin and starving, unsatisfied in his very soul.

His attention was drawn back to the boy in front of him by the sound of dull nails scraping across skin. He blinked to focus in on Lance scratching his scar idly, his other hand propped up on one hip. Keith’s eyes traced the movement with increasing agitation, until it boiled up inside of him and bubbled out of his mouth.

“Lance.”

Lance turned to look at him, eyebrows arched.

“Is that- Is your scar hurting?”

The blue paladin draws his hand away from the scar in question, far enough to give his hand a surprised look, as if it had been acting of its own accord. He hastily dropped it by his side like it had burned him, trying and failing to pass it off as nonchalant with the help of a small shrug.

“It doesn’t hurt. It just sorta… Itches? I don’t have a lot of the face creams and stuff you got me in the future.”

Keith blinked, his brain flatlining for a second.

“ I bought you face creams?” he asked with more incredulity than he felt. In reality, he felt a soft sort of warmth creeping from the back of his neck. It felt… Nice, that he and Lance had that kind of relationship in the future.

Lance just shrugged again. This time his nonchalance seemed far more genuine.

“Yeah? I dunno, you just sorta started picking them up one day. And then you started picking something up from nearly every planet we visited. It was pretty cute.”

“Cute??”

“Sometimes it was deadly,” Lance added with a strange expression. His eyes took on a far away shine that was fast becoming familiar. It wasn’t a familiarity that Keith welcomed.

“Oh God, what happened?” Keith asked as Lance started down the hall.

They fell into an easy step beside each other. Keith made a conscious effort to keep his arms close by his sides, eyes Lance’s swinging hands like they were swinging axes instead.

“Well one time you got me a cream that was specifically designed to corrode Luxite, which is some of the toughest metal in the universe.”

Keith gulped down the metallic taste on the back of his tongue.

“Lucky for me, Coran recognised it before you even managed to put it in my hand. Could’ve had my beautiful face melting all over the floor!”

“Oh my God,” Keith breathed.

“Aaaaand then there was that time you bought me putty explosive. And once you gave me something that was literally alive.”

Keith’s eyes blew wide at the statement, the hairs on his arms standing militantly to attention at the wave of creepiness that fell over them.

“Did it hurt you?!”

Lance let out a full belly laugh, his eyes creasing in the way that left Keith feeling mightily satisfied.

“Nah. But it did leap out of the pot as soon as I opened it and disappear into the castle’s plumbing. Allura’s still paranoid it’s going to pop out anytime, but Hunk is pretty sure it just ejected itself into space.”

Keith couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of some small space creature making its home in the thick pipes of the castle of lions. It sounded like it had the potential to become an urban legend for future residents of the great ship.

“To lead a better life, I hope.”

“I hope it’s living all its tiny lil space creature dreams,” Lance agreed, tone wistful.

“It sounds like we get on in the future,” Keith mused out loud.

Lance beamed. Keith tried not to squint, but he was informed enough about Lance’s smile to fear being blinded by its brightness.

“Hahaaaa yeah I’m pretty sure you have no idea what you’re looking for, you just kinda pick up whichever bottle looks shiniest or that you think I’ll like most and give it to me when we’re back on the ship.”

“Is that… Good?” Keith wondered.

Lance’s face made it seem like it was good, but then again, Lance often made a lot of faces that made it seem like a lot of things were good, even if that wasn’t the case. Keith was fast learning that Lance could produce a smile that would ignite stars only seconds after his bottom lip had been trembling, and fool everyone into thinking he was as excited as a child. This had been more evident in the past week: Lance would shoot something sharp and flaming over the bow at Keith, a spark of their old fiery arguments. And then his face would quiver into something sad and dreadful before flickering back into fully animated mirth, leaving the red paladin wondering if it had just been a trick of the light.

Keith thought back to Lance clicking his heels at Shiro’s orders, and wondered how much of Lance’s sarcasm was just a trick of the light too.

“Good?” Lance squawked. “Keith, it’s great. Nine times outta ten, if it’s not useful, it’s at least a story.”

“Glad you find it so amusing,” Keith remarked cooly.

He was glad, though. The story seemed to make Lance smile, and there was a possessive beast in Keith’s heart that felt fat and content with the knowledge that he’d brought about that grin.

Lance scratched his scar again, the tip of his long index finger rolling over the parallel dips that framed the fissure in his cheek. He’d said it didn’t hurt, but the fact that it was causing so much as an ache was a source of discomfort for Keith.

And Keith wasn’t one for inaction.

“Wait here,” he ordered.

Lance’s lips parted in surprise, but it was only when Keith had spun on his heel and begun marching down the corridor did he start sounding off.

“What? Keith, where are you going?” And when Keith didn’t respond. “I’m not just gonna stand here because you told me to!”

But Keith was already around the corner, Lance’s shouting quickly disappearing in the height of the ceilings. The dark haired boy twisted and curled around each corner, clear intention leading him in the fastest route directly to Allura’s chambers. Once he reached the doors to her room, he wasted no time in knocking on them, three sharp raps that were almost as commanding as Shiro’s voice.

There was a shuffling behind the doors before Allura cracked them open, a few wisps of her long silvery hair spilling around the handle. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw it was Keith.

“Oh. Keith. How can I help you?”

“Do you have any face cream?”

If the question took Allura by surprise, she did an exceptional job of hiding it. Save for the minimal press of her lips and the featherlight twitch of one brow, her face was a perfect mask of careful neutrality.

“I’m sure I have some somewhere. Please give me a moment.”
Allura politely closed the door with a small nod and an even smaller ‘click’. Keith could hear her moving about her room from his place outside in the hall. The quiet of the corridor gave him a few moments to reflect on how bizarre, and possibly a little rude, it was for him to stride into Allura’s space and demand cosmetic products. He was spared from pursuing that train of thought, however, when a second later, Allura reappeared with a gentle smile and a small item in her hand. Keith looked down to see her holding a modestly sized box that was decidedly not modest in embellishment. The case itself was a translucent iridescent material that seemed to be sparkling every single colour at once. Delicate glowing teal lines traced intricate patterns all the way from the base up to where they convened at the tip of the lid in a swirling skeleton of light.

“I hope this will be sufficient?” Allura said, as she handed the exquisite pot over into Keith’s open hand.

There was a sideways note in her tone that suggested she knew the cream wasn’t for him, but she graciously refrained from commenting further. Keith felt a little silly taking such an ethereal looking object from a literal space princess. There was nothing about him that so much as hinted at personal grooming beyond basic hygienic value, which made the box in his hand seem that much more celestial and otherworldly where it sat against the worn, cracked leather of his gloves.

“Thank you,” he managed to say with a dip of his head.

Allura’s smile was tactfully even, not a fraction of it out of place.

“You’re quite welcome, Keith.”

Feeling increasingly awkward, Keith took a small step back into the hallway. Allura gently closed the door at his retreat. Her smile stayed fixed right up until it disappeared around the frame. Successfully out of the line of suspicion, Keith turned around and began making his way back to where he had left Lance. He hoped the blue paladin had stayed in place, despite his loud dissent.

As he rounded the corner, he saw Lance standing almost exactly where Keith had last seen him. He was leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed at the chest. He wore a fierce pout that only got more fierce when he spotted Keith making his way back down the corridor.

“Ooooh look who it is,” Lance drawled as soon as Keith was within earshot. He pushed off the wall with more force than seemed necessary. “ El Capitan , who thinks he can tell other people what to do. I don’t take orders from you, by the way!”

His voice cut off shortly when Keith reached out to grasp his hand. It seemed like a necessary precaution, given how intricate and fragile the box felt between his own calloused fingers. Had Keith chosen to simply shove it into the blue paladins grip, he may have broken the gossamer fine detailing on top, or spilled the contents in a mess of good intentions and bad execution.

But as he curled his fingers loosely around Lance’s knuckles, Keith appreciated the excuse to simply take the older boy by the hand. He lifted Lance’s hand face up and placed the pot of face cream snugly into the hollow of his palm.

Lance slowed, his whole body commiting to the motion as his feet stilled and his eyes drifted downwards to see what Keith had given him. His reaction seemed committed as well, in the way that there was no immediate response. Instead, Lance simply peered at the dainty glowing pot sitting innocently in his hand. As the ticks crawled by, Keith felt the twitchiness the accompanied staying still prickle under his skin.

“It’s face cream,” he stated bluntly when Lance didn’t say anything. “Allura gave it to me.”

That did provoke a faster response. Lance’s eyes snapped up to Keith’s, wide and blue and glittering.

“You got this…. From Allura?” he asked, disbelief plain in his voice. “You got me face cream from Allura.”

It sounded as if he was trying to affirm this fact for himself, as though speaking it out loud would convince him of what Keith had done. Keith just crossed his arms firmly, his jaw set.

“Yes.”

Slowly, so slowly, Lance’s face lit up.

It was like a city coming to life at night, lights slowly flicking on one by one.

First, the corners of his mouth twitched, an indicative foreword of a smile. Next, his shoulders crept towards his ears, his pointy elbows drawing together as he lifted his other hand to cup the little pot like it was a holy item. The effect was extraordinary to watch, and Keith felt as if he was witnessing something that was rarely seen in slow motion, like a water balloon popping, or an exploding firework. It was hard to look away, especially with how his stomach span in an obscene spiral, pulling his gut sideways.

“You got me face cream from Allura.”

Lance finally seemed to have processed the sentence, and the result was elation, electric and crackling and alive.

“C’mon, we gotta try this,” Lance announced.

His joy seemed so raw and untampered that Keith couldn’t help but flinch when Lance reached for his hand. The blue paladin shot him a knowing look.

“Jumpy, aren’t ya?”

He tried again, this time successfully managed to snag Keith’s wrist in the circle of his fingers, and the red paladin allowed himself to be towed along like cargo as Lance started down the hallway in the direction of his room.

“Don’t worry, Mullet, I’m not gonna bite. We’re gonna do face masks, and you’re gonna learn how to get your chill on.”

“What does that even mean?” Keith complained.

Lance’s grip on his wrist became roughly three degrees more insistent.

“It means that neither of us is good unless we’re doing something, so we’re gonna do something that’s relaxing and helps pass the time. Jeez, you’d think a guy would be happy about a little down time.”

The words had little meaning for Keith, but the firmness with which Lance said them left almost no room to negotiate. There was a time when Keith would have argued the toss over even sparing something as trivial as face masks the time of day.

But Lance was right; he was jumpy. And relaxing sounded nice, even if it didn’t sound like a possibility.

And though he tried to stifle the admission, if Keith was to be frank and honest with himself, he couldn’t find it in him to object to spending more time with Lance. He couldn’t be frank and honest about his feelings with anyone else, so silent indulgence seemed to be the only viable option.

Which is why Keith stayed silent as Lance led him to his bedroom, promptly depositing him in the bathroom.

“Okay,” Lance said with a brisk tone.

He released Keith’s wrist in favour of opening a small cabinet underneath the sink. With a small flourish, he span around to present what looked like a towel crossed with a scarf. Keith just stared at it, utterly nonplussed, until Lance stepped forward with a menacing grin and squashed it over his head.

Keith let out a rather undignified noise, shortly followed by a cackle of laughter from Lance as he pushed the scarf up to Keith’s hairline.

“That’s to keep your hair out of your face,” Lance informed him.

“Why would I wanna do that?”

Lance gave him a wilting, disappointed stare.

“So it doesn’t get in the cream, duh.”

Keith didn’t have the words to respond, so he occupied himself with patting apprehensively at the band around his skull as Lance found a second and placed it accordingly around his own head. The fabric felt remarkably soft and fluffy, and Keith’s lips parted in surprise.

Lance appeared in his line of sight, grin wide with excitement. It didn’t have the same infectious effect as before. Instead, Keith felt a surge of apprehension as Lance unscrewed the lid of the pot with a slightly maniacal haste. The older boy crooked his fingers under Keith’s chin, forcing his head up at a mildly unnatural angle in order to peer at him closely.

When nothing happened, Keith gingerly pulled his head back a little, gazing at Lance with what he thought was rational reproach.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Lance replied quickly. “I just forgot how you looked with your hair back, is all.”

“Do I wear it back in the future?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Huh.”

Lance’s gaze had dropped, his focus carefully and intently on the pot in his hand. His eyes shined at a place a million miles away, and Keith could practically see the thoughts swirling around his head. Before he got a chance to comment, Lance’s attention sprang back with new life, and he slotted his fingers back into their post below Keith’s jaw.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

Keith obeyed wordlessly, albeit warily, as Lance dipped his fingers into the shimmering pot of cream and pushed them towards Keith’s face.

The first touch was ice cold. Keith yelped at the unexpected temperature, jolting in Lance’s touch. But the older boy skimmed a thumb across Keith’s jaw in an act so tender it had him shivering. The second touch was a cool brush of the ointment just above where the pad of Lance’s thumb had soothed him. By the third, Keith felt himself relax into the movement, the muscles in his body bleeding tension into a river of ease. His eyes fluttered shut, allowing his mind to focus solely on the sensation of Lance smoothing the tepid cream over the peaks of his cheekbones.

Lance let out a soft huff of laughter, almost undetectable had it not been for their close proximity. Keith’s eyes peeled open again to see the older boy chewing his bottom lip. His brow was furrowed in concentration as his eyes traced the path of his fingers, nimble and quick in their ministrations, a needle pulling a thread. He lifted his hand, and with a subdued bite to his lip, Lance studied his handy work.

Keith eyes caught on the narrow line of his teeth, peeking out from just under his top lip. His mind caught on the narrow thought of what it would feel like to sink his own teeth into Lance’s lip.

“Done!” Lance announced proudly.

He whirled round to face the mirror at exactly the same moment Keith reached out his hand to take the pot. Their eyes connected in the mirror, a suspended moment as they both processed the others’ actions.

“Uh…” Keith began eloquently. “Did you want me to help?”

“Oh,” Lance’s voice was one singular chime of surprise, uncoloured by any other emotion. “I was just gonna do it myself but-”

“Okay, never mind-”

“No no, wait!”

Lance span around to face the younger boy fully.

“You can help if you want. I know you don’t really just wanna sit there.”

This was an untruth, Keith realised as Lance pressed the pot of cream into his hands. He would have been perfectly content to sit and watch Lance apply his own face mask and just… Talk. His willingness to participate in “chilling out” may have been dubious to begin with, but there was no denying how the frantic pulse of electricity in his blood had dulled into nothing more than background white noise. The chase had satiated the need for exertion within his muscles, and the subsequent need to help had satiated the need for exertion within his mind. Somehow, letting Lance bait him into a simple game had been for both their benefits, and thus had the dual effect of distracting Keith from his antsiness and allowing him a reason to be around his teammate.

Lance plopped gracelessly down in front of him, long legs folding beneath his form as he leaned his head forward in clear consent. Keith eyed the pot doubtfully. He knew it wasn’t putty explosive, as Lance claimed he had provided before, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t have the same catastrophic effect. He cautiously dipped his fingers into the pot, lifting them in front of his face to inspect the heralded cream. It shimmered a silvery twin tone, alternating between blues and purples like a diamond, and it was the same ice cold he’d felt earlier, though he could feel it warming between his fingertips. With great care, he drew a streak of it across Lance’s skin. It sat uneventfully, glimmering stark chrome against rich brown, no explosions catalysing at all.

“You gonna do the rest or are you done?” Lance chastised.

Keith just clicked his tongue, dipping his fingers into the pot again. He spend a few dobashes painting the cream onto Lance’s features, being careful to avoid getting it too near the other boy’s eyes, even though they’d slid closed after the first few ticks. When he finally assessed the coverage to be even, Keith pulled back. Lance’s eyes popped open, and his mouth sprang a smile.

“All done?”

“Mhmm.”

Lance’s smile widened, and he rolled to his feet to inspect his face mask in the mirror. His head turned left, then right, the left again, each side dialing up one notch more pleased than the last.

“Nice work, samurai. Guess you’re not a lost cause after all.”

Keith snorted softly. “Now what?”

Lance turned to him, grin still in tact. “NOW, we chill.”

Chilling, as it turned out, roughly translated as “Lance chatting whilst playing with Keith’s hair”.

As it turned out, also, this suited Keith just fine. His head rested in Lance’s lap, his body stretched out on Lance’s bed. The dull scrape of dutifully filed nails against his scalp was both soothing and lulling, and Keith willingly sacrificed any lingering agitation that had made a home in his body. It was easy to do, he found, as Lance chatted idly about space and his family and the Garrison. He needed little more encouragement than a soft grunt and the occasional word to keep talking, and Keith was happy to provide these things since the payout was familiar and calming chatter. The cream felt tingly and cool on his skin, and Keith’s eyelids felt heavy.

There was a gentle pressure against his shoulder, five points of measured contact that pulled him back into consciousness.

“Hey, Keith.”
Lance’s voice was low and raspy. Keith cracked his eyes a little at the sound of it, enough for him to be able to tell that the lights had dimmed from when he’d last seen them.

“Hey,” Lance said again as he began to rouse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wanna wake you, but it’s getting pretty late and we still have to wash the masks off.”

Keith groaned in cheerless acknowledgement, moving to sit up and swing his legs off the edge of the bed. Lance’s hand drifted from his shoulder to the small of his back, a steady reminder of where he was and who he was there with. Lance guided him calmly to the bathroom, allowing Keith to wash his mask of first before handing him a towel and following suit. The air was warm, and Keith felt relaxed and incredibly sleepy. His limbs felt stiff as wire, bending with enormous effort as he tried to push himself off the counter. There was a warmth circling his waist, strong and thick as a tree branch, and it moved him from the bathroom back to the bed. Keith nearly collapsed onto the mattress, but the warmth held him fast, easing him down onto it carefully. He tiredly kicked off his shoes, curling up into a ball against the soft plush the surrounded him. The mattress dipped and Keith summoned as much effort as he could to crack open one eye.

Lance.

The older paladin lay down next to him, shuffling his long body down against the sheets and pulling the duvet out to envelope them both. Keith could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, as pleasant as sunshine. The urge to reach out and touch collecting in his fingertips like oil: If he stretched them towards the sun, surely they would burn. He curled his fingers tighter into his palms.

“What’re you doin’ in my room…?” Keith mumbled.

Lance just snorted, whispering, “This is my room, loser.”

Ah, yes, of course. This was Lance’s room. They’d done face masks. Lance had played with his hair and Keith had let him because Lance said it helped him. And Keith could lie and say that that’s all it was, but in this moment, in the infinite space that stretched between awake and sleeping, he could admit that it’s because he enjoyed it, and he wanted it, and he yearned to have it for himself. And in this space, he could pretend that it was his. He was two stone skips from dreaming, and that was where the fantasy of Lance being his would stay buried. Just before his dreams. Just beneath waking.

Keith’s mind was slipping, down, down, down, into the reprieve of unconsciousness when he last heard Lance speak. The words were merely snatches of meaning, ghosts that he would forget come the morning.

“G’night Keith… -ve you.”

***

Waking was a strange creature. Naturally, it never fully roused at once. It would shift a shoulder and Keith would become aware of a steady heat tucked into his body. It would smack its jaw and Keith would slowly become attuned to the presence of his limbs, nerves disjointedly reconnected in a patchwork. It would roll onto its back, and Keith would blink his eyes open a slit, enough to get a blurry impression of his surroundings.

Grey. Blue. The paladin rooms.

The creature bend its back and Keith’s memories from the night before slowly slotted into place like slides into a projector, flickering and bright.

The chase with Lance, collecting the cream from Allura, Lance painting it onto his face, blunt nails curving quiet affection through the roots of his hair, a warm darkness descending upon him.

Something shifted underneath Keith’s hand, a low discontent grumble sounding from above him. A memory clicked into the projector with startling clarity.

He was in Lance’s room. The was Lance’s bed he was lying in. This was Lance’s body he was pressed up against, Lance’s chest his head rested upon.

That was definitely Lance’s arm curled insistently around his shoulder, the other draped around his waist.

The realisation brought a companion in the form of dawning panic, both stark and vicious feelings that poked the beast of waking into full activity.

Keith snatched his hand away from Lance’s chest as if it had branded him, and he snatched his body away from Lance’s touch, as far as he could across the mattress before his back hit the wall. Lance made a soft noise of protest, his eyes finally cracking open with a bleary frown. His face was crumpled as his mouth was pursed, bottom lip jutting out in a pout so strong it was almost comic. His voice was all complaint.

“Keeeeeiiithh… What’re you doing?”

“I-uh. I’m-”

Keith sat up, the heel of his hands pushing small dents into the mattress. Lance mirrored him, pushing himself up on his elbows at half the pace. He reached up to rub the sleep dust out of his eyes, blinking back into the land of the living with clear displeasure.

“What’re you…” he trailed off as his eyes processed the figure of Keith sat up in bed.

“Oh.”

The noise Lance made was singularly horrified. The face he made was dually shocked and disbelieving.

“Keith-”

If there was a God, Keith thanked him for moments of grace such as this. The castle’s alarms shrieked through their room, the lights burning a warning red in tandem. Both boys looked at each other, a beat of total bewilderment pausing in the air. And then they flew out of bed, Keith hopping to his feet whilst pulling on his boots. Lance yanked his sleep top over his head, broad shoulders appearing in a flash as disappearing just as fast as he tugged on a fresh shirt. They bolted out into the hall and nearly collided with Hunk.

“Whoa, hey guys are you-” Hunk’s words snapped on the way out of his mouth as his eyes darted from the pair of them to Lance’s door and back again. He blinked owlishly. “Did you both-”

“C’mon!” Lance cut him off at once, starting down the hall at breakneck speed.

Keith was after him in a second, legs carrying him at a speed his sleep addled brain struggled to hang on to. He could hear Hunk behind him, a pounding machine of footfalls that slipped a little further away at each corner. They soared onto the bridge, doors whooshing open almost a fraction too late. Keith was astounded to see they’d arrived before Shiro or Pidge, but Allura and Coran stood at the helm, eyes fixed on something on the large screen.

A second later, Keith saw why.

The screen showed the vast recesses of the galaxy around them, save for a large patch of pixels near the top left corner. They seemed to be glitching, each square fluctuating between colours in a sickening kaleidoscope of vibrancy. It looked painful for the screen, and felt more so to look.

“Oh jeez, what the quiznak is that?” Hunk groaned.

The doors hissed behind them, and the party turned to see Shiro and Pidge rushing through them onto the bridge. Pidge reacted first.

“Is that the wormaque?” she cried, eyes blinking wide behind her glasses.

She sounded both awed and excited, and Keith could appreciate the sentiment as he slowly turned back to stare at the coughing cluster of pixels.

“Yes,” Allura confirmed. “I believe the future team was correct about the coordinates.”

“You mean the coordinates that Lance had?” Hunk yawned. “The ones that he wrote on the wall, but he only wrote them on the wall because he saw them on the wall in the future, which he wouldn’t have seen if he hadn’t written them on the wall in the first place.”

Hunk screwed up his face as if he was in pain. Keith could appreciate this sentiment as well: The morning didn’t seem like the wisest time of day to try and bend one’s mind around the concept of time travel.

“Where did the coordinates come from?” Hunk wondered aloud.

“It’s a temporal paradox,” Pidge offered. Hunk’s grimace merely worsened at the definition.

Coran saved them all by leaping back to the mission at hand, as he said, “What you’re seeing here is a prime specimen of the Nomadthian Cornelia Wormaque. Quite a large one, too, if I was to guess.”

Coran wasn’t wrong, per se, but it was difficult to agree with him about the size of the creature. For starters, since there was so little documentation about the wormaque, it was hard to say if it was big for its species. It seemed enormous to Keith, judging by its relation to the ratio of the screen. But without a proper scale of reference, it could be as small as a toddler for all they knew. Secondly, it was getting increasingly hard to stare at.

Keith had already struggled to look at when the beast had been little more than a collection of light projected by the hologram. Seeing it in person was extraneously harder, and it made his eyes ache deep in their sockets. It seemed huge, but then again, it seemed miniscule, as if it had a fleeting fancy of being small but couldn’t make up its mind.

“Okay, team,” Shiro began, all business. (Everyone stood up straighter.) “This mission is time sensitive. Keith, Lance, Hunk.”

Hunk’s chest popped out, Lance’s heels clicked, Keith uncrossed hs arms: The captain was speaking.

“I want you three in the red lion. You’ll be heading down to the creature’s skin. Pidge.”

The gren paladin pushed her glasses further up her nose, eyes sparking from the other side.

“I want you monitoring the wormaque’s activity. Any signs of a wormhole jump, you let us know.”

Pidge concurred in the act of swinging herself over the back of her chair, the holographic screens pinging to life obediently below her fingers.

“I’ll head out in the black lion in case you need an emergency extraction,” Shiro concluded. He stood up straighter to the sound of his own voice, even. But there was a taughtness there that anyone other than Keith would have easily missed.

Keith had known Shiro for most of his life. The older man had taken him in from the home, taken him under his wing from the Garrison, and taken him to space when the call for it came. They shared a closeness that was deeper than the rest of the team, the kind of deepness that could only be bred over a number years, and through a mutual trust and respect. It was a closeness that leant Keith the privilege of understanding all of Shiro’s tells.

So as he watched his brother hand out militantly precise orders, it was only Keith that heard the soft strain in his tone and saw the harder glint in his steely grey eyes.

For a moment, Keith got to witness the present and very genuine worry that Shiro felt for this mission, for Lance. It made something swell in Keith’s throat with wide and choking gratitude.

“Hold on just a moment,” Coran halted them with one raised hand. In the other, he held an impressively dangerous looking selection of tools. “You’ll need these to extract the Namthsurite.”

Hunk and Lance each took a tool when handed to them. It looked vaguely like an apple corer, Keith mused, but larger and more pointy.

“Once you reach the creature, you’ll need to chip some of the substance off. It shouldn’t be too hard to break, but it will take a little time. Try to be quick about it.”

Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the typicality of Coran’s instructions: Informative, but with little solution.

“Let’s go!” Shiro barked.

They dispersed with the low thrill of urgency, Lance and Hunk following Keith as he dropped into the pod that lead them to the red lion. As they dropped inside the great ship, Keith automatically stepped towards the pilot seat.

Except that it was currently occupied.

By one blue paladin.

Lance had thrown himself into the chair not half a beat after his feet had touched the floor in the cockpit, but at the sight of Keith staring at him, wide eyed and shocked, he stalled, hands poised above the controls.

“Uhhh,” he said eloquently. He looked as surprised as Keith felt, with an added touch of horror. “Why do you always get to drive?”

“We don’t have time for this, Lance,” Keith snapped.

For a breath, he wholly considered plopping himself down in Lance’s lap and taking the controls from there. Lance scrapped that consideration, luckily for him, by rising stiffly out of the pilot seat, grumbling something unintelligible about Keith hogging the joystick. It sounded less than half hearted, though. Keith dutifully perched in the newly vacated seat, his hands finding their home around the flight controls as the lion whirred to life around him. He felt the familiar and comforting touch of red in his mind, a steadily smouldering consciousness that rocked and cradled him.

With a flick of the wrist, they were shooting out of the hangar and into the stars. Keith heard a soft thud as Lance and Hunk’s hands landed on the back of his seat, holding on for support as the force nearly sent them tipping head over heels over backwards into the cockpit. Lance let out a raucous whoop that rebooted Keith’s heart.

“Yeah, baby!”

Keith grinned at the war cry. He hadn’t noticed it much before, too intent on the task at hand, but Lance’s enthusiasm had always had the blanket effect of lifting the team’s spirits right before a mission. It was the same way now, his eagerness and vivacity lending Keith and Hunk twin smiles even as they approached a monstrously large, mythical time warping alien. Keith was beginning to realise that there was a lot about Lance he hadn’t noticed before.

How many times had Lance done something so genuinely kind and not expected anything in return?

How many times had Keith flat out accused him of only ever trying to monger glory?

It was a disparity that twinged to think about, so Keith didn’t dwell on it.

As he guided the red lion closer to the creature, the shape of it got progressively more disagreeable. The outline of it’s form leapt and jarred and warred with the horizon, neither gaining enough ground to produce a solid shape. It was an impossible colour, or rather, it seemed to be one colour, but when Keith blinked, at was something entirely new, making him wonder if it had been that way all along and he’d just seen it wrong the first time.

“Yeurgch, that thing’s ugly,” Hunk commented flatly.

It was ugly, Keith silently agreed. But it was also impossible to tell if that assessment was correct, for to do so would be to admit that he could fully comprehend the visual of the wormaque.

“It’s not ugly, Hunk. It’s perfectly natural,” Lance argued.

“Naturally ugly,” Hunk compromised.

Lance didn’t argue this.

“Okay, team,” Shiro’s voice crackled over the comms, tinny and quieter than in person. The quality of the audio didn’t hinder the authority in his tone, however. “This extraction is going to be about speed. Keith, I want you to land the red lion on the creature. Hunk, Lance, you’ll be extracting the namthsurite. You shouldn’t need much, just a couple of handfuls each. As soon as you have it, get back in the lion and head back to the castle.”

“Copy that, Shiro,” Lance confirmed before Keith had even opened his mouth.

Instead, he leaned forward to close the video feed on the black lion and focus his gaze out the portal view of red.

He flew closer to the creature. From this distance, he could understand where the term “wormaque” came into play: The alien did indeed move like a common garden worm, it’s massive body undulating in a slow rhythmic pattern. As he drew nearer, however, a sense of unease gradually slid beneath his skin. There was a calamity of notions that flew over him, not enough to make full sense of, but enough for him to understand something, somethings, were vibrating bone deep within him.

There was a diving sense of dread, a whirling acceptance, a corkscrew bind of completion coiling around his heart like a vine. A searing burn across his right cheek that vanished as soon as Keith thought about it. He feel like he could see everything that had happened, and everything that would happen.

Or rather, he felt he had the capacity to see these things, but lacked the fundamental skill to do so. It was an entire spectrum of unpleasantness and frustration that squatted on his chest like a toad.

“Anyone else getting major heebie jeebies from this thing or is it just me?” Lance verbalised what they were surely all feeling.

“No, I’m right there with ya buddy,” Hunk agreed. “I’m looking forward to getting back in the red lion already.”

“Steady, Keith,” Shiro voice rang through the comms, patient and warning.

Keith was steady. With wary precision, he guided the red lion down bit by bit until he felt her mechanical paws touch the creature’s solid hide. Once she felt secure, Keith flicked a few switches to secure her position before releasing his hold on the controls and turning to face his teammates.

“Let’s go.”

“Uuuh, I thought you were supposed to stay in the red lion?” Hunk asked curiously.

His eyes were doing some sort of dance between Keith and Lance, flicked back and forth at a speed that was queasy to look at. Lance, too, was looking at Keith curiously, one eyebrow raised with blatant scepticism.

“We shouldn’t have to venture too far out,” Keith explained. “Just far enough to harvest the Namthsurite. I’ll stay by red the whole time.”

Hunk looked like he wanted to argue further, but Lance stepped in with a casual wave of his hand.

“Sure, whatever, let’s go get this stuff so we can get back, pronto.”

The red lion lowered her head as they approached the exit of her mouth, graciously unhinging her jaws enough for them to step out. True to his word, Keith remained stood between her teeth as Hunk and Lance hopped the short distance out onto the wormaque’s back. Now that they were at the surface, it was a little easier to make out the shape and texture of the alien’s skin. It was akin to that of desert rock, mottled and rough and chipped as Keith scuffed the toe of one boot against it. The colour was harder to place. It was more like it reflected colours than it presented a hue of its own, and so it flickered and shifted the longer Keith stared at it.

A few yards ahead, Lance dropped to one knee to inspect the strange skin, the fingers of his gloved hand skimming a half circle around him.

“Well,” he shrugged. “No time like the present.”

With a wide swing of his arm, Lance dug the small tool as hard as he could into the creature’s skin. Keith whole body jolted at the action, one foot stepping precariously out of the red lion’s mouth. He waited one tick, two, three. There was no reaction.

If the wormaque hadn’t noticed a giant warship touching down on its back, Keith supposed that it would hardly notice a tiny human chipping something less than a foot into it’s tough hide.

Hunk had flinched at the first contact, but as Lance gracelessly hacked away at the shell, he quickly followed the example, digging the tool down with a little more reserve.

“Are we sure this is Namthsurite?” he asked, dropping to one elbow to squint at the small chunks he’d managed to churn up. “What if this is just like, I dunno, dandruff? Are we harvesting dandruff?”

“Gross, I hope not,” Lance said with a disgusted twist of his mouth.

Keith dropped to one knee as well, reaching his hand out to brush over the surface of the wormaque. It felt smoother than it appeared, like a bad paint job that had dried shiny. There was something beneath it though, something that looked more solid than the colours and light crackling over the thin exterior.

“It’s Namthsurite,” he confirmed. “You can see the skin underneath the coating.”

“Huh.”

Lance lifted a piece of the rare substance up to his visor to peer at it critically. In the light, it looked translucent and sparkly, colour and light fragment through it in facets as though it was trapped inside it. For want of a better word, it was pretty, and it seemed to glitter more ferociously as Lance turned it between his fingers, as it pleased to be connected with something new.

Hunk vigilantly chipped away at his patch of the skin, shovelling each leaf into the small pouch on his belt. There was a tension in his shoulders that seemed tighter than usual, and his quietness, though not too unusual, felt weighted with dread.

Keith watched the two paladins work for a moment, their heads bent with equal concentration as they collected the Namthsurite. When he was sure they were absorbed in their task, Keith carefully lifted his knife from where it sat at the small of his back, and with swift clean precision, chipped a piece of skin out from under his boot. It felt diamond hard between his fingers, and Keith gave it a small rotation between his digits before slipping it in his own pouch before sheathing his knife.

“Alright, I think I got enough,” Hunk announced as he got to his feet. “I think we should get outta here before this thing decides to dissolve us or something.”

“What? You don’t like the gigantic floating time worm?” Lance teased.

But there he was with a hand pressing between Hunk’s shoulder blades, a grounding weight and comfort right when Hunk clearly needed it. It was a small thing. Keith wondered again how many times he’d missed it.

Keith nodded his understanding at Hunk’s words, lifting a hand to tap the comms on his helmet.

“Shiro, we’re done here. Getting ready to dismount in the red lion.”

“Good work, guys. See you back at the cas-”

“Guys!” Pidge’s voice shot through the comms, loud and sharp as the burst of static that came with it. “I’m picking up some serious wormhole activity. That thing is preparing to jump!”

Keith could see the preparation as soon as Pidge said it, the skin under the thin shell of Namthsurite rippling with chaotic cresting light and shadow. It was like he could see an entire timeline fracturing and reforming across the swollen side of the wormaque.

Which was when Keith finally understood; why the castle’s hologram had such trouble pixelating the image of the wormaque, why Keith’s eyes refused to accept a solid shape for his brain to put a name to. The creature wasn’t just one thing: It was all things, everything.

It was all the things in the universe all at once. It existed all at once, in every shape and moment and iteration, because it didn’t merely travel through time.

It was time.

As soon as Keith accepted this fact, the moment he let himself fall into the truth of it, he could suddenly see that wormaque for what it was so much more clearly. He could feel the ticks running through its veins, he could hear the dobashes counting through it’s skin, on and on and on and on, into eternity and further still. It did not stop. It would not stop. And Keith could feel all of it, every fleeting instance throbbing under his hand where it was pressed against the sugar thin shell of namthsurite.

In his mind he saw stars and moons and grass and trees and so much rain. He felt it on his skin, searing and cooling and running together in a overwhelming multitude of things. The wormaque reflected all of this. In its hide, Keith saw flashes of wildfires and hurricanes and inky black space and scorching stars.

A particularly voracious one spiralled into a supernova out the corner of his eye, and he turned his head in time to see Lance catching the height of it against his silhouette.

The fiery glow stripped the boy bare of anything Keith had ever known about him. And in this light Keith did not see a blue paladin, or a member of Voltron, or even a Garrison recruit. He saw only Lance.

What is a person if not the sum of what they love?

How can you categorise a soul unless you know the design by which it has been moulded? How do you name someone as kind if you have not first given the opportunity to be cruel? How can you label a person as selfless before you have given them the chance to disregard everyone and everything in favour of their own comfort?

It was a thing Keith didn’t have a word for.

The blaze illuminated Lance in searing gold. Keith saw his eighteen years of youth in the orange that lined Lance’s sharp features. His brunette hair was tousled with the breadth of his family, his shoulders were pulled back with the strength of protecting the universe. For a second, Keith didn’t recognise who this version of Lance was.

In the next, he realised he knew everything.

Lance saw the way things were and said it the way people needed to hear. And that really only meant one thing:

Lance was never going to tell him about the future. Or about what he did for his teammates, or about how he cared more deeply than most people knew or about how he loved more fiercely than people would notice. Or how he would tease his best friend but make sure he was there to put a hand on his back in comfort.

But that would never stop him from doing it.

It was up to Keith to notice these things for himself. Lance could lay the tiles out for him but only Keith could tesselate them. It was up to him to build the image of Lance that the blue paladin had designed for him with every action, every kind gesture, every soft word and capricious statement and defensively thrown finger gun.

And finally, Keith could see only Lance.

“We’d better get back to the castle, stat,” Lance said, oblivious to Keith’s world shaking revelation. “I’m really not looking forward to turning inside out or whatever Pidge said would happen with this worm thing.”

The wormaque beneath them lurched violently. Hunk tipped flat on his back a second before Lance sprawled out on top of him with a loud squawk. Keith grasped the jaw of the red lion to prevent himself from tipping over, his feet stumbling to catch up with the sway of his body.

“Guys!” Keith hollered. “Get back to the lion! Now! Come on!”

Hunk sat up, lifting Lance by the scruff of his neck as he dragged them both to their feet. They tripped and shuffled their way back to the widening mouth of the red lion, and Keith ushered them inside with a firm hand grabbing Lance’s bicep. A low rumbling started from within the wormaque, its entire body shuddering in tandem with the light crossing it’s exterior.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice cut through the comms, snapping Keith’s spine straighter. “Get out of there, NOW!”

“Roger!” Keith barked. “We’re on our way.”

He yanked on the controls, pulling the red lion skyward. They whizzed away from the huge alien creature to a safe distance. Keith whirled the lion around to watch as the wormaque shifted and split and shuddered, readying itself to jump.

Wormaque wormholes were not like Altean wormholes. In fact, they were the farthest thing Keith had seen from them.

When Allura opened a wormhole, it was contained within a gate, a neat border that felt like a visual marker of their destination. It was prime Altean technology, and it made the entire process seem simple and effortless.

When the wormaque opened a wormhole, it looked almost the complete polar opposite. Rather than drawing a circle a slipping through, a rift opened in front of the beast’s head, ragged and gaping, spilling bursts of light that shone and died as the fell from it. It was as if the wormaque had very literally ripped a hole through time and space.

“Holy cow,” Lance breathed right next to Keith’s ear.

Both he and Hunk were leaning forward over the back of the pilot’s seat, eyes as round as saucers.

“I know, right?” Hunk agreed, equally awed. “That thing’s got its own set of wheels, that’s for sure.”

Keith spared another moment to watch as the wormaque moved sluggishly into the rift, the breach swallowing its body in a burning glow that made his eyeballs ache, before it vanished in a sliver of silvery light that seemed utterly unceremonious, given the seismic event.

“Let’s go,” he said flatly, turning his lion back in the direction of the castle.

***

The short walk back to the bridge was a quiet trip.

The three paladins seemed justly dazzled by the wormaque’s disappearance. So much so that by the time Keith zoned back in, he’d missed half of what Pidge had been chattering about.

“-crazy readings come off that thing! I mean, we could learn so much from this data! We could even improve the wormhole technology that we already have on the ship.”

“Yes, Number Five! I must agree that the Nomadthian Cornelia Wormaque is certainly an impressive specimen. Who knows what we could do with this information!”

Shiro shot them a pleased smile. It lingered a breath longer on Lance than the rest of them.

“Good work out there. We should be able to use this to stabilise the machine back on Ecnes. Hopefully we can get you back home within the week, Lance.”

There was a strong key of determination in his voice, one that rang through in the resolute arrangement of his features.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Lance agreed.

He punctuated this agreement with an exhausted huff, throwing himself down into his chair where he proceeded to slip so far down into it that his chin touched his chest.

Keith felt parallel shades of gladness and melancholy at the thought of them getting the machine on Ecnes back up to scratch.

When Lance went back to his own timeline, he would lose the easy familiarity with which they treated each other. It was a selfish though, and one that Keith would stamp on with the heel of his boot, but he didn’t want Lance, this Lance, to leave.

Hunk lifted his two pouches of Namthsurite, giving them victorious little shakes like they were goody bags filled with treasure, which Keith supposed they were, really.

“Good thing we got a lot of this stuff. You know, in case we ever wanna take a vacation to the future or something.”

“Yeah, maybe get a tan. Or a bad case of time burn,” Pidge snickered. “Want me to stock up on aloe vera gel?”

“What’s aloe vera?” Allura queried. “It sounds fascinating.”

“Oooooh, Allura, let me tell you about the many many benefits of aloe vera,” Lance crooned, handing his own pouches of Namthsurite to Coran.

He stood up briskly.

And promptly vomited.

It was a shade of red that Keith didn’t want to think about.

Lance groaned, eyelids sliding shut as he made half an attempt to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

Keith was by his side in an instant, ready for when Lance took two uneven steps and keeled sideways, legs crumpling underneath him.

“Lance!”

Lance was gaping, his mouthing forming a sound rather than a word.

“O- Ow-”

The rest was cut off with a ragged inhale as Lance’s chest twitched savagely.

And then he rocked violently, his entire body bending at a nauseating angle before he opening his mouth wide.

And screamed.

The sight of Lance tripping had been gasoline, the sound of him was a flare, and now Keith grasped at his team mate as the older boy’s screams ignited every nerve in his body with a rapacious, virulent fire.

Keith grabbed at Lance, snatching his wrists in a feeble attempt to hold him still. Lance just screamed and screamed and screamed. It felt endless, every fresh shriek bringing with it a brutal spasm. Or perhaps it was the other way around, each new convulsion squeezing a broken cry from Lance’s throat.

Keith just clung to him. Faintly, he could hear himself yelling Lance’s name, but the sound felt far away. The image of the seizing boy beneath him had captured every single one of his sense, and Keith had none to spare for himself. He was vaguely aware of Shiro across from him, knelt on Lance’s other side. And there was Hunk, framing his hands gently but strongly around Lance’s face, his features pulled into a grotesque stretching terror. He was murmuring something, his voice soft and gentle and soothing. This contrast only served to heighten the agony with which Lance screamed. Keith was clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

Lance opened his mouth, brokenly inhaling a sharp breath. His back arched in a curve so acute that it looked like his spine would snap, and his eyes were staring at something on a different material plane.

And then he flopped, his entire body going completely boneless underneath the team’s comforting hands.

Keith felt sick.

Lance’s face was ashen in colour, the warmth of the brown in his skin faded and wiped away like a cheap marker. There was sweat dripping from his temples, running splintered rivulets down his face. His mouth still held the shape of his last word Even his scar was pale, the dark russet line blanching into something closer to copper.

“We have to get him into a pod!” Allura’s voice flared from above them.

Before any of them could so much as move, she had scooped Lance up in her arms and begun marching towards the pod bay. Keith leapt to follow after her, skipping to keep up with her brisk pace.

Lance looked impossibly small in Allura’s arms, curled tight against her chest, eyes fallen shut and mouth gone slack with unconsciousness. The way his arm swang lifelessly by his side with every step, every bounce, made a hot metallic taste bead on the back of Keith’s tongue. He did his best to swallow against it. He ached to reach out and grab Lance’s limp hand, to hold it tight as if he could breathe new health into him through the power of touch. He swallowed against this, too.

As soon as they entered the pod bay, Allura wasted no time in pushing Lance gently into one of the healing pods. She handled him delicately, like he was fine china, making sure to cradle the back of him head to prevent it from bumping too hard against the back of the device. Coran smacked a button and the pod sealed up around Lance’s body, suspending him upright.

Keith could hardly bear to look at him.

There was something that felt so condemning about seeing Lance in this state. It was a harsh reality check of how fragile they all were, how quickly things could go downhill, even when it seemed like they were striding ahead.

This wasn’t war, Keith thought. This was simply a race against time. And it was a race they could win.

They had to win.

He looked around the rest of his team.

Each one of them was sporting their own version of worry, six variant shades of the same gut wrenching dread they all felt, like heavy cement was moving in their veins.

But it was Pidge’s reaction that struck Keith the most.

She had curled herself inwards, shoulders hunched inwards and hands trembling as she adjusted her glasses. She was staring at Lance with a agonizing mixture of fear and sadness. It was carved into every pore in her skin.

Keith didn’t know much of Pidge’s relationship with Lance from back when they were at the Garrison. What he did know was that Pidge had already lost a father and a brother, and the grizzly display Lance had just put on was a blunt reminder of what more she could lose. It was not something they could simply deny any more, Lance’s blood had spelt it out in a clear message across the floor of the bridge.

“How long will he be in there?” Keith asked.

His voice didn’t merely break the silence, so much as it scraped against it, the hoarseness in his throat audible even to his own ears. Coran tapped a few buttons on the control panel. The emitting beeps seemed to loud in the brittle silence of the space.

“About half a quintent, I’d say. He’ll be out by the morning,” he replied. Informative. Unsolved.

There was no collective sigh of relief from the team. The news didn’t sound good, however it was phrased. Lance would be spending the night in a pod, and they would be out here, waiting.

Waiting.

Keith felt the stinging itch in his body shudder into life, and he winced as it coursed through him, vengeful at being subdued.

“Alright, everyone,” Shiro finally spoke. There was no straightening up this time, just the minimum response of tired attention. “I suggest we all try and go about our business. Lance isn’t getting out anytime soon, so in the meantime we should try and devise a plan to get this machine up and running.”

Hunk was nodding immediately. He hadn’t spoken a word since Lance had been moved to the healing pod, and he didn’t say a word now, but Keith could see the strain behind his eyes, wired to blow at any second. Pidge nodded too, and the pair of them headed out the pod bay together. Keith watched them go, his eyes following how Hunk’s hand reached out to wrap consolingly around Pidge’s shoulders. It dwarfed her even more, and Keith felt a hot wave of protectiveness for his team that balled up in his throat.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice drew his attention back. “Why don’t you get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

Keith wanted to argue that it was barely the afternoon. But there was a weariness that plumbed his bones, knocking against the buzz of twitchy energy, and transforming into something that felt sick and tiring.

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded.

Shiro gave him an understanding smile, squeezing his shoulder a little before letting go.

Keith dragged his feet all the way back to his room.

He did not feel physically tired.

After all, the most he’d done on this mission was fly his lion down to the wormaque and back up to the castle again. It was what had come after that left him feeling drained, like a deflated balloon.

He’d never realised just how fatiguing caring for other people was.

Or rather, he did realise, but it was something that he’d forgotten, an old war wound that ached when it got too cold.

It had been that way when his father had died. Keith had mourned, and then he’d taken that grief and hardened it into something new and offensive, sharpening it into a weapon he used to protect himself from feeling that way ever again. He understood now that Lance had gotten around that weapon.

With every casual throwaway one liner or gentle brush of his fingers through Keith’s hair, he’d worked his way around all the sharp barbs Keith had lined his heart with, and now the red paladin had been completely disarmed.

He fell face first onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off his armour, and let sleep pull him under.

***

Rest was a short lived reprieve.

As it turned out, sleeping in armour was on of the fastest routes to waking the fuck back up, and it came with the unpleasant side effect of being stiff in places that you didn’t even know could be stiff, compliments of the house.

One of the second fastest ways to waking up was worrying about your teammate.

Keith had barely blinked his eyes open when he was thrown fully back into consciousness. It didn’t take him a second to roll to his feet again and push off the mattress. He left his room with single minded intent, striding down the long, high ceiling hallways towards the pod bay.

When the doors swished open, Keith saw that he was not the only one to be having trouble sleeping.

Hunk was sat on the floor fully dressed in his pyjamas. His duvet was wrapped around his broad form like a protective cocoon, and he cradled a pillow in his arms as he stared up at Lance with big sad eyes. Hunk’s head turned slowly towards Keith as the red paladin shuffled into the room.

He suddenly felt very self conscious, as though he’d interrupted a private meeting.

But Hunk just smiled at him, loose and quiet and sad as he reached out a hand and patted the spot of floor next to him. Keith obeyed silently, lowering himself down next to the yellow paladin mechanically. Hunk stretched out one large arm, opening his duvet cocoon wide, wide enough to capture Keith and wrap him in a warmth that felt soft and safe. Keith sighed and relaxed into it, letting Hunk pull him flush against his side.

Together, they looked up at Lance suspended in the healing pod.

He looked like a spectre, upright and ghostly pale. Keith didn’t look away this time.

They’d been sat less than ten dobashes when the doors hissed again, low and thin, and they turned to see Pidge waddling through them with an armful of duvet. Shiro followed behind her, still in his paladin armour as well, dutifully carrying the pillows that Pidge couldn’t manage. They slowed as they noticed Hunk and Keith already sat cross legged on the floor, eyes blinking wide with surprise.

Pidge just grinned sheepishly before parking herself on Hunk’s other side and squashing up to him as close as she could. Shiro smiled gently, his eyes tired and slipping closed, even as he tucked a pillow under his jaw to perch on his knees.

Allura was the last to join them. She didn’t seem surprised to find them all huddled together in front of Lance’s pod, but her eyebrows did raise slightly as they rolled over Keith tilted into Hunk’s shoulder.

She joined them silently, wrapping a periwinkle blue sheet around herself as she sat next to Shiro. He gave her a soft gentle smile, which she returned even softer and gentler.

What a muddled ragtag group of folks they were, thought Keith. A patchwork team of fighters built out of misshapen blocks that had somehow moulded to fit each other.

Defenders of the known universe.

Defenders of Lance’s healing pod.

It didn’t take long for Keith to fall asleep after that, surrounded by his team, by his familia.

Lance’s word seemed to be the only word for them.

***

When Keith finally came to, he remembered the lesson he’d learnt from the night before with full twinging clarity.

Sleeping in the paladin armour sucked.

It felt like there was a dent in his shoulder that shouldn’t exist, and a creaking in his limbs that left him feeling like a rusty engine.

The new lesson he learned in that second was that it was exceptionally easy to wake back up when the person you’d been using as a pillow inelegantly dropped your head on the floor. Keith was beaten back into life by his temple colliding with the hard material of the castle ship, a loud grunt escaping him as he flinched.

It was clear why he’d been woken in an instant: The trickling chime of the pod’s cover sounded through the breadth of the bay, pulling the whole team awake at varying speeds. Hunk had rolled to his feet, sleep tainting his movements and causing him to stumble. Keith, having been jerked awake by the blunt smack to his temple was arguably more alert, and he sat up starkly as the pod winked dissolving pixels at him. Shiro was not far behind, and he moved at a pace that had Keith questioning if he’d even slept at all, his limbs moving in small jerky motions as he clambered to his feet.

Pidge and Allura brought up the rear, both blinking awake with more willpower than their brains seemed happy to donate.

“Lance!” Hunk swept forward, catching his best friend in his arms as Lance tipped forward.

The tall boy let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding for months as he leaned limply into Hunk’s embrace.

His eyes remained closed as he mumbled one word.

“Keith?”

Keith’s heart contracted painfully.

“No, buddy, it’s me,” Hunk corrected soothingly, one large hand rubbing slow calming circles on Lance’s back.

The blue paladin gradually opened his eyes, the blue of his irises appearing first as whisker of teal, then a crescent moon of navy, before they were almost fully open and turning to look at Hunk’s ear.

“Oh,” he murmured, a soft note of surprise. “Hey, bro.”

Lance appeared to get his bearings enough to push himself to standing. Hunk’s hand lingered protectively at his back, a mild echo of how Lance had rested his on Hunk’s whilst they were on the wormaque. His eyes blinked shut and opened again, almost instantly coming to rest on Keith. The red paladin was moving before they reached him, stretching his hand out to touch Lance, just to touch him.

Keith had always been more physical than verbal, and he knew it would not be enough for Lance to simply tell him that he was okay. Keith had to feel it under his fingers, needed to affirm that there was still warmth coming from Lance’s skin and a pulse pounding through his veins. Lance sighed again when Keith’s gloved hand found a place on his bicep, his body loosening like a string, and he leaned a little closer into the touch.

Pidge was not as kind in her affection. As soon as she was close enough, she kicked Lance fully in the shin.

“OW! Hey hey hey! Injured party over here!” Lance cried, lifting his hand karate style in defense.

“Don’t scare us like that, you moron!” she chastised.

The was a quiver in her voice that softened the bite, and softened Lance’s offense further.

“You really had us worried there for a sec,” Shiro said, not unkindly.

Lance’s face fell, and Keith felt the overwhelming need to squeeze his bicep a little harder.

“Sorry,” he muttered, eyes cast down.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Allura spoke up.

She stood tall, the pale blue blanket wrapped around her looking for all the world like a royal garb, even though her hair was sticking up at an odd angle, strays threads of it tumbling around her face.

Lance looked up at the sound of her voice, but his eyes landed on Keith.

“Keith?” he asked again. It was a different question to before.

Keith sighed heavily, his hand stroking Lance’s bicep in what he hoped was a consoling gesture.

“We’re glad you’re okay, Lance.”

Lance’s responding smile was more than okay. It was beautiful.

Keith felt some of the tension leave his muscles, inch by wiry inch. He was so relieved that he very nearly missed the shimmering patch of light hovering behind his ear. Keith stepped back not one heartbeat before something white a shiny shot out of the miniature rift at light speed. His hand shot out and snatched it from the air with a heavy tug.

The team’s reaction was unanimous, everyone jolting back at the blur of action. Shiro blinked owlishly at the object swinging harmlessly from Keith’s grip. Lance’s jaw dropped, his hand bunching into a fist that held the front of Hunk’s shirt.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “That was so fucking hot. ”

Keith’s brain stumbled at the descriptor.

Appearance was not something he thought very hard about, so the idea of being “hot” was neither here nor there. But the word from Lance’s mouth made it sound like something reverent and unique, and all at once, something that Keith wanted to be, if it would produce a reaction like that.

“What’d we get?!” Pidge chirped, “What’d they send this time?”

Keith held the trinket up for them all to see.

It looked like a stone pendant, shiny and pale, cut through with electric lines of black that looked like veins. There was a faceted quality to it that looked dully reminiscent of the wormaque’s skin. There was a small note attached to the back of it.

“What the heck is that?” Lance asked, sounding greatly unimpressed. “We’re sending bad fashion through the time stream now?”

“For Lance,” Pidge read the note aloud.

She reached for it, and for a second, Keith drew his hand back. She levelled him with a flat stare, and Keith relinquished the object with hesitance. His eyes didn’t leave it as Pidge carried it back to the centre of the room.

“Oh heck no, they want me to wear the bad fashion?”

“This is the last thing we can send,” Pidge continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “It will help slow the Chronolomia.”

“On second thought, that necklace looks pretty nice,” Lance remedied.

He lifted his arms, fingers curling in small stunted grabbing motions. Pidge chucked the necklace at him, and Lance snagged it out of the air with practised ease. He lifted it level with his eyeline to inspect it closer.

“Cool,” he announced after a second, before slipping the length of it around his neck.

There was a moment of stillness.

Literal stillness.

Lance seemed to freeze for a second, cut and stoic as a marble statue. He looked like a lagging video, not even his chest moved with breath.

And the suddenly, he clicked back into life, all autonomous functions reanimating, as if they’d never stopped in the first place. Fresh colour flooded his cheeks, and Keith watched with sprouting relief as Lance took a deep cleansing breath, his whole body inflating with it.

“Oooooh, that feels so good,” he groaned.

Allura frowned, her bottom lip curling under her teeth. “Did the note say anything else?”

Pidge flipped the small scrap of paper back and forth a couple of times. “Nope. Just that.”

“Well, I’m happy,” Lance proclaimed.

He looked it, too, Keith could see. It was easy to miss small details when they compounded over time. In this case, Lance’s worry and sadness had been accumulating as slowly as a drip feed over the past few movements. It was only now that Keith saw him without that burden, he realised just how much the older boy had been carrying around with him. It did little to aid his own compounding dread and worry.

“Okay, team,” Shiro, lawfully back to business. “Let’s plot a course back to Ecnes.”

Chapter Text

Keith never thought he’d miss Lance’s chatter.

This was because he had never really been granted the opportunity to do so. Missing things was often retrospective, and Lance had been such a constant during his time in space that Keith could barely imagine a time when the halls hadn’t been filled with his voice.

It was only now that Keith had the chance to look back over the past few movements, he truly realised how much of a toll the time travel sickness had taken on the taller boy; a tax paid with his words.

Now, with the thick opalesque stone sat snugly at the hollow of his throat, Lance’s abundant nature was back to full capacity. It was like he’d been plugged into a battery; every smile seemed brighter, every laugh elevated the team with its lightness, and Keith got the chance to realise how much he’d missed all of it. How much he’d really missed having Lance’s chatter surrounding his ears.

Missing things wasn’t the only thing Keith could appreciate in retrospect. The entire team seemed to have breathed a collective sigh of relief at the resurgence of Lance’s health. It was as though the boy’s smile had melted the thin shell of dread that had settled over their shoulders, melted it like snow, leaving them buoyant and fresh.

Even Pidge was beginning to look somewhat well rested, which was saying a lot considering Keith was convinced she never actually slept, and instead managed to get reprieve by inducing a trance like state where her fingers would still type across the keyboard whilst her mind went into hibernation mode.

As with many things in Keith’s life, Lance’s recurrence of health was a double edged sword.

His hair was shinier, his gait was bouncier, colour sat high on his cheekbones and inked his skin in rich tones. So rich that even his jagged scar seemed to be paling into the background of his being. It was good to see the positive change in Lance’s whole body.

But “good” was a relative term, and for Keith, the word was fast becoming synonymous with “dangerous”.

Dangerous because when Lance smiled, Keith remembered how he’d smiled in that alcove when it had been just the two of them, quiet and private, and he felt a sickly swooping in his gut.

Because when Lance brushed an arm up against him or threw one carelessly around Keith’s shoulders, he felt the way Lance had cupped his face on that rooftop on the swap moon, fleeting and affectionate, and his blood struggled to the thinnest layer of his skin.

It made things remarkably difficult.

Keith considered himself to be a simple person, meaning that he was direct and straightforward with what he did and did not like, and what he did and did not believe.

But once again, Lance was challenging what he knew about himself. He was a needle that scratched at the spinning record of Keith’s mind and played it all in reverse.

He was more than forthcoming with physical affection and displays of camaraderie. This was something that Keith didn’t realise he’d been missing until, naturally, he’d looked at it in retrospect.

This was something that Keith didn’t realise was dangerous until he’d realised it was good.

Every arm thrown like a lifeline around his shoulders presented an opportunity for Keith to lean his weight into Lance’s warm and firm side. Every lopsided grin was an opportunity to grin back wider.

It felt like he was lowering himself into a pit knowing he’d never see the bottom.

Lance belonged to someone else, and Keith would vow to ignore the blooming attraction until he’d stamped it out like the weed it was.

And yet, still lower did Keith fall.

Which was why whenever he found a long stray limb tossed around him, he’d stiffen and resist the urge to collapse into the touch he hadn’t realised he’d been missing.

It was exhausting fighting your own body, and Keith had been exhausted for days.

It was no longer a question of if he’d given in, but when.

“When” turned out to be a quiet afternoon during which Keith had drained his quota of physical activity for the day.

Pidge had tucked herself away between her wires and code, safe behind a fortress of carefully categorized technology. Hunk had filled the halls with the vapor thin scent of cooking and spices. Shiro was taking some well earned down time.

And Keith was trying to beat his own mind into submission by beating his fists through a punching bag.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from across the room.

Keith reached out a hand to steady the punching bag as it swung back towards him with a vengeance. He turned his head to see Lance leaning against the wall, hands dug into the pockets of his jeans, an amused smirked curving delicately on his face.

“Has the punching bag done something to you? Has it wronged you somehow?”

Keith glanced at the deep dents across the meaty weight of the bag. No wonder it was trying so hard to hit him back with every swing.

“I was just.... Training,” he mumbled lamely.

Lance breathed out short and sharp through his nose before he pushed off the wall. His smirk stayed in place, but it loosened into something less sarcastic and a little more understanding.

For a flash, Keith missed the way the old Lance would have retorted, snapping back like an elastic band with a barrage of words.

But the Lance that came to stand in front of him seemed more intent on giving Keith what he needed rather than what Keith wanted, and what he needed in that moment was Lance holding out a hand with quiet patience.

“Come on,” he coaxed, gently, like he was approaching a skittish animal.

Keith eyed the offered hand. He knew how soft those fingers were, how easy it would be to slip them between his own.

How dangerous that felt for his heart.

“Keith,” Lance murmured. “Come sit with me.”

And as Keith had already known, giving in was only a matter of when. And so it was the moment when Lance’s smirk dropped into a look of such tenderness that Keith was far too exhausted to battle the way his body moved, how his hand folded into the older boy’s as he let himself be pulled towards the common room.

It was such a little thing, he thought, that pushed him over the edge. The straw that broke the boy’s heart.

“What are you doing?” he asked flatly as Lance maneuvered them into position on the sofa.

“I am going to read a book,” Lance announced.

“You can read?”

Lance flicked him in the forehead, ignoring Keith’s yelp of indignance. “Oh har har, Keith, very funny. Now you are going to sit right there, and get your chill on.”

Keith frowned. “But we don’t have face cream.”

“There are plenty of ways to get your chill on without face cream,” Lance explained haughtily. “Allow me to educate you.”

He motioned for Keith to move closer to him. It was an abrupt gesture, somewhat inpatient in the way he jabbed a finger so hard into the sofa by his leg that it dipped almost all the way to the hard structure supporting it.

Keith felt a warm lick of satisfaction as the action ticked a small box in his head. This was more like the Lance from the past. This was giving Keith a piece of what he wanted, as well as what he needed.

He obliged, scooting stiffly along the bench until his side was nearly pressed up to Lance’s.

“Lean back,” Lance ordered.

Keith looked at him skeptically until Lance rolled his eyes.

“Just do it.”

Again, Keith obliged.

He was rewarded with the sensation of soft spindly fingers that began charting new paths through his dark hair. Keith tensed at the sudden contact, but when Lance’s nails scraped carefully against his scalp, it was enough to convince Keith’s shoulders to drop from where they’d risen around his ears. He let out a deep sight, letting his body deflate until he was just a boneless form pressed into the sofa cushions.

He could feel Lance’s eyes on him, even as his own drifted shut. The weight of them was heavy on his cheek, and he shifted a little under it, as if he might dislodge it in the process.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Lance’s gaze hadn’t budged.

“You gonna tell me what’s bothering you?” Lance asked after a moment.

The question was a gentle probe, but the fingers that pressed into the knotted muscle of Keith’s neck were not. He could feel the way they moulded the crusted veneer of salt that had dried on his skin, a mild crushing of grit and oil. Lance rolled his fingers over the muscles again, and Keith’s breath left him in a rush and the tension began to uncoil.

He’d been fighting his body for so long, he’d forgotten how good it felt to lose.

“Nothing is wrong,” he replied in a whisper.

It was a truth that only spanned the moment, small enough that it might pass through the crack of scrutiny and make it out onto the other side of believable. Because nothing truly felt wrong when Keith kept his eyes closed long enough to let his mind fold into nothing but the sensation of touch; and how warm the fingertips against his scalp were, and how intensely good it felt to have blunt nails scrape a dull pattern over his skin.

Lance was quiet still, his digits moving through Keith’s hair the only thing breaking the silence that swelled inside the common room.

“Later, then,” he said eventually.

Keith hummed a half response. He was two steps from dozing, and his foot was already on the next stair. He wanted to descend into that blissful place where he could pretend that he was allowed to have this, that it was something that belonged to him, truly.

They sat for a long while, Keith dissolving into the sofa as Lance read.

He lost count of how many times Lance’s long fingers brushed his hairline. Occasionally he’d hear the turn of a page, and it was enough to keep him on the edge of consciousness. Keith savoured it, for it kept him from falling into the abyss of sleep. He didn’t want to miss a second of Lance’s touch as it combed gently through his hair.

“Hey.”
A familiar voice entered the room, pushing its way through the fat layer of stillness that had settled over them. Keith heard Lance look up by the cool rustle of his jacket.

“Is he asleep?” the voice, Hunk, Keith realised, asked again.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Lance replied, his voice barely more than a murmur.

There came a small patter of footsteps as Hunk trod tentatively down into the seating area. It sounded like raindrops, Keith’s sleep-fogged mind supplied. Lance probably liked it.

“You two seem to be getting close,” Hunk said in an offhand sort of way.

The shift in the atmosphere was so dramatic that it nearly peeled Keith’s eyelids back with surprise. He’d felt something similar, once, when he’d been caught outside his desert hut in the rainy season.

The sky had filled with clouds so quickly he thought he’d imagined them. It wasn’t until the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees and the first handful of raindrops painted Keith’s cheeks did he realise that he’d been caught in a flash storm.

That was how it felt now.

Lance’s hand went abruptly still in his hair. It was a tension Keith could feel that spread up the other boy’s long arm and throughout his body like a virus.

“I didn’t think-”

“No, you don’t think,” Hunk cut him off. “Not when it comes to this.”

There was something strange about his tone. It felt two degrees off-kilter, and Keith resisted the mounting urge to squirm into the new angle. Lance’s fingers lifted a fraction off Keith’s scalp, trembling as if they were reluctant to leave his skin.

“Do you think he knows?” Lance asked after a moment.

He sounded scared, more scared than Keith had heard from this mouth. A kind of fear that was a whole year wiser and more worn.

“I doubt he suspects anything,” Hunk scoffed. “You’re a tactile guy, Lance. And Keith’s more dense than a black hole.”

“No, he’s not.” Lance’s voice was quick to retort, his words hot and sharper than before. “He just never used to let himself hope, before.”

They lapsed again into silence, one that felt charged with possibility. If Keith let his mind drift enough, it was almost as if he could sift through each one, threading his hand through all the infinite outcomes of the strange conversation.

The sofa dipped as Hunk took a seat to Lance’s left. The pages of Lance’s book scratched out a coarse cry as they were pressed back together.

“What’s he like?” Hunk queried. “In the future? Is he very different?”

“He’s-” Lance cut himself off. His thumb skimmed the tender patch of flesh behind Keith’s ear. Keith concentrated on holding his body very, very still. “He’s everything.”

The word sang like a chorus in the back of his mind.

Everything.

Everything.

“Lance,” Hunk sounded weary, more ancient than Keith could ever picture him. “Are you okay?”

“I know that tone of voice,” Lance chuckled. “That’s your mum voice.”

“I’m just worried about you,” Hunk retorted, sounding every bit like how a mum should.

Lance sighed. There was a muffled ‘bump’ as he leaned his head back against the lip of the sofa. “I just really miss my boyfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s so... I’m so fucking in love with him, Hunk, you wouldn’t believe it.”

Keith felt the exact moment Lance’s touch became a firebrand. The soft probing against his scalp was suddenly searing and unbearable. He felt like the desert before the storm had hit, dry and gasping and ready to crack.

Hunk’s breathy laugh was a gust of wind, a temporary reprieve as it distracted Keith from the feeling of his heart snapping at the core.

“I’m sure I’ll believe it when I see it.”

***

Another thing that Keith missed as well was, unfortunately, the one thing that was without antidote: Forming Voltron.

Keith was not ungrateful for the relative lull they were experiencing with Galra activity: It takes a tainted sort of righteousness to wish for war, and Keith was not yet down that path.

But Keith did miss the thick sense of belonging and trust he experienced whenever the team’s minds melded to form the defender of the universe. It lined his heart with an indescribable shade of gold, one that made his soul glow with purpose. It felt strong, and it felt right.

It was wholly inimitable, but for whatever reason, Lance was trying his damn hardest to replicate it.

It all started with more team training.

Shiro had been keen for Lance to help them unlock more forms for their bayards, and Lance was keen to help. Between them, the shared enthusiasm was a warm facet of what Voltron felt like.

“To the left, Keith!” Lance groaned at him from across the room.

Keith turned his head at the sound of his voice, and earned a club to the temple for his lack of focus.

“Oof!”

Keith could hear Hunk wince.

He rolled himself to his feet, rubbing the angry red welt that was sprouting beneath his skin.

“You always go for the right,” Lance sighed as he pushed off the wall.

His arms were folded over his chest, the fingers of one hand buried in the soft bend of his elbow.

Keith wondered what it would feel like if it were his fingers there instead, pressing against the pliant flesh.

He rubbed his temple harder.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, refusing to meet Lance’s. They were dangerous territory after all, and Keith didn’t trust himself enough to let words fall out of his mouth lest they hit a landmine. “I’ll work on it.”

“You’re damn right you will,” Lance grumbled back.

Keith stared at the safest spot on the floor until Lance boots entered it and made it unsafe. Keith forced his eyes away from them and found himself in a no less perilous situation.

Lance was squinting at him, scrutinising his expression for something Keith didn’t know. A beat passed before Lance’s narrowed eyes relaxed back into warm blue skies.

“Hey,” he murmured, gentler this time. He reached out with one hand and placed it hesitantly on Keith’s shoulder. That, too, was gentle. “Is everything alright with you?”

Keith sighed. In his periphery, he saw Lance’s hand lower with his shoulder, present with his breath. “Everything’s fine.”

“Keith,” Lance murmured again. “Look at me.”

Keith grit his teeth, once, defiantly, and then let his jaw go slack as he lifted his gaze to meet Lance’s.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” Lance promised.

The words were soft and reassuring, and Keith wanted to lean into them the same way he wanted to lean into Lance’s touch. The same way he wouldn’t let himself.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he insisted.

Lance nodded sagely. “Later, then.”

For a moment, Keith wished for the old Lance. It was a horribly fickle flash of feeling, one that left swiftly and left regret and shame in its wake.

Lance was right here.

But Keith felt again how unused to this quiet patience he was, how alien it felt to lash out only to have his barbs sink into calm understanding. He wanted something harder that he could buff up against, he wanted a verbal whiplash to parry his blows. That was a coat he knew how to wear, easy and worn as old leather. But Lance’s change in attitude was stripping him of the comfort of bickering, leaving him exposed and unsure. It was hard not to resent something that made him feel so small and vulnerable. Keith wondered what sort of person it made him to resent kindness. He wondered if it was selfish or just masochistic.

Lance flicked him in the forehead.

“I can hear you beating yourself up over something,” Lance chastised.

His expression was smooth and stern like a rock, so Keith wasn’t expecting it when Lance jabbed him in the ribs with squirming fingers.

Keith yelped at a pitch he would forever deny. Lance graced him with one arch of an eyebrow before taking off across the training room. Keith was after him in an instant.

It wasn’t that he particularly objected to being tickled. But since Lance had so often insisted on a lingering rivalry between them, Keith felt it was his duty to uphold his end of the charade on principle. Which is why he leapt after the older boy, fingers outstretched and lengthening towards revenge.

“Alright, you two,” Shiro’s weary voice interrupted not a moment before Keith’s hand found the crook of Lance’s neck.

The taller boy let out a strangled shout, slapping Keith’s hand away with more force than it seemed he intended, judging by the startled look on his face.

“Okay!” Shiro piped up again, sounding more forceful. “Enough.”

Lance turned his attention onto their leader. Keith’s got stuck on the soft bend of Lance’s elbow.

“Since we’re unable to form Voltron, we’re going to be working on personal performances. It’s important that we target our own weaknesses so that we can combat and overcome them.”

Keith felt the commanding tone of Shiro’s voice forcibly dragging his attention from the bend in Lance’s arm. Largely because Keith’s response to the black paladin’s authority was practically Pavlovian at this point, and the attraction of Lance’s autonomy was relatively new.

Though it seemed to be mouth-watering all the same.

Keith swallowed back his thoughts and let his mind latch onto Shiro’s words like a magnet.

“Pidge, since you managed to unlock another bayard form, I’d like you to work with Hunk.”

Keith winced as he realised what words were coming next. He knew Shiro was pairing them the way he thought would bring the best results, and that it was a kindness in a sense. Keith tried not to resent it.

“Lance, I’d like you to work with Keith.”
“Roger that, capitan ,” Lance chirped in response.

Though usually infectious, Keith felt like he was quickly becoming inoculated to the bright smiles and bouncy demeanour. That was okay, though. The more numb he became to it, the less good it would feel, and the safer he’d be.

Lance surprised him by curving his hold around the bend of Keith’s elbow.

Keith looked down at the fingers cradling his arm. He looked up the length of them to Lance’s elbow and felt abruptly very stupid. He was behaving like a child with a playground crush.

“Okay, Ssamurai,” Lance let go of Keith’s arm, turning a half circle to fix him with a deadly smirk. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Keith blinked at him dumbly for a few ticks until Lance took pity on him and waved the blue bayard in his face.

“Oh, uh-”

Keith summoned his bayard from his suit. It sparked into his hand, the weight forming between his fingers in a flash.

“So how do I…”

Keith looked between Lance and his bayard a few times. He shook it gently in his grip, testing the weight of it, as though it would magically unlock if he balanced it just so around his knuckles.

“Well it’s not gonna change if you’re just waving it about the place,” Lance quipped, his tone bored.

Keith scowled at him reflexively. “I’m not just waving it about .”

“Yeah you are, loser.”

“You’re a loser!”

“Guys!” Shiro’s voice seemed to cut between them physically. Only because the second he’d heard it, Lance took a step back, allowing Keith to realise just how close they’d gotten.

Lance had barely been a face inches from his face.

“Keith started it!” Lance cried immediately.

The accusation should have been an explosive ignition, a spark to the dynamite that was their supposed rivalry. But the smile Lance was fighting back thoroughly doused the jibe before it could fully ignite, and Keith pressed his tongue into the roof of his mouth to stop himself from sticking it out like an infant.

“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it,” Shiro called back. “Get back to work.”

The older man took a moment to fix Keith with a pointed look. Keith just shrugged in return. He could return intensity as and when it suited him, but he’d known Shiro so long that the two of them seldom succeeded at intimidating the other with such looks.

“Alright, buddy. Let’s do this,” Lance tried again.

“What are we doing?” Keith queried.

“I dunno. Spar, I guess? Usually it helps to visualise what you need.”

Keith looked down at the bayard sitting innocuously in his hand. The red of the hilt shone a strange shade of lilac when he turned it in the teal lights of the castle. It reminded him of the light from stars hitting Lance’s face.

He tried to imagine what he needed, which was a feat much more easily said than done.

Keith was used to barrelling into things and muscling his way through. He knew it wasn’t always the smartest choice, but it had been fairly effective so far, and he wasn’t inclined to change a tactic that was working so efficiently. Therefore, it was more difficult for him to visualise a situation in which he’d need more than his sword.

A soft hum from beside him captured Keith’s attention, and he turned to see Lance coaxing his bayard into the form of a long barreled rifle.

“We’re going to do ranged attacks,” the tall boy announced.

“But I have a sword,” Keith protested immediately.

“Exactly. So this way you’ll need to change your bayard to something more suitable. Sorry, bud.”

Lance didn’t look particularly apologetic, but then Keith supposed he was probably right. He knew it, too, judging by the way he smirked at Keith before turning on his heel and marching across the room.

Keith had spent the majority of his life objecting to things he was told. At first he did it loudly, with fists and shouts, until he’d earned enough attention to return the violence he’d so carelessly thrown out into the world. After this he’d learnt to object differently. There was defiance in his silence, disobedience in every moment he pushed the throttle beyond what he was allowed.

Now, as Lance strode away from him, Keith grumbled an objection to himself. He was good at hand to hand combat, and Lance was good at longe range. His unwillingness to learn the latter was not arrogance as others may think. It was, in fact, an ode to how much he trusted his teammate: If Lance was as good as Keith believed, he would always have someone watching his back with pinpoint aim and a steady trigger finger.

Still, training in weaker areas could never do more harm than good, and so it was with only a small (and silent) sense of protest that Keith took his position on the other side of the training room.

Lance waved his free hand at a grid on the wall, watching mildly as the training room whirred into life, slotting itself into the simulation that was being demanded of it.

A variety of cover points sprouted from the floor in a bloom of glittering pixels, jostling around each other to take position. Once they’d settled into a solid pale form, Lance kicked a foot against the smooth surface, checking for fortitude.

“Ready, hotshot?” Lance flashed Keith a grin whiter than the blockades he stood beside.

“Are yo-” Keith countered.

Or rather, began to.

Lance’s smile became Cheshire, giving Keith about a split second of warning before he fired off two rounds.

Keith’s jaw clamped shut over the embarrassing yelp he was about to make as he dove sideways, rolling to safety behind one of the newly formed barriers.

“You’ve gotta be quicker than that, Kogane!” Lance whooped from across the room.

Keith grit his teeth. His gaze travelled down to lump of his bayard in his hand, and he willed it to form into something useful. The instrument glowed bright hot for a moment before settling into its typical blade form. Keith scowled at it. It glinted back at him, mockingly.

Another shot grazed the side of the pillar, an inch away from Keith’s head. He ducked away from it, curling himself even tighter into the small zone of safety from Lance’s fire.

“Come on, Keith!” Lanced goaded. “What happened to all that fire?”

“I’ll show you fire,” Keith growled.

Once again, he focused his attention on the sword in his hand. He might as well have been trying to force a brick wall to change with the strength of his mind.

Another shot fired, this time hitting close enough to Keith’s shoulder that a chunk of shrapnel broke of and flicked Keith in the side of the head. It served as a solid reminder that he was technically in battle, and as an adversary, Lance was making use of the space.

Keith peered out from behind the shelter of his pillar to catch a passing glance as Lance rolled into view, rifle braced strong against his pauldron, barrel raised as he aimed it at Keith.

The red paladin shot sideways, very narrowly missing a shot that buried itself where he’d been crouched merely a tick before.

“It’s no fun if you’re just gonna sit there!” Lance complained.

His voice travelled with him as he rounded the pillar, lining himself up for another shot. Keith barely got his shield up in time.

“It’s not meant to be fun, Lance!” he yelled back, voice fighting to breach the sound of lasers pinging off his shield.

“Boo! No one likes a party pooper, Keith!”

Lance’s voice rounded the shield, and Keith looked up to see the tall boy vaulting one of the blockades, catapulting his body on top of it to get a cleaner shot. Keith swore softly. Lance was already deadly with a rifle, but add to that a decent vantage point and he was basically shooting fish in a barrel.

Keith grit his teeth together harder and did what he was best at: He dropped his shield the very second Lance relented his rapidfire assault, took a running leap forward, and lunged towards the pillar.

There was something to be said about efficiency with tactics. For Keith, he knew that the best defence was a good offence, and it was a tactic that had worked pretty consistently for him so far.

Lance seemed to be of a different mind. His defence was evasion and distraction. Keith knew this worked consistently for the older boy, too.

So why he was surprised when the flat of his sword passed straight through Lance’s cuisse and slapped the top of the block was a question of sport.

The hologram flicked and coughed itself out of existence as Keith stepped up to it. It vanished altogether when a shot from Lance’s rifle passed through it, wiping it from view.

“I can’t believe you fell for that!” Lance hollered.

His voice was swollen with triumph, and it nudged at Keith’s back, prompting the red paladin to whirl around in time to see Lance taking aim.

Keith was horribly aware of the pedestal he’d willingly placed himself on. He threw himself off the block in time to miss the next round Lance fired by his shoulder.

“You can’t just keep running into stuff!” Lance continued.

His voice was bouncing around the room, slipping between the pillars like smoke. Keith couldn’t pin him down, and he was sure Lance knew this: If he didn’t know where Lance was, he couldn’t attack him with his sword.

“You have to adapt!”

“I’m trying!” Keith snapped.

He glared at the sword in his grip. It stayed defiantly silent.

“Your bayard won’t change by just wishing it hard enough, Keith!’ Lance’s voice told him derisively as it stole around another blockade.

Keith crept closer to it, tongue rolling over the blunt dents in his teeth.

“Then help me,” he countered.

Lance’s way of helping was by swinging out from behind a pillar and firing off a stream of rounds that kissed the edges of Keith’s armour as they flew past him. Keith froze, afraid that if he moved he’d be shifting himself into the path of an oncoming shot.

But then his eyes swivelled around to look at the scorch marks in the wall behind him. They cut out a perfect Keith shaped constellation; cutting thoroughly around his form but never through it.

He gritted his teeth again: Lance was toying with him.

Keith spun on the ball of his foot, darting across the space between them, shield sparking to life against his vambrace. Lance clearly hadn’t been expecting him to charge again, given by the way he squeaked and scampered back, putting a couple of yards distance between the two of them. Keith threw his sword.

Lance only just managed to smack it away with the side of his rifle. It did little to diminish the force with which it was thrown, but it did succeed in knocking Keith’s sword off course, giving Lance enough of a window to slip behind another pillar.

“What did you tell Pidge?” Keith demanded as he slid to sweep his sword off the floor. “When you got her to unlock her bayard? What did you say to her?”

He lunged towards the pillar Lance was badly shielded behind. He flashed his blue eyes up at Keith, full of glacial determination, before throwing himself away from the attack.

“I told her,” Lance gasped between rolls. “Your bayard takes the form of what you need. Not of what you want.”

A long exhale punctuated the sentence. It took Keith a moment to realise that it wasn’t from him.

“What does your heart need, Keith?”

It was not a question.

It didn’t feel like one, really. It was the sort of thing someone asked when they were really asking something else. Keith had heard them so often throughout his childhood that he’d developed a rather acute ear for hearing them.

Once, during a time before Keith had known better, he’d hit a coyote with a stick. It had wandered a little too close to Keith’s picture book, mistaking the bright colours trapped amongst the pages for food. It had barely plucked at a corner with its sharp teeth when Keith had clipped it square on the snout with a dry root.

His father had whisked him off the ground the moment the growling started, tucking him firmly into the safety of his waist.

“Best to leave them at it,” he’d told Keith once they were inside. He watched the coyote beyond the window pane as it sniffed at the book before it deemed them an unsatisfactory meal and stalked off into the desert.

“They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.”

“He wanted to eat my book,” Keith had argued.

“So what if he did?” his father argued back. “Best he takes a bite out of your book and not out of you. You wouldn’t want that now, would you?”

He hadn’t really been asking what Keith had wanted. He had been asking if Keith would prefer to lose his book or a couple of his fingers. Like Lance now was not really asking what Keith’s heart needed.

He was asking, contradictorily, what Keith’s heart wanted.

Keith felt the bayard change a second before it did, a familiar tingle like static electricity lacing its way between his fingertips. He watched with muted awe as the handle grew around his knuckles, the flat blade rounded out into something blockier and more sturdy.

He felt the press of a trigger against the pad of his finger.

Keith dropped his bayard as if it had scalded him.

His eyes locked onto Lance’s as the other boy dived out from behind a pillar. He lifted his rifle ready to fire, and Keith tensed for the inevitable heat that would sing past his cheek.

Nothing happened.

“Aw hey,” the surprise in Lance’s tone made Keith open his eyes. “I thought you had it? That thing lit up like the Fourth of July.”

Keith stared accusatory at the bayard lying at his feet. It had regressed back to its primary form, little more than an innocuous red handle that matched his armour.

To Keith, it looked like a bomb, ready to burst and spatter the darkest secrets of his heart all across the training room. He did not move to pick it up.

“Guess I lost it,” he grunted.

Lance was looking at him strangely. He could feel the weight of it slipping over his features, warm and slow like honey. Keith couldn’t look at him. The truth of his heart was overwhelming, yet invisible, and it threatened to reveal itself should he point his gaze directly at it.

“Do you wan-”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith cut Lance off.

This time, Lance didn’t proffer a chance to discuss things later. The air between them turned stale, as though wilting in the absence of Lance’s voice flooding the distance with colour and kindness. It left Keith starving.

“End simulation,” Lance commanded.

There was a sad sort of weariness that had soaked into his vibrant demeanour, desaturating his personality. Keith only managed to look up at him once Lance’s back was safely turned. There was a defeated slump in his shoulders, pulling them into a tired crescent that Keith wanted to wrap his arms around. He wondered if this was how Lance had always looked when he thought he was on his own, or if Keith was only now noticing it between every beatific smile and lively word. It was such an offensive contrast to what he’d come to know about the other boy that it pushed his feet forwards a few steps, trying to bridge the gap between them physically where he could not do it emotionally.

“You know, Keith,” Lance rounded on him, voice hushed. “We’re a team, here. All of us. If something’s bothering you, you can talk to us about it, okay?”

It was another masked question. Lance wasn’t asking for Keith to talk to the team. He was asking Keith to talk to him.

Keith didn’t say anything, not even when Lance turned around. The coolness lining the blue of his eyes thawed into something gentler, more peaceful.

“You might not get it right now,” he explained. “But you will.”

“Lance!” Shiro’s voice cut between them. “Keith! How’s it going over there?”

“All good, Shiro!” Lance called back. His eyes lingered on Keith for a few ticks longer before he turned to shine a grin at the black paladin. “Keith was really close to unlocking a new bayard form.”

“Really?” Shiro asked as he approached them.

He stepped into the space that Keith had so desperately wanted to cross moments before, as though it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah, but he must’ve been so impressed with my cool ninja sharp shooting skills that it didn’t quite take.”

Lance leaned down to pluck Keith’s bayard off the floor, holding it out to him like an olive branch. Keith took it from him gingerly, not wanting to trigger the bomb. He was careful not to let their fingers brush. When he removed the bayard from Lance’s grip unscathed, he glanced up to see the blue paladin looking at him with an expression he couldn’t parse. Keith’s gaze didn’t linger long.

“You’ll get it next time,” Shiro told him confidently. “Good work, Keith.”

Good work.

Keith looked down at the bayard glinting a vicious red in his hand.

Dangerous.

“Yeah,” he said glumly. “For sure.”

“Do you wanna try again?” Shiro asked him.

He framed the question delicately, seemingly misinterpreting Keith’s monosyllables as disappointment. Though Shiro rarely veiled his enquiries, something for which Keith was grateful, he did phrase them with precision. His inflection was oiled from years acting as the Garrison’s Golden Boy, so what he was really asking was if Keith felt like he could try again.

Keith turned the question over in his mind like a smooth stone.

He did want to try again, he thought. But the first try had been dangerous, exposing a facet of his heart he’d vowed to ignore. The second attempt would surely be lethal.

“No,” he answered simply. “I think I’m gonna hit the showers.”

Shiro nodded sagely. If he thought there was anything wrong with Keith’s souring demeanour, Shiro knew him well enough not to push.

“You worked hard,” he told Keith.

Keith just nodded mutely.

He didn’t so much as look at Lance before he stalked out of the training room.

**

Things had gone too far, Keith decided.

It had been bad enough when Lance was acting so patient and openly affectionate with him.

But his bayard nearly forming a familiar rifle had spooked Keith in a way he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.

Rejection wasn’t an alien feeling to him.

He’d learnt from a young age to guard his heart, lest someone pull it from his open hands and kick it into a dusty corner. There was a finite number of times Keith could dust it off and present it as new before it became too worn to stand another beating. Better that he hid it behind an iron cage of thorn and brittle.

But this time felt different.

This was not the five year old Keith that missed a mother he’d never met, nor the twelve year old Keith that longed for a family so hard he could feel himself cracking at the seams.

Romantic love was something Keith had only ever touched in passing. It felt like something gauze thin that he would surely break with his fists and his temper and his loneliness. He was scared that he’d grab onto it too tightly and it would tear within his hold, leaving him with nothing.

He’d felt a whisper of it, once, when he’d matured into adolescence, when he was at the Garrison. He remembered the day that Shiro rested a hand on his shoulder, and Keith had felt suddenly grounded as though he’d been a kite dancing in a hurricane before that moment. He’d looked up and seen with fresh eyes the square cut of Shiro’s jaw, the genuine kindness with which he smiled.

Keith had latched onto the only stable thing in his life the way a limpet latches onto a rock. He was still yet to be persuaded to let go. But the fervour and confusion that had swam through him at the cloudy emotions had eventually broken like sunshine through the rain, giving way to firm clarity. Keith could understand that what he felt then was deep admiration and unending gratitude.

But this time felt different.

Keith felt as raw as an exposed nerve. Lance was a livewire flailing loose and sending sparks scattering everywhere. Keith couldn’t help but shrink away from their light.

It was easier to isolate himself. That was something he trusted he was more capable of doing than maintaining his facade of platonic indifference towards Lance.

Isolation and Keith were old friends. He could slip back into it at the drop of a hat, and it would only sting a little these days.

When Lance walked into a room, Keith was swift to leave. When he threw a probing question Keith’s way, the red paladin let it fall flat with a shrug of his shoulders. Whenever Lance reached out his fingers to touch him, Keith recoiled as though they were poisonous darts, gunning for his nervous system. He avoided being alone with Lance at all costs, which unfortunately took form in him cutting his hours training. Keith no longer got up early to grind his body through the mill before breakfast, as Lance seemed so adept at beating him to the simulation chamber. It felt safer to wait until the castle was quiet and everyone had slunk off the bed for Keith to creep out of his quarters and load up a training program. He did not even approach the notion of trying to reform his bayard into something else again. It stayed a sword in his hand, sharp and trusty and unmistakably his.

To his credit, Lance didn’t seem to make a point about addressing Keith’s behaviour.

Perhaps it was the maturity he’d gained in the year between them that encouraged Lance to leave him alone when needed, or perhaps it was that he was simply unsure of why Keith was acting the way he was, but either way, Keith was grateful for the widening berth Lance gave him, even if it wasn’t comfortable. Keith felt the gap growing broader like a hungry mouth with every stilted word he offered as a response, every side step that put his body just out of Lance’s reach. It was swallowing up all the progress he’d felt they’d made, and Keith couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it. It would be better for both of them, he thought, if he could draw his line in the sand now, rather than looking back later and realising he’d stepped too far over it to go back.

If only Lance didn’t look so hurt.

It came in flashes, like a lightning storm. Brief fissures of misery that shot down his face every time he entered a space, only to have Keith manage a wry smile before getting to his feet and escaping down whichever hallway was nearest. Lance would shake them off as quickly as they’d come, the rain to wash away the scorched earth. His laugh would get louder, his gestures would get bigger, he’d throw and arm around the nearest person in a hold tight enough to verge on a headlock.

But it’s difficult to unsee what’s behind a mask.

So the volume with which Lance delivered a cheesy one liner, or the wideness of his smile didn’t matter. Keith could only remember the crackling misery that squatted in the blue of his eyes.

“So are you going to tell me what happened or am I going to have to guess?” Shiro asked him eventually.

They were perched atop one of the sofas in the common room. Shiro’s prosthetic arm was draped over the back, his organic one holding a tablet in front of his face. Keith was making a concerted effort not to joke about how closely he was peering at it. The old man’s quips left a sugar hit of humour, but Keith could see beyond that to the very real toll Shiro’s time in space had taken upon him.

“Huh?”

Shiro put down the tablet slowly, levelling Keith with a patient gaze.

“Usually when you’re upset about something, you either end up telling me, or I have to do some sleuthing and work it out.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Keith stated plainly, ducking out from under Shiro’s gaze.

He could feel it stuck to him like tar, though, dissecting his every movement.

“Sleuthing it is, then,” Shiro said mildly.

Keith fought the urge to scowl down at his sketchbook. The rough drag of the charcoal stick over the page echoed the way Shiro’s words churned through his mind. He felt as though the conversation were stepping him up to the edge of a cliff he’d rather not fall off.

“Did you fall out with Lance?”

Keith’s jaw worked in that way that Lance hated. The question was loose rock beneath his feet. But since it was Shiro, it was only one question and not two, and so there was only one way to answer.

“No,” Keith grunted. He was toeing at the loose pebbles under his toes.

“You’re avoiding him.”

The statement was vigilant, clean cut, everything Shiro had been tailored to be. It left Keith next to no wiggle room for turning the conversation, and he found he was trapped against the edge of the cliff. The only way out was to jump.

“Did you have an argument?” Shiro continued.

“No.”

“Because if you need me to talk to him-”

“Lance has done nothing wrong.”

Defensiveness plated Keith’s voice like cheap veneer. It sounded strained even to his own ears.

Shiro sighed, putting down his tablet with a muted thud.

“Keith,” he began. “I thought you two were finally getting along?”

“Did you know Lance has a ring?” Keith blurted, flinging himself sideways off the cliff.

Shiro’s jaw closed very quietly, his eyebrows arching high above his round eyes.

“It’s his abuela’s engagement ring,” Keith continued. He might as well do some fancy flips if he was going cliff jumping. “He said he’s going to give it to his- To his… Boyfriend.”

Shiro lifted his chin in a slow nod.

“I did know Lance, this Lance, has a boyfriend,” he admitted. When Keith gave him a perplexed look, he elaborated with a small shrug. “Hunk gossips.”

“Lance is getting engaged,” Keith breathed.

It was a truth that tasted strange as it passed Keith’s lips. True because Lance had admitted he was going to give the ring to the person he loved, but a truth that felt loose and weightless, as Keith had no time frame to pin it to. Lance could ask the big question moment he got back, or he could ask it ten years from now.

“Does that… Bother you?”

Shiro tested the question carefully, letting it take shape in the air of the common room before he poked at it.

“No,” Keith responded immediately.

He shifted self consciously when Shiro didn’t say anything. There was a possibility that the older man was currently sleuthing as he’d threatened, and Keith didn’t want to give too much away.

“You seem a little hung up on it,” Shiro offered eventually. “If you feel like you need to bring it up to me.”

“Shouldn’t we be worried about it affecting Voltron or something?”

Keith was grasping at straws, he knew. It was a horrible feeling that seemed to rot all the more because he knew Shiro knew, too.

His next question was as blunt as a doorknob and it hammered against Keith’s heart.

“Are you worried about it affecting Voltron or are you worried about it affecting you?”

Keith found himself in a strange and unfamiliar limbo.

He had never discussed romantic topics with Shiro, but that didn’t mean they’d never been acknowledged. Shiro was a smart man. Keith had no doubt he’d been aware of the infatuation Keith had held for him, once upon a time. He’d tempered the situation like a seasoned sailor weathered a storm, and they’d both emerged from the other side with their sails still intact. It was what had carried them into their current state of brothers in every way except blood.

Even so, Keith had never broached the subject of romance and Shiro had never asked so balance was achieved.

But Shiro was asking now, and Keith wasn’t sure he had an answer.

Sometimes, when people ask certain things, it fertilizes the mind for other questions to grow. At that moment, Keith could feel a string of queries falling in a line through his mind like dominoes, rattling as they collapsed against each other. There was no way for him to possibly answer all of them at once, so he tried to focus on Shiro’s catalytic question and answer that one as best he could.

“I don’t know,” was his first attempt. “I don’t know what to do,” became his second.

“About Lance getting engaged?” Shiro clarified.

Keith nodded glumly. He did not often speak when he felt this vulnerable, and he could not forget the way it sounded in his voice.

“Is this because of how you feel about him?”

This question wasn’t accusatory, but it still managed to provoke a habitual wall of defense in Keith that was reinforced with his shame. Keith wasn’t sure what look he sent his brother’s way, but it had the other man holding up one hand in surrender.

“It’s okay if you’re worried about Lance,” Shiro stated delicately.

“That’s not the problem,” Keith hissed back. “He’s getting engaged. And I- I can’t-”

“Oooooooooh!” Shiro’s drawn out cry of realisation gave the red paladin time to wince in four different ways. “So that’s why you’re avoiding him!”

“It’s just…. Better this way.”

“For whom?” Shiro challenged.

The look in his eye was steely and derisive. Keith had only been on the end of it a handful of times, and each time made him feel like that reckless and stubborn child he’d been back at the orphanage.

Shiro was right, though. It wasn’t really better to avoid Lance. Keith could feel it pulling against the dynamic of the entire team, stretching the edges of until they strained. It needled at the very base of Keith’s psyche as he wrestled between the paranoia that drove him towards checking on Lance constantly, for fear of him having another chronomlomia episode, and the genuine terror that has heart might very well hop out of his mouth at the way Lance smiled.

“Keith, listen.” Shiro’s voice was exactly the same as when Keith had gotten in a fight with James; a thread of exasperation hung loose from his lips. “I know you’re scared for Lance, we all are. I and I think, maybe, you’re a little bit scared for yourself, too.”

Keith opened his mouth to protest automatically, but Shiro’s flat stare had him closing it again. He’d protest in silence instead.

“It’s obvious that you two have grown closer in the future, and I think that scares you because you don’t want to do something now that could mess things up later.”

Keith sat mutely, allowing Shiro’s works to sink in. He felt so utterly exposed that even being with Shiro wasn’t making him feel any better.

“But right now,” Shiro continued gently. “I think that Lance really just needs a friend.”

Keith let the word drift through his mind like a beam of sunlight, clearing away the clouds of doubt and insecurity that had settled over him. It felt golden to touch, and it hummed on the edge of Keith’s heart like a small life pack, powering up his dwindling hope.

“A friend?” he asked, just to make sure.

Shiro’s smile was every shade of patient Keith had ever seen him wear. “Yes, I think he’d like that.”

Keith held his brother’s gaze. He’d never doubted Shiro’s judgement before, and he found he didn’t doubt it now.

“There’s nothing wrong with finding comfort in your teammates. We’re here to support each other,” Shiro reminded him.

Keith knew this, of course. But there was a difference between knowing something and actually being told, and the confirmation was pleasing in a variety of ways. It allowed the tension that had coiled in Keith’s muscles to loosen like rope, his worry flushing away with the easing of his body.

Friends , Keith thought. He could do that.

There had been a time when he couldn’t. It wasn’t so strange to remember now, since Keith had a talent for isolating himself, and he’d managed to flex that particular muscle thoroughly in the past few days. Friendship had seemed like something other children would lorde over him, a proverbial carrot dangling on a string. And since Keith was very good at pretending he was indifferent to the things that he wanted, he had managed to convince himself that he actually didn’t want them at all. It was only when he’d been jockeyed into fighting a millenia old space war with a ragtag group of cadets did he get to experience a taste of friendship. He knew instantly that it was sweet and addictive, and that there was only so much pretending he could do before people began to see through the cracks.

Keith stood abruptly, practically springing out of his seat into a rapid stride.

“Where are you going?” Shiro called behind him.

This was a question that had already been answered even before it left Shiro’s lips; Keith could hear mirth in every word.

He left the common room, each step spurred with a mounting sense of urgency. He nearly knocked Hunk over like a bowling pin when he rounded a corner with too much aggression.

“Woah!” the yellow paladin’s exclamation bent with his body as he twisted to catch the tray of cookies he’d been carrying. It came out of his mouth at a wavy pitch before his eyes caught Keith’s. “Keith! Hey! What are you… What’s going on, buddy?”

“Have you seen Lance?”

Keith felt like he’d spilled the words all over the floor judging by the way Hunk looked at him. They felt rushed and messy, and for a grim hovering moment, Keith thought that the broad boy might not actually reply. But then Hunk’s eyes shone a honeyed amber, and a smile tugged insistently at his lower lip. He leaned forward, stooping slightly, as though he were revealing some treasured secret.

“Last time I saw him, he was headed off down one of the east corridors,” Hunk shared.

Even his voice was hushed to a mock whisper. It made Keith feel a though he were involved in some great conspiracy. Secrets were hungry things, and they craved freedom like nothing else, unruly and restless until they were out in the open. Hunk looked mightily smug about the whole thing.

Keith didn’t have the brain power to dissect his expression. His lifted tension felt finite, and Keith didn’t want to waste a second of it whilst it lasted.

“Thanks,” he replied, albeit hurriedly.

Hunk said nothing more, though he did wink in a way that only fed the growing hunger of secrecy.

Keith left him with his tray of cookies as he all but leapt down the hall. He knew the east corridors, but they looked different in the day time. They seemed harder to remember when they weren’t cast in shadow, illuminated only by the passing of stars. Still, Keith could recognise the particular visual cues to direct him to where he was going.

He turned right at the small scuff on the skirting that he’d made when Lance had tripped him and Keith dropped his bayard, he turned left at the airlock Lance had got stuck in when the castle was infected. Every single turn he took was like a path made up of whispers of Lance, all leading him towards the blue paladin. It was like he could hear Lance’s laugh around every bend, visualise his brown hair disappearing around every corner.

Keith started running.

In a place as big as the castle of lions, you could go for hours without seeing another person. Keith was sure he could go days if Shiro weren’t such a kind person and insisted on checking on him. Therefore, it was through habit that the team would haunt only a handful of places in the whole castle.

Which is how Keith found Lance.

He was sitting exactly where Keith knew he would be, tucked into the small alcove with his head bowed to avoid grazing the ceiling. He wasn’t staring out of the window as Keith had expected. Instead, he was gazing tiredly over at the coordinates he’d carved into the wall the previous movement. The fingers of one hand were grazing over the peaks of his knuckles in a way the suggested he would be tracing them over the symbols if only they were close enough to reach.

He looked impossibly small, and the longer Keith looked at him, the more his age seemed to get smaller, too. For a moment, it was as if the extra year he held was no longer a part of him. It was simply a ragged cape he wore around his shoulders. Keith could see the weariness and secret sadness weigh powerfully on his features, but beyond that he could see the boy that had left his home to save the universe.

They were all so young, Keith felt then.

Too young to be fighting a war they couldn’t fully understand. Too young to waste time contemplating what might be when they should only be contemplating what was in that very second. Keith felt his youth in the way his heart beat a staccato tune inside his chest at the sight of Lance burrowed into the alcove. Their alcove. The one they sat in, together.

Lance turned his head, catching sight of Keith. His eyes went wide and bright for the space of a breath before it was dampened, his mouth pulling into a thin and muted smile. He looked like a wary animal, afraid and hopeful all at once.

Keith’s father had once told him there was only so many times you could kick a dog before it stopped coming back. Keith might as well have kicked Lance halfway back to Earth for all the distance he’d made sure to put between them. It felt like it may take forever to cross until he took the first step, and then it felt like it might take a while still until he took another, and another, until he was standing in front of Lance and it felt like it would take no time at al. It would take nothing for Keith to simply reach out and brush the backs of his fingers down the path of Lance’s scar.

Lance beat him to it, of course.

He regarded Keith for a couple of seconds, the fear and hope warring over his face until they were both placated by the emergence of acceptance. It smoothed out the frown lines in Lance’s face as he uncurled an arm from around his stomach, holding it out sideways to make a soft arc.

It was an invitation, and it was exactly the amount of room that Keith knew he’d fill.

Wordlessly, he sank into it, letting Lance pull him gently against his shoulder.

It felt like something Keith had pretended he didn’t want for a very long time.

As the warm weight of Lance’s embrace circled his back, Keith felt it melt the barricades he’d built around his heart. With each inch they fell, a thing he’d convinced himself he didn’t want came tumbling out as well, cascading into Keith’s mind as it unfurled itself from the doubt and fear it clinged to. Lance’s thumb painted a line across his shoulder blade, and Keith remember how much he’d wanted to feel someone’s touch on his skin. Lance balanced his cheek against Keith’s temple, and he remembered how he’d missed feeling wanted so much it ached. With each quiet confession, Keith felt himself smooth out into someone he’d always wanted to be, someone easier and calmer, more rose than thorn.

It felt good, dangerously so. And Keith couldn’t comprehend how anything that felt so nice could be dangerous when he had Lance’s arm wrapped around him like a forcefield, keeping him safe.

He couldn’t justify how he’d managed to convince himself this wasn’t something he’d been craving.

It was enough just to take comfort in it, Shiro had said.

And Keith had never doubted him.

**

“Hey, guys?”

The whisper at Keith’s ear felt far too close to be polite. Keith scowled at it with his eyes squeezed shut, turning away from it to escape into the safe warmth surrounding him.

“Lance!”

The whisper came out more panicked, and that made something twinge at the back of Keith’s mind like an old cable suddenly being hooked up to electricity. He burrowed his face into the warmth, partially to indulge whilst he still could and partially to scratch his sealed eyes against the fabric pressed into his cheek. The scratchiness poked Keith marginally more into alertness.

“Wha- Hunk?”

Lance’s voice was raspy a thin against Keith’s temple, as though he hadn’t quite filled it to capacity yet.

“Hey, sorry to wake you two… you guys? You… Paladins up.”

The movement of Lance’s shoulder as he moved to sit up jostled Keith quite abruptly back into consciousness, as his head rolled off the warmth of it so sharply that his teeth nearly hit hit own collarbone.

“Urgh,” he complained, blinking his eyes open against the blurry light filtering through the window.

They settled on a bulky figure leaning over them, hands tapping together in an agitated fashion.

“Hunk?”

The yellow paladin gave him an aborted wave, the movement stuttering before he tucked his hand safely into his pocket.

“Sorry to wake you,” he said again. “But everyone’s meeting on the bridge to discuss the next mission thing. We kind of all need to be there.”

With the loss of Lance’s broad shoulder supporting him, Keith had little excuse left to cling to sleep, and so he rolled himself partially to his feet. His joints cracked a series of complaints at him, but he rolled his muscles and they quietened into little more than a satisfying whine.

When he was done, he turned his attention on Hunk.

The yellow paladin was not looking at him. Instead, he was regarding Lance fiercely, his mouth curled in a way that looked as if he was fighting against words that wanted to pour out. Lance, in stark contrast, was looking anywhere but at his best friend. He hadn’t completely shrunk away, but he had folded in on himself, head ducked and demeanour thoroughly cowed. He looked like a compact version of himself, and it left Keith missing the rich and full image he knew.

“Lance-”

“We should get going,” Lance cut him off without so much as meeting Hunk’s eyes. “Wouldn’t want to keep the princess waiting.”

He pushed past the two of them without another word, but not before Keith felt long fingers form a bangle of heat around his wrist. It stayed there for less than a moment, less than half a breath, before it was gone, leaving Keith to wonder if he’d really even felt it at all. He glanced down at his wrist to see the colour returning to where it had been pressed out briefly in a loose ring.

He glanced at Hunk. The yellow paladin had deflated, resignation cresting his shoulders and hanging heavy on the hand he lifted to rub the back of his neck.

“C’mon, Keith,” he muttered before following after Lance.

Not once did he lift his gaze to meet Keith’s.

The rest of the team were already on the bridge when they arrived. Hunk and Keith stepped up to the dais to complete their typical semicircle.

“Oh good! You’re all here!” Coran exclaimed once they’d settled.

“Paladins,” Allura began in her airy voice. “We are very close to acquiring everything we need to build the time travel engine. The last item we require is, thankfully, the easiest.”

She swept her hand to release a shimmer of pixels across the holoscreen in front of them. The scene they were presented with was a camera feed of a modern marketplace. To Keith, it looked like a giant mall, though it was embellished with technology they hadn’t yet developed on Earth. Every inch of it was sleek and manicured, lined with purple lights whose illumination somehow looked inverted, like blacklight.

“The item we’re looking for is a capacitor,” Allura told them. “They’re fairly common, so we’ll be heading down to this swap moon to acquire one.”

“Woah, that’s a swap moon?” Hunk cried. “That place looks like a palace!”

Keith regarded the picture on screen with a tilt of his head. It did indeed look like a palace. The clean sweep of the architecture drew his eyes on a never ending spiral as each line seemed to move seamlessly onto the next.

“It is one of the finer swap moons in this solar system,” Allura acknowledged. “It is popular with art dealers and collectors.”

“Those are high market items,” Shiro stepped forward and the team automatically stood up straighter. “There’ll be higher security around this area.”

Allura sighed delicately, as though she had been expecting the enquiry, and the expectation  itself had fatigued her. Keith supposed it was so often that they had to check the security of their missions that brought the weariness out in her. It was burdensome to have to constantly remember your own mortality.

“Yes, you’re correct, Shiro. Unfortunately, there is a strong Galra presence here.”

She brushed her fingers through the air again and the camera feed dissolved into a new angle. Keith’s lip wrinkled as he squinted at the screen. There were a good number of Galra soldiers peppered through the precinct.

It was hard to spot them at first; their standard armour had been streamlined into thin fitting suits that were so well moulded to their surroundings, it was as if they’d been painted into the walls. Keith’s eyes latched onto one as he pressed a finger to his collar, his lips barely quivering as he spoke to a concealed comm.

“Since this is somewhat of an… opulent establishment, their uniforms have been designed sympathetically so as not to disturb the swap moon’s aesthetic,” Coran explained. “But make no mistake, paladins! They could still kill you at a moment’s notice! They all carry concealed firearms in their belts.”

Pidge made a displeased scoff somewhere in the back of her throat. “Great. Can’t wait to get murdered by the Galran bourgeoisie”.

“I don’t get it,” Lance spoke over her. “If this capacitor is just some common household item, why do we have to rob some fancy rich people to get it.”

“You won’t be robbing anyone ,” Allura told him sternly.

Lance’s mood paled into a strange shade of disappointment; Keith could still see the pigment of mischief glinting at him from beneath.

“Very good question, Lance my boy!” Coran praised. Lance immediately smiled, shooting back into glorious technicolour. “You see, the particular capacitor that we need for the time machine is made from a metal called Oshalt.”

“Oshalt,” Hunk hummed from across the room. “Sounds like an abbreviation of ‘ocean salt’.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, somewhat wistfully. “Oshalt.”

He turned the word over in his mouth, tasting the way it sounded. It didn’t seem to satisfy him the way he’d hoped, and Keith watched as he swallowed down the name of the metal and returned his attention to Coran.

“Whilst Oshalt isn’t rare , in terms of elements, mining for it is monopolised by only a handful of parties, making it more expensive than it’s actually worth.”

“So like when Earth used to use crude oil,” Pidge translated. “It was a natural resource and we had tons of it, but you could only get it in certain places which meant that whoever owned those places controlled the supply and flow of the oil industry.”

Coran nodded sagely. “I haven’t a clue what crude oil is, but the premise is the same.”

“This swap moon is the only one in this solar system that supplies it,” Allura said with another sigh.  

“This place got a name?” Lance chimed in. “Some big wig supermarket has gotta have a cool name.”

Allura’s mouth twisted slightly. “It’s called Orabelle.”

Lance’s head cocked to the side, just enough for his eyes to slide towards Keith’s as he murmured, “Pretty...”

“So how do we get in?” Hunk asked.

He was eyeing the soldiers on screen dubiously. Keith could understand, it was hard to look away once he’d seen them. It felt as though they’d melt into shadow the moment he peeled his eyes off them.

“You’ll be posing as buyers,” Allura switched into her mission control voice, short and clipped, militant to a tee. “There are a number of stalls where people mingle, as well as an auction room. You should be able to pick up the capacitor from any decent Oshalt craftsman.”

“But we can’t wear our paladin uniforms,” Shiro finally spoke from the other side of the dais. “We’ll have to wear formal attire if we want to blend in.”

“Oooh!” Lance shriek attracted every pair of eyes in the room. “Yes! Makeover time! I’m braiding Keith’s hair!”

There was a moment of stillness that followed. It was a brittle type of silence, ripe for breaking, and Keith felt the fragility of it in his hands as all the eyes present turned from Lance to him.

Speaking seemed like the quickest way to shatter the quiet that had fallen over them, but it also seemed the messiest, so Keith kept his mouth closed. That was, until his eyes met Lance’s and he watched in real time as the older boy seemed to crumble into himself. It was as though the resounding silence in the room was an open flame, and the longer it burned the more Lance withered and cracked with the intensity of it.

So Keith chuffed a short merciful sound.

“Sure,” he agreed. “But if you pull too hard, you’re losing a finger.”

Lance blazed back into life with a victorious fist pump.

“ YESSSSSS!”

“So that’s literally it?” Hunk’s questions put a fast dampener on the heat of Lance’s enthusiasm. “We just… Walk in and buy it?”

It sounded so simple that Keith couldn’t help but frown with displeasure. The simplest of plans were often the ones that had the most potential to go wrong. They seemed as harmless as playing with a stick of dynamite, but expose it to the smallest spark and you’d both go up in glorious flames.

“I know it seems underwhelming,” Allura replied. “But be thankful that this mission isn’t more difficult. Whilst it still holds a certain amount of risk with the increased security, we must remember that we are under a time sensitive matter.”

Keith followed her eyes as they drifted to Lance again, pulling everyone else’s with them. If Lance felt the weight of their gazes, he didn’t buckle under them. If anything, he raised his chin a little higher, folded his arms a little tighter over his chest.

He looked singularly regal, and Keith wondered if he was getting a glimpse at the person Lance was becoming or if he was finally seeing the person he’d always been, hidden beneath immature jibes and overzealous flirting.

“When do we leave?” Keith asked.

His eyes couldn’t leave Lance, and so his question was selfish, because it drew the other boy’s attention towards Keith long enough for their gazes to connect. Keith indulged in the link for no more than three ticks before tearing his eyes away to look at Allura.

“I’m uploading a blueprint of the establishment to your helmets now,” she told him, though her eyes passed between Keith and Lance twice as she spoke. “It’ll tell you where all the access points are, as well as the body of security. You should be able to leave within a varga.”

“You’ll need new clothes,” Coran chimed in. His smile was touching wickedness. “There’s some old Altean formal garb around the old chambers. If you go looking now, you should be able to get your hands on the finery before it becomes permanently infested with doxzels!”

“I don’t even wanna know what that is,” Hunk grumbled under his breath.

Keith glanced at Lance again. Whilst Coran’s smile had bordered on wicked, Lance’s was rolling in it, the corners drawn into twin peaks of mischief.

He fixed Keith with a firm stare, eyes shining dangerously as he opened his mouth to hiss, “Race ya!”

It was bait. It was dangerous.

It was good.

Keith streaked out of the bridge only a breath behind Lance. The taller boy was so close that Keith could reach out and swipe at the breadth of his back if he wanted. But instead, he let himself be lead by the game of chase, letting the thrill sing through his veins as Lance’s laugh bounced around the hallways. It bounced so high that it got caught in the high ceilings of the hallways, swallowed up by the sheer height of the castle. Keith wondered if it would stay there for the years to come. He hoped it would.

Lance was leading him to the higher levels of the castle. The hallways were lined with rooms he’d never visited, and had never intended to. But Lance’s curiosity spilled into his own, and Keith spare the passing doors a glance as he sped by them, imagining each one held a story of its own, the way Lance’s now held the story of them falling asleep together.

The blue paladin eventually slowed down one of the longer hallways. His spindly fingers drew a thread along the wall that Keith had no trouble following. They settled on the dusty touch pad outside on of the rooms and pressed gently, commanding the doors to open. They obliged with a shuddering sight, allowing the light from the hallway to flood the room with cool ambience.

“How come we don’t sleep up here?” Lance asked.

He was eyeing the wide plump bed enviously as they stepped across the threshold. Keith eyed it dubiously in contrast; the duvet was so fat it looked as though it might absorb them.

“Further away from the bridge,” he replied with a shrug.

He didn’t have to look in Lance’s direction to know the blue paladin was rolling his eyes. At this point, it was audible.

“Forgot you were Mister being-a-paladin-is-the-only-thing-I-do-for-fun.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t,” Lance agreed.

“And being a paladin isn’t meant to be fun, it’s about defending the universe.”

Lance coughed loudly to conceal what might have been an aborted gagging sound. He turned his back to Keith and strode over to the wardrobe, throwing the doors open with a victorious ‘AHA!’

He began coughing again, this time due to inhaling a large amount of the dust that spilled out of the closet. Keith patted him on the back in what he hoped was a consoling gesture. Amusement tickled his insides, and he chuckled despite himself. Lance just shot him a glare in response.

“It’ll take us ages to sort through all of that,” Keith stated as his eyes fell on the rows and rows of Altean formal wear that had been stuffed into the compact wardrobe space.

Lance waggled his eyebrows in a terrifying way. “O ye of little faith.”

Keith didn’t know how Lance had done it, but he’d grabbed a single armful of clothes and had managed to find them halfway decent outfits in less than twenty dobashes.

“How in the heck did you even find these?” Keith asks as he twists a length of fabric in his hand.

It’s dualtone, shifting delicately between hues as he turns it in the light. If he turns his wrist to the left, it almost matches the exact colour of Lance’s eyes.

“It’s no biggie,” Lance chirps as he spreads his own outfit across the bed. “I used to have to dress my niece and nephew all the time, and that had to be a speedy job once I caught ‘em. They were squirmy. ”

Keith snorted as he conjured the mental image of Lance wrangling an armful of toddlers. The projection fit him like a glove, and it made Keith smile privately to himself. He slipped off his red flight jacket, letting it drop to the floor as he grabbed the neckline of his shirt. That was before he noticed Lance not moving.

He wasn’t staring at Keith, though he was peeking across to him intermittently as he wrung his hands together. Occasionally he’d touch the pads of his fingers to his stomach in a gesture laced his nerves.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked. “Shouldn’t we be getting changed?”

Lance blinked at him like a rabbit in headlights. He snatched his hands behind his back as though they’d been doing something offensive that Keith hadn’t been meant to see.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, dude, of course. It’s just ummmm…” The sole of Lance’s shoe hissed as he scuffed it against the ground. “Can you maybe… Turn around?”

Keith scoffed lightly. “Why? Is there a problem?”

Lance shifted uncomfortably. His hands stayed behind his back. “I’d just appreciate some privacy.”

“It’s not like we haven’t changed in front of each other before.”

“Well technically, we haven’t,” Lance challenged.

There was a defensiveness in his voice that was mirrored by the way he angled his body away from Keith. The red paladin just shrugged and turned his back. A moment later, he heard Lance exhale slowly followed by the soft rustling of clothing.

“Okay,” Lance said after a moment. “You can turn around.”

Keith finished pulling the Altean jacket across his shoulders before turning back to Lance.

His eyes swept over the garb that wrapped around the blue paladin’s body, elegant and sleek. He wore dark slacks that bandaged his legs, cutting at the waist as a pale cream vest slid up his torso. A sleeveless robe clasped at his throat and hung down to his calves, belted in the middle to minimise its flowing escape. Lance’s long arms were held in long dark gloves that were so unwrinkled it looked as if he’d dipped his limbs in paint. Overlapping gold circlets criss crossed at his biceps and wrists.

It was as practical as is was beautiful, and Lance accessorised it with a lopsided smile. In the dim light of the room, his scar was nothing more than a pale outline against his skin. Keith couldn’t tell if it was because of the brightness of his skin or if the wounded flesh actually did look paler.

“You look good,” Keith said plainly. He really meant that Lance looked dangerously good.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Ssamurai,” Lance quipped.

Keith glanced down at his own formal attire. It didn’t quite bear as much skin as Lance’s, with a high collared sweeper resting over his shirt and trousers, but the garments were trimmed with detailed embellishments and delicate gold, giving it the air of extreme finery.

Keith twisted his torso to the left and then to the right, rolling his arms a couple of times.

“At least I can fight in it,” he assessed.

“Yeah yeah, we can wear them on the training deck after the mission is over,” Lanced sighed heavily.

He perched himself on the end of the fat bedspread, sinking a little into the thick duvet before toeing at the floor in front of him.

“Sit, sit,” he told Keith.

Keith lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I’m gonna braid your hair!”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Keith told him back.

He could practically hear Lance’s smile shatter. The other boy looked so wounded that Keith’s knees nearly buckled underneath him. Instead, he let out a resigned sigh before slipping cross legged into the space between Lance’s legs. Long warm fingers were on him in a instant, combing through his unruly hair with measured strokes. Keith let out a different sight all together as Lance wove the dark strands over and under one another in a lazy cycle.

“Why don’t I let you do this in future?” Keith asked suddenly.

The question surprised them both; Keith because it felt like an admittance that he may be enjoying it far too much, Lance because he’d been too absorbed in the task at hand that he seemingly hadn’t registered Keith’s question.

“I mean,” Keith cleared his throat. “It feels… Nice.”

Lance hummed above him. “I think it’s because I accidentally pulled some of it out once.”

“You what?” Keith automatically tried to move to a safe distance, but the warning tug Lance gave on his roots made him still. “You pulled my hair out?”

“Accidentally!” Lance hissed, affronted. “And it was your fault for being so squirmy, anyway. You get really fidgety sometimes when we’re in public.”

Keith frowned. He tried to turn his head to get a look at Lance’s expression, but the other boy held him in place with a handful of hair.

“Stay still! Unless you want me to pull out more.”

“Why would I get fidgety when we’re in public?” Keith queried.

“I dunno? Sometimes you’re fine and all ‘I don’t care who’s watching’ and other times you won’t even hold-”

Lance cut himself off abruptly. The swell of disappointment that ballooned in Keith’s chest made his shoulders slump. It felt as if someone had turned off the TV right before the reveal of whodunnit.

“Hold what?”

“Do you have a hair tie?” Lance asked him.

He leant forward to peek into Keith’s eyes. The red paladin had three hair ties on his wrist. He’d taken to wearing them on the frequent occasion that Lance may need something to fiddle with, but that wasn’t a fact he felt comfortable revealing, so he wordlessly slipped one over his knuckles and handed it to Lance. The other boy plucked it from his fingers before giving Keith’s hair another few gentle tugs and announcing, “There! All ready for the ball, Cinderella!”

Keith gave his head an experimental shake. His fringe still fell in his eyes, but the mass of choppy hair at the nape of his neck felt contained and tidy. It was strangely liberating to not have to worry about it getting caught in anything.

“Thanks, Lance,” he said softly, reaching up one hand to feel the braid.

His fingers traced the bumps and ridges of his hair as it folded over itself. Lance’s grin went from ear to ear.

“Oh trust me, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Then, seemingly without thinking, he took a gentle hold of Keith’s wrist and led him out of the room. “Come on, dude.”

The rest of the team was waiting for them on the bridge when they arrived. Whether he meant to or not, Lance let Keith’s hand fall from his grasp a fraction of a tick before the doors hissed open. Keith tried not to notice the cold circle laying around his wrist in its absence.

The other paladins were similarly dressed, their robes woven with glittering thread and crystals. Shiro was sporting a pair of cufflinks that seemed to emanating the faintest glowing energy that traced a sparkling trail through the air whenever he moved his hands.

“Hey,” he said as he saw Lance and Keith approach. “You guys look great!”

“You too,” Keith grinned. “Lance found us outfits.”

Shiro arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing. He didn’t need to; Keith could read the unspoken teasing in the way he placed his hands on his hips, every finger counting a separate quip.

“We’ll be heading down to the surface of Orabelle in the pods,” Allura informed them. “Taking the lions is too risky, even if we were to hide them away from the main structure. This is a Galra occupied swap moon, and we can’t risk a battle when time is of the essence.”

The paladins nodded in unanimous agreement. Keith didn’t like the thought of going into hostile territory so vulnerable, not with the potential for things to go so wrong, but the need to arm himself stemmed from the urge to protect his team, and it clashed with the need to protect Lance. They were twin feelings, both part and parcel of the same longing, and Keith couldn’t get them to align.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Lance drawled, cocking one hip.

His grin was a scimitar of wickedness, and it sparked something primal and mischievous behind Keith’s sternum.

“Let’s go get us that capacitor.”

**

It was meant to be a simple mission.

It was what Allura had told them. Get in, get the capacitor, get out.

But because it was such a simple mission, it had the greatest potential to go wrong.

And go wrong it did.

“Did you have to pick a fight with the literal Duke of Taxon VR-7?!” Lance hollered over his comm.

Keith took a moment to answer as he leapt over a table, using his momentum to pull it upside down with him and form a temporary shelter.

“That guy was a jerk! ” Keith shouted back.

“This was meant to be a simple mission, guys!” Pidge seethed down the comm.

Keith could see her a couple of yards away, crouched behind a pillar. She rolled to the side, shooting the harpoon of her bayard out in a flash of laser light. It wrapped around a the leg of the nearest guard, pulling him off balance and dragging him under the feet of another. The two of them collapsed in a heap of brawling limbs as they struggled sluggishly to get up.

“Get in, buy the most commonplace household alien item in the known universe, and get the fuck out .”

“You forgot we’re teammates with an actual firecracker,” Lance hissed at her. He pulled out his bayard, exhaled slowly, and fired a couple of shots over the top of his cover. Keith watched every single one hit, though the marks were pinpointed to places like the shoulders, knees, even a few hips. All non lethal. Lance wasn’t shooting to kill, he was shooting to stun, and Keith could grasp a moment to admire his restraint.

“They’ve got us backed up!” Hunk called over the comm. “We need an extraction!”

Keith couldn’t see him, but he could hear the metallic boom of Hunk’s blaster from the other side of the room.

“Hunk!” he shouted over the crackling and rumbling of the structure around them. “Do you have the capacitor?”

“Are you kidding?” Hunk screamed back. “I grabbed like twelve of them as soon as security started shooting at us!”

“Yeah, I picked up like five of them!” Pidge parroted. Her bayard was rapidly dissolving into her new pistol, shiny and deadly in her grasp.

Lance slid into Keith’s side from his vantage point. The grin on his face was impish.

“Lance?” Keith asked as softly as he could over the racket.

Lance shoved one hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a fat handful of capacitors. They winked at Keith in the light, slim dark metal streaked with a broken line of purple luminance. Keith stuck his hand into his own pocket and pulled out the solo capacitor he’d managed to swipe before he’d been harassed by the pompous Duke.

“Ha!” Lance squawked. “Mine’s bigger than yours.”

A burst of static had them both wincing as Shiro’s voice fought through the comm link.

“What exactly happened?” he demanded. “All you had to do was buy the capacitor!”

“Keith threw a table at a Duke!” Lance shouted back between rounds of fire.

“He called you a runt! ” Keith barked defensively.

“I’ve been called worse things by you!”

Keith bit down on his retort as a shot grazed a hot line past his cheekbone. His world moved sideways as Lance grabbed his shoulder and dragged him bodily behind the table before crouching over his lap, head poking out from just above their cover.

“Move!” Keith ordered.

Lance slapped him lightly on the cheek in response. “Just shut up for a sec!”

Keith blinked at the slap. He couldn’t manoeuvre himself out of the cage Lance had built with his body for fear of jostling the blue paladin’s shot. His sharp features were pulled taught with concentration, and his finger twitched in its seat on the trigger. However, it did not move, it simply rested a soft pressure on the point of fire, curling and uncurling like a sail.

“What are you waiting for?!” Keith yelped. “Shoot!”

Lance obliged, his face pulling into a gruesome smile before he squeezed the trigger.

The sound of an explosion rang through the auditorium, loud enough that Keith could feel it in his teeth. Lance ducked behind the flimsy metal table, curling his body around Keith’s like a shield, one arm hooking around Keith’s neck so her could cradle the red paladin’s head against his chest. Keith reached out with the instinct of holding on to the most stable thing he could find amidst the shaking of the building collapsing around them. His arms wound around Lance’s back, holding him tight as a viper whilst the explosions shattered windows.

“What. Did. You. DO?” he growled into Lance’s ear.

“Hit a box of hand grenades,” Lance rasped against his neck. “Lucky shot.”

Lance didn’t make lucky shots, Keith knew. There was rarely a target he failed to hit.

“Coran!” Shiro called, his voice sounding thin and distant under the roaring of the inferno Lance had set off. “Get the castle ship ready! We’re making our way to the pods!”

Long fingers circled Keith’s wrist.

“Come on, Keith!” Lance cried, and he pulled them both to their feet as the flames began to die.

Keith fell into step beside Lance as the sprinted towards the docking bay. They could see Pidge and Hunk ahead of them. Shiro was panting hard pulling up the rear. The doors at the end of the hallway opened and a team of Galran sentries poured out like angular metal rats, clicking and whirring with singularly programmed purpose.

Keith drew his bayard, the length of it flattening into a familiar weight, and he flung his sword towards them. It hit the first sentry in the chest, felling it in its tracks with a burst of purple electricity.

Pidge and Hunk flanked the group, not even pausing before they launched themselves at the bots, bayards drawn with a flash of light. Shiro grunted behind them, the noise folded in with the groaning sound of metal warping. Lance drew his rifle up to his shoulder, firing a rapid sequence of shots to take down the sentries advancing on his teammates. One of them made a swing for his legs.

Keith cut of its head without even blinking. It hit the ground with a blunt finality, and Lance whirled around to kick it into the head of another enemy. It hit the sentry in the side of the head, tilting its body right into the path of Lance’s subsequent shot.

“Nice job,” Keith grunted as he parried a blow from another robot.

The grin Lance flashed was that of a shark who’d tasted blood in the water.

“We have to get through those doors!” Pidge hollered as the cut the arm off her current opponent.

“Copy that!” Shiro barked back.

He sliced his sentry in half, kicking away its torso before spinning on his heel and making a bolt for the doors. Pidge and Hunk did the same, dodging and rolling away from their enemies in two blurs of movement.

“I’m jamming the doors!” Pidge shouted. Her arm sparkled in a shower of pixels as the system schematics for the locking mechanisms sprang to life. “Guys, get clear!”

Lance dropped his rifle to his hip as he yelled, ”Keith! Let’s go!”

Keith leapt around the staggering remains of the drone he’d been battling, surging past Lance in a mad break for the door. He felt Lance by his side, fluid as water, stepping in time with him.

The river that was the blue paladin stuttered as if he’d hit a rock. A cry of surprise jumped from his lips, and Keith turned to see Lance flying sideways into the wall. A particularly voracious sentry crouched with its arm extended from how it had flung him across the hallway.

“Guys!” Pidge screamed.

Keith turned to see her hazel eyes disappearing as the door slid closed with sickening force. They were stuck on the wrong side of it.

Keith growled, his bayard sparking to life in his hand. He cut through the sentry like butter, slicing it nearly in half with the force of his blow. His braid was falling out in chunks of dark wispy hairs, flicking into his eyes. He dashed over to where Lance was rolling stiffly to his feet.

“Lance!” Keith cried. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” Lance wheezed. His shoulder was bent inwards at an awkward angle, and he grit his teeth so hard as he rolled it, Keith was sure his jaw would snap.

There was a clatter of noise at the end of the hallway.

“You!” Both paladins looked up to see one of the Galran special security snarling at them. “Stop at once!”

“S’not like we’ve got anywhere to go,” Lance chuckled mirthlessly.

He jammed the heel of his hand into his shoulder, coughing out a pained noise as it reset itself in the socket with a nauseating crunch.

Keith couldn’t think about how Lance had clearly dislocated his shoulder. He was too busy charging the Galra, meeting him halfway in a flurry of fire and violence. Keith’s bayard clanged as it hit the Galra’s arm.

Android, he thought angrily.

The Galra grabbed the blade of Keith’s bayard with his metal hand, tugging it hard.

Keith was wrenched from his footing with the momentum, flying down the hallway in a graceless arc as the Galra tossed him like he weighed nothing.

Keith’s head hit the ground first. His skull rang, telegraphing various complaints through Keith’s frontal lobe. He breathed out harshly at the blurriness of his vision. His teammates were shrieking into his comms, the sounded echoed in a strange muffle from the other side of the sealed door.

The Galra was advancing on Lance.

Lance, whose stance was trembling as he gripped his exposed shoulder so tightly that he was squashing the colour out of his skin.

Lance, whose bayard sat hopelessly about five yards from his reach.

He dodged the punch the Galra aimed at his face, ducking mechanically under his arm with far less elegance than Keith knew him capable of. He didn’t doge the second.

The blow connected his his gut, send him sprawling on the floor, legs tangled underneath him.

Get up! Keith screamed at himself. He dragged a foot beneath him, trying his best to balance his weight as his vision swam.

The Galra didn’t stop. It loomed over Lance, stepping cruelly on his ribs. Lance let out a pain yelp, one hand flying to the Galra’s ankle, clutching it so hard his knuckles went chalk.

GET UP! Keith’s head was screaming. He shoved another foot underneath himself, bracing one arm against the wall as he swayed. His bayard felt hot in his grip, singing his fingertips with a fractured sort of energy.

Lance’s head turned, locking on to his bayard. He released his grip around the Galra’s ankle to reach for it.

It was so tragically close to his reach. Keith never knew that a metre could hold so much anguish, and he lunged forward clumsily, nothing but primal need and basic autonomy holding him upright.

The Galra’s arm sparked into something devilish and curved, something the shone like razor. He lifted the blade high above his head in a comically wide crescent. Lance looked up, then back to his bayard, before his eyes settled on Keith.

The red paladin watched as a streak of pure panic shot across Lance’s face, cracking it wider than the scar running up his cheek. His teeth grit in an angry lineup of white, and he blinked once, slowly. When he opened his eyes to look at Keith, they were filled with every emotion he’d hidden between his words; yearning and sorrow and bitter regret.

The Galra soldier swung his sword in a vicious arc. Keith barely had time to scream Lance’s name, horror lacing his throat and strangling his voice, before Lance whipped out a new weapon.

Keith hadn’t noticed him carrying it before. It had been well concealed under Lance’s shirt, and when he’d pulled it out it had been nothing but a dark smudge of movement.

Lance rolled with the force of a tempest, bringing his weapon up the parry the blow from the Galra. His arms buckled under the weight of it, but the sword stalled in its deadly trajectory towards his head.

It was all the time Keith needed to draw his bayard up to the seat of his shoulder. He could feel the weapon forming beneath his grip, moulding itself around his body into the shape of exactly what his heart needs. He felt a barrel form in his palm.

He felt a trigger against his fingertip.

Keith didn’t even think about pulling it.

The soldier’s body dropped like lead. His sword scraped off the length of Lance’s weapon like a homing siren, drawing Keith’s eyes towards it.

His gaze froze on the dark metal curve. The handle of it sat snugly in Lance’s grip, as if it were familiar with the mould of his hands. Keith’s eyes swept the wicked curve of the dark blade as the sharpened edge shaved of a sliver of light. They came to rest on the glowing violet symbol that was carved into the hilt, the very symbol that had carved a question into his past. He could barely see beyond that symbol to appreciate the absence of the bandage over the hilt.

Keith knew what the weight of that blade felt like in his palm, he knew what the hilt felt like as it pressed against his spine where he kept it concealed.

He knew that he could feel it against his skin now, even as he looked at it nestled in Lance’s grip.

“We need to move,” Lance said firmly. His voice was hard; a blackout that refused to let any light leak through.

He pulled himself heavily to his feet just as the doors shot open again, revealing a very stricken trio of paladins.

“Guys!” Pidge cried. The relief in her voice was palpable. “You’re alright!”

“We have to move,” Shiro said, echoing Lance’s earlier sentiment. “They’re just up this way. We can make it before the next wave of security comes.”

Lance didn’t look at Keith as he streaked down the hallway. The dark blade he’d held had vanished, leaving nothing but his signature blue bayard in his clutch.

They made it to the docking bay, the room opening out in front of them like a hungry maw, lined with assorted ships, crisp and shiny as teeth.

“Keith, go with Hunk. Pidge, Lance, you’re with me,” Shiro ordered them.

There simply wasn’t enough time to argue, so Keith leapt into the nearest Altean pod, reaching out an arm to help Hunk clamber into the seat beside him.”

“Pidge, can you get the doors open for us?” Shiro asked over the comm.

“Just give me a second!” Pidge snapped. Her fingers were a blur of movement over her tech pad. “There!”

The loading doors slid open in front of them. Keith didn’t even wait until they were fully retracted to slip the Altean pod through the cracks, Shiro and Lance’s pod following close behind.

The shot towards the castle of lions in a dual crest of blue fire. There came the creaking humming sound of activity behind them.

“Allura!” Shiro’s voice appeared on a channel on screen. “We need you to get us out of here!”

“I’m opening a wormhole now,” she called back. “Ready to jump as soon as you’re on board.”

The landing into the castle of lion’s loading bay was not one Keith was proud of, wheels of the pod bouncing merrily as he flung the body down. But time was of the essence, and as he watched the bay doors close safely behind Shiro and Lance’s pod, he felt the telltale tug of gravity yanking them all diagonally through folded space and time.

It abated after a moment, leaving Keith feeling mildly light headed. Hunk let out a sight so big Keith thought he’d dropped three waist sizes in a single breath, his broad frame slinking down into the seat of the cockpit.

“Man, I’ll never get used to those,” he lamented. “I really wish, just once, we could have, like, an easy mission.”

The words bounced off Keith, failing to stick to his mind as it wandered elsewhere, drifting over to the other pod like it was being pulled by some magnetic force. Keith felt as though he were in a fishbowl, watching everything beyond the safety of his glass shift and warp until it made little to no sense at all. Because like a fishbowl, Keith’s secret had offered him sanctuary just as much as it had served as captivity.

And Lance had just come along and sunk his hand into the water, far enough to grab onto something beyond Keith’s heart.

He watched with a hollow sort of detachment as Shiro hopped out of the pod, turning to offer Pidge a hand which she took as he helped her down. Lance followed after her, slipping out of the Altean pod with a waxy movement. His shoulder was still hunched inwards, and he didn’t appear to be moving much, his usually frantic gesticulation tampered thoroughly as he tried not to jostle his arm too much. Keith’s eyes wandered over his outfit, seeking anything dark or sharp or glowing.

It took Keith a moment to realise that Hunk was holding out a hand to him.

“Keith, buddy, you okay?” he asked, concern lining his voice.

Keith sighed, waiting until the breath had flattened his lungs before taking Hunk’s hand and allowing himself to be helped out of the small ship. His eyes stayed glued to Lance, even though he could feel Hunk glancing anxiously between the two of them.

“Did something… Happen?” Hunk tried again, testing the question aloud.

“No,” Keith told him finally. “I’m fine. We should get the capacitors to the bridge.”

He spoke the words but he did not put them into effect. He left that privilege to Shiro, who lead their party to the bridge with brisk steps. Keith tried to tail behind enough to put himself next to Lance, but somehow Hunk kept stepping between them. He grinned at Keith sheepishly whenever he managed to bounce the red paladin a step away from his friend, but still he refused to step aside. Lance was tucked safely into his side. The most Keith could make out of him was the line of his back and a few stray hairs of brunette that peeked around Hunk’s large frame. Keith pulled out the last of his braid in frustration, letting his long hair fall in a curtain around his jaw.

Allura turned from her position on the dais as they stepped onto the bridge.

“Paladins! I’m glad you made it back safely.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the bridge. The action made her look years younger, something that would have been pleasant were it not for the stress of war doggedly trying to age her in respect.

“Did you get the Oshalt capacitor?”

“Boy, did we?” Lance exclaimed.

He immediately dumped his handful of capacitors on the table. They chimed in a jumbled chorus as they hit the ship’s dashboard. Allura blinked at them, as if the image of multiple capacitors was too complicated to process.

“Ooh! Me too!” Pidge cried, similarly dumping the sum of her loot on top of Lance’s.

“Uh, honestly? Me three,” Hunk admitted. The pile of capacitors grew by an additional two handfuls, moreso because Hunk’s hands were actually rather large, and so his booty was larger still than Pidge’s?

Allura blinked at the pile a second time before her mouth moved.

“I don’t suppose anyone else has a horde of Oshalt they’d like to purge themselves of?”

“Actually…” Shiro didn’t say anything else, instead allowing his silence to leave them all to imagine the end of his sentence before letting his handful of capacitors serve as the reality.

Allura’s expression flattened into an unimpressed stare.

“Keith?”

The red paladin reached into his pocket to draw out the single gizmo he’d swiped. He dropped it atop the small stash of capacitors they’d built on the dashboard. The delicate ‘clink’ it made was laughable in comparison to the absolute racket its siblings had shouted as the spilled over the counter.

“I say…” Coran wheezed. He looked like a man on the very edge of giggling.

“You only had to pick up one capacitor,” Allura told them wearily. The brief flicker of youth had been scrubbed from her features by impatience, and she pinched the bridge of her nose lightly.

“Oh come on!” Lance cried. “In, like, every action movie ever, the hero only picks up ONE of the thing he needs and ends up losing it or something stupid. It’s better that we have a whole bunch of them than none at all.”

“I’m with Lance on this one,” Hunk said, lifting one hand in a small wave. “Plus, there were like a thousand of them on this table.”

Pidge piped up, “Besides, as long as we have capacitors to spare, this mission counts as a success, right?”

“See?!” Lance cried even louder. The exclamation seemed stilted without his usually emphatic gestures, and Keith grit his teeth against the words that were fighting behind them. “We did a great job!”

“Okay, Lance,” Shiro lifted a hand in a placating gesture. “We did get the capacitors. But we shouldn’t have needed to engage at all.”

Keith felt Shiro’s gaze land on him. The disappointment in it made it weigh heavier, but Keith couldn’t think about it right then. His eyes were scouring Lance’s body in search of the concealed blade.

“Keith,” Shiro said. There was a clear order in his name. Pay attention.

“Lance got hurt,” Keith blurted.

It was a impulse distraction method, one that triggered everyone’s attention. They first blinked at Keith, and then unanimously turned their heads to blink at Lance.

Lance, who was making a concerted effort not to look at Keith, even though the scowl that was fighting to curl onto his lip suggested he wanted to.

“You got hurt?” Shiro shifted immediately into concern, his arms unfolded to rest by his sides as his body tipped in Lance’s direction.

Lance made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a hiss. He still did not move his injured arm, but he waved the other one vaguely as if trying to swat an imaginary fly. It looked worse than it might have had he had the capacity of both limbs.

“Nah, Takashi, I’m fine. Just a little stiff.”

“He dislocated it,” Keith revealed with all the grace of a bulldozer.

“I jammed it back in place!” Lance told Shiro, his voice rising.

“He needs to go to the infirmary.”

Lance opened his mouth, no doubt with a quick retort, but paused for a moment before closing it in silence. He still did not look at Keith.

Shiro’s mouth twisted with sympathy. His arms swung a little, as if he might reach for Lance.

“You should go and let Coran check it out,” he said lowly.

Lance looked as though he might stand up straighter for the captain, but the action would make him wince. He compromised by lifting his chin with a small nod, his free hand wrapping protectively around the bicep of his injured arm.

He was already turning to leave as he said, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll just… Yeah, I’ll go.”

Keith didn’t skip a beat. “I’ll take you there.”

Lance froze. The foot he’d just lifted slid back down to the floor in a terrible defeated way, the fingers around his bicep curling even tighter. He still did not look at Keith. Shiro looked between them for a second.

He was a man who always tried to do the right thing.

It was what Keith had always admired about him. It was what had sparked that infatuation that had matured into deep gratitude and respect. He knew what Keith felt, and he knew that Lance had someone he loved. It seemed impossible to decide the right thing for both parties in a situation so sensitive.

Therefore, it was an exhibition of extreme trust on Shiro’s part that he nodded slowly and said, “I appreciate that Keith. You and Lance can head down together. We’ll update you once everyone’s up back to one hundred percent.”

Keith let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, shooting Shiro a grateful glance.

Lance was already striding away from them towards the doors of the bridge. He moved gingerly, both arms wrapped across his middle. Keith nearly had to skip to keep up with him.

“Lance!” he cried out as they made their way down the hallway.

Lance didn’t respond. He turned his head away, hiding his face against his hobbled shoulder.

“Lance!” Keit tried again.

This time, he used Lance’s handicapped gait as an opportunity to move around him, planting himself firmly in the blue paladin’s path. Lance slowed to a stop, his eyes cast sideways.

“Keith, my shoulder really hurts-”

“That blade you had,” Keith interrupted him. “ My blade-”

“I won’t tell the team about it,” Lance instantly cut it. “I haven’t told them anything and I won’t. So will you please just move so I can go get some pain meds?”

“It didn’t have the wrappings around the hilt,” Keith breathed. He could feel his voice twisting in his throat, tightening into a noose, leaving him sounding strangled and gasping. “The symbol on it…”

He paused. These weren’t the questions he need to be asking. He had so many, and they were all folded into the kind that were really asking something else.

“Why isn’t the hilt bound?”

Do you know what the symbol means?

“Why do you have it?”

Did you steal it?

Lance sighed. The action made him look suddenly smaller, his shoulder hunched forward even more as his head dropped forward.

When he spoke, his voice sounded small and far away.

“You gave it to me.”

There was a coil inside of Keith’s soul, and it had been twisting tight and tighter and tighter until he was sure he couldn’t bear it anymore. He’d thought that the answers would finally allow it to loosen, and Lance had managed to answer both of the questions he’d asked with one. And yet still, Keith did not feel relief. He felt the coil twist tighter even so.

“What?”

Lance finally, finally, looked up at Keith. His eyes were flint blue, hard and ready to spark fire.

He repeated the words, “You gave it to me.”

Keith couldn’t parse their meaning. They felt so far beyond any reality he’d anticipated that he had come full circle and he’d ended back where he’d started; in blind confusion and bitter desperation.

“I wouldn’t…”

“Me and Pidge had a dangerous mission and you were worried I wouldn’t be able to use my rifle and you wanted us to be safe so you gave me your blade,” Lance stated blankly. Then he added, “It’s the truth, Keith.”

It felt like it was, Keith understood. Lance had been drained of every ounce of whimsy and left only a stark and honest figure for Keith to reckon with.

But it didn’t answer the questions that he still desired the answers for. It didn’t explain why the hilt was exposed for all the team in the future to see.

“What does that mean?”

Keith’s voice was rising with every word, panic and pure need wringing out of his vocal chords. He felt a great wave cresting within himself, on the precipice of breaking.

“Lance,” he could barely get the words out. “Do you know why I have this blade? Do I find out?”

Lance’s face was a blank canvas, carefully crafted into a mask of impassiveness and stoicism. It was such a far cry from the emotive and expressiveness of his character that it had Keith tipping dangerously close to the edge of hysteria. Raw desperation flared up inside him in a way he’d never felt before, a vicious and hungry thing clawing at his heart. A sickening lurch behind his sternum had him spurring into action.

Keith stepped forward, grabbing Lance roughly by the shirt and pulling their bodies closer. Lance’s eyes glinted a dull blue when Keith locked onto them. It was as if he’d removed himself from the scene playing out before him, tucking his mind and all the knowledge it contained behind a safe wall. He might as well have been holding Keith away at arm’s length. His face betrayed nothing. Keith could barely see the laughter lines that he knew were permanently carved into Lance’s cheeks. He looked like he’d been shaped out of wax, yet he failed to melt under Keith’s fiery tirade.

“Lance!”

Keith was sure he was falling apart at the seams. He was a rag doll child that was made to burn bright and hot and fast, and that was all well and good when he could direct those flames. But the brick wall Lance had built between them left Keith with no outlet, and so he was being forced to try and contain all of the fire of his emotions within his body.

He couldn’t do it, Keith realised. He didn’t know how, and he could feel himself burning from the inside, fed with stress and pressure and great insatiable want.

“Tell me!”

Keith’s voice broke.

Lance’s blank expression crumbled.

There was a hot prickling behind Keith’s eyes, and even though a distant version of Lance’s voice in the back of his mind told him not to, he ground his teeth almost to smoothness.

Something was swirling in his veins like acid. A roar of pure frustration burst from his throat because his body couldn’t contain it any longer.

The answers were so close.

They were right there in front  of him. Keith wanted to reach out and tear them from Lance like pages out of a book, to grab hold of what was his and hold onto it for dear life. He thought he would gasp if he could, but he couldn’t be passionate about two things at the same time, and so even though his body craved oxygen and his mind knew Lance needed treatment, his heart craved answers more than both of those things at once, leaving Keith to suffocate on his own hunger.

And suddenly there were hands on him, one on each cheek, cradling his face in a soft warm cage.

“Keith!”

Lance’s voice cut through all the white noise bouncing around Keith’s skull, confident and clear as a bell.

“I know how badly you want the answers to all of this. I know, okay? I know what they mean to you.”

Lance’s voice was strained like he was trying to prevent it from snapping. His cobalt blue eyes glittered with watery resolve.

“Everything you’re asking, you learn the truth to all of it in the future. I promise. Okay, Keith? I promise you that you find it all out. You just have to trust me, alright? You need to trust me.”

Keith’s vision blurred as unfiltered tears welled up in his eyes. He stubbornly squeezed them shut against the throbbing in his sockets. He’d learned young that crying would not bring him what he longed for, and it was not something you simply unlearned. It forced a pair of tears to escape to the sanctuary of his cheeks, streaking down his face with fresh found freedom. Keith moved to wipe them away but Lance’s thumb was already there, smoothing the salt into his skin, into the corner of his mouth. He let his head drop forward, habitually trying to hide behind the curtain of his bangs. But Lance’s hands were still there, and they did not allow Keith the luxury of hiding. They held him gently but firmly, as one would a dove, preventing him from running away.

“Oh Keith,” he breathed. He sounded so sad that a fresh wave of tears knotted itself in Keith’s throat. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay. We’re okay.”

Keith’s body didn’t something very strange then. To him, it was as though those two defector tears had held all the fire he’d tried to keep stuffed inside himself, and now that they’d been brushed away, so too had gone Keith’s energy. He felt heavy and utterly drained. His hands slipped from where they had become balled up in the front of Lance’s shirt to drop by his sides. His knees folded from where they had locked into place, buckling underneath his weight and leaning into Lance’s space, towards the answers of his heritage.

And Lance was there, catching him as Keith tipped forward, gathering him up in his long arms and tucking Keith’s face into the crook of his neck. All the anger and sadness and gnawing loneliness that had been tangled around Keith’s heart spilled out of him like an oil slick in a myriad of colour and gloss. It left nothing but a feeling of being limp and exhausted.

“I’ve got you, Keith. I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’m here, buddy, I got you,” Lance chanted like a mantra as he delicately wove his fingers through the choppy dark hair at the base of Keith’s neck.

“I just want to know,” Keith mumbled against Lance’s collarbone.

His voice was weak and ragged, and the confession felt impossibly small in the emptiness of the hallway. It was the smallest and most fragile piece of Keith’s heart, and he was taking it out for Lance.

Keith’s head rolled backwards to sit heavy on his neck. His eyes rolled back with it, casting themselves upwards towards the ceiling. He wondered if Lance’s laughter was still up there, and if it could be called down with his sorrow or if it was a wild thing that could not be tempted. Perhaps that was why he’d been so drawn to it, because he was a wild and ragged thing, too.

“I know,” Lance told him in a whisper, a secret just for the two of them. “You do. You will. You find out, babe, I promise.”

They stayed there for a long moment, Lance’s arms still looped around Keith’s shoulders, cradling him like a child.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Keith’s voice came out in a whisper. The way Lance froze made it feel like the loudest thing in the world.

He didn’t let go of Keith. That seemed like an important part of what happened next. Lance kept his arms locked in a halo around Keith’s body, even as he pulled back, neck craning awkwardly to look Keith sternly in the eye.

“You are NOT alone.”

There was so much conviction in his tone that Keith felt belief flicker inside him instantly. It would be so easy to take Lance’s words as they were, plain and flat and pure. But doubted haunted Keith like a plague. He would not inhale the sweetness of belief for the fear that it would kill him.

“You hear me, Keith?” Lance’s eyes were blue fire, burning right through to Keith’s very soul, latching onto the spark of hope inside of him and coaxing it into growth. “You are never alone. Not here, not ever. You have us, the team.”

Lance hesitated. His next words felt fragile.

“You have me. ”

It would be so easy, Keith thought, to stop running from it all. He could feel a tempest snapping at his heels like a hungry wolf. Worry and confusion sat on the sidelines, waiting for the scraps of him that would be left after it hit. Would it really be so bad for him to embrace the storm?

“But what about your partner?” Keith asked in a gravelly whisper.

And then it was like a puzzle piece had slot into place.

But he should have guessed, really, he thought to himself. In retrospect, Keith should have known exactly what he’d been missing.

And what he’d been missing was the big picture.

‘Better than that. We’re partners.”

The tender touches Lance left on his face when he was snared by a moment.

“He knows it’s all for show.”

The lingering looks Lance gave him that seemed both longing and hungry and gentle.

“We didn’t really get along at first. That was mainly my fault.”

The vicious glances Hunk shot in Lance’s direction whenever he called Keith ‘babe’.

Some version of Keith in the future trusting Lance with his blade. No. Giving it to him, because he wanted Lance to be safe.

It all suddenly made sense.

Keith blinked, a dawning sense of clarity washing over him like sunlight. Lance was still watching him worriedly, concern colouring his features.

“Partners,” Keith croaked.

The word sounded almost reverent as it slipped from his tongue, and Keith caught a taste of it as he let it go.

Lance looked as if he’d been slapped.

The colour drained from his face in seconds as his mouth went slack with horror, leaving him ghostly and gaping.

“We’re partners,” Keith said, his voice stronger. “We’re partners.”

Lance suddenly reared back, pulling all the gentle warmth and patience he’d blanketed Keith in with him. Keith dropped like a deadweight, nearly stumbling as he scrambled to find his footing.

He looked up at Lance.

Keith wasn’t sure what he expected to see, but he was sure it wasn’t the sight of Lance so rigid it looked like he’d been carved from wood.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” His voice was growing as the realisation fortified his confidence. “You and me, in the future. We… We’re together.”

Lance was staring at him in utter shock, his jaw swinging open and his hands bunching at his sides. But that wasn’t what gave Keith pause.

He let his eyes climb the length of Lance’s cheek from his jaw to his lower lashes.

Keith swallowed. There were so many questions jamming their way up his throat, he couldn’t get any of them out.

”Lance-”

“Stop.”

Lance’s voice was a brick wall, remarkably more sturdy than his pale and flighty demeanour suggested. It had the red paladin stalling.

“I-”

“Keith,” Lance’ sounded like a bowstring drawn back, taught and straining and thick with tension. “Don’t.”

“No, listen, Lance.”

The urgency in his voice stilled the blue paladin’s twitching hands long enough for Keith to speak the words that had fought their way the the front of his mouth.

“Your scar’s gone.”

Chapter Text