Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Garrison Inn, San Diego California

Lance was looking for Keith. He knew he was hiding somewhere in this building. The party has been pretty cool so far, but as an industry event, it was getting a bit boring. The hotel they were in had been an old army barracks and thus, had many cool nooks and crannies which enabled Keith to effectively disappear.

Lance was looking for a partner in mayhem and had already struck out with his other bandmates. Hunk was in the kitchen, chatting up the chef, because the food was 'mega' good. He wanted tips on the perfect 'gluten free puff pastry' which Hunk swore defied the laws of physics. Pidge and Matt were in the DJ booth, getting the scoop on a new MIDI machine, and also using their influence to alter the playlist (if the frequency of 21 Pilots songs was anything to go by). Allura does not involve herself in shenanigans, 'thank you very much,' and Shiro was being talked at by Mr. Slav about 'record sales projections from now into the fourth quarter.' Lance ducked out of that conversation ignoring the pleading eyes of his former bandmate, now manager.

So that left Keith, who was hiding because he hates people. Lance knows that is not technically true. Keith hates crowds and talking to people in crowds. Or talking to people in general. Maybe he does hate people, Lance mused.

The band was about to head out on the European leg of their tour and the party was winding down. The crowd had dwindled to employees from their record company, industry dudes, publicists and the bands entourage. Entertainment reporters had been there earlier to interview the band. Thankfully, most of them had already left. A few of the other big names on the label had been there earlier, adding to the hype of the event and tour, but most of them had their own gigs to get to. Much earlier, some of the staff had brought their kids, which had been pretty entertaining. Lance chuckled remembering Keith handling everything well enough, until a pre-teen girl skipped up to him and then, without any warning attached herself to him like a Koala hugs a eucalyptus tree. Then, overwhelmed by emotion, the poor kid burst into tears. It was quite a scene. Keith awkwardly patting her back and looking around desperately for someone to save him. Shiro obliged, by unwrapping the kid while talking in his calmest voice. Then giving the kid a gift pack and a glass of water, before handing her off to a kind intern who took her back to her parents. That had been the end of any real excitement. Now the party seemed to be a lot people who worked together, every single day, drinking and still talking about work.

Lance, having searched the entire main floor, wandered out onto the wrap around porch. There were some people milling about, but no Keith that he could see. He looked out into the grounds and saw one of those old-school military-style obstacle courses. 'That would catch Keith's eye.' he thought, heading over to check it out. Alas, still no Keith. Though the course was pretty cool, having a wall and those tire things that you jog through.

Walking back to the hotel, Lance's eye is drawn to movement in the shadows on one of the third-floor balconies. Keith is sitting on the floor, knees brought to his chest, eyes closed, leaning his head back against the wall. He is holding an empty glass in his hands, turning it slowly.

"There you are," Lance calls up paying no attention to the groups of people around him who are now turning to stare. Keith's only response is to open his eyes and lift his glass and nod his head in a kind of toast. "Come down here!" Lance demands. "Why?" Keith responds, barely raising his voice to be heard. "'Cause I'm bor-red." Lance drags out the last word and it is clear he believes that should be enough to draw Keith from his seclusion. "So?" Keith responds again in monotones. Lance sighs dramatically and makes his way all the way back onto porch and back through to the hotel ballroom. He stops at the bar to grab a whiskey sour for Keith and another fruity, pineapple cocktail for himself. He notices that Hunk has now joined Pidge and Matt. The three of them seem to have taken over the DJ booth. It also looks as though Hunk and Pidge are arguing over the next song to play. Hunk is holding a piece of equipment high above Pidge's head with a triumphant smirk. He also sees the maniacal gleam that enters Pidge's eyes. 'That doesn't look as though it will end well.' He smiles to himself, happy to have chosen to hang with Keith. He decides not to try to negotiate his way through the crowd to the main staircase in the lobby. Instead, Lance wanders out the back of the ballroom to an old-fashioned elevator. He presses the up button with his knuckle and waits an extremely long time for the elevator to come down, the gears grinding in the wall above him.

"Knock-knock," Lance announces as he walks out the open screen door onto Keith's balcony. Keith startles, almost dropping his glass. "Jeez man, How did you even get in here?" Lance shrugs nonchalantly, "Maid." He says, taking a sip of his drink and offering the other one to Keith. "That's allowed?" Keith asks incredulously, accepting the drink and, once again, tilting the glass as though saying cheers before he takes a sip. "It's not," Lance agrees as he settles himself at the front of the balcony with his legs hanging through the white wood slats. "But what can I say? People love to please me." He grins over his shoulder at Keith, then jerks his head forward indicating Keith should come and sit beside him.

Instead of shuffling forward on his butt, Keith stands and walks to the balcony rail, resting his arms on it and sighs. "What's up emo?" Lance asks, while pressing his face between the slats of wood, just to see how it feels. The wood is cold, but the layers of paint on it are smooth. Experience has taught him not to press too hard. "I guess I am not really looking forward to another two months on tour," Keith says. He sounds so despondent that Lance stands beside him, nudging him. "Dude, it's Europe, we made the big time.You know, an actual World Tour." He accentuates the words with a broad hand gesture. "I mean if you leave out Asia, and Australia, and Antarctica." He shrugs. "But who'd tour Antarctica?" Lance muses. He tapers off, now watching Keith take a slow breath as though he is trying to centre himself. "Yeah, I suppose you're right, I guess I am just tired." When Keith says that last word, he seems to embody it, it comes out like a deep sigh and his shoulders compress on themselves noticeably. Lance realizes this isn't just Keith burned-out on a party and crowd.

Lance feels that tiny fear he gets everytime Keith seems unhappy with anything to do with the band. He falls back on his old failsafe, Lance's cheer-up mode. "Think of the hotties," he says, and waggles his eyebrows., "I mean, I know you are not into the babes, but I am sure we can find you some fancy Eurotrash guy complete with frosted tips who doesn't wear socks in his dress shoes." Keith's face is frozen for a moment before he snorts inelegantly, a ironic smile forming on his lips. "Right, 'cause that would be my type." He laughs again, giving Lance an eye roll as he takes another sip of his drink. He mutters something like, 'frosted tips.' "Well, I figured, 80s hair…" Lance shrugs and congratulates himself, as he always does when he can make moody Keith laugh. Keith looks away and back at Lance again, and starts laughing again, shaking his head.

They stand for another moment in silence finishing their drinks, when Shiro comes down off the porch with a few of producers from the Altea label. Allura and Coran are with them, as Allura needs to stay in loop regarding the overall management of the company. They are relentlessly followed by Mr. Slav, who is still talking about sales projections, this time in relation to merchandise at the European venues. It is pretty clear that Shiro was trying to escape this discussion by the manner in which he keeps sighing and spinning his almost empty wine glass in his good hand.

As they are watching this scene play out, Lance is toying with the maraschino cherry from his drink, when Keith nudges him and gestures to the cherry. "Wha' you want it?" Lance asks, surprised. Keith isn't usually into sweet things. "Betcha can't drop that into Shiro's glass from here," Keith says quietly, eyes full of mischief and a small smile pulling on the corners of his mouth. Lance glances down and back at Keith, a grin taking over his face. "Watch me." Lance takes a minute to line up the shot, holding the fruit just so. Once he feels confident, he releases his grip on the stem, letting the cherry drop, a moment later a satisfying splash and clink rings in the air. Mr. Slav seems not to have noticed that it is raining fruit, possibly because Coran continues to hold his gaze, despite, almost certainly seeing the fruit drop. Shiro, Allura and a few of the producers look up in surprise. For a moment, Lance and Keith are able to maintain innocent expressions. Shiro's mouth flattens into a line and his gaze sharpens ever so slightly. Lance fully recognizes that look, and makes a kind of choking noise, which is 40% suppressed laughter and 60% well established fear of authority figures. Shiro, not taking his eyes from the boys, politely says to the rest of this group, "Excuse me, I have to respond to this... text." Then purposely heads back into the hotel, both Keith and Lance run for it.

And the game is on.

Lance and Keith are both laughing and leaning into one another as they climb the stairs to the roof. Once up there, they double over. It takes them a few minutes to calm down. "Okay, my turn," Lance says through wheezes. "What do you mean, your turn?" Keith breaths back. "My turn to dare you," Lance says indignantly. "That wasn't a dare, you would have done it anyway," Keith says with a half laugh. Lance wags his finger in Keith's face, "You know the rules mister. It is my turn to dare." Keith sighs and waits as Lance hums to himself looking around the rooftop for something dare worthy. "I betcha can't walk on the ledge over there." He teases Keith. "Really?!" Keith asks, incredulously. "That's too easy." "Easy? We are three stories up." Lance challenges. Keith shoots a look over his shoulder and says dryly. "I will do more than walk it." He starts to stretch out his arms and roll his shoulders as he approaches the ledge and Lance feels his stomach drop. "Keith," he says in a warning voice. Before he has a chance to do anything more, Keith steps up to the ledge and finds his centre of balance. Lance is kicking himself mentally for sometimes forgetting how Keith has the tendency to take things to the next level. Lance holds his breath and doesn't speak again. Keith bounces a little on the balls of his feet before he does three quick, graceful backflips down the ledge and lands with a bounce, teetering for just a moment, while Lance feels years fall off his life. Keith, oblivious, tosses a half grin over his shoulder as he jumps back onto the roof. There is a two second beat before Lance bellows, "You Fucker!" , finally able to breathe again. Keith looks around, "Now what should I get you to do?" "NO! No! No. We are getting off this roof!" Lance announces, turning Keith by the shoulders toward the stairwell.

On the way back downstairs, Keith dares Lance to slide down the main staircase bannister. He does, side saddle, almost flying off the end into a well dressed middle-aged woman. Clearly she is shocked by his sudden and exceptional entrance. Lance smooths things over by kissing her hand and welcoming her to the hotel all gentleman-like. Lance then challenges Keith to take over the coat check, when the unsuspecting staff on duty sneaks out for a cigarette. Keith gets some double takes from confused guests and makes $15 in tips before the poor kid comes back to his post. Keith gets Lance to deliver someone's room service by bribing the kitchen staff with promo codes for free albums. The honeymooning couple they deliver food to are extremely surprised to have a Rock Star bring their meal. Then the bride mentions Lance is on her "list" to which her husband exclaims "Not on our wedding night!" The two boys duck out of the impending marital discord and find their way back to the ballroom. All the while, they are dodging Shiro, who is probably getting good and stoked to give a lecture on the importance of maintaining a professional public persona, as he tracks their movements through the hotel.

After another hour or so, the boys, feeling confident that they have either lost Shiro, or he has given up chasing them, settle back at the bar in the ballroom. The crowd has definitely thinned. The music is still playing and there is a small group of enthusiastic dancers. Keith gets another whiskey sour and Lance is nursing his fifth cocktail of the night. Given the evening started at 7 and it is now midnight, he isn't sloshed, but feeling nicely buzzed. Usually, Lance would like to dance, but he is feeling pretty mellow. He ponders the group for a moment and then says to Keith, "You know, you are a pretty good dancer, why don't you ever dance in a group like this?" Lance already thinks he knows the answer, but they are having bonding time, and it is fun to tease Keith. "Too many bodies, too close together." Keith responds shortly. Lance smiles, "Are you, like, allergic to people?" "No," Keith says indignantly. "I am just saying, there is tons of room," He gestures to the mostly empty ballroom, "Why does everybody need to be pushed up together?" "'Cause it's fun," Lance leans in bobbing his head with a smirk, "And it's sexy." he leans back pretending to regard Keith. "I think you don't wanna dance close 'cause you're scared." He draws out the last word, eyes alight with mischief.

Keith doesn't bite, he rolls his eyes and mutters, "Whatever."

"No, seriously," Lance pushes, "You like to dance, but not the touching?"

"I. Like. Space."

Lance has never fully understood Keith's careful reserve, and has never figured out a safe way to ask him about it. So he continues to push even though he can see he is skirting on the edge of Keith's patience. "So you are against getting up close and personal, that is "ick" to you?"

Keith sighs, as though Lance is deliberately misinterpreting him.

"No." Keith says emphatically. "There are people," he says measuring his words, "That I would not mind getting up close and personal with. However, that," he gestures to the crowd of dancers, "is claustrophobic."

Lance is giddy. He is not sure why, it could be the 5 drinks, or it could be how he always is when Keith shares these personal tidbits. As though Keith is Lance's personal puzzle to solve.

Lance hums to himself, "Prove it."

"What!?" Keith says with incredulity.

"I dare you." Lance says pointedly.

Keith gives a huff of laughter, "What exactly am I proving? That I don't want to dance in a crowd?"

"No silly." Lance rolls his eyes, "Prove you're not scared to dance all sexy with someone."

Keith sputters for a second, "Wha-how? That is just stupid!"

"So you are scared?" Lance concludes with an irritating amount of confidence.

"No." Keith's face now a cross between a scowl and an adorable pout.

"So, prove it." Lance is already turning to search the dance floor for a suitable partner for this next dare.

"Lance." Keith's voice is a warning.

Lance is has long struggled with boundaries, and in past years has gotten better at respecting them. However, for some reason, with Keith he still doesn't always know when to quit. In his heart he believes Keith will actually tell him when he goes too far, but Keith isn't good at boundaries with Lance either. Most people just give Keith wide berth. Suffice to say, few people push him the way Lance habitually does. Sometimes it is a good thing, taking Keith out of his comfort zone. Other times, clearly, it is not. Unfortunately, Lance usually finds out he has gone too far after Keith blows up at him. Other times it backfires on Lance in a way he could never predict.

Fair warning, this is about to be one of those times.

Lance's eyes are searching the dance floor for a suitable partner for Keith to 'sexy dance' with.

"How about Acxa?" Lance asks.

"How about Acxa what?" Keith responds totally behind on current events.

"How about her as a dance partner? She wouldn't refuse."

"Lance, first off, NO, I am not doing this! Secondly," he drops his voice, "that would be so mean, she has a huge crush on me." Keith squirms as though the conversation is giving him hives.

"REALLY?!" Lance asks loudly, eyes wide, staring out at the dance floor again. "How long has that been going on?!" He exclaims, oblivious to Keith's desire to be swallowed by the floor.

"Oh my god." Keith says under his breath as he runs his hand down his face. He wonders if he can sneak away. Lance must sense his intention because he grabs Keith's elbow as he shouts, "What about James?" He looks over at Keith with delight. Keith's face is frozen in shock and dismay. Lance seems to think better of this choice. "Oh, yeah, probably a bad idea, what with the history of fist fights and stuff."

"Yes," Keith says ironically, "This is a bad idea."

Lance ignores him reassessing the crowd of dancers. "Of course. Why didn't I think of this before? Plaxum. You guys are kinda friends. She thinks your moodiness is cute. She knows you're gay. I dare you to go sexy dance with Plaxum." He turns again to Keith, who just stares back.

Lance raises his eyebrows innocently while he does a gleeful little wiggle. "I. Dare. You." He leans back again and gives Keith a knowing look. "Otherwise I am just going to think you are a prude and I will never stop teasing you about it." He adds for good measure.

This is the point where Keith either blows up, stomps away, or irrationally takes the bait. Lance knows he has won when Keith's jaw sets in grim determination. Lance calls it Keith's point-of-no-return face. As Keith stands and stalks off to the dance floor, Lance leans back to enjoy the show, feeling ever-so-proud of himself.

The first time the band went on tour, the members had to take dance classes with Allura to improve their stage presence. Given that Hunk was behind a drum set and Pidge behind a keyboard, they didn't need too much in the way of coaching. Lance and Keith were given much more attention, because they needed to 'own the stage'. Lance, was delighted to be called a natural, and teased Keith endlessly about his discomfort in letting loose in front of an audience. But like all things, Keith, once he got over his self consciousness, excelled. He had a natural rhythm and a lithe, athletic body which moved effortlessly with the music. Lance tells himself that he didn't dare Keith because he thought he wouldn't look good dancing. No, he did it because he felt Keith needed to challenge himself to actually touch people once in a while. Also, he thought it would be funny to watch him try.

Keith is already moving with the music as he approaches the crowd. He makes eye contact with Plaxum and she smiles at him welcomingly. They dance a normal distance apart for a while, and Keith slowly moves closer, Plaxum looks a little surprised, but her face is friendly and she meets him halfway. Lance notices that Keith doesn't look uncomfortable. On the contrary, Keith looks very comfortable. The two draw closer together intuitively and move to the music like a symbiotic organism. Keith has slid one hand around Plaxum's back and she is running her hands up his arms and to his shoulders. Their legs are in between one another as Keith moves even closer as they continue gyrating. Lance feels his cheeks start to burn. This is totally not going as planned. Plaxum murmurs something to Keith and he smiles with the corners of his mouth and give one of his tiny nods. He slides both of his hands to her waist she leans back in an arch, going round and coming back up slowly. As she rises her arms return to his shoulders, their mouths almost touching.

Lance slams his glass down on the bar in surprise causing the bartender to give him a frown. He feels as though he has been played, as irrational as that may be. If Keith really didn't want to do this, why was he doing it so… well? On top of that, the song seems to be lasting a really long time. Lance feels jittery. It is when Plaxum slides her hands up the back of Keith's neck and toys with his hair that Lance finds himself standing beside them on the dance floor pulling Keith by his shoulders, in much the same way that he directed him off the roof earlier in the evening.

"Sorry to break this party up guys, but we have a super early morning tomorrow." Lance announces leading Keith away from the dance floor. "You know, flights to catch… to Europe… and stuff…"

He maneuvers Keith right off the dance floor out the back door of the ball room and to the bright lights of the hall in front of the ancient elevator.

"OOOkay." Keith says, as though he is used to Lance's bizarre behaviour. Which he is.

"Shut up." Lance replies, not looking at him, as he repeatedly presses the up button on the elevator.

Chapter Text

The elevator is ancient and takes its time coming down to the main floor. Lance spends this interlude trying to figure out how to avoid discussing his own, very weird, reaction to Keith's dance with Plaxum. Lance is hoping his behaviour is being seen as sour grapes because Keith showed him up on the dare. In fact, Lance reminds himself, that is probably what his reaction is…. Right? Lance is definitely peeved that Keith always seems to win at stuff like this, without even trying. He runs that thought over in his brain and it makes sense. Yup, that was definitely what threw him off.

When the elevator finally arrives he hops in and presses the third floor button before Keith even steps inside. Keith is sauntering. When Keith moves slow, sometimes Lance takes it personally, like he's is doing it to bother him, too highlight when Lance is being hyperactive. This is irrational. Lance knows this, because he knows Keith is generally obtuse about the nuances of other people's feelings and behaviours. But right now he is antsy and gives Keith a look of annoyance, which his friend either misses or ignores.

Keith finally makes it into the elevator and leans against the back rail, his hands half in the front pockets of his jeans. The doors close and the elevator makes a disconcerting lurch and grinding noise before it starts rising. Lance, still jittery, and wanting to stop feeling hyper aware and exposed, tries to recapture their shared enjoyment from earlier. "I wonder if the elevator got stuck if you could climb out that escape hatch all the way up to our floor." Lance muses, not at all seriously. "I bet you could. We could press the stop button and try it." He raises an eyebrow giving Keith a tilt of his head. Lance is hoping for that half smile that will indicate the awkwardness is behind them.

"God, no." Keith grimaces totally misreading Lance's attempt at humour. "If we stopped the elevator after people saw us get in together, they would think we were having sex in here." Lance is immediately defensive. "One time, that happened ONE TIME. AND we weren't having sex… Nyma just..." His voice fades to nothing as he catches Keith giving him some serious side eye. Lance huffs, defeated. "You're probably right though" He sighs, knowing that he has developed a bit of a reputation for being quite the player. A reputation which, unfortunately, does not match his reality. "Except it is a pretty slow elevator, people may not even notice it stopped." He tries again, half heartedly. Keith looks up at Lance for a moment before huffing a laugh and dropping his gaze back to the doors. "Still not doing it."

Lance nods. It isn't long before the silence begins to unnerve him. He starts to bounce from heel to toe. Looking around the elevator for something interesting to talk about, or bet about, or base a crazy dare on. Irritated by Keith's apparent calm. His eyes fall on the elaborate art deco chandelier hanging from the ceiling. "Wow, that is some light fixture for an elevator." Keith glances up at it and hums non-committedly.

More awkward silence, though chances are it isn't awkward for Keith. He just looks tired. The way he looked earlier when he complained about going on tour for another two months. Recalling this does nothing for Lance's peace of mind. The whole point of the game was to get Keith out of this funk, to remind him all the reasons why life with the band is awesome.

Taking a deep breath, Lance tries to mimic Keith's stance against the rail, but it is not long before he is tapping his foot and slapping his hands on his legs, eyes still roaming the space. Good golly this thing is slow. They could have walked up the stairs three times now. Backwards.

"Do you think you could do a flip in here?" Lance asks randomly. It's not even a conscious thought before he says it. Keith gives him sceptical sidelong glance. "Why would I do that?" The high of their game is long gone, and Lance's attempts at rekindling it seem desperate even to his own ears. "I don't know," He says half heartedly. "Because we're bored and we may be in here for another year."

Keith gives a placating sigh as he rolls his eyes, and Lance is surprised when he moves to the centre of the elevator and glances around himself getting a sense of the space. "Um, Really?" Lance asks, because he wasn't being serious, he was literally not even thinking.

"You asked." Keith shrugs, still gauging his surroundings. Lance holds his breath, as he did earlier when Keith did flips on the roof. Mindful of the space, Lance presses himself back against the wall as flat as the rail will let him. Keith seems to decide there isn't enough room for a free form backflip. Instead he takes two fast steps toward the wall and propels himself off of it. This leaves one, almost perfect, sneaker print on vintage satin wallpaper. Lance watches in awe as Keith tucks his head forward while his curled body flips backward. It is so fluid and graceful it looks almost unreal, like a cartoon or a video game character. Lance is so entranced that he notices, too late, how Keith's sneakered feet are on trajectory to hit the fancy light fixture. There is a distinctive crash, like a handful of cutlery falling onto metal counter. Keith knows exactly what has happened, because as soon as he lands, in an impressive display of instinct, he throws himself backward to avoid shards of crystal raining down on his head.

There is a moment where the boys both stare up at the light, until it stops rattling and swinging back and forth. It is at this point that the elevator dings and opens to their floor. Lance's heart lightens, because this definitely overshadows his earlier faux pas over the dancing. He grins at Keith and says, "Now that's what I am talking about!"
---

All in all, the damage isn't so bad. Even though at least half of the crystal shards have been knocked off the round metal base only a few of them have been broken. They boys carefully gather the pieces up and place them in the corner of the elevator. This is only complicated by them having to hold the elevator door open to keep it from making its slow trek back to the main floor. As they finally step out, Keith gazes warily at the ceiling and says, "Shiro's gonna know that was us." Lance pulls him away as the doors slide closed, saying, "It'll be tOtAlLy fine. Don't worry about it!"

Lance is tired and he knows Keith is too. They really do have to be up early in the morning for their flight, but Lance wants to get back to the positive vibe they had going earlier. He drags Keith into his hotel room, giving the excuse that they should probably hydrate or they'll feel like shit tomorrow. Keith is surprisingly cooperative, following Lance at the same sauntering speed he has maintained since they left the ball room.

Lance grabs glasses of water for both of them from the bathroom and sprawls across one of the beds. He considers hanging his head upside down toward Keith who slides down one of the walls to sit on the floor. The drinking Lance has done tonight makes the upside down position intolerable, so he adjusts to lie diagonally with his eyes closed. "Do you mind if I...?" he hears Keith say, and he squints toward him to see him gesturing toward the custom red Gibson Explorer Lance has left leaning against his suitcase.

The guitar is small for Lance, because it used to belong to Keith. It is a thing of beauty and grace, a responsive and surprisingly powerful instrument. Lance makes a noise of ascent and turns over so he can watch Keith take the guitar. Keith absently runs his hands over the instrument with something akin to reverence. They all have multiple instruments, but everyone has favourites. Keith now usually plays Shiro's old black Gibson SG Standard or his own Indigo Fender Strat. Nobody else gets to touch that Strat. Still, sometimes when Keith is writing, he will ask Lance for 'Red.' He strums lightly on the keys, humming something under his breath.

Lance's ears perk up, it doesn't sound like anything he has heard yet. Over the years Lance and Keith have developed a great writing relationship. Working together used to be quite tumultuous, but they have come to know each other's strengths and tend to challenge one another's creativity. Keith pushes Lance try new things while Lance keeps Keith's music grounded, pulls him back from the edge. Lance is excited and hopeful. While he knows his bandmate can find being on the road tedious, it will provide time for the two of them to bond over creating new music. Keith sighs, "It's not anything I am ready to share yet." Lance feels a sinking disappointment, but remembers that this is part of Keith's process. He'll share when he is ready. They sit in companionably silence for a moment, Keith's brow is furrowed and Lance assumes he is working out something to do with the song he was playing until he says, "Why did you ask me to dance with Plaxum?"

Ugh. So much for distractions.

"I don't know," Lance answers honestly, "I think I was trying to figure something out about you and… people."

Keith answers with an unsatisfying, "Hm."

Not wanting the spotlight to remain on the dance, especially not the embarrassing end to it, Lance asks, "Why did you ask me to drop the cherry into Shiro's glass?"

Keith gives a small smile, "Well, 'cause you like doing stuff like that. You get all chuffed about it when you can make the shot" he says with a shrug. "Also, Shiro looked ready to stab himself in an eyeball to get out of that conversation."

Lance is surprised, having asked the question to shift the attention away from himself, but Keith's answer indicates a level of forethought he isn't used to associating with him.

There is another moment of silence before Lance says, "Did you actually just say 'chuffed'?"

Their eyes meet for a second and they both laugh. "Yeah,I guess I have been hanging around Coran a bit much" Keith says, gently settling Red into her case and latching it shut.

Lance flips over to his back again and Keith stands to nudge Lance over to the foot of the bed so he can sprawl opposite him. Both have their legs hanging over opposite sides of the mattress. Lance's eyes keep getting drawn to the flashing red light of the smoke detector.

"Did you ever imagine we would make it this far, a European tour?" Lance asks.

"No, I didn't think we would stay together past graduation." Keith said wryly. Lance makes a noise of ascent. They two of them really didn't get along at the beginning. Something in Keith's tone nags at Lance,as though maybe Keith wishes he hadn't stayed with the band. Something about Keith's mood tonight is setting him off.

"Which people?" Lances asks out loud, much to his own surprise and Keith's confusion.

"Pardon?" Keith asks, nose wrinkled and eyebrows furrowed.

"You said you don't mind getting physically close to certain people. Is there, like… you know… a list?" It is only at this moment that Lance realizes he has been replaying their conversation from earlier in the back of his mind.

Keith must stare at him perplexed for like ten seconds. Before he shakes his head slightly and says slowly, "I guess it could be a list, a very short one."

Lance, intrigued, moves closer to Keith, "Really?! Who's on it?" Keith snorts derisively, "I am not telling you." "Why not?" Lance asks, offended, "I'll tell you who's on my list." "Like I'd have time." Keith fires back, "It'd be quicker for you to tell me the much shorter list of people you wouldn't kiss." "True." Lance agrees, warming up to the conversation, barely registering the switch in focus from sexy dancing to kissing. "But the point is your list is short, and therefore more interesting." "And therefore more private." Keith responds dryly. "Aw, Keith com'on!" Lance pleads, "What's a little list of potential kissees between bandmates?" "That's not even a word." Keith responds, deadpan.

"Puleeze!" Lance begs, Keith closes his eyes, pretending to sleep.

"Pleeeeeese." Lance strikes a higher note, moving closer.

Eyes still closed, Keith crosses his arms over his chest.

"PRIT-TEE Puleeze!" Lance sings, saccharine high pitch, right into Keith's ear.

Keith simultaneously grimaces and pushes Lance backwards. "No." He says with resounding clarity. "Absolutely not."

Lance pouts for a second allowing his body to slump forward, still playful. "Okay fiiine. Be that way." He drawls out. "At least tell me who you have kissed." He adds brightly. Keith sighs and rolls his eyes. "You know who I've kissed, we've practically lived in each other's pockets for the past 6 years." Lance ignores Keith's irritated tone even though it tweeks the small sense of panic that he has been feeling all night.

"So I guess that list is not a secret then." Lance says sitting up and taking the posture of a therapist listening to a client. "So," He says with a Eastern European accent, " Tell me about your most recent kiss." If Keith's eyes rolled any harder, they would have rolled right out of his head. "Lance." He says warily. Lance pats Keith's knee, "That's Dr. Lance, and you can trust me."

Keith's responds drily. "You know about my last kiss. After the Grammy's? With Lotor?"

"WHAT?!" Lance falls out of character completely, "I didn't know THAT!" Keith must think Lance is joking, because he just gives him a funny look and says, "Everybody knows that."

"Every… Every… Everybody knows that? No. No. No. No! NO! That is not... What everybody? I don't know this! I did NOT know this." Keith watches nonplussed as Lance sputters in disbelief.

"Oh." Keith says blankly, "I figured Pidge told you. If not Pidge, for sure Hunk."

Lance is stunned into silence. Apparently everybody, including Hunk, knew that Keith was kissing Lotor… after the Grammys. "And, where was I?" He asks, still grappling with this revelation.

"In the elevator." Keith answers incredulously. "With Nyma."

Lance is shamed into silence. That wasn't one of his proudest moments. They had been nominated in the best pop/group performance category, but didn't win. Nyma is an ex and he ran into her at the party the band went to after the awards. The night itself was a bit of a blur. At the time Nyma had seemed so sympathetic. Afterwards, once he was sober, he realized that she was just trying to stir up some tabloid publicity for her new band.

Lance had trouble remembering the night without a feeling of dread. He had been so sure they would win, but the night ended up being an embarrassing story for him to laugh off rather than the golden night of victory he had envisioned. It didn't help that Keith's apparent discontent with life on the road seemed to crystallize around that time.

And now this…

'So, Lotor's on the list?"

Once again Keith's nose wrinkles in confusion, "Of people I've kissed? Uh. Obviously."

"No," Lance feels defeated. He can't help it, Grammy night sucked. "Of people you want to kiss."

Keith's face smooths, he almost looks bemused. "Oh, No. Lotor is not on that list."

"But then… why?" Lance's voice trails away at the look that Keith gives him. Obviously he is in no position to judge people on their actions or kisses that night.

Lance presses his lips together and lies back on the bed. He can't shift the weight pressing against his chest. He sighs and realizes that he is lonely. He recognizes his own sigh is a mirror of Keith's from earlier that night. Maybe Keith is lonely too. Maybe all the thrill and pomp of being in a band and making music with your friends is missing some important bits for both of them.

Not for the first time that night, Lance's mouth acts before his brain has a chance to stop it. "Keith," he begins, his voice sound far away to his own ears, "Do you ever think about kissing me?"

Lance feels the weight on his chest press harder as Keith gasps a startled, "What?!" The feeling clarifies into a piercing pain when he looks over to see Keith eyeing him warily.

"Why?" Keith forms the word cautiously.

"I was just curious." Lance says quietly, pinned down by Keith's piercing gaze.

For a long time Keith doesn't look away. He is assessing something about Lance, about his question, about the situation. Lance keeps himself entirely still, as though awaiting a verdict, prepared to be deemed unworthy.

But then Keith is coming closer, leaning in, and in the fraction of a moment before their lips meet Lance remembers this is Keith, always pushing the edge, testing the boundaries. He doesn't discuss theories, he acts on instinct. He desperately tries to hold onto this thought like a life preserver before being hit by a tidal wave.

Because WOW.

That is what happens when Keith's lips meet his. He is swept away.

Keith is above him, carefully not pressing any of his weight on Lance, just lips. Soft, strong lips, a bit dry on the bottom where Lance can taste the place where Keith chews when he is distracted or deep in thought. Oh, and teeth. Keith is leaning in and he can feel the sharp press of teeth and everything in his mind disappears in a wave of violet eyes and soft dark hair. Oh, yes! That is what is happening. Lance hands have become unstuck and are now woven into Keith's hair. Keith isn't leaning in, so much as Lance is pulling him down. Wanting more.

Lance keeps a hand tangled into Keith's hair while he lets the other slide down to grab the front of his shirt. Tugging. He wants more, he wants Keith to press up against him with his weight. Keith resists and Lance makes a sound of protest in his throat.

Lance almost whines when Keith pulls his lips away, his eyes serious. Lance's hand slips from his hair to his shoulder and he rubs his fingers along the side of Keith's neck. Looking up with a sense of awe, he registers that Keith is beautiful. He wonders why he never noticed before.

"Lance," Keith begins,"How much have you had to drink tonight?" Lance panics. He tries to pull Keith back toward his mouth saying, "It's good man, I am totally sober. I want this." And it is true. Kinda true. He knows he is not 100% sober, but he wants Keith, he can feel it in every pore and every molecule of his body.

But Keith resists, never wavering from his gaze, "Lance, how many drinks have you had tonight?"

Lance recognizes that Keith will only accept the truth. "Like...5." He says in a resigned voice. He sees Keith's eyes shutter as he begins to pull away. "But I paced myself. I know what I am doing Keith. I want this." Lance almost winces at the pleading sound in his voice.

It's all for not, Keith is pulling away. Leaving. Lance knows not to beg, because he knows that face, that god-damned point-of-no-return face. But still, he can't seem to let go. "You could just crash here, we don't have to do anything."

Keith's face is stone. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

That dowses Lance with cold water.

Tomorrow.

In the real world.

Talking about kissing Keith.

With Keith.

Tomorrow.

Keith seems to recognize Lance's reaction and interprets it in the worst possible way. "I thought so. " he hears Keith say under his breath.

"Keith, No."

"Goodnight Lance."

The door closes with a click.

The room echoes with silence.

The weight in Lance's chest returns tenfold.

He throws his face into a pillow with a groan.

Chapter Text

Lance woke with a start to the steady drum of a heavy fist on his door.

"Wake up call!" Shiro's booming voice came through from the hall. Lance fumbled for his phone, fingers clumsy, he dropped it twice, finally scooping it up from the floor. 6:45 AM, somehow he had managed to snooze his alarm twice without waking up enough to remember.

He turned to his back slowly, he was still on top of the bed cover in his clothes, his head felt too heavy for his body and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. The memories of last night felt like rocks in his stomach. Knowing that the band needed to be on the bus by 7:30 Lance lay prone only an extra moment before forcing himself up out of bed toward the shower.

Ten minutes later, feeling a little less dead and a little more warmed over, Lance headed to his balcony window in his boxers and tee shirt rubbing a towel over his head. Outside he could see Keith pulling himself over the 6 foot wall in the ancient obstacle course in the distance. He felt his stomach rumble unpleasantly, either from last night's drinking or the thought of facing his bandmate this morning. Keith hung for a moment before dropping gracefully to the ground and running through the tire course. He was soaked with sweat and covered with a fine layer of dirt, indicating he'd been at this for some time. At the end of the tires there stood a line of hanging ropes which Keith made short work of. Climbing and swinging across with impressive speed. Lance winced, imagining the rope burn and it's later impact on playing guitar. Lance only noticed Shiro's arrival because Keith paused before continuing the course. Shiro was jogging beside the track and must have voiced similar concerns because Keith glanced down at his hands and shrugged. Holding them up to show they were somewhat protected by his fingerless gloves. Shiro jogged past still talking and gesturing with his head, and Keith drew away from the course and fell into step beside him.

Lance suddenly felt like a voyeur, and stepped away from the window, heading back into the bathroom to do his morning skin care regime. He was going to need to make a supreme effort, in a short time, if he was going to have the confidence to face Keith this morning.

Twenty minutes later, hair blown dry, skin moisturized and spritzed, Lance headed out of his room. He carefully avoided the elevator and headed for the stairs to the main floor lobby. There was a breakfast room to one side where he planned to grab a coffee and maybe a piece of toast to settle his stomach. He was wearing his favourite blue rimmed sunglasses giving the impression that he was nursing a sorry hangover, but they were more to protect himself from having to meet anyone's eyes, as he was sure they had a tell tale hang dog expression he didn't want to explain.

His bags were left upstairs, neatly packed to be transported to the airport but he carried Red's case planning to do a gate check for the guitar. The rest of the band would roll their eyes at his over-protective behaviour, but they were travelling all the way to Germany today and he didn't want her to get accidentally sent to Italy or something.

Pidge was messing with the fancy coffee machine, making a mocha something, Hunk offering suggestions and wincing when they ignored him and tried a combination of as many flavours as they could into one beverage.

Lance, usually a fancy coffee guy, went straight to the breakfast blend carafe and filled his extra large travel mug with straight coffee flavoured coffee. He topped it off with a fair amount of cream and double sugar.

"Rough night?" Pidge smirked at him with a knowing look.

"It wasn't so bad." Lance bluffed, popping his bread into the conveyor belt toaster. This place had been chosen for ritzy ballroom, and formal event space. Thus, breakfast was continental style, though at the early hour, the dining area was mostly deserted.

"That's not what I heard." Pidge threw back cryptically.

Lance felt his blood turn to ice. What did that mean? He shot a questioning glance toward Hunk who stared at him blankly, because Lance was wearing sunglasses, thus his 'look' was entirely hidden. 'Get a grip Lance." he told himself. 'Keith doesn't talk to people. The only person he would ever say anything to is Shiro.' Still, he could feel his heart racing. Suddenly the little room was too small for him. He picked up Red and headed out toward the bus. Ignoring when Hunk seemed to catch on, and he heard an aborted, "Lance, hey…" as he sped out the door.

Even with his sunglasses the light was unforgivably bright. The bus was still locked, so he set Red down and tried to sip his coffee with an air of nonchalance.

Keith slammed out the doors, hair still wet, looking ridiculously rested and good for someone who probably worked out for an hour - after only 4 hours sleep - after a night of mischief… and Lance needed to stop thinking about that right now. Keith was munching on what looked like a protein bar. In his other hand was his water bottle. He didn't seem to expect Lance to be already waiting by the bus and stopped a good ten feet away as though in shock.

'Wow. You're early." Keith uttered with his usual lack of tact.

"Uh, ye-ah. We have a flight to catch." Lance said with as much sass as he could imbue into the short sentence.

Keith seemed at a loss for words. "It's just you usually…"

"I'm usually what?" Lance could not, for the life of him, figure out why he was willing to pick a fight over this, of all things. This is a hill he could die on. He knew he was always the last one on the bus. He also knew that the band had probably told him their flight left an hour before it actually did, because, even though it hadn't actually happened yet, if someone were to miss a flight to a gig, it would be Lance.

Keith's demeanour changed and he approached Lance casually, "Actually this is… uh.. Good. We need to talk."

"I'd really rather fight about my inability to be on time" Lance muttered under his breath.

"Huh?!" Keith queried, eyes squinted and lips pursed. Lance wanted to smack the confused look right of his face.

"Nothing." Lance said, trying to square his shoulders and look casual at the same time.

"So, last night..." Keith started cautiously.

Lance felt himself panic. When people in bands got together, bad things happened, bands broke up, they fell apart. All the things Lance believed he felt last night were minuscule compared to his fear of losing his band, his team, his second family. Keith couldn't think Lance had feelings for him. They couldn't air out the weird, beautiful, amazing chemistry that Lance had been tempted to dive into. Nope. Nope. Nope. This was a Pandora's box and it needed to stay firmly closed.

"You were absolutely right." Lance interrupted suddenly. "Too many drinks." He continued, barely noting Keith's carefully schooled expression. "You know me, I get handsy." He said making a gesture while sighing out a humourless laugh. "It was absolutely right to call me on that and to… stop… everything." Lance managed to get out. "You're a good guy." He added awkwardly. "A good friend."

"Good." Keith repeated slowly. "Good to know." He said with more certainty. "I am glad we cleared that up."

Instead of feeling relieved, Lance felt that awful weight settle back onto his chest.

"Lance, dude." Hunk called from the front door of the hotel. "You forgot your breakfast." He said bringing him carefully buttered toast on a napkin. Lance couldn't have had less of an appetite at that moment, but be mustered up a smile for his thoughtful friend and accepted the food.

Pidge and Coran then sauntered out of the hotel into the morning sun. Coran began unlocking the bus and settling into the driver's seat. As odd as it would seem that an executive at Altea would drive their tour bus, it was true. Just one of the many quirky things about this special band/family. Pidge shoved their way up the stairs before anyone else, giving Lance and Keith a warning look. "Oh, no. You two stay out here, I don't need to witness the dressing down that you two have coming."

Keith and Lance eyed each other confused. Shiro couldn't still be mad about the dare game? Could he? It was pretty tame and it had been mostly Altea staff who had been impacted... and hotel staff... and a guest or two.. oh, and the married couple. Shit.

At that moment Allura came out the front doors fuming. Her eyes flared when she saw Keith and Lance outside the bus. "I'm out." Pidge said, ducking into the dark vehicle. Hunk hopped up the stairs and him and Coran suddenly were very interested in a gauge on the bus's dashboard.

Allura stormed right up into Lance's personal space. "How could you?" She growled. She pulled off his sunglasses. "Don't you hide from me?" She glanced over at Keith, "And you? The two of you?" She gestured violently.

Lance was spiralling into confused panic. How could the band know? How could anybody know? Did Keith tell Shiro?

"I thought we were going to be different from other bands?" Allura continued ranting. Lance could feel sweat on his brow and he was shooting Keith questioning looks. "We weren't going to do things like this." Allura was speaking staccato and spit was flying out of her mouth.

'Ugh.." Lance trying to do damage control. "It was a total accident." He sputtered. "An-and we've talked about it and it will never happen again." Lance squeaked out, before swallowed heavily. "Right Keith?" He said with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, right." Keith said in a confused tone. "Um, what did we do?" He mistakenly added.

"Don't you play stupid with me." If possible Allura eyes went from flaming fury to cold anger. Keith took a small step back. "Firstly, how does that happen by accident?!" Allura was starting to rev up.

Lance interrupted desperately "I am actually surprised at how angry you are given our history." He gestured between them, to which Keith shot him an warning look that read 'Not helping.'

That seemed to render Allura speechless. No less angry, just speechless. "I should overlook this..? because you and I were once..?!"

Shiro seemed to appear from nowhere, and Lance sagged with relief. Shiro wouldn't let Allura hurt them. Right? Allura also seemed happy at Shiro's arrival, standing down to let him take over the ass-whipping that she seemed to think was necessary in this particular instance.

Shiro waited until both of the boys attention was focussed directly on him. Then, in his most parental tone he said, "I am very disappointed in both of you." Lance felt the familiar guilt of letting down his mentor and friend, but in watching Keith's face collapse. He wanted to reach over, to stand in front of him, to tell Shiro it was all his fault, that he had started it all with his stupid questions.

But then Shiro said, "Do you know exactly how much an art deco style chandelier costs to be made, especially when it is retrofitted for an elevator?"

Time froze for a moment.

Lance tried his best not to look at Keith. But he failed.

Keith was trying very hard to school his features and losing the battle. Lance saw the moment when he had to bite his lower lip to keep from smiling.

Lance was losing his own battle and had to raise his hand to cover his mouth and nose, trying to make it look like an expression of shock.

Keith, much better at controlling his emotions managed, "I imagine... it costs a lot." In stilted tones before having to cover his own face.

Allura, disgusted with both of them sighed loudly and turned on her heel to climb into the bus.

Shiro, not as unaffected as he would like to pretend, cleared his throat, and was mostly able to continue scowling as he said, "Yes, it costs a great deal. And that money will be taken from your personal income. Altea isn't paying for it."

Then Shiro climbed quickly onto the bus, without looking at either of them.

Keith and Lance took a few minutes before they felt they could safely climb into the vehicle with appropriately somber expressions.

Chapter Text

One would think that a European tour would be the ultimate road trip with your friends. However, Lance couldn't help but feel vaguely dissatisfied heading from the third city of this tour. Their three stops in Germany had been great shows, but the the pace of the tour was pretty intense, and there hadn't been any time for sightseeing in Berlin or Frankfurt.

Adam, who had come on board as their Tour Manager for their North American leg of the tour, was at the helm of this trip as well. He had ensured that the band had an opportunity to visit some sites in Nuremberg on their way to Munich, but it felt rushed and it seemed disrespectful to speed through. Once they were back on the road, the bus had mechanical issues which slowed them down. When it was finally fixed they had to forgo their planned stop at Dachau Concentration Camp, where Pidge had hoped to pay respects. This was the first time most of them had been through Europe (other than major metropolitan centres). They knew touring wasn't a vacation, and as much as Adam had warned them this could happen, it was still a bit disappointing.

If truth be told, Lance wasn't just bummed about not seeing the sights. He worked hard not to analyze his feelings, but he was definitely feeling irked about something else. He had tried not to notice the way Keith had maintained a careful distance from him since leaving San Francisco. It wasn't as if Keith could completely avoid Lance, that would be impossible. They spent their days travelling on the same bus, playing shows, practicing and doing sound checks together. However, Keith seemed always to choose the seat furthest away from Lance at dinner tables, in lounges and green rooms. On the bus Keith consistently had his nose in a book, or had his earbuds in, or was sleeping in one of the bunks. When they arrived at venues Keith seemed to disappear until they were needed on stage. During any in between times Keith always seemed to be elsewhere.

Lance hadn't thought much about how Keith was spending all his time, feeling a bit relieved at not having to confront his own awkward feelings about their last night before heading to Europe. At least, that is what he told himself until today. Because today, when the bus broke down Keith began to get antsy. He hung over the shoulders of Coran, Hunk and the mechanic. He poked at delicate machinery, picked up tools, made suggestions, scowled, sighed and was a general nuisance. Keith could fix a motorcycle, he could probably fix a tractor and he had built stock cars with Shiro, but he was out of his element when it came to a state-of-art European, custom made tour bus. The new bus had been waiting for them at their first venue upon arrival it was so chic that Lance was already trying to figure out how to ship it back to the States to replace the trustworthy cruiser they had at home. In any case, the very German mechanic had no patience for Keith's input and finally banished him to the inside of the bus. It was at this point that Adam leaned into Shiro and commented, "In future we should make note not to send Keith's new best friend on ahead of the band."

Come again? Keith's new best friend? What's that all about? And why did he say it like that? Like the word friend was italicized and meant something different? Something more?

There was no privacy on the quiet bus to quiz Hunk about this revelation. Though, Lance's impatience to know what was going on came through. He shoots Hunk questioning glances and Hunk shrugs back, completely confused. Keith was now pouting in a comfortable corner seat, earbuds in, giving off an impatient vibe of someone who has places to be. It would be hard for him to miss the wordless conversation taking place with eyebrows, head nods and hand gestures. Luckily, Keith tends to be clueless. However, Pidge is not. As the bus roared to life, they plop down across from Hunk and Lance, and say loudly, "What is your deal Lance?"

"Shhhhhhhhh." Lance cast a glance at Keith, "I just heard Adam refer to a member of the road crew as Keith's new playmate or something like that." He stage whispers, adding air quotes to the offending words. Pidge is completely unaffected. "Firstly," They say, "Why do you make everything sound gross?" Then, with a shrug. "Secondly, so what?"

Lance is nonplussed by this response. He, Pidge and Hunk often observe the evolving drama between various members of the road crew and entourage in the way the other people watch serial television programs. They have a strict policy of not getting involved. Absolutely no matchmaking allowed. Though they choose favourite 'ships and have been known to get into disagreements as to whom should be end game with whom. If Keith was hooking up with someone they would have been discussing it as part of their gossip. The three had relished in watching the painfully slow, and cringe-worthy courtship of Adam and Shiro.

"Um, Pidge, I think the question is who?" Lance finally sputters out.

Pidge and Hunk share a confused glance. "They're talking about Matt." Pidge says matter-of-factly.

Lance literally chokes on spit, "Keith is boning Matt?"

Pidge's face falls in disgust, "Again, GROSS." They hiss at Lance. "You are talking about my brother. They are not boning. They've just been hanging out."

Lance gives a confused look to his bandmates, "Since when?"

Hunk shrugs. "Dude, they have been hanging out more and more since like our stop in Boston. You know, after we went to that bar that had actual pinball games and the really good barbecue wings."

"No." Pidge says, "You are confusing the bar with the one in Philadelphia. The Boston bar had the waffle fries and the table top Ms. PacMan."

"Right!" Hunk agrees, rubbing his hands together in delight, "Those fries had a great sour cream dip."

"And Matt and I took the top 20 scores on the game, when Keith got drunk on Irish Coffee." Pidge continues in delight. "OMG he was so sick the next day." They cover their mouth and shudder at the memory.

"Boy shouldn't ever have dairy." Hunk shakes his head.

Lance just stares back with his mouth open.

There is a beat of silence.

"Didn't you notice?" Hunk asks, clearly surprised. "Matt hanging with Keith, getting him back to the hotel. Keeping him standing the next day?"

Lance just shakes his head.

"If you ask me it is a good thing." Pidge announces. "Matt is finally getting over his unhealthy obsession with Shiro."

"I don't know." Interjects Hunk impishly," I think they started out bonding over both of them missing Shiro. You know, once he and Adam finally got together."

The three collectively fall into silence as they look over at Shiro, who chooses that moment to look back at the group from his seat next to Adam. Shiro raises his eyebrows questioningly and tilts his head to the side. All three shrug back, faces as blank as they can make them. After a moment Adam draws Shiro's attention away, with a question, holding up a clipboard of the band's itinerary for the following week.

"Matt's not talking about him obsessively anymore." Pidge whispers loudly enough for them to hear. "He doesn't look like he's gonna cry each time Shiro and Adam touch hands or kiss. I think he is getting over it, and believe it or not Keith is helping.

"Maybe that is because Keith has some sense of what Matt was going through." Hunk says thoughtfully.

Lance is musing over Pidge's words. Pidge had not been on the "Shatt" bandwagon. Pidge felt that even though Shiro was kind, talented, buff and beautiful, he could not keep up with Matt intellectually. Lance actually believed that Pidge couldn't see anyone being good enough for their brother. Though they had a point, Matt had truly been pining, and it had been hard to watch. But still...

"How does Matt even have time to hang out with Keith?" Lance asks, undeterred from his original investigation. He's still trying to figure out how he missed this development.

To Lance, the question seems reasonable. Matt took over the role of Production Manager from Sam (Pidge and Matt's Dad) who was recently hired onto the Norlox's world tour. It was the kind of job you couldn't turn down. Norlox was the biggest thing in the universe right now. They were a gorgeous, gender fluid, alternative pop musician who played a blend of emo/punk rock, synth pop, and hip-hop. Honestly, Lance was a huge fan. Matt had been their sound technician since high school, and he is awesome at that. Like Pidge, Matt's a technical genius. He even messed around with their lighting design sometimes. So while Matt was the most qualified to fill his father's shoes, it left him with less time to play around with the techie things he loved.

Both Hunk and Pidge looked at Lance like his question didn't even make sense.

Hunk ignored him and continued, "They're having a lot of fun together. They're working on this top secret thing called Project Diva." Hunk says the last two words in an awe filled whisper. Lance rolls his eyes. Project Diva, whatever it was, sounded stupid. "That's why Keith is listening to all that new music Matt loaded on to his phone." Hunk adds.

Wait a minute. "Keith doesn't let people touch his phone." Lance says incredulously.

Pidge snorts, "Keith doesn't let you touch his phone, because he doesn't want 6000 Lance selfies taking up all his memory. Nor does he want anyone to change all his contact names," they say pointedly, "Loverboy."

Lance was working his way up to an indignant response when Hunk said, "I think protecting one's phone in this band is just good sense, don't you Pidge? You know, because sometimes little gremlins change people's language settings to Swahili and download gross images from the coroner they follow on instagram."

Pidge snorted proudly. "She is so cool! This week she had pictures of people who died while…."

"Nope, Nope! Don't want to hear it!" Said Hunk, covering his ears.

They continued to banter until the bus pulls up to the border crossing into Switzerland.

Once they were back on the road, Lance ponders the new information he had heard today, stirring it around his head with other things that he is learning about Keith. He waited for Pidge to join Allura up front before restarting his conversation with Hunk.

"So, why didn't you tell me Keith made out with Lotor?"

Hunk face was a cross between sheepish and surprised. "How did you… erm… You didn't know?" He faltered.

Lance's mouth compressed into a line. "Keith told me. Aaand, obviously I didn't know, when everybody else did. Why is that?"

Hunk sighed, "Don't you remember, you didn't want anyone to talk about Grammy night. Every single time it came up you would cover your ears and sing lalalalalalalala like a kindergartener."

It was Lance's turn to look sheepish, but he wasn't going let Hunk off that easily. "Still, not wanting to talk about my embarrassing debauchery is one thing. I am always happy to hear embarrassing information about Keith." He said nudging Hunk good naturedly.

Hunk didn't smile back. "Lance, you felt terrible about that night." He said seriously, "Do you honestly think that hearing Keith made out with Lotor would have helped?"

Lance felt his face fall. Hunk was right, nothing about that felt good when he thought about it. He didn't even have an urge to tease Keith about it. "Yeah, you're right, that night sucked. It is all best forgotten."

Lance leaned into his friend's shoulder feeling comforted. Hunk hadn't been keeping secrets, he had been looking out for a friend.

Hunk leaned back, putting an arm around Lance. They sat in a companionable silence watching out the window for a while before Lance pulled back and asked, "Did Pidge really change the language settings on your phone." Hunk laughed in response. "After that night in Soho, you know, with the Gin and Tonics and the swing dancing? I was hungover and I accidentally used thier dead name... ..." Lance grimaced at the memory. "I figured it was payback." Hunk mused with an shrug of acceptance. Lance's brow furrowed in question. "Swahili doesn't use gendered pronouns." Hunk explained. "Gotcha." Lance nodded, waiting a moment before turning back to lean into his friend. "Dude, we are in Switzerland. We are playing a concert in Zurich tonight." Hunk's warm voice murmured. "Yeah." Lance nodded and said it again. "Yeah."

Life was good, Lance reminded himself. He was in a band made up of his best friends, travelling the world together. There was truly nothing more he could ask for, he reminded himself.

And he almost believed it.

Chapter Text

Lance had a decision to make.

He had gone through multiple options, scenarios, and back up plans. He tried to analyze the potential outcomes, the drawbacks and possible fallout of any actions he could take at this moment.

Now he just had to make a decision.

He was lying on his back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, absolutely still.

'C'mon' he mentally urged himself. 'At some point you are going to have to do something about this.' 'This,' his internal voice continued, 'Is one of those, do or die, sink or swim, kind of moments. You can't just stay stuck here forever.'

He was saved from his melodramatic, metaphorical self-lecture by Hunk calling through the door from the lounge area of the opulent suite they were sharing.

"Lance, man, you up? I heard your alarm, like, 15 minutes ago."

Lance didn't move, not even to turn his head toward Hunk. "Yeah, I am awake." He said tonelessly, absolutely motionless, arms askew, still sprawled on his back.

Hunk paused to look at him, his face forming a question. It was one of Hunk's most endearing facial expressions. His best perplexed look, where his brow was furrowed, eyes squinted and he pushed his lips to one side forming a dimple in his cheek.

"Sooooo…" Hunk said, assessing the still motionless Lance. "Is this a spider situation? Or, like a millipede or scorpion? Cause, you know, for the first one, I got your back... but..."

"I'm not sure," Lance began, voice mostly steady, "There's a… a... dot up there, on the ceiling. Can you just take a peak, you know, see what it is?"

Hunks face had already relaxed into one of understanding. Without hesitation he walked directly under the point where Lance's eyes were unwaveringly focused and squinted up to study the ten foot high ceiling of the old castle-turned hotel.

"It's just a little hole, from a screw or something." Hunk said kindly.

"Are you sure?" Lance was quick to ask. "I am positive I saw it move a minute ago." Just as Lance was almost convinced he could see a white hourglass shape on the back of the moving black dot.

"I am sure Buddy." Hunk said with compassion, "But just to make certain..." he grabbed one of Lance's rolled up socks from the floor and threw it, with accuracy, at the spot over the bed. Lance simultaneously jumped up and flung his body backward against the headboard, just in case Hunk was wrong and the sock knocked something down onto Lance's person.

The sock came down and the spot stayed on the ceiling. There was a moment of stunned silence before Lance hopped out of bed and said, "Thanks man." Giving Hunk a back slapping good morning hug of gratitude. Who knows how long he would have been stuck there without his friend's help. "I could use a cup of coffee."

---

They were all loaded up onto the bus by ten. Most of the band would probably sleep for part of the journey having not got to bed until 3AM the night before. Matt hadn't headed out with the crew earlier, not to keep Keith happy (as Adam had joked on the way here) but because their venue in Amsterdam had oversold tickets and he was strategizing with Shiro and Adam on how to deal with that situation.

Usually, Altea handled all ticket sales through their web marketing team, partnering up with local ticketing agents. This way they could provide early bird sales to local fans, limiting the pre-sale numbers, to protect fans from having to buy tickets second hand through scalpers. Also, Mr. Slav was a bit of a control freak. Shiro had pushed back about this particular venue, which only sold tickets directly to the public. Shiro's gamble appeared to have backfired, because now they had to figure out what to do. They could cancel a portion of the sold tickets, upsetting many fans; they could try to add another show. Except that could backfire with their tightly packed schedule; or they could try to find another venue that could house everyone at this late notice. It was a logistical nightmare from every angle, and Lance was glad it wasn't his problem to solve.

In this part of Europe the band was not as big as they were back home, so they had been playing in smaller places, clubs and some festivals. For the most part it had been really nice, even though the stages were smaller and they couldn't do their full tech show. Lance couldn't help remembering their first tour, before Shiro's accident. They were so young and cocky. Their vibe was edgier then. There is something really personal about being in a small venue, so close to the audience that you could almost see people's faces.

That said, the nostalgia was starting to wear thin. Smaller venues meant smaller back stages to get ready in, and the band members were often on top of each other. They had gotten used to taking up more space, and they now traveled with a much larger entourage, larger wardrobes and more instruments. The crowding sometimes left people grumbling and sniping. Well, certain people, mostly him and Keith were sniping at each other. To be fair, Keith hardly took up any room with stuff, he just tended to need more personal space than anyone else in the band. To keep the peace, Keith had started getting ready on the bus.

The thing is, Keith didn't always want to be alone. Lance noticed that Matt regularly joined him for part of his pre-show prep time. To be totally honest, Lance was actually quite happy to see Keith bonding with members of the team. Keith had always been a bit of a loner and Lance often felt that if someone were going to leave the band, it would be the dark haired guitarist. Keith's friendship with Matt, who had a vested interest in keeping the band together, with his sibling a core member, meant Keith was more bonded to the group overall. Still, Lance couldn't deny he felt twinges of an unnameable feeling when Matt dropped Keith's writing notebook in front of him at breakfast today saying. "These are really good, I made some notes with feedback. But I really love them, all of them."

Lance and Keith hadn't always written well together, but now, Lance really valued their writing relationship. It took a long time for Lance to learn to give Keith space and time to share what he was working on. As Lance learned patience, Keith learned to trust. Some of Lance's best memories with Keith included sitting together on the bus, in their hotel or living rooms, strumming back and forth on guitars, trying different chords to match lyrics they had written. Sometimes without instruments they would spend hours singing with each other, word-smithing lyrics, working out harmonies, keeping the beat by slapping their hands on their laps. If Keith was really in 'the zone' he would jump on the piano to weave together magical sounds that breathed life into the song, giving an impression of what it would sound like played by everybody.

When they were writing Lance learned about Keith. It was one of the only times Keith allowed himself to be vulnerable. It was during one particular writing session that Keith encouraged Lance to ask out Allura, it was during another that Keith shared his fear of not being able to step into Shiro's shoes as lead guitarist. Those sessions were private and special, and Lance felt jealous that Keith was sharing his writing with someone else. The problem being that Lance knew if he pressured Keith to share what he was working on, it would only push Keith further away. Lance tried to steer clear of these reflections, because it always brought him back to one point, "Did I really screw everything up, just with one kiss?" Lance tried really hard not to think about that, because even now, looking back, he is not sure he would change it.

Lance was shaken out of his reverie by Shiro making a sound somewhere between clearing his throat and a growl. He had been on the phone with Slav for almost an hour now, without making any progress. Slav was still in the "I told you so." phase of the problem solving process, and thus, by the sound of it, no problems were being solved.

"Yes, I do recognize that." Shiro said politely, but his voice carried an edge that, when directed at Lance, always made him stand taller and straighten his collar. "I don't understand why it is important that this booking is on a Wednesday." Shiro responded.

Lance heard a noise to the other side of him and looked to see Pidge watching Shiro with something akin to delight. Lance raised an eyebrow in question. Pidge leaned closer with a smirk, "This is where Slav outlines his original plan for 'optimal scheduling' and explains how Shiro caused this to happen by not following the carefully strategized trajectory that Slav developed for our European tour." Lance looked between Pidge's delight and Shiro's darkening face.

"Yes Slav, of course I remember every detail of the presentation about mid-week sales of tickets for Nordic and Slavic concert venues. How could I forget?. I am sure the entire team memorized that particular slide deck." Shiro's words were clearly sarcastic, but it sounded as though Mr. Slav took him literally in his long winded response which could be heard buzzing through the phone. Shiro interrupted, running a shaky hand through his bleached white hair. "However, our team did not overbook the show, the venue did." Shiro rolled his eyes and held the phone a few inches from his head as Slav's voice could be heard at full volume, explaining "much more important factors" that increased the odds of this booking going wrong. Bringing the phone back to his ear he responded again with, "We couldn't have booked this venue for that time because the Reading and Leeds Festivals are that weekend." Shiro said, exasperated. More muffled responses from Slav. "But they are on tour this year Slav!" Shiro said, voice strained, each word like a separate island in a sea of 'fuck you.'

Pidge was shaking with silent laughter beside Lance, who sat somewhat stunned at the unflappable Shiro shifting the phone from his hand to the artificial one, and actually breaking into a sweat. Adam, also on the phone with said venue (the one that oversold the tickets) reached a comforting hand to Shiro. Adam massaged Shiro's neck as the distraught manager pinched the bridge of his own nose. Shiro glanced over at his boyfriend, and they shared a meaningful look.

Shiro took a deep shaky breath and said, "You are right Slav, I am extremely sorry that we did not take into consideration your statistical analysis of precipitation at festivals in the U.K. based on even numbered years versus odd. Obviously, based on that research, we should have skipped those festivals this year." Shiro could help but eye roll as he said this, but his voice didn't waver. "Well clearly we didn't follow that advice, and thus the venue overselling the tickets is somehow our fault." This seemingly placated the man on the other end of the phone. Shiro sighed and continued, "I would be grateful if you could help us sort this out."

Lance glanced back at Pidge, noting their gleeful expression. "Better than television." They whispered, enunciating each word carefully. Their eyes bright, nodding their head back across the aisle. "It's not over yet."

Now that Shiro's conversation had calmed down, Adam's was getting more intense. "Yes, thank you again for explaining how the error happened. I think we are more concerned about how you are going to deal with it." Adam's expression was carefully schooled as he listened to the other end of the conversation. "Yes, how is that our responsibility? Our contract states…" He stops abruptly. "Yes, I would appreciate not being interrupted. We can do an additional show at your venue earlier in the day, at your expense given that…" More urgent chatter on the other end of the line. "Please, again, allow me to finish. It may be best for you to cancel that, since you made this mistake with our booking." Adam's deadly calm increases as the conversation continues.

"Wow!" Pidge whispers, "It is like he gets more polite, the more intense emotion he feels." They say in awe.

"Yeah." Responds Lance, equally impressed. "Both him and Shiro are so calm and collected even though they are thoroughly pissed off. Can you imagine trying to deal with something like this?"

Pidge both shudders and guffaws at the thought. "Yeah, that conversation would have been over and the phone thrown out the window." They respond. Lance looks back at the couple, still both on the phone.

"I wonder if they are this polite when they have sex?" Pidge muses aloud. Lance is shocked, he can actually feel his ears burn. He looks back to Pidge and realizes they are not being crass, they are genuinely curious, in the same way they wonder what dark matter is.

Lance, however, does not want to know the answer to that question. At some point Shiro went from gorgeous-guy-to-crush-on to father-figure. Lance now feels intensely awkward at the thought of Shiro having sex. He actually squirms in his seat.

Pidge must have noticed, because they raise an eyebrow and immediately draw Hunk into the conversation. Throughout the proceeding exchange Hunk has been very focussed on his phone, texting back and forth with Shay. Pidge kicks him to get his attention, and says mischievously "What do you think? Are Shiro and Adam all Victorian and polite when they are doing the nasty?"

Pidge's choice of words indicates they are definitely trying to poke fun at Lance, who covers his ears and says in a high pitched voice, "I don't think we should really talk about this."

Hunk must've been paying more attention than he let on, because he answers immediately. "I was more wondering about when they argue." He glances up from the screen in front of him. "I mean, it must be like a cold war." He whispers, leaning in. "No yelling or door slamming, just really, really, polite disagreement." He leans back again, eyes wide and full of meaning.

Lance squirms again, because that picture is really weird. Lance thinks about his own family. Everything they do, they do big, they do loud. He ponders the cultural and personality differences. He wonders how that must look from the outside, to people who relate differently. He wonders how he must look from the outside to introverts like Keith.

Hunk seems to understand Lance's reaction, "Weird right?" Hunk says and Lance nods. Pidge shrugs, less impacted by the thought. Her family operates differently than Lance's does. The Holts have family meetings, they 'talk things out' and even vote on big decisions. The Holts tend to be more 'rational' and intellectualize a lot. Pidge can be pretty squirmy when feelings are at play, but they work through emotions, and they don't get as overwhelmed by them as other people do..

"Imagine Shiro, Adam and Allura having an argument." Hunk ponders aloud. This time Pidge does shudder. "We would need a thesaurus of sarcastic pleasantries." They say eyes wide, and just a little bit wistful.

Lance catches the look, but responds with, "Oh, Allura has a temper, we've all seen it. Remember how she acted when Keith and I broke that light? And when we were going out…" He shook his head, letting out a breath with a bemused smile and didn't finish.

"Not so much anymore." Pidge said softly. "She mostly reacted like that because she was worrying about the band's image and keeping up with running company while being on tour. She was scared it would end up as a blown out of proportion tabloid story on the Galra site. That reaction was more stress than anger."

"Could've fooled me," said Lance quietly. The mood had changed, and become a little heavy. Hunk shrugged and looked back down at his phone. Lance watched Pidge thoughtfully. They looked back, giving a look that said, 'what can you do?' and pulled out their own phone.

Lance understood the shift in their vibe in relation to the discussion. Allura had changed a lot over the time they had known her. In reality, they all had changed and grown, but Allura most notably. Maybe the nostalgia of playing smaller venues was reminding all of them of simpler times.

They had started playing together in high-school, at first just Lance, Pidge and Hunk played for fun. Shiro had been Lance's guitar teacher and he joined the band the first time he saw them live, dragging Keith along.

Allura moved to their town during their last year of high school. She was a prim and proper rich girl, who had only been to private schools up until that point. Lance had fallen in love instantly and decided his group of misfits were just the crowd for her. For some reason, she accepted Lance's invitation to one of their practices, and just kept coming. Hanging with the group loosened her up, let her relax. Early on, she joked about being their manager and knowing the music industry because her Dad owned Altea Records. It was fun, and they were just kids. She booked them into their first real gigs and when it became clear they actually had a possible future playing together her Dad took notice. At that time, Allura was their manager, but her Dad made certain Coran was always around to mentor her and keep an eye out, because the music industry is a tough business.

Also, Lance learned later, Alfor (Allura's Dad) had enemies. He had started Altea with his good friend Zarkon and initiatively it was a management company. They made a promise to stay in touch with music, to respect the talent, and not get overwhelmed by the money. They had one really big client at the beginning, and they were doing pretty well. But something happened, and Zarkon left with their main client. Alfor had to struggle to keep the company alive, and using his connections shifted to being a record label. He managed to do it and stay true to his values. Eventually Zarkon lost his major client. He had become known in the industry as pretty ruthless, so nobody was surprised when he shifted to media and started his own music gossip rag - "The Galra Press". For the longest time The Legendary Defenders were beneath the notice of Zarkon's nasty newspaper and web presence. But after their first few singles and national club tour, they became more of a target. Zarkon often attempted to make the lives of Altea's talent miserable, but he seemed to be exceptionally motivated to go after TLD. Oddly, the attention seemed to propel the band's popularity.

At the time, they were young, they had their first taste of fame and money. Shiro, always responsible in all aspects of his life, had developed a taste for racing stock cars. He wasn't doing anything big, just small tracks in a car he and Keith had built together. Lance sometimes wondered if Shiro had started racing just to create a new hobby for him and Keith to bond over now that playing guitar had become their full time job. Zarkon's wife Haggar wrote multiple nasty articles about Shiro being a "spoiled, rich, dangerous, racing, rockstar." It got worse when Keith started driving too.

That is why it was such a shock when they got the news that Shiro had gotten into an accident on the twisting roads of Highway 138 at Kerberos corner. The highway is known for being dangerous, but Shiro is a notedly careful and skilled driver. Shiro's memory of the incident was muddied, but the theory from the wrecked car is that his brakes failed. Despite there being an inquiry, no wrongdoing was ever found. That didn't stop "The Galra Press" from reporting that it was 'speeding and recklessness on behalf of the careless and entitled musician' that caused the accident. The magazine implied that Shiro had been illegally street racing and 'thank goodness nobody else was hurt.'

They all grew up a bit after that happened. Lance, who deferred readily to Shiro as lead guitarist, desperately wanted to fill his shoes. However, when Keith picked up Shiro's black Gibson Standard, and played a hollow riff of mourning for his friend and foster brother, Lance knew that the best thing for the band was stand down. Keith had expressed reservations, but Lance had quelled them to the best of his ability. He needed Keith to stay, to take Shiro's place. He needed this band together.

Allura had taken over Lance's role as bass player without a bat of an eye. Lance had stepped into being Keith's right hand with a heavy heart, new maturity and a sprinkling of his good natured optimism.

Suddenly being in a band wasn't all fun and partying. This was their job. After Shiro's accident, that job took on new meaning. Allura was the first one to voice wanting to use their new found fame and status for good. But everybody else had been thinking about it. The first benefit they ever played was to raise money to build a home for domestic assault survivors. It was the first of many. They now had a protocol of how to respond to requests for support. Altea Records created a charitable foundation and The Legendary Defenders took the lead in supporting causes by talking about them, singing about them and donating money to them.

Shiro took over as the band's manager, without looking back. Lance often wondered how hard it would be to lose his own ability to make music, and he knew he could not do what Shiro did. It still filled Lance with an uncomfortable sadness to think about what Shiro lost that night on the road. It wasn't just a limb, it was part of his identity.

Lance liked to think that through staying together; playing, writing and touring, they all became newer, better versions of themselves. Allura enjoyed sharing the stage with the rest of the band, and she went back to laughing and joking with the group. Her and Lance got closer and Lance thought he had snatched a little piece of heaven. He had his band, his girl, and his future carved out in front of him. Allura seemed so happy for that short time, she seemed to glow with life, and their chemistry came across on stage. He and Keith wrote a duet for the two of them which sold better than any other single and became the basis for their first LP. The song had become the wedding song of the season, and Lance dreamed that one day they would play it at his own wedding.

On the verge of heading out on their first national stadium tour nobody expected to be called to Alfor's bedside. A sudden and very unexpected heart attack and Allura lost her father and the band lost their boss, friend and mentor. It wasn't long before Allura ended things with Lance. She felt strongly about staying in the band, but she felt equally dedicated to keeping her father's legacy alive. "It's just all too much." She had said. Altea Records supported the careers of a multitude of musicians and staff. It was an example in the industry for dealing with their talent with integrity.

While it was hard for Lance to give up having Allura as a girlfriend, for him, having his second family, his band together, meant everything. He poured all his heartbreak into making music. He and Keith write together constantly. It was clear they were using the writing process to work through their own stuff. Their music changed, became more layered and mature. Lance learned that this was how Keith dealt with everything difficult in his own life. Keith didn't hash stuff out with his friends, or gossip to avoid thinking about it. Keith holed up into a place of solitude to find something to punch or play the guitar. His two outlets when stressed were working out and writing songs. Lance followed his lead and still doesn't know what he would have done if he hadn't had Keith to write with at that time.

Lance sighs, he can't really think about that right now. There are more pressing matters at hand. Pidge is right. Since taking over Altea, Allura rarely laughed without reserve, she didn't joke with or teasingly lecture her bandmates. Her face bore the strain of responsibility and her voice often had an edge, stress laced through it. Lance missed the old Allura and their old relationship, but now, listening to Pidge he realized the impact on other members of the band.

Pidge and Allura had gotten pretty close over the years. During the first stadium tour, when Pidge struggled with dysphoria, and would sometimes throw clothing out of dressing rooms or off the bus.. when it was moving. Allura was always the one to calm them down. Allura offered empathy, listened, clarified, and worked with the style team to find clothing that Pidge would feel comfortable playing in; being in front of a crowd in. Allura went over each press release and, with Shiro, made sure to brief every interviewer so they understood how to speak appropriately when talking to Pidge about being non-binary. It didn't mean Pidge never got asked stupid or difficult questions, but it meant they knew the band and Altea records were one hundred percent behind them, however they choose to respond to those questions.

Lance looked over at Pidge and then up to the front of the bus at Allura and mused. Pidge was playing a game on their phone. Shiro and Adam were now finished their calls and strategizing quietly with one another. They had diagrams of the venue's seating plan and were scribbling on it, muttering about overall capacity. Matt, who had his own diagram and had been trying to sort out a stage set-up at a possible different venue had run his hands through his hair so many times that it now stood out at impossible angles making him look like a stressed-out, awkwardly-handsome, treasure-troll. Hunk had moved to the back of the seating area to have privacy to Facetime with Shay. It sounded like a really deep and intense conversation. Keith was in the back in one of the bunks. If you listened carefully you could hear the strumming of a guitar over the hum of the engine, and with a twinge Lance suspects that Keith is writing.

Lance sighs and watches Allura some more as she goes through what appear to be financial files on her computer. Her brow was furrowed and there was a small frown playing on her lips. Something in Lance's energy must have indicated he was up to something because Pidge shots him a questioning glance. He gave them a small smile of mischief before calling out, "Whatcha doing there Princess?" It was an old nickname. Lance hadn't used it in well over a year. So, it wasn't really a surprise that it took Allura a moment to realize Lance was actually speaking to her. It took her even longer to process the question.

"Ummm… Pardon me?" Allura responds, looking confused.

"Whatcha doing?" Lance asked, putting as much playful whimsy as he could into his voice.

Allura was not amused. "Lance," She said, all uptight and busy like. "The quarterly report is due to the board at the end of this week. I need to look over all of these numbers."

"Hmmmmm," Said Lance, who only had a basic idea of what was included in Altea's quarterly reports, or even what one was. "Sounds fascinating. Care to share with me and Pidge? We can look at it with you."

Allura looked perturbed, not taking Lance seriously at all. But Pidge was already clearing the seat to their other side, carelessly stacking and repositioning a number of books papers and a tablet. "Yeah, c'mon over." Pidge gestured to the now empty spot.

Allura looked at Shiro, who shrugged at her. She picked up her laptop and moved to sit with Lance and Pidge.

Lance was now presented with a screen filled with multiple tabs all displaying graphs and numbers that look like a different language. "What are we looking at?" He said with false bravado, realizing with a frown, that he had no way to make this task more fun. No wonder Allura didn't smile anymore. For Lance, financial documents were the bedrock of depression and he was fairly certain he was allergic to spreadsheets.

"Well," Said Allura, "I am having some trouble here." She clicked on a tab. "This is our current receivable balance. But it is not matching up with this number here." She shifted forward to another tab. Lance had no idea why the numbers were supposed to match, where they came from, or what they meant. But Pidge immediately pushed their glasses up their nose and leaned into the screen and said "Hmmmm."

"I have double checked all existing and expected incoming income sources with accounting back home, and they stand by that number." Allura said seriously, presenting other tabs containing, what Lance guessed was back-up documentation."However our accounts indicate this is what we expect to be deposited and this is what is actually owed."

"So either someone is paying too much, or we have forgotten to bill someone and they are paying anyway." Pidge said reasonably.

"I do hope it is something like that." Allura responds.

Lance nodded, definitely starting to feel itchy, but still invested in figuring out how to make Allura smile, while trying to look like he understood whatever 'that' meant.

"It is only about $150,000." Pidge says. "Not a huge error, given our operating numbers."

Lance casually drank from his water bottle, fairly certain his throat was starting to close. $150,000 still sounds like a lot of money, he pondered, but maybe that's just him.

"Yes," Said Allura, "But we work with a lot of smaller scale studios, businesses and musicians. That difference would be very large for most of them."

"Right, of course!" Said Lance suddenly, loudly, and awkwardly, drawing both their gazes for a moment. He rubbed the front of his shirt, almost positive that he was starting to get hives.

They both looked back at the screen as though he hadn't spoken.

"Why aren't the automated systems, like the online music sales, separated from the revenues from smaller studios?" Pidge asked, nose crinkled.

"I wondered exactly the same thing." Said Allura, "I also thought that it could be categorized more clearly. But I understand that even the smaller studios have web sales. It is hard to break it all down."

She pulled up another few screens. "Oh, and these are our tour incomes, they are divided into ticket sales and merchandise."

"Hmmm." Said Pidge again.

Lance jumped up, giving up on his initial goal to cheer up his friend, fully certain he was going into anaphylaxis, and croaked, "I see that you both have this covered. As much as I would like to help, I think my expertise is needed elsewhere."

They barely spared him a glance as he wandered to the back of the bus and listened at one of the bunk doors. He could still hear the strum of a guitar and the soft croon of a voice. Taking a deep breath, Lance knocked more quietly than he usually would, fearing he was interrupting something, the strumming stopped.

"Yup." Keith calls out, ever the conversationalist.

Lance poked his nose in the door. "Hey." He says nervously. "Um, I am trying to find a stress free hang out zone." He observes Keith sitting on a bed holding an acoustic guitar. "Any chance you could provide a wayward soul with some refuge."

Keith doesn't look upset, and Lance counts that as a plus. Keith gives a small turn of his head to beckon Lance in, and Lance ducks through the door, a bit weak with relief.

Keith moves to put the guitar aside.

"No, no, no." Lance says, "I don't want to interrupt."

Keith shrugs, "I was pretty much done anyway." He said, packing the guitar into its case and siding it into a storage compartment underneath the bed.

Lance turns his head to pull off his shoes, hoping by the time he looks back his face is schooled enough to hide his disappointment.

Keith leans against the headboard, back resting on a pillow as Lance makes himself comfortable facing him from the other end of the bed. The curtains in the large window are open showing the countryside zipping by.

"So," Keith starts, "They haven't got it sorted out yet?"

"No." Lance sighs. "We potentially have a new venue, but the existing venue is being very shitty. Without their help, we don't even know who has tickets."

Keith gives a wry smile, "I'll bet Slav is giving Shiro palpitations." Something about Keith's expression indicating that he finds the interaction between the two men humorous.

"Yeah." Lance smiles back, "It was pretty funny to watch him talk Slav down without bursting a blood vessel." He said, giving Keith a playful sideways kick. "You shouldn't be enjoying that though. What about family loyalty?"

Keith looks nonplussed as he kicks, a little bit harder, back. "Who are we now? The mafia?"

Lance reaches out and grabs Keith's foot to pull him from a sitting position onto his back, "Loyalty is important man. It is the backbone of human society." He says, trying to stick his big toe in Keith's armpit, wiggling it in an attempt to tickle him.

Keith retaliates by sticking his socked foot into Lance's face. 'Why do you always say stuff like that?" Keith responds, wiggling his toes against Lance's nose. "Just last week you said 'well-made tacos' were the backbone of human society."

Lance scoffs at Keith's assertion that the two statements couldn't be true at the same time. But the foot in his face leaves him sputtering on his caustic reply, while working to flip Keith. Lance doesn't have enough leverage, he only has access to one of Keith's legs. Keith, already two steps ahead, has used his other leg and his ridiculous flexibility, to push himself into a sitting position, pillow in hand. He pulls his foot out of Lance's face, and before Lance can get up Keith swats him solidly to the side of the head with the pillow.

Lance sputters rolling away from Keith and tries to make a dive for the other pillow. But Keith is faster. Now Keith, weapons in each hand, pummels Lance's head from both sides. Unfortunately for Keith and fortunately for Lance, Keith is laughing so hard that Lance is able to wrest one pillow away from him.

It is a very tight space to wrestle in, but they wallop each other with pillows until they are both exhausted from exertion and laughter.

"I win." Announces Lance as both he and an out-of-breath Keith, fall to their sides on the mattress.

"Says who?" Keith asks pulling his pillow under his head while blocking Lance's half-hearted swat.

"Says everybody."Lance can't help himself, static filled hair around his face. "I always win."

"Nobody ever says that." Keith says with a yawn. "Cept you," he murmurs, his eyelids fluttering.

"I win, 'cause I'm the champion." Lance whispers as he lowers all the way down as well, putting his own pillow under his own head, facing Keith.

Keith just scoffs, eyes closing, lips upturned ever so slightly. In seconds he is asleep.

Lance watches him. His messy hair a dark halo around his head. His eyelashes resting on porcelain skin. Now he can see the lines of exhaustion on Keith's face and he worries. Lance is conflicted, he feels relief and contentment that him and Keith seem to be reconnecting after their weirdness. But he also feels a longing that he doesn't want to investigate. He could fall asleep here with Keith, and part of him really wants to. However, the longing he feels makes him uneasy and he is too grateful for their tenuous reconnection to put it at risk. He pulls himself off the bed and puts on his shoes to head back out to the front of the bus.

Hunk has now drifted off against the window in his seat. There is a small bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. Lance passes without stopping. The atmosphere at the front of the bus has changed, becoming even more urgent. Pidge is alone in their previously shared spot. Allura, Adam, and Shiro, are all wearing their phone headsets, talking to different people, taking turns pacing the aisle. Matt is staring dejectedly at the now completed equipment and stage plan he had been working on.

"What's going on?" Lance whispers to Pidge, dropping into the seat beside them.

"We figured out where the extra money is coming from." Pidge says dryly, assessing Lance's disheveled appearance without comment.

"And…?" Lance asks as he watches Allura stab a pencil into her bun with undo violence.

"It's this show, they didn't just over sell it a little bit." Pidge stopped, distracted as Allura, displeased with something she has heard from her phone call, pulls the pencil out of her hair and breaks it in half.

"Go on." Lance said, feeling dread.

"They almost triple booked it. That is why they didn't want to share the list of ticket holders with us. The other venue isn't going to be big enough either." Pidge gestures to Matt looking forlornly at his work.

"Oh, shit."

Chapter Text

"Despite this being our only option, I must admit, I am quite concerned." Allura exclaims staring out the front windshield, as Coran pulls the bus up to the loading entrance of Amsterdam's Ziggo Dome. When passing the front of the arena, an electronic billboard announced, "Tonight: NORLOX with special guests The Legendary Defenders!"

Shiro answered. "I don't see what choice we have, this is as perfect a solution as we are going to get."

Sam was already standing at the loading doors and both Pidge and Matt were off the bus as soon as the doors opened, and a big family group hug ensued. Lance quickly stepped to the side, knowing Hunk was behind him, keen to get in on some hugging action. Adam also climbed out, intending to meet with the Tour Manager for Norlox. Lance was holding back, curious to hear the rest of the exchange between the band's management team.

'Your concern is understandable, my dear." Coran says kindly putting the bus in park and switching off the ignition. "As the old saying goes, 'don't trust the cart that goes before the gift horse.' This mangling of the two sayings manages to bring a huff and a smile to Allura's face. "Indeed, Norlox's management and the owners of their label used to work with Zarkon. However, they cut ties with the old coot of their own accord many years ago." Coran continued drawing Allura's eyes , eyes creased with worry and the deeper emotions that came up whenever Zarkon was mentioned. 'As we well know, there was a time when even your father trusted him." He said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'll admit," Allura began, "Part of my trepidation is what The Galra press is going to write about this mix up with the club. Especially with The Legendary Defenders going from headliners of our own show to an opening act for another. You must know that is how they will present it" She raises a hand preemptively, because Shiro has opened his mouth to argue. "Shiro, we have merely begun our foray into the European market. Bad press for us could impact other performers we represent."

Shiro doesn't mince words. "Will Galra.com use this to slam us? I am one hundred percent sure they will do that. It is an unconventional solution, but Altea is an unconventional Label and TLD is not your average band. Our strategy is to make sure our story is out there first. Not only are we giving our fans a bonus by joining another headliner, but we are building bridges in industry, making allies." Shiro says this decisively, earnestly. "I know you don't trust them, Allura, but please try to remember, they didn't have to help us." He finished, brow furrowed but eyes concerned.

Allura glanced between the two men, both meeting her eyes with empathy. Coran's face is more openly kind, Shiro's with a quiet stoicism. She must have found the reassurance she was looking for, because she took a deep breath and stood taller before descending the stairs of the bus, murmuring. "I still have reservations, but I will be cordial and appreciative." She seemed to become more stately each step she descended. By the time she reached the bottom stair, any external evidence of her doubts had vanished and she wore the confidence of a queen.

After they left Lance sauntered the last few steps down the aisle to the front of the bus. He was musing about the events of the past two hours. When Matt had called his father for support in a moment of sheer frustration, Sam had jumped into action. It turned out that Norlox was also in Amsterdam, finishing their second of two shows. The solution couldn't have come at a better time. Things had gotten very tight. The road crew for TLD had been sitting in Amsterdam not knowing whether to unload or where to set up. Even now, they were sorting out how to include TLD's equipment into the mix. Norlox's second show had been added after the first had sold out quickly. By sheer luck they had enough seats to house the 3000 fans holding tickets to The Legendary Defenders concert. Radio stations had been announcing that ticket holders who had purchased entrance to TLD's smaller venue would have their tickets honoured at the Norlox show. Somewhere, someone named Leifsdottir was sorting out how to assign the unsold stadium seats to The Legendary Defenders' fans.

Lance wasn't sure why he remembered that random piece of information, perhaps it was because he liked the name. He'd said it over and over again after he heard it, in different voices. Until Pidge whacked him with a fly swatter, a laptop case and a ukulele songbook (in that order). He actually didn't stop because of the abuse, he got distracted looking at the songbook. It was a compilation of Beatles songs.

Lance had to admit he was nervous, he was about to meet one of his current idols, but was also antsy from all the stress of the day. He was definitely picking up the intensity of mixed emotions from his bandmates and could feel all of this buzzing through his veins. His body literally was vibrating with energy. To give himself a moment to calm down, he paused to fix his hair in the rearview mirror of the bus and straighten the collar of his trademark jacket. He took a few moments to pose, holding his index finger and thumb at different angles around his chin while winking at himself and running through an internal pep talk. "Who is the most handsome, debonair, suave, guitar player to grace the stage? That's right, me, Lancey Lance McLain." He realized that it wasn't so internal when he heard Keith behind him say, "What are you doing?"

"Ahem," Lance said, turning, feeling the warm tingle of embarrassment on his face. Nevertheless, he adopted the tone of someone speaking to a very slow learner, "Keith, I am preparing. I need to be in peak form when I greet my fans. It would be cruel to disappoint them." Keith exhaled in what might be a scoff, or a laugh. "Do you mind if I pass?" Keith gestured with the guitar case in his hand, "While you finish your preparations?" he said, making finger quotations with his free hand.

If Lance didn't know Keith better, if they hadn't spent the last 6 years working out their shit, he would have been more defensive in his embarrassment. However, when he caught Keith's slightly upturned lips and the glint of humour in his eyes, Lance, like always, decided to take things a step further. He shot Keith a playful look and grinned, "Sorry man, I gotta get out there quick." He thumbed towards the door. " It has been hard enough for my many, many, dedicated admirers to wait for this perfection as it is." he said, gesturing to himself before turning and bouncing down the stairs.

Pidge and Hunk were talking enthusiastically to members of their crew who had come out of the building. Even Allura seemed to be getting a little excited, at very least she was happy to see friendly faces. It had been over a month since they had played a Stadium show, and meeting Norlox was actually a pretty big deal. Matt was already halfway through the entrance door talking a mile a minute with Sam about figuring out the set up and changes that would need to be made to work with Norlox's equipment and staff. Matt was so intensely involved in his conversation with Sam, that Lance was surprised when he interrupted his Dad with, "Just one sec." and doubled back to Keith, who was taking his time, only just now, sauntering off the bus.

'Hey, man, you nervous?" he said quietly, with a comforting pat on Keith's shoulder.

"A bit." Keith said, not meeting Matt's eyes, but looking to the side. Lance noticed that Keith did look rather uncomfortable. His brow was furrowed, he was paler than usual, and he was moving in a stiff and stilted way, rather than with his usual grace.

Matt fell beside Keith, putting a casual arm around his shoulder. His nexts words were in a encouraging tone, but said quietly enough that Lance couldn't hear them. As they passed Lance, Matt caught Shiro's eye and the men shared a meaningful look. Shiro seemed to take over and stepped in at Keith's other side with a playful punch to his arm. Matt, apparently satisfied that Keith was in good hands, gave him a quick side hug and ran back up to continue speaking with Sam.

OKAY?

WTF was that all about?

It is not like Shiro hadn't 'handled' Keith before. There were lots of situations where Shiro or others stepped in, when they knew Keith, or another member of the team, needed extra support.

The question was, What is bugging Keith?

Was he nervous about meeting Norlox?

Unlikely.

Keith cared little about the level of a person's fame. He was actually pretty embarrassing, often meeting people and not having a clue who they were until someone told him. He was equally awkward with all new people; rich, famous, talented or otherwise.

Unfortunately, Lance didn't get too long to think about it, they were being whisked into the building, sent in different directions. An hour later they were doing a sound check. There were tons of technical issues to sort out, and changes to be made to many aspects of the show.

Everybody was becoming grumpy. The disorder of the day had left the crew under-slept and tired after moving their trucks between 3 different venues and then having to rush their load in, only to have to pull pieces of equipment that didn't fit with the Norlox set up. Allura was clearly still stressed about Zarkon's old colleagues, and was, very politely, being a bossypants. Pidge just wanted them to get finished so they could hang out with/ help their Dad and Matt. Because solving tech problems together was their love language or something?? They mentioned this every 5 minutes. Hunk was trying to make people feel better and getting snapped at for his efforts. That left him looking sad and confused. Lance would have given Hunk a supportive hug if he, himself, wasn't super irritated with Keith. The lead guitarist was so distracted that he kept coming in at the wrong points when they ran through a number. His playing was choppy and the sounds they were creating were making Lance's teeth hurt.

"Jesus Keith, you wrote this FUCKING song. It is supposed to be a ballad. It is supposed to FLOW. Why are you playing it like you're punching something?" Lance shot out, after a particularly bad run through.

Keith was running his hand down his face, in a way that often ended with a caustic remark and him storming off. He muttered something about punching that had Lance puffing up and stepping toward him, in a way that he hadn't responded to Keith in years. "What did you say?" He demanded. That's when Shiro stepped in, one hand in a gesture universally understood as "stop" toward Lance. The other hand restraining Keith's elbow, in case the interruption did not prevent him from blowing.

"Knock it off guys. It's been a stressful day for all of us." He said, meeting each of their eyes. "Let's head back to the hotel, get a shower, get some food and come back with clearer heads."

'Thank you!" Pidge said emphatically. Removing their mic and scrambling for the stage stairs. Shiro stopped them before they could take off, "Look, I know you want to bond with your family, but please remember to take a breather and EAT." Shiro said in a firm, but gentle voice. "Yes sir." Pidge said, rolling their eyes, but with words that held warmth.

Shiro murmured something to Keith who followed him off stage. Allura sighed deeply, placing her bass on a stand and taking off her own mic, before heading directly to Coran who was going over the 'quarterly report' on her laptop to stage left. Lance stood for a moment, guitar strap over his shoulder, watching everybody go, still a little surprised at his volatile behaviour. He turned to look at Hunk, who sat defeated behind his trademark gold drums. Lance immediately felt guilty. He had also snapped at Hunk during the run through. Hunk looked tired and really sad.

"Hey man," Lance started, "Sorry about the way I talked to you just now."

Hunk heaved a huge sigh, and looked up at Lance. To Lance's surprise, Hunk's eyes looked shiny, like he might cry. Lance scrambled to untangle himself from the equipment as he headed toward his friend. "Dude, you okay? It's just a shit day. Nothing personal, right?"

Hunk sighed again. "Yeah, man, I just hate it when everybody gets all… stressy like that."

"I know, me too... I guess I didn't help much." Lance said, reflecting on his snarling comments to Keith.

"It's not just that." Hunk said. "I got into this fight with Shay and I am just bummed about it."

"Oh." Lance said, surprised. He couldn't really imagine Hunk and Shay fighting, but he guessed it is something normal couples just do. 'Anything you want to talk about?"

"No, man." Hunk breathed "Not really."

Lance made a facial expression of acceptance and then said, "Wanna go see if the hotel has a make your own sundae bar?"

Hunk smiled, tired but warm, tension leaking out of him already. "Yeah. Let's do that." He said getting up and patting Lance on the back.

They went backstage and headed toward the doors they had entered through when they caught up with Keith and Shiro. The brothers were speaking to a stunningly tall woman who stood outside one of the office doors. Her dark hair was stylishly cut around her face and the locks were highlighted with purple tips.

"OMG" Lance said, his hand flinging out in front of Hunk to stop him in his tracks. "That's KROLIA!"

"Huh?" Hunk said, not having noticed the women in front of them, "No, you can't be… OH MY GOD!" Hunk's eyes blew wide at the legendary 90s rock star in front of them. "That's Krolia." He whispered to Lance. Who was nodding at him emphatically.

They were close enough now to hear the conversation. Which made no sense at all to Lance.

"I am so sorry we missed you in Zurich Keith" Krolia was saying. "We stayed as long as our schedule would allow."

"The bus broke." Keith said awkwardly, staring mostly at the floor, his thumbs in his belt loops and his ears bright red.

"Um, Yes, we had some technical difficulties that delayed us that day." Shiro added.

"Well I am very grateful we will have this opportunity to work together and maybe we'll get a chance to talk." Krolia says the last part directly to Keith.

"HEY!" Lance interrupted, when he couldn't contain himself anymore. "You are Krolia!" Lance blurted out gesturing at the woman.

Ooooo, he was fanboying badly. He could save this.

"Which you already know. Of course!" He said, smoothly, snapping his fingers, pointing and giving a quick wink.

Awkward silence.

"What I meant to say is that you are amazing and we love you."

There is a moment's pause.

"And by we, I mean me and my best buddy Hunk." He said gesturing at the totally awestruck man to his side. "He's a huge fan." Lance adds in a mock whisper.

Shiro, Keith and Krolia collectively blink.

Lance is floundering, because even though this is awkward, it definitely should not be this awkward.

"Me being Lance, I'm Lance."

"I'm in their band." Lance finished lamely, pointing to Keith and Shiro.

Krolia saves him by smiling and saying. "Yes, yes, Lance. I have heard a lot about you." She gives a quick glance to Shiro and Keith.

"Krolia was my stage name. I go by Kara." She said, reaching out to shake Lance's hand and then Hunk's.

"Awesome." Says Hunk in a high pitched voice.

"I am Norlox's manager." Krolia, er Kara continued.

"Wait. What now?" Lance asked, flummoxed. "You manage Norlox?!"

Kara smiled, about to continue when Lance again interrupted, "You? You are the person who used to work with Zarkon?!"

Kara's face shuttered, the warmth disappearing like the sun behind storm clouds.

"Yes, a long time ago I worked for… with… that... him." She said, her lips tight and her mouth small. She sighed, drawing herself up, and continued, "I have to get some things completed before the show." She gestured to the door behind her. "We'll see you back here at 7? You can meet Norlox before you go on." She smiles again, this time cool and professional.

Hunk's face is still euphoric as they head to the back door. Keith speeds ahead and Lance jogs to catch up with him, leaving Shiro to make sure Hunk doesn't float away on a cloud.

"Dude," He exclaimed, "You know KROLIA? How could you have never mentioned this before?"

"I don't really know her." Keith is shuttered, but Lance pushes past every red flag saying not to push this. His long legs in full stride as he matches Keith's speed walking toward the doors.

"Looked like she knew you." Lance countered slamming through the door harder than he intended. The late afternoon sun was still bright after the artificially lit halls of the stadium and Lance had to squint his eyes as he turned to Keith, who avoided his gaze.

"Seriously, what was that about? You know we love her and you were going to meet her in Zurich? And you didn't tell us?" Lance gestured wildly, feeling his emotions get away with him for the second time this hour.

"Lance, it's not..." Keith ran his hand through his hair then down his face as he sputtered, looking for words. "It's not like we're friends."

Lance stood perturbed for a moment before saying. "She seemed pretty friendly."

Keith's face crumpled and his shoulders fell and he looked so broken suddenly that Lance wanted to reach out to comfort him.

"She knew my dad, okay?" Keith said in a small voice.

Lance sobered. Keith rarely ever talked about his dad. Most of what Lance knew about the man that Keith had lost at such a young age was from a deeply personal and hauntingly beautiful ballad Keith had written about him. The song was beautiful, but they had never recorded it, because Keith struggled with sharing something that vulnerable and personal with the world.

"Oh." Lance's word was barely a breath so he continued with. "Yeah, man, cool. She knew your dad. That's cool."

Keith took a shaky sigh, once again ran a hand through his already messy hair and climbed up onto the bus.

Hunk and Shiro finally made it out the doors. "I just met Krolia." Hunk said dreamily, Shiro guiding him toward the bus.

"You sure did." Shiro said, barely containing a shit eating grin.

"Do you think she liked me?" A starry eyed Hunk asked seriously.

"What's not to love?" Shiro responded with a laugh.

Chapter Text

Lance lounges by the pool listening to the impromptu party inside the bar of the hotel. He toys with a warm, half-full, pint glass of beer. "Real beer." as Hunk called it. It had become clear that the drummer was treating this trip as a 'culinary exploration' and was encouraging Lance to try local food and drinks at every stop point. Tonight Lance wasn't into it. The party, the food, the people. It was so out of character, Lance felt his own face, to see if he had a fever. Maybe he was coming down with something.

Despite the dreadful lead up, the concert had been an unmitigated success. Lance was burned out from the emotional exertion from the day. He knew his bandmates were noticing that he wasn't himself. Honestly, he didn't want to worry them, but tonight he couldn't force himself to go back into the festivities.

So here he was, resting in a pool lounger, distractedly swirling his warm beer and trying to figure out the unsettled feeling he couldn't quite shake. If Hunk weren't inside catching up with Sam, taste-testing craft beers and bite sized portions of 'bitterballen' Lance would have snagged him. This was one of those times where Lance just needed to talk until he figured himself out. He shifted, unable to shake the unease that was building inside his chest. He considered drinking, but his first beer made him more maudlin and left a sour taste in his mouth.

Maybe he had been on the road too long. If so, the cure for this ailment was a long chat with a sibling, or a quick trip home to sit on the beach and play guitar by the fire, to eat his mama's food and carry his niece and nephew around on his shoulders.

His tired mind was trying to calculate the time difference between Amsterdam and Florida. Was calling Veronica an option? He guessed it was, since they were 6 hours ahead here. Though it was the middle of the week, better to do it now than wait. She had work tomorrow. Decision made, Lance rose to move toward the door, but stopped almost at once.

During his time by the pool, people had filtered out onto the terrace by the bar. The outdoor space was technically closed after midnight, but folks had brought out their drinks and some candles from the tables inside. There was a warm intimacy with the glow of flickering flames and muted voices carrying over to where he stood. He wasn't in complete darkness, the pool lights reflecting a soft glow, but he felt separate, as though he was in a different world.

Lance stayed, watching the table where Keith, Shiro, Kara and Norlox were sitting. Norlox seemed to be holding court, the charismatic center of the conversation. The star was playing the role Lance would have usually filled, had he been on his game. Keith seemed to be a little more relaxed than before (read, still uptight with new people Keith). However, Lance could see his lips were quirked as he listened to Norlox's animated story. Sometimes he would shoot an amused look over to Shiro who responded with his own reassuring smile. Kara, though, would look at Keith, with an odd, veiled longing when he couldn't see. Lance didn't understand the emotions that flitted across her face, but she seemed pleased that Keith was enjoying himself.

A piece of the puzzle fell into place for Lance. Part of his problem was that he didn't know what the hell was happening with Keith. Without a doubt something or things were happening for his longtime bandmate and friend. But Lance was clearly not included in whatever that was. All of Lance's old insecurities were abuzz, fears he had believed he had laid to rest were nagging his every thought.

He sat back down on the lounger heavily, pressing his lips together and rubbing his hand over his chest. Distracted enough that when Pidge plopped into the lounger beside him, he startled, sloshing his forgotten beer over his hand.

"Hey!' Pidge grinned wickedly, seemingly pleased they had caught him by surprise.

"Ugh." Lance said putting his glass on the pavement and shaking off his hand.

Eyes full of mischief, Pidge offered a cocktail napkin that seemed to have come with their very fruity drink. Lance took it with a grimace and wiped his hand down and then stuffing the used napkin into his cup.

He looked over expectantly, because he knew once he started talking, he wouldn't stop and Pidge was not always the best person to confide in. Not because they were untrustworthy. More because they were startlingly honest and direct which Lance wasn't sure he could handle right now. That said, he had planned to call Veronica, who could also be painfully forthright. So maybe he should just go with Pidge, since they're here.

Pidge seemed to anticipate Lance's oncoming deluge because the first words out of their mouth were "Before you start your tirade, which I am not entirely keen on listening to." Pidge said, putting up a hand indicating stop, "I wanted to say, Thank you."

"For what?" Lance asked, truly confused.

"For reminding Allura that we are a team today. She thinks she has to do it all on her own. At least anything to do with the company part of Altea records. I think she feels like she can't lean on us with that stuff. You getting her to come over, I mean, right before you had the weird panic attack." Pidge said in a teasing voice. "It was good."

Lance blinked back a few times, nonplussed. He didn't have a response, other than to say, "That was today?!" God, it seemed like a million years ago.

Pidge sighed and met his gaze with a semi serious look before settling back in their lounger, stirring their drink with a skewer of fruit and sighing. "Okay, open the flood gates. I cannot promise to be as great a listener as Hunk, and I am probably, nope, definitely going to laugh at you. But I'm here to help.."

Lance hesitated only for a moment, but the fact was he was bursting at the seams with questions and thoughts, and he couldn't keep it all in. As he entered into his (appropriately described) tirade, he couldn't sit still, it was an effort to keep his voice down so it would not carry to the others. He was rambling mess, though Lance liked to believe it was somewhat coherent, and that he started with recent history and moved backwards through time.

"Keith knows Krolia? How does someone not share that?" “Hunk wants me to eat poffertjes, stroopwafels and herring for breakfast tomorrow, and I have to be honest, I am a little worried about what that means?" "What the hell is the Diva project?" "What is it with Shiro and Slav anyway?" "Who the hell calls a project the Diva project?" "I'll tell you who. Someone who doesn't understand Divas." "Have you seen some of the spiders in Europe, are they especially creepy here?" "As a diva, I understand Divas and if anyone is doing a project on them, I should be part of it." "Does it have to do with Transylvania and vampires, the spiders that is?" "It is weird I didn't notice Keith and Matt hanging out so much? Am I paranoid to think Keith was hiding it from me?" "Did you know Hunk and Shay had a fight? Like I mean, I am sure they are fine. They are fine, right? I mean Hunk didn't really talk to me about it." Finally ending with, "Why in god's name did nobody tell me about Keith making out Lotor on Grammy night?"

Throughout Pidge sat silent, assessing Lance through their large glasses, with calculating eyes.

Lance finished by throwing himself against the lounger hard enough that it jolted backward making a scraping sound against the concrete pool deck.

"Okay." Pidge begins. "First things first, eat the food that Hunk suggests, it is almost always amazing. Spiders are just spiders Lance, except in Australia, where they are terrifying. Yes, you are paranoid, and oblivious. Obliviously paranoid perhaps? I am not really qualified to diagnose. Couples fight, it is normal, but probably Hunk will want to talk about it, so I would make some time for that on the bus tomorrow. Slav and Shiro are likely each other's nemesis in another reality. Maybe in this one, maybe in all of them, except for one obscure world where they are happily married." They pause for a moment, and choose their words carefully, "I think I should assure you that Keith and Matt aren't a thing. They're not dating or anything."

Lance couldn't help but notice the (small, minuscule, tiny) flicker of relief he felt at Pidge's words. Even still, he said, "Not like that would matter to me if they were, but I already knew that."

While Lance had felt that shimmer of relief, and was trying hard to ignore the meaning of it, Lance had already been fairly certain that Keith and Matt weren't together, together. Lance had observed how hard it was for Keith to accept love. Minimal acts of kindness left him flustered. It is easier for him to banter and argue. He wouldn't be so easy and relaxed with Matt if he had recently developed deeper feelings for him. Keith would be standoffish and self protective in the beginning. It takes a lot for Keith to trust that people won't leave.

"Okay," Pidge began again, slowly, "The Diva project is just a thing, where Keith listens to music that Matt picks for him. Music by different Diva's."

Lance shook his head, eyebrows crinkling in an unasked question.

"There's more to it than that…" Pidge hurried to add. "They…"

"Keith is writing." Lance interrupted shortly, "He's writing music and he's not sharing it with me." Lance winces, because he knows that sounds entitled and whiny.

Pidge began to respond, but Lance cut her off again.

"I do wait, I know to be patient. I respect his process. I get how to work with Keith. I get Keith." Lance insisted, words firm, his hands accenting his meaning, ending with his arms crossed at his chest. He can feel that he is pouting.

"It's just…" Lance stumbled. Because the words hurt to say.

"It's just that he's…" Lance swallowed over a lump in his throat.

Pidge's eyes filled with understanding. "It's just that Keith is sharing what he is composing with Matt, but not you." They finished for him.

Lance felt his eyes burn and blinked several times to alleviate the dampness.

His voice was gruff when he was finally able to speak. "It's just, I thought that was our thing. Ya know?" He said, pursing his lips to one side.

He realizes that he often imagined he and Keith would go down in history as did other musical duos, the greats. But comparing him and Keith to his heroes suddenly had new meaning. Most of those writing teams eventually broke up.

"Maybe Keith is writing something he can't share with you… yet." Lance suspected that Pidge had added on the last word in response to the explosive look that came over his face.

"How could he not be able to share it with me?" Lance exclaimed dramatically, gesturing to himself. "We worked through so many personal things writing this album. Why would he change that?! When you find something that works, you stick with it, Pidge."

Pidge stared back at him with eyes blinking in surprise, almost astonishment. They took a deep breath and rub their hand over their brow line, then under the round rims of their glasses. Lance thought he heard them mutter something about being oblivious, but he couldn't be sure. Pidge took a deep breath and straightened the glasses and met his gaze again.

"Lance." They paused for another moment. "It changed... Because sometimes... Things.Just.Change. Keith needs to write like this right now. It doesn't mean he won't come back to writing with you. It means he needs to sort this thing, whatever it is, out on his own."

"He's not doing it on his own." Lance protested angrily, before he could stop himself.

"Would you prefer it if he was?" They asked pointedly.

Pidge's words derailed Lance's indignant emotional response. It was a reminder that Keith had been alone most of his life; that everyone he should have been able to depend on had left or died until Shiro came along. It was a sobering thought. Lance knew how hard it was for Keith to trust anyone. It was part of the reason Lance treasured their writing relationship. Lance felt special that Keith trusted him. Of course he wanted Keith to be able to depend on other people.

"No." Lance said in a small voice. He didn't want Keith to be sorting out whatever this was alone.

"Maybe," Pidge said reasonably, "Maybe once Keith gets whatever ‘this is’ figured out, you two will have an even better relationship."

Lance wanted to believe that, but he also wanted to voice his fear that maybe this was the first step in Keith developing a new independence. That it was the first step in Keith leaving the band. As much as he wanted to share this worry with someone, to gain some support in dealing with it, Lance couldn't say the words aloud. It would make them too real.

Instead he said, "Do you think so?" .

Pidge sighed again. "I really, really hope so."

Lance thought they didn't sound very sure either.

"So, I should just wait?" Lance asked, feeling like a little kid. He didn't want to just wait.

"No." Pidge rolls their eyes and counts the following points on their fingers. "Be his friend. Tease him. Talk to him. Be your usual overbearing and annoying self. I am so done with you tiptoeing around him like he is breakable. It's weird. So effing weird. It was practically a relief to have you almost bite his head off at the sound check today. "

Lance realizes Pidge is right, he has been acting weird to Keith since the start of this trip. He is embarrassed when he realizes the others have noticed. No wonder Keith was treating him weird right back.

"Okay. I can do that. I can be normal"

"Can you Lance?" Pidge teases, "Because I didn't ask that, and it would definitely be a stretch."

Lance huffs a laugh as he gently shoves Pidge by putting his hand over their face. "I'll have you know that I am the most normal person in this entire band."

Pidge licks Lance's hand, which causes him to squeal in disgust. "OMG, Pidge, thank you for proving me right. Nothing normal about that! Yelch." He wipes his hand on his shirt, squirming.

Lance threatens to throw Pidge in the pool, chaise lounge and all, until Pidge promises to retaliate by superimposing the image of Jake Gyllenhaal's face over every single picture of Lance on the internet. Pidge says it with such confidence that Lance immediately yields, because he believes they can do it.

Lance finds that the feeling in his chest has eased, only tightening a little bit when Pidge says quietly, "I am glad we talked, because I think Keith needs all of his friends right now." Lance doesn't ask what they mean. It seems as though they didn't realize that they had said it aloud.

Even with that comment, Lance feels better, he is optimistic that he can reconnect with his friend. The idea that he and Keith will write together again, that they could be even closer friends, warms his heart. With the heavyweight gone, there is more space in Lance's chest and he thinks it would feel really good to take a deep breath, so he does. Then another, stretching out his arms to release the tension he has been holding in his shoulders. He hears them crack as they roll and enjoys Pidge wrinkling their nose in disgust.

"Do you want my alcoholic fruit skewer?" Pidge asked when he is finished stretching. A small smile is playing on their lips while they hold up the cherry and pineapple from their empty drink.

Lance returns the smile. "Do I?"

Pidge holds it out to Lance, letting go just before he has it in his grasp.

PLOP

The sweet fruit falls into the pool, slowly sinking to the bottom.

"PiDgE!" Lance complains in exasperation, as Pidge cackles madly.

Chapter Text

The band was loaded onto the bus once again. Lance sat behind Coran who had been regaling him with stories of his time touring with Alfor's band in the 90s. Lance had been particularly impressed to hear that Alfor and Zarkon had originally been in a band together, before they decided to form a company. Lance had always known this piece of history. However, after meeting Krolia and discovering she had been the top client that left Altea with Zarkon when the company broke up, Lance became curious about other stories from that period. Allura had plead the fifth, using her work as an excuse to avoid talking to Lance about the past. Besides, most of it was before she was born, so what could she really share? Coran had joyfully volunteered to spill details of their 'youthful frolicking and adventures.' Lance was vastly enjoying the multitudes of embarrassing stories.

Coran had just finished sharing a particularly humorous tale about the band being kicked off the train into a field of reindeer on their first and only European 'tour'. "Course it couldn't exactly be called a tour." Coran mused, "They really only had bookings in the UK and Italy. They were pretty much busking everywhere else." Coran smiled to himself and his voice tapered off into silence and the two of them sat watching the road, feeling light from the laughter they had just shared.

It was just one of those beautiful, blue-skied, perfect days. After their show in Amsterdam, they traveled to Utrecht, which had been a blast. They had an extra day there before playing in Brussels. Now the bus was heading to Paris. They seemed to have finally found their groove on this tour and the band hoped the booking chaos in Amsterdam would serve as the only hiccup.

Everyone else on the bus seemed to be equally relaxed. To the left of Lance, Shiro appeared to be reading a novel as Adam dozed against his shoulder. Further back, Allura was still working on financial statements, different ones this time, but Pidge had taken it upon themselves to create a data management program that helped organize the information in a more understandable way. The two of them were working side-by-side on laptops, sitting in a companionable silence. Pidge's sock feet were stretched out across the aisle, resting on their brother's arm rest. Matt, Lance noticed with a pang, was reading Keith's writing journal. The elder Holt oscillated between using his pen to make notes in the journal and tapping out a beat on Pidge's toes. Amazingly the younger Holt didn't seem disturbed by this, and only wiggled their feet in response, engrossed in whatever was on their own laptop screen. Hunk sat beside Matt, reading an issue of FoodEurope Magazine he picked up in Brussels. Keith is sitting further back on the bus, his legs stretched out across two seats, head resting back against the window, eyes closed listening to something on his headset.

Lance let his eyes rest on Keith for a moment, taking in his worn black jeans, his gray tee shirt under his favourite black leather jacket, made necessary by the air-conditioning on the bus. Keith had kicked off his Converse to get more comfortable, ankles crossed, hand tapping on his lap in time to the music he was listening to. For some reason, in this exact moment, Lance appreciates Keith's enviously thick and long eyelashes resting above his cheek bones. It takes a full 15 seconds before he realizes that was possibly the gayest conscious thought he had ever had.

Then he shakes his head, "That's silly, I have had much gayer thoughts." Lance mutters to himself. "What's that lad?" Coran asks, eyes on the road.
“Just talking to myself.” Lance responds, cheeks darkening.

As Pidge had suggested, Lance has been trying extremely hard to act normal around Keith. However, he was having some trouble remembering what constituted normal for the two of them. To complicate matters, Keith was not acting like he usually would in response. More than once Lance had shot a snappy comment Keith's way, expecting him to respond in kind, leading to a good-natured verbal sparring match. But more often than not, Keith would give Lance a measured look, sometimes shrugging nonchalantly, and not reply at all. Lance wasn't certain if other people noticed, but he felt Keith's lack of response keenly. For him, those moments of silence seemed endless, as though he was on stage, in front of a huge crowd, playing an opening riff - only to have no band join in.

It was because he was still watching Keith so closely that Lance witnessed the exact moment where Keith's expression changed to one of distaste. He pulled his earbuds out at the same moment his feet hit the floor.

"Matt." Keith complained loudly, holding up his phone, "I have told you I don't want to listen to this song. I really, REALLY hate Celine Dion."

There was a moment where the rhythm of Keith's words played on Lance's memory. If he had not been so impacted by the flash of violet in Keith's eyes he may have caught it right away. Unfortunately, it took a few precious seconds for Lance to gain his composure, but once he had, he felt his face form a half smile as he searched his brain for the perfect humorous response.

Shiro, however, beat him to it. "I will not do it on a bus, I will not do it if you make a fuss." Shiro says, a smile playing on his lips, not even looking up from his book.

Keith is derailed, mid-rant, nose wrinkling in confusion. Lance loses focus again and Pidge picks up the next line.

"I will not do it in a car. I will not do it in a bar." They say, glancing up from the laptop screen, then meeting Allura’s delighted gaze.

Keith clenches his fists as he gets caught in one of the band's, weird, you had to be there, games.

"I will not do it in the air. I will not do it anywhere." Matt adds with dramatic arm movements, and a 1000 watt grin.

Keith's eyes roll as he finally picks up on the joke. "Oh, aren't you all fuck-ing hil-lar-rious?" He deadpans.

Lance can feel the smile pulling on his cheeks, and he has to work hard to suppress his laughter. By some miracle he manages to get the words out.

"You know I really, really hate her. So, I would not, could not, do it in an elevator."

Lance can see Keith almost break, a small smile starts but he pushes his lips together and they pale from the pressure. There is both a sparkle in his eyes and an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

Keith runs a hand through his hair as he says, "Right, I am just going to go back to the bunks and you can all call me when pre-school is over."

"I will not listen to this song! I REALLY HATE CELINE DION!" They all chorus to Keith's retreating form, before collectively bursting into laughter.

The laughter doesn't stop for a few minutes. It dies down for a moment, but starts again when they look at each other, sometimes repeating the rhymes they said. Shiro is leaning on Adam, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Adam is shaking head in bemusement, not used to their antics. Allura's face is relaxed in laughter. Pidge just looks smug, as though getting one over on Keith is part of their daily check list and they got it done extra early today. Matt's eyes are still lit up like fireworks and he keeps slapping his hand onto his lap. He hums a few bars from ‘My Heart Will Go On” Lance can hear, rather than see Coran chuckle, his eyes still studiously on the road. Hunk's face is warm and relaxed, and as the laughter finally peeters out he says, "You know…"

Pidge starts groaning right away, because they know what is coming.

Hunk continues, undaunted, "When you listen to her sing in french, you may develop an new appreciation for her voice."

There is a chorus of groans and Pidge throws the beanie they were wearing in Hunk's general vicinity. It lands on a table between him and Matt, the latter picks it up and puts it on singing, “Near, FAR, WHerEVER YOU ARE…”

Hunk raises his hands, as though to protect himself from other projectiles, and continues like a chivalrous knight, defending his lady. "I am just saying, she is a talented woman who deserves respect." Pidge makes an extended sound that is a combination between a scoff and a snort. Matt continues to belt out the song. To which Hunk repeats, "I am just saying it, because it is true." He says, putting a hand over his heart. The gesture is priceless and leads to another round of chuckles.

Everyone settles back into silence, seemingly falling into the relaxed state they were before. But now Lance is jumpy and restless. He doesn't know if he actually hears or imagines the sound of a guitar playing from the bunks. He doesn't stop to think about it, just jumps up to head back there. Consoling himself that this is 'normal Lance' behaviour, and he is supposed to be acting like his usual self with Keith. Lance pauses at Pidge's legs, road-blocking the aisle. Pidge studiously ignores him.

"Ahem." Lance says. "Pidge, you wanna move?"

Pidge rolls their eyes, sighs dramatically, and lifts their legs to let him pass. This draws people's attention to Lance going to the back... where Keith is. Lance immediately starts to second guess himself. Now everyone knows he is going to see Keith. Why does it matter that everyone knows? It doesn't matter, it's normal. Is it normal? Why does it feel weird if it's so normal? Shit, is he blushing? Do people notice he is blushing?

The chaotic thoughts continue until Lance is standing at the door Keith went into. He definitely can hear the guitar playing and lifts his hand to knock. But wait. Would normal Lance knock? Lance decides the answer is no, and throws open the door.

"Hi-dee ho neighbour!" Lance announces.

That was definitely not normal.

Keith looks up from the guitar he is playing, blinking in surprise.

Totally not normal.

"Hey." Keith says slowly.

Lance thinks Keith is regarding him warily, which makes sense, because that's what you do when your friends' start acting bonkers.

Lance figures he's here, and it's kind of a do-or-die situation, so he kicks off his shoes and jumps onto the bed without asking, pulling the door shut behind him. Lance figures he used to do stuff like this to Keith, although upon reflection, he realizes that this was probably pretty irritating behaviour on his part.

"Whatcha playing?" Lance asks, pulling his legs into criss-cross applesauce and resting his chin on his hands. He thinks that sounds like a good ole, everyday Lance. The posture may be a bit weird, but he's totally pulling off close to normal.

Keith is still staring at him and blinking.

"Are you o-kay?" Keith asks carefully.

Right then..

Totally Not Effing Normal.

Lance hates this. It took years for him and Keith to get on an even keel and here Lance was acting like a lunatic. The more he tries to act normal, the weirder he gets.

"No." Lance answers honestly and deflates into a puddle as he does so.

"I mean, in general I am fine. But I am not okay with us," he gestures between the two of them, "being like this."

The words tumble out on top of each other and Lance really doesn't know where he is going with this. He just knows he needs to get back to something real with Keith. He misses him and other than one tickle match over the past two weeks, everything has been off. Wrong. Terrible.

"It's just ever since we.. ugh.. You know…" Lance says, covering his face with open fingers so he can still see Keith.

"Kissed?" Keith supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Jeez. God. Yes. That!" Lance burst out. "Everything has just been totally messed up."

Keith regarded Lance calmly, "You said it was just a mistake, that we should just forget it."

"Yes." Lance agreed. "And I think I am right about that. Don't you?" He asks, his voice pitching high on his last word.

Keith's eyes shadow with confusion, not the cute wrinkled nose kind of confusion, but something guarded. Something that implies Lance is only serving to widen the void between the two of them..

"I don't understand Lance, if it was just a mistake, what is the problem?" Keith's face is carefully blank and Lance can feel himself slipping. Act normal, act normal, act normal. He repeats it like a mantra in his mind.

"The problem is I don't even know how to act around you now. Like, one kiss and I am all weird and uncomfortable." Lance blurts out without thinking.

Keith's face hardens, he focuses on placing the guitar to one side before staring Lance down. "That sounds like it is a you problem." Keith says shortly.

"No, no, no, no, NO." Lance insists, pushing into Keith's space. "You are acting weird to me too." Lance counters, pointing first to Keith's and then to his own chest. "Don't deny it, because you can't."

If anything Keith gets even stiller, his face even more controlled. Lance can feel the panic rising, he can almost taste adrenaline.

"How? How am I acting different?" Keith challenges, though his voice is quiet and controlled. It is so unlike how Keith acts when threatened that Lance almost loses his train of thought.

"Like this, right now." Lance starts. Keith makes a face, but Lance pushes on before he can speak. "And what the HELL is the DIVA PROJECT?" He demands arms flailing. "And, and, and that whole thing with Krolia?" Lance suddenly loses steam. "Like, what even was that?" He finishes in a small voice.

Keith just stares back at Lance for a moment, blinking. Then he laughs a humourless laugh and bends down covering his eyes with one hand. Finally he looks up at Lance with a bemused smile, "These are the things you find weird?"

Lance feels even more confused, but Keith isn't looking at him with hard emotionless eyes anymore, so he'll take it. "Yeah, I am confused… about… that... stuff." He gestures with his hand.

Keith takes in a big breath and lets it out a loud sigh. "Matt figured you would be all uptight about the Diva Project. He said you'd want to know what it was, especially if we called it that." Lance bristled at the words, but Keith had a small smile and his eyes were warm and fond. So Lance stays silent, waiting for an explanation.

"It's like therapy." Keith began. Lance had to bite his tongue not to talk, but his disbelief must have shown in his expression, because Keith laughed. "Yeah, I know." He shrugged. "It is something Matt came up with. Using songs by Diva's to work through certain big feelings that I suck at dealing with." Keith says, looking sheepishly to one side while rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Matt says 'Diva's don't shy away from hard emotions, they wear them like jewelry, write them down and belt songs about them. That's how they get over that shit.'" Keith's impression of the older Holt sibling is so spot on, that Lance gapes. When their eyes meet they both laugh.

After a moment they fall into an awkward silence and Lance asks, "You're dealing with big emotions?"

"Uh, well DUH!" Keith says in a self deprecating way, that causes Lance's insides to ache. "I have a bit of a backlog." Keith leans back against the wall, looking into nothingness and continues, "You know, 'the dark, dangerous and moody member of the band, the one with the emotionally-starved childhood.'" His voice tapers off.

Lance sees red because Keith is paraphrasing an article written about him on the Galra website earlier that year.

"What the hell Keith? Since when do you let fucking Zarkon's magazine define you?"

"What about that isn't true?" Keith said shortly.

'None of it.' Lance wants to answer, but he affectionately calls Keith moody almost daily, at least he used to. And Keith isn't dark, well, maybe he has a dark sense of humour, and beautiful dark hair. But not dangerous, except he is, in ways that Lance can't even think about. He is dangerous to Lance's equilibrium.

Several awkward moments of silence pass before Lance says, "I thought that…" He almost loses his nerve when Keith meets his eyes. Lance clears his throat and continues, "I thought that we worked stuff out… you know… writing… together?" The last word comes out almost as a plea and Lance has to swallow down the lump in his throat.

Keith closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. He looks away, but then looks back at Lance, his eyes full of apology. "There are some things I can't work out with you Lance."

Ouch, that fucking hurts. Lance tries not to ask, but it comes out in a strangled voice. "Why not?"

He can tell Keith doesn't want to answer, but he does. "Because some things are just too hard to share. They're just... private."

Lance scoffs, because he is hurt and angry. "Apparently you can share them with Matt. Who you barely spent any time with before…"

"Matt guessed."

Lance stopped mid rant. Matt could guess something was bothering Keith. Something big, huge. And Lance-his longtime friend and bandmate missed it. But Matt figured it out, and now Keith trusted him to help find a solution.

Of course, Lance had known all of this. Didn't Pidge already tell him that Keith was working on something he couldn't share, at least not yet?

Lance knew that this had to do with more than Keith's difficult childhood and past. Lance already knew about all of that stuff, and if that was all Keith was working through, he knew he could trust Lance with it. In fact they already had written together about Keith's Dad and Shiro's accident. It hurt to know there was more, and that Lance couldn't help. But he could also respect that. There was just one thing nagging at Lance.

"Does the Diva project have anything to do with Krolia?"

To Lance's surprise, Keith barks out a laugh.

"Well it didn't originally, but I guess it does now."

Lance just stared, confused.

Keith met his gaze, and took, yet another, deep breath.

"Krolia, er Kara, is… my biological mother."

Keith could have knocked Lance down with a feather. Lance stared at him, eyes wide, mouth open, possibly for a full minute. Keith seemed relieved to have said it, and not at all shocked by the response.

"Um.”

“Huh,”

“ uh.”

“Wow!... “

“Um,”

“What’s that now?" Lance finally sputtered.

Keith was smiling now, one of his small, self-deprecating smiles, but a smile nonetheless.

"She's my mother."

"Holy shit." was all Lance could say.

"That is what I said." Keith lips turned up a fraction while he nodded ruefully.

"How?" Lance asked, still not having regained his full vocabulary.

"I think probably the usual way." Keith responded wryly. "Though, I didn't ask for details." He deadpanned.

Lance didn't laugh. Just stared back at Keith.

"Dude."

Keith nodded.

"Your mother is effing Krolia?"

Keith nodded again.

Lance made a gesture placing his hands on each side of his own head and pulling them back while making a sound effect for an explosion.

Mind. Blown.

"When did you find out?" Lance finally found his words.

"Right before we left on tour."

"Wow." Lance said again, as one thousand little pieces fell into place. Keith wasn't just acting weird around him, Keith had been grappling with this huge revelation. Lance couldn't help but feel relieved and hopeful with that knowledge.

But back to the matter at hand.

"Did she explain? " Lance asked gently, seriously, "Why she… you know… why she… ?" It hurt to say the words, so he ended with a hand gesture, because he could only imagine how Keith would feel to hear them.

Keith looked to one side, at nothing, his mouth pulling into a frown. "Yeah, kinda. It was all about her believing she would be a bad mother. She was addicted to stuff. And Zarkon was being… you know… Zarkon. I mean, she takes responsibility and swears it wasn't me. She loved me. She felt broken and she thought she was doing right by me."

"Does that…" Lance fumbled for words, "help?"

Keith met Lance's eyes for a moment before looking away again. "I dunno," Keith sighed, "I mean, I guess it helps to know she always loved me. But it doesn't change that I spent years believing that…" Keith stopped, looking for the right words. "It is just hard to be someone who gets… left."

While he was speaking Keith had pulled in onto himself and as he said the last words he wrapped his arms around his knees forming a tight ball. Finally he looked up to meet Lance's gaze with vulnerable eyes. Lance's heart was aching for what Keith and his mother lost. He was hoping against hope that Krolia, er Kara could make it up to him, to repair some of the damage that had been done. But for the time being, Lance moved around to Keith's side and wrapped his arms around his friend.

Keith didn't cry, not that Lance had expected him too. He leaned into the embrace, resting his head onto Lance's shoulder.

"You’re mother is Effing Krolia. The Icon." Murmured Lance, still in shock. Keith gave an unhinged sort of giggle against Lance's shoulder. "No wonder you rock." Lance huffed. "It's in your blood man." He said with admiration. Keith sighed and leaned deeper into the hug, a tight ball of emo guitarist curled up in Lance's arms.

"We're not gonna leave you. You know that, right? The band. We're here for good." Lance squeezed tighter, "I, for one, am not going anywhere." He said, kissing the top of Keith's head.

He heard and felt Keith sigh deeply, and the very quiet words, "Thanks Lance."

Chapter Text

After Keith and Lance's emotionally draining conversation, Lance convinces Keith to play Uno with him. Keith is more of a poker guy, but Lance was not in the mood to experience the staggering defeat that occurred during the North American tour. Apparently everyone can tell when Lance is bluffing, he is not sure how. Maybe that is just what happens when you live, work, and tour with your closest friends from high school. 

The Uno game gets rather loud and maybe a bit physical when Lance is forced to pick up 36 cards, Keith's rules, where every pick up is multiplied by the last card played. The noise draws Pidge, who plays like a demon from a old-time blues song. Lance was 90% sure that Pidge had spent their high school lunches playing Italian Briscola for the sole purpose of winning the souls of unsuspecting freshmen. Lance once boldly made that accusation sometime during their senior year, to which Pidge had responded that he was ridiculous, and obviously didn't understand brisk. "If I really wanted to steal souls," Pidge had continued, "Bridge would be the game to play."

He avoided ever playing cards alone with them again.

With this in mind, they move up to the front of the bus and switch to Boggle. Matt, Hunk and Alura join in the fun. It is not Lance's favourite game, being dyslexic. But Lance leans in, because they are all laughing together and it feels like old times.

"Wimpcap is not a word Lance." Pidge complains irritably. "Sure it is." Lance responds, presenting Pidge's discarded beanie to them. "It's a cap, that wimps wear." He meets their unimpressed eyes with a sideways grin. Pidge just blinks back, game face on. Lance sighed loudly and dramatically. "Fine, you're no fun." He said as he crosses the word off his list.

Keith looks over at his page and said, "How did you get Wimpcap, but not wimp or cap?" "Shhh." Lance hushed Keith dramatically. "The real game is to see if you can get steam to come out of Pidge's ears." He stage whispers for all to hear. Keith huffs a small smile, and says to Shiro, who is lounging across the aisle, "And you say I have no regard for my personal safety." To which Matt nods emphatically and adds. "Sounds too risky for me." 

Pidge is unperturbed by Lance's stated intentions and proceeds to kick all of their asses at Boggle. Matt is a close second, the rest are left in the dust. Lance wasn't 100% sure if all of the words Matt and Pidge used were real, but he was revelling in hanging out with his people. He couldn't help it if his eyes landed on Keith more often than the rest of the group, and he savoured every time they shared a glance, or private joke.

___

Now the bus is pulling up to the hotel to drop them off. The late afternoon sun reflects off all the tinted windows as Coran brings the bus to the back of the building, leaving the band settled in the lobby. Lance has promised Hunk that they would find and eat delicious things as soon as they had freshened up. However, he is reluctant to leave the comfortable connection he is sharing with Keith right now, and decides to ask him to come along.

He manages to catch Keith at the door of his hotel suite, everyone else having already filtered into their respective rooms.

"Watcha doing after this?" Lance asks smoothly.

'Heading to the venue. Pidge and Matt want to try something with the sound equipment they just got." Lance grapples with his disappointment. He reminds himself that he has spent a whole, almost normal, afternoon with Keith. It was a good start. Keith is still waiting expectantly and Lance stumbles out a response.

"Cool, cool.cool.cool. So I’ll catch you later then. Like, at the club." He says, just to clarify where he would see him. Keith just gives a small nod. "Later." Lance repeats managing a smile, despite feeling his face go warm. "Right." Lance points to his room with his key card and heads down the hall to his door.

It takes Lance a moment to notice that Keith is still silently watching him go. He stops fiddling with his door card to look up to see Keith's dark eyes still on him. Lance's lock flashes green and he opens the door, but waits expectantly, in case Keith has something to say. The moment was already awkward, but he wants to know what Keith is thinking right now.

Keith lets out a breath and says. "Um, Thank you. For today.." Lance nods, afraid to speak and ruin the moment with the tumult of thoughts in his head. He is grateful too. Grateful that he could show his support, that they were moving back into being a cohesive unit. The band feels solid again. Lance feels better because Keith needs him to give him both space and support as he works through things. And Lance needs Keith... he just needs them to be okay. 

Lance watches Keith enter his room. He breathes a sigh of relief entering his own. “We’re good.” He thinks. “I got this.”

____
"Oh my god, I am dying." Lance said, patting his bloated belly as he and Hunk climb out of an cab at the back entrance of La Cigale, the venue for that night.

"I told you not to eat that second croissant." Hunk admonishes.

"Two croissants are usually nothing for me." Lance responds. "You should see what I could pack away as a teenager."

"I did see what you packed away as a teenager." Hunk reminded him. "It wasn't pretty then either. Two croissants as a chaser for a falafel platter seemed a bit much."

"I didn't even know the French had falafel." Lance mused, then groaned and leaned into his heftier friend.

"I know." Hunk said, patting a comforting hand on Lance's back. "But I read about L'As du Fallafel in a magazine and I knew we had to go there"

"It was so goooood." Lance said, opening the back door and waving to the security stationed there.

"Just don't puke on stage." Hunk warns.

Lance immediately launches into, "Me puke? During the show? I don't think so mister. I'll have you know I have a stomach of steel...", Lance is defending his honour, seeing as Hunk is the band member with a reputation for blowing his chunks. The first couple of gigs they played, Hunk's stage fright was so severe they kept a bucket beside his drum kit at all times.

However, Lance's righteous rant is cut off by hearing the music echoing through the venue. They were at the side, stage right, and Lance reaches out to stop Hunk from stepping into view. He has a sneaking suspicion that if Keith knew they were there, watching, he'd wrap up whatever the others were working on. Keith is playing one Pidge's smaller keyboards. It is a simple tune, Lance struggles to place it.

Keith stops and calls to Matt in the sound booth, "The vibrato is still a little tinny, can we clean it up?" Matt adjusts something, and Keith plays the intro again. From his place behind the curtain Lance appreciates the small smile pulling at Keith's lips. Lance pulls back further into the darkness, thinking he's been seen. But Keith just looks up and says, "One more run through?" Lance realizes that Keith is talking to Pidge, who is set up on another, larger keyboard, with three levels. Pidge nods vigorously, facing away from Lance and toward centre stage. He hears a deeper sound of ascent and looks to the back of the stage to see Shiro sitting at Hunk's drum set. Hunk must've noticed at the same time, because he makes a delighted sound and Lance shushes him.

Without any other preamble, Keith nods his head to a beat, and begins playing the familiar notes.

Sometimes

I hate every single 

stupid word you say.

When Keith sings the first lyrics and Shiro comes in on drums that Lance recognizes the song, Pink's 'True Love'. He has to bite his lip not to laugh out loud. The electronic sounds and upbeat pop rhythm are not Keith's go to for a cover. Out of his peripheral he sees Hunk actually bounce up onto his toes in anticipation.

Sometimes 

I want to slap you 

in your whole face.

Pidge is having a ball messing with the sound of their voice singing the backup "woh -oh -oh" to punctuate Keith's lyrics.

There's no one quite like you,

You push all my buttons down,

I know life would suck without you.

Lance is transfixed. He is usually on stage with Keith when performing, and never gets to watch him play a whole song. He is distracted by the miracle that is Shiro playing the drums with a prosthetic arm. Hunk, however, is bubbling with happiness and Lance realized they will never be able to keep it a secret that they have watched this performance. He just doesn't want it to end. Thus, he makes a  concerted effort to quell Hunk's excitement by holding a finger up to his mouth. Hunk understands and nods emphatically.

At the same time,

I wanna hug you,

I wanna wrap my hands around your neck.

Lance flashes back to the early days of the band where he constantly poked and prodded at Keith to get a rise out of him. He feels that burning feeling in his chest. It's a fire that he wants to blame on indigestion. 

You're an asshole,

But I love you,

And you make me so mad I ask myself,

Why am I still here?

Where could I go?

You're the only love I've ever known.

Unfortunately that old pressure being back isn't welcome. He really doesn't want to name it, but he finally acknowledges that it is one he has been trying to deny even before the kiss. He feels like that time when he was 8 years old, surfing and got pulled into the undertow. Watching Keith is like watching the waves crash over him and not being strong enough to break the surface of the water. No, no, no, no, he just got back to normal with Keith, he has to shut this down.

But I hate

I really hate you,

So much I think it could be,

True Love.

True Love.

True Love

Nothing else could break my heart like

True love

True Love

It must be True Love

No one else could break my heart like you.

Lance continues to watch, heart in his throat. The performance is good, amazing even. However, Lance focuses more on the tiny changes in Keith's expression as he sings the chorus, the huge, rare, smile that breaks his face when they start the second verse. 

Just once try to wrap your little brain around my feelings

Just once, please try not to be so mean.

Repeat after me now,

R.O.M.A.N.C.E.e.e.e

Come on, I will say it slowly.

Romance… you can do it baby....

Lance is there for it all. The comical faces Keith makes as Matt electronically changes his voice leading into the bridge. The deep concentration as he plays through Pidge's vocal solo. And his final grin as he plays out the last notes.

Hunk can't contain himself. He cheers and runs out onto stage, hugging them all in turn, hugging Shiro twice. "Guys, that was amazing!" Hunk gushes. Keith immediately looks sheepish. Lance attributes it to being caught singing something akin to electronic pop music, even though Pink is all kinds of badass. 

"Shiro, how long have you been working on that?' Hunk gushes. "It was awesome!' Shiro shrugs a bit bashful. "I have been trying to find a way to de-stress." He says. "You're sure you don't mind me using your kit?" He says, gesturing to Hunk's golden drums.  "Aw, Man, anytime, anytime." Hunk assures his friend. They begin chatting about drumming in general, Hunk's enthusiasm filling the space. 

Lance doesn't really know what to say as his eyes follow Hunk around the stage. He gives some back pats and congratulations, especially to Shiro, who seems a bit embarrassed. Lance catches Keith's eye and says, "Not really your usual style." He is proud of how neutral he sounds.

Keith shrugs, though there is still a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It was a good one to try out the new equipment." He says non-committedly before turning to Hunk's animated conversation with Shiro.

Lance thinks he may be dying a little. He still feels underwater, and though the voice in his head is telling him to shut this down… He stops fighting the feeling in his chest, and it immediately feels less tight, more expansive. 

He thinks, 'I can feel this, maybe it will be okay if I stop fighting this and just feel it.' 

Chapter Text

For the first time ever, one of TLD songs had been used in a movie. It's all kinds of cool. They had planned the tour to include a stopover in London for them to attend the opening. By this point in their careers the band has done their share of red carpet events and had figured out some strategies to get through them smoothly.

Since Lance and Allura had ended their relationship, he rarely brought a date to big events. When asked why, Lance would joke that he had to 'babysit' Keith, often reaching over to muss his hair or poke him as he said so. There was a bit of truth to the statement. Keith had the tendency to come across as distant and awkward when having to talk to nosy, sunshiny, entertainment reporters. He had also been known to growl at paparazzi and members of Galra Press. It was good sense to have another band member nearby to draw the line of fire or defuse potentially combustible situations.

At first, Shiro played this role - walking Keith up the aisle, smoothing his brother's rougher edges with a warm smile. Shiro didn't really get interviewed anymore, being seen as less of a celebrity now that he focussed on management, but he remained even-tempered as he watched over the group and was able to step in if any band members got in over their head with the press or over-enthusiastic fans. Shiro now had the broader spectrum of responsibilities that came with management. This led to Lance stepping in as Keith's red-carpet-buddy as part of a larger shift in their relationship that happened when Keith became the band's frontman.

Even when Allurance was a thing, the couple would often drag Keith along with them. Sometimes a disgruntled Keith would complain that he wasn't their 'pet' and would hang back with Pidge and Hunk instead. Unfortunately, the drummer and keyboardist were terrible at keeping the lead guitarist out of trouble. Pidge had the unfortunate habit of baiting people, in this case entertainment media, if they were particularly annoying. Keith had no time for it if a reporter got testy with Pidge. Hunk was just too nice to step in and pull Keith out of a confrontation. He was way more likely to stand on the sidelines and say things like, "Well, that got awkward." There was an unmentionable incident where Keith was caught on camera, flipping the bird into a Galra reporter's face. It was a classic image, which Lance had saved. He would have legitimately kept it as his background screen if the accompanying article hadn't been an unfair editorial on Keith as a Rock and Roll bad boy. It was the very article that Keith had quoted to Lance in the back of the bus just a few days ago. Lance hoped one day Keith (and the rest of the band) could forget the article or stop associating it with the image. Lance loved that photo of Keith, chin up, eyes flashing, taking no shit. It was all kinds of badass.

Alas, Lance was starting to realize he had a bias for all things Keith. He still wasn't exactly sure what to do about this new awareness, so he mostly just accepted it, while ignoring it. Perhaps, more accurately he acknowledged it, but was undecided about whether to act on it. Right now it was enough to revel in the highs (and lows) of being unrequited in his feelings. Lance had never been unrequited before. His previous two relationships, he had been very open about his attraction long before anything became serious. Nyma had been a three month fling during their first club tour, and Allura he had openly pined for since high school. It was a totally different experience to keep his feelings a secret, to come up with secret realizations, like how perfect a red carpet buddy he was to the dark haired guitarist.

When they were together-it just worked. Lance had the uncanny ability to see when a conversation was going south. He could catch Keith before his face soured, or a sarcastic comment came out his mouth. Lance would tell a joke or jump into a story to shift the mood. Sometimes Lance would have to redirect conversation, but it seemed natural on camera given Lance's already hyper persona. Keith seemed relieved, instead of offended when Lance interrupted like this. Lance loved having a front row seat to Keith's interactions with the fans. However cold or distant Keith appeared to the press, he still came across warmly, if not a bit shy, in front of fans. They loved his hesitant answers and blushes. Lance got a kick out of watching Keith's small smiles when young people, with hero-worship in their eyes, gave him gifts of flowers and artwork. While Keith didn't always know what to say, he would listen thoughtfully, sign posters and sometimes body parts. Then Lance would help him move along to the next person calling his name.

In actuality, Lance felt safer hanging out with Keith in the limelight. He didn't want to bring another date. Lance never really wondered why. He realized that he had come to hate the idea of a romantic relationship playing out publicly. While his and Allura's relationship had been well received by most of their fans, they were still watched closely by the press. Every facial expression was analyzed. The colour of their clothes, an inopportune yawn, holding hands tightly, not holding hands at all, even a shoulder brush was spun to indicate the impending engagement, or the demise of their relationship. An innocent whisper would be presented as their secret pregnancy or plan to break off from the rest of the band.

All in all, Lance is looking forward to the night. It is a night off performing music. The Paris show had gone well and the tour was more than half over. He was going to get a chance to schmooze the press, work the crowds and soften Keith's awkward and rough edges in the short interviews they would be subjected to. They'd get to watch a movie together and later he would get to hang with his friends at a party. This was the kind of thing they dreamed about when they were playing in Pidges's basement all those years ago.

Lance surveys himself in the mirror, appreciating the way his silk navy suit makes him look even taller and leaner. His hair is partially slicked back, two errant bangs falling just so over his eyes, giving the underlying impression that they couldn't be tamed. He straightens his tie, and clips silver cuff links at his wrists. He shoots himself finger guns and grabs his wallet and phone and heads out the door. He is still fiddling with putting his things in his pocket as Keith comes out of his hotel room. Lance pauses to admire his bandmate, who looks amazing.

Keith, always uncomfortable with 'stuffy clothes' wears a casual black suit. The soft linen is tailored to fit his slim build and showed off his shoulders, arms and butt in the best possible way. Under it was a collarless deep red shirt, with the top button undone. The whole outfit is made more comfortable by the black sneakers. Keith must have let Romelle, their stylist, do his hair because it had clearly been blown dry and moused up a bit. He also wears a pair of wire rim glasses that he does not need, but that Romelle must have insisted made him look 'sexy smart.'

"Hey." Lance raises his eyebrows and grins. Keith responds by pulling a face. It was no secret that Lance loves these events and Keith doesn't. "Tell me you aren't excited to be some of the first people to see this sequel." Lance can't stop grinning, tonight is going to be awesome.

As they walk to the elevator, Lance ponders the best way to tell Keith he looks good, and not be 'weird about it.' He decides maybe the pressure to 'be normal' was getting in the way of his regular flirtatious self and decided, for tonight, not to worry about it. He presses the down button and hears Keith sigh. Lance musters a reassuring smile, meeting Keith's wary eyes with sparkling ones, and said, "Dude, it's going to be fine, the crowds will mostly be there to see the movie stars... and me... of course."

Keith huffs and takes a breath to answer, but before he can the elevator chimes and the doors slide open. Matt is lounging inside the elevator in a grey suit. His hair also styled back and his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. His smile brightened upon seeing them. "OMG - Keith, you look awesome!" Lance almost rolls his eyes, but can' t quite hold back his smirk at Matt's enthusiasm. It was too much and Lance waits for Keith to make an embarrassed sharp comment to the over-the-top compliment. For second Lance basks in Keith's grimace. But then Keith pauses, takes a breath and says, like he is practicing a line for a play, "Thank you, Matt. You look good as well." The words are stilted and Keith's face burns as he said it. But as soon as the words were out, Matt makes an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement? Encouragement? Whatever. Except, now Keith, while still clearly embarrassed, allows his face to relax.

Whoa. Now Lance's face is burning because...

WTF was that?

At that moment the doors slide close behind them.

"Yeah, yeah, you both look good." Lance blusters. " I have to say I appreciate the two of you making an effort because it showcases me, and you know, that's who the ladies are coming to see." While Keith's face shifts as he turns his head and sighs out a small groan of annoyance, Lance smiles because its just what he knows how to do. Matt grins and laughs good-naturedly, and Lance is relieved to no longer be sidelined to watching Matt and Keith bonding, or whatever that was.

The elevator doors open on the main floor, where the rest of their group awaits and they are hustled off into two limos. Lance is surprised when Matt joins him, Keith and Hunk in their car, instead of climbing in with his sibling. Shiro also looks a little confused, but simply shrugs and climbs into the second car with Pidge, Allura, and Adam.

Even though there is lots of room in the stretch limo, they pile in the furthest back seat, with Keith and Lance in the middle, Matt and Hunk on the sides. The ride to the theater is filled with friendly chatter about the new movie, maybe meeting some of the stars. Keith actually joins the conversation about how the plot may go in this sequel, especially since a previously dead character appears to have returned.

"They go back in time. For Sure." Lance argues, "Remember, because they had the thingamajig from Professor Whachamacallher."

"What are you even talking about Lance?" Keith squints at him.

"I really think they are setting up for the multiverse with the Professor character." Matt chimes in.

"Right?!" Hunk says, bouncing forward on his seat. "I totally think so too." He says gesturing. "I mean, did you see what she had in her workshop, the antique door with the alien writing. Clearly an inter-dimensional travel device?"

"Hu-unk!' Lance whined, 'That's what I meant, that is the tImE mAcHiNe.'

"ToMAYto, ToMAHto." shrugs Matt.

"Guys, your theories are way too complicated." Keith says, rolling his eyes. "It's clearly an evil clone."

As they get closer, the conversation dies down. Lance guesses Keith is trying to psyche himself up to deal with the crowds and thus, tries to keep things light. Matt seems to sense this as well and leads the conversation toward the new model MIDI controller he and Pidge got in Paris.

"It is really neat, and has lots of cool new features. I know you guys prefer the live vibe, but you heard the awesome sounds we were able to make."

"I have always wanted to try one," responded Lance "Keith's the musical purest over there." He teases with a hand gesture.

Lance is gratified to see Keith's lips curve up, just at the corners. "Sometimes it’s just better to keep it simple." Keith responds dryly, watching out Matt's window. "You make it sound like I’m a luddite."

Lance has to keep it going, "You kinda are. About this stuff at least," nudging Keith's shoulder. Keith's only response is a huffing sound.

"I don't know Lance. Keith seems up to trying new things lately." Matt says, giving Keith a meaningful look.

A sharp emotion pulls at Lances chest, just from that seemingly harmless phrase and gesture. Not for the first time tonight, he feels like an outsider and it bothers him. He tries to shake it off, but it feels sticky, like tar. Hunk shoots Lance a look that contains empathy and a warning. Lance is unable to fully decipher his meaning, but has developed enough self-awareness to know that he always hates feeling left out of... pretty much anything. He thinks the warning is not to react the way he usually does when that happens. There is an internal resistance, Lance has spent a number of years getting a handle on his reactions to being left out. Despite small lapses, he is proud to say he had grown up a lot from the days when he would spiral into endless blathering and blustering to remain in the spotlight.

But this feels different.

A little more intense.

A lot more intense.

His new awareness about his feelings for Keith are close to the surface.

Hunk seems to pick up on Lance's internal struggle, and, because he is the god of best friends, he shifts the conversation to Shiro playing the drums in Paris. The topic is a happy one. As they approach the theater Lance has shaken the discomfort, anticipation giving him a boost of adrenaline as they pull up to the red carpet. This is where he shines. He grins and shooting a sparkling smile over his shoulder at Keith and Matt. "Razzle Dazzle time." he winks and slides out of the limo after Hunk.

Bouncing from his toes to his heals he takes in the crowds while the other two men get out of the back seat. He turns back to place his hand on Keith's back, as is his custom when they arrive at these events. Keith always seems to freeze right as he gets out of the car into the noise and camera flashes, and Lance has found that the small amount of physical contact seems to ground him. In fact, this had become so second nature, that Lance doesn't consciously know that's what he is turning to do until he realizes Keith isn't beside him.

Lance looks over to see Matt standing firmly beside Keith, leaning shoulder to shoulder. Lance only has time to register a re-occurrence of that sharp pull in his stomach before an E-News reporter is calling a question out to him and beckoning him toward the barricade along the side of the carpet. He hesitates for a second, looking back at Keith and Matt. Hunk steps toward him, physically offering his companionship, but Lance gives a small shake of his head to his oldest friend. He can't explain why, but he doesn't want to walk up with another person. It's clear that Matt is taking over the role of assisting Keith through the throng, and if that is the case, Lance wants to go alone.

Lance steadies himself internally, turning back to the reporter who is getting impatient and insistent. As he walks over with a 200-watt smile he feels an odd feeling, as though he had left something important back in the car.

Lance's face aches from smiling and he feels a little untethered, like his voice is too loud and his energy level a bit too high as he negotiates the crowds. His suspicions are confirmed when Shiro joins him for the last third of his walk down the carpet, adding a calming balance to the short interviews, helping Lance stay on topic and extracting him from overly long conversations. Lance is carefully avoiding looking over to see how Keith and Matt are faring. He is pretty successful at it except for a moment, when he hears Keith laugh, and not his freaked-out, cornered-by-a-bloodthirsty-tabloid-reporter -on-a-red-carpet-laugh, but his actual, 'I am enjoying myself and that was funny.' kinda laugh.

It's at this point when he murmurs to Shiro through a plastered-on smile, "I am done, get me inside." Shiro takes control, as is his nature, and giving the impression he is rushing Lance somewhere important, he waves at the rest of the crowd and guides Lance inside the fancy oak doors to the theater.

Once in the cool darkness of the lobby, Lance is tempted to run his hand through his hair but doesn't want to ruin the carefully crafted look, so instead rubs the back of his neck, pushing against the collar of his shirt in an effort to loosen the tie underneath."Thanks, man." He says to Shiro. The older man smiles, running his hand through his own hair. Which for Shiro, makes it look ruffled and sexy. "Kinda thought I should step in once Ezor asked you about your favourite kink." Shiro said laughing. Lance pulls an incredulous face, "She did ask that right? It wasn't just me imagining it?" Shiro is still laughing as he puts his hand on Lance's shoulder and pulls him further into the lobby."You look like you could use a drink." Still, bemused and feeling unbalanced Lance follows by saying, "I definitely could."

In general, it could have been called a good night. The band wasn't in the movie, so they really didn't have any responsibilities other than to show up and schmooze. The actors and director did a panel discussion after the screening, and only once was the band called upon to talk for about 10 minutes about the video for the song used in the movie. Despite Ezor's weird question on the red carpet, Lance didn't have anything overtly unpleasant happen, but he found himself feeling low and moody. He cut himself off after two drinks knowing his grumpiness didn't mix well with alcohol.

Lance tries to ignore that Keith didn't sit next to him during the show, that they didn't have a whispered commentary… or Lance didn't whisper a commentary to have Keith respond by shushing him and whispering 'shut up'. Lance doesn't want to ponder the fact that he had zero interest in whispering to Shiro or Hunk, who were his neighbours in the audience. He tells himself he is getting too mature to talk at movies, especially premieres.

Hunk and Pidge, thrilled with the movie, are regaling him with theories on how some of the special effects were achieved. Unfortunately this turns into an argument over a character's robotic prosthetic limb. They were debating how often CGI was used VS a physical prop, and in what scenes.

As the debate becomes heated, Lance begins to plot his escape, because he knows the next step will involve pulling the production team, actors or director into the conversation. Lance abruptly tells them he's going to go. His friends are clearly surprised, and for a moment Lance is surprised too, because he often hangs out at these events as late as he can, chatting up everybody from A-list stars to the wait staff.

Still sitting in shocked silence, Pidge and Hunk give each other a worried glance when Lance says, "I think I am fighting off something." He says, rubbing his head as though checking for a fever, because they clearly know something is up. "I'm going to head back to the hotel. Where is Keith? Maybe I will go back with him."

"Keith's gone on to the next venue, he left with Matt about an hour ago." Pidge says simply, owl eyes blinking behind their glasses.

"What?" Lance asks incredulously, "Why would he do that?"

The question isn't unfounded, the band, knowing they had the movie premiere, had booked hotel rooms for the night and were taking a short train ride to the festival venues in the morning. The bus, a few of their entourage and part of the road crew had gone ahead. Since the festival has its own stages, lights and sound equipment and would not be switching out for different acts, they only need a fraction of their regular crew. Much of the rest of their team would be staying in London for a well deserved break. The plan was for everyone to meet up again when they head to Spain the following week. The skeleton crew has to drive the trucks through the night to get to the site. Once they arrived they had an arduous early morning set up to do. The band had extended their comfort for as long as possible because they'd be staying on the bus for the next few days. Keith has essentially given up a night in a comfortable bed and a late start tomorrow morning. He did this to… hang out in a truck… all night… with Matt?

Pidge and Hunk look awkwardly at each other. "I guess he just wanted to hang with Matt a bit." Hunk says, as though this is completely reasonable. 'Which it isn't', Lance thinks as he feels the tightness return to his chest full force and pushes it down with anger. "Well, he's an idiot." Lance says, with feeling. Rubbing a hand down his face, he texts Shiro, asking him to arrange Lance a car back to the hotel. Lance barely remembers to say a quick, if not curt, good night to Hunk and Pidge before heading for the door.

For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Lance finds it taxing to smile and nod and properly pay his respects to people as he leaves a big event like this. His smile feels tight and fake and he just wants to crawl into bed and get some freedom from this uncomfortable ache that has returned, full force, to settle in his chest.

Chapter Text

Despite being exhausted upon returning to the hotel, Lance couldn't sleep. He had showered, done a moisturizing facial, gave himself a foot massage, and drank a cup of chamomile-peppermint tea. He even took care of some personal business , hoping to ease the tension out of his body and stop the ever persistent litany of thoughts spinning like a hamster wheel in his head. In the end, he couldn't stop thinking about Keith and instead of relaxing, he ended up feeling agitated and lonely.

Lance knew he cared for Keith, that he could really love the guy given a chance. Actually, scratch that, Lance did love Keith. Lance loved playing music with Keith, writing music with Keith, he loved talking to him and wrestling him and just hanging out. Lance liked teasing Keith, making him blush and then scowl. He loved when Keith pushed back, how his eyes sparkled when he deadpanned a joke with the corner of his lips pulling up slightly, always catching Lance by surprise. Lance didn't want to lose any of that. Lance told himself that it was important to put the brakes on any thoughts of a romantic relationship, because what if it went badly? It already felt like Keith had one foot out the door.

With Allura, it had been different. The beginning of their friendship had been him firing off pick up lines because he never thought he had a chance. It was safe to adore her, because he knew she would always shoot him down. She supported their music from a business perspective and they had a friendly professional relationship. You know, one where Lance overstepped the bounds of propriety by telling her she was beautiful in a million different ways. Eventually trust grew between them, but it wasn't until they were dating that they began to share deeper parts of themselves. Allura and Lance started as associates, became lovers, and then friends. Keith and Lance's relationship had begun and a one sided rivalry, acquaintances, band mates then deepened into friendship. The connection they had was hard won and Lance wasn't prepared to risk losing it. Also, if Keith actually left, Lance wasn't certain how the band would reform. Not without Shiro. Keith's presence held them together in more ways than one.

It's not as though Lance can go back in time to pursue a relationship with Keith. That momentary opportunity was long past. Tonight, seeing Keith with Matt was hard. Hard, because Lance realized that not dating Keith meant losing parts of their friendship as well. Matt had seen Keith down the red carpet, and even though Pidge had assured Lance the two aren't dating, tonight looked like exactly that, a date. 

Lance had to remind himself that even if Matt and Keith are not a couple, ( which Lance is pretty sure they are not) some day Keith will date someone , maybe even marry someone. When that happens, that person will be who Keith walks down red carpets with, tells secrets to. Hell, Keith may even write music with this future, unknown person. It is that thought that brings a sharp tight feeling to Lance's throat and hot tears to his eyes. Lance has to figure out how to be okay with that.

"Argh." Lance vocalizes as he pulls the pillow over his face. Dating or not (Lance really hoped it was NOT–Pidge said not.) Matt was already doing all those things with Keith. Lance wanted to scream at the irony of it all. He didn't pursue a relationship with Keith to protect their friendship, and still seemed to have lost what he had been trying to save. Meanwhile it seemed impossible to have more.

Red flashing numbers on the hotel clock read 1:56 AM. Lance flung back the plush bed coverings in frustration and pulled out his acoustic guitar. 'If Keith can write music without me, I can write music without Keith,' he thought petulantly. But the process was stilted. Lance is a social creature and he languished without another person to bounce ideas off of. Finally he just closed his eyes and strummed chords and finger patterns without any goal or form. It was a stream of conscious process. The vibration of the sounds comforted Lance through his stomach and chest where the guitar rested against his body. He could feel the pressure of the strings under his calloused fingertips and the deep resonance of his own voice as he hummed. It was soothing to close his eyes and feel the music.

He didn't know how long he played like that, but at some point inspiration took over. Lance no longer had a writing journal, long-ago hijacking Keith's when they worked together. He scrawled out the song on hotel stationary, front to back, finishing the last verse on a receipt he dug out of his wallet.

It was a song about being afraid to take risks. Wondering why life seems to offer different versions of the same challenges over and over again. The words didn't come easily, because Lance was realizing that he was afraid of more than losing Keith. He could see his friends changing, growing. At the ripe age of 23 Lance had, for one golden moment, everything he ever dreamed of. Then, he had lost the one girl he had ever loved, yet still found a sense of hope and happiness. He wasn't sure what happened next. 

Expressing his feelings was difficult, and the song felt very personal. Private. Abstract lyrics because his superstitious nature led him to code his thoughts, not wanting to say his deepest fears out loud.

After completing the final verse, he felt both emotionally gutted and a deep sense of satisfaction. The sky was softly brightening outside his window when he finally put his guitar back in it's case. His throat was raw from singing and crying and his eyes were bloodshot and tight.

He gratefully climbed under the covers falling into a restless and dream-filled sleep where he chased after Keith, on earth and throughout many other galaxies. Keith was always just out of reach until he seemed to leave Lance for good. Lance was heartbroken but put on a brave face for the band, pumping up their stage show with Pink-inspired aerial performances. Keith then returned with his mother after years of touring Asia and Canada. Every-time Lance tried to talk to him, they would be interrupted by short, cute fans asking for hugs and autographs. Finally, Lance cornered Keith, but the dark haired boy promptly disappeared.The dream ended with Ezor sticking a microphone in front of Lance's face and asking inappropriate questions about elevators. She then electrocuted him with purple lightning and Lance woke feeling like that time he had taken too much nyquil.

Despite being able to sleep until after ten, Lance was totally exhausted on the train ride. Hunk shot him worried glances until Lance explained he had been up all night writing a song. This seemed to make Hunk immensely happy and he graciously let Lance sleep on his shoulder (read drool on his shoulder) all the way to the concert site. Hunk would gently wake him when the beverage trolley came by but wouldn't let Pidge stick things between his sock covered toes, nor would he let them draw on Lance's face or any other body part. Hunk is an all round awesome best friend in all the right ways.

The train trip from London to Reading was less than an hour, so Lance didn't get much in the way of extra sleep. However, he told himself that he felt fairly grounded (or maybe it was numb) by the time he climbed onto the tour bus and came face to face with Keith.

Until, "I wrote something last night, but I am not ready to share it yet ." Lance blurted, with the bitter maturity of a 13 year old.

Keith blinked owlishly in surprise. Long lashes closing over dark amethyst eyes. Lance was on the verge of pulling out the song to share, because he is hypnotized that easily. However, then Lance's gaze expands to Keith's whole face and he mutters. "Oh Shit."

Keith flinches at Lance's words, putting a hand to his hair saying, "What?!" because something about his appearance is clearly bothering Lance.

"Shit, shit, shit." Lance repeated, Keith becoming more concerned, now trying to see his own face reflected in the nearest window.

Pidge and Hunk had climbed on the bus behind Lance and were now watching in different stages of shock and bemusement.

Lance was clearly in crisis mode, turning to the drummer and keyboardist saying, "Get Shiro now!" Apparently they didn't act fast enough, because Lance rushed down the aisle of the bus yelling, "Shiro! Shiro!" Catching the manager by surprise as he came up the stairs. Lance's panic was barely quelled by Shiro arriving with Allura and Adam. The manager catching him by the shoulders and says. "What is it Lance?

The tall lanky boy's hand went up to point at Keith, and he said with dread seriousness, "Keith's getting sick."

The announcement was met at first with a shocked silence and then with a chorus. "No way!" "He looks fine to me." "You okay buddy?" Finishing with Keith saying "I am not sick Lance, I never get sick."

"Not true!" Lance argued. "Remember the week before senior prom? You wouldn't have been able to go if we hadn't fed you Mama Garrett's famous chicken, ginger and garlic soup for three solid days."

"Ugh, yeah, I remember." The dark haired man rolls his eyes. "Because I didn’t even want to go to prom."

"Gasp." Lance said, grabbing a handful of his own shirt. "You couldn't miss prom Keith. That was an epoch in our lives. "

Keith rolled his eyes, muttering something about Lance being the pox of his life . The tall cuban continued his rant.

"Also, remember when we were filming the "Family Time" video on Varadero Beach, you had a fever of One Hundred and Three!" Lance said, annunciating every syllable of each number while shaking his finger in Keith's face.

"Lance. Exactly, I've been sick twice in the seven years that you've known me. Why are you freaking out ?" Keith responds with his normal heat.

"Because you are clearly fighting something off right now." Lance says, gesturing wildly. "Your skin has that dry satiny look, just a shade paler than usual and your eyes are doing the glassy thing." Lance turns to the others for support and barely catches a meaningful look pass between Pidge and Allura. He decides to ignore it.

Shiro seems swayed by Lance's argument. Squinting at Keith he says, "How are you feeling Keith?"

True to form, Keith reacts poorly to intense attention and the implication that his impenetrable force of will can be breached by anything, including a virus. "I'm fine." He says defiantly, standing and stalking toward the exit.

Hunk jumps in his path. 'Wait, wait. Keith, Buddy. You sure you don’t want some of my mom’s soup? I am sure I can whip up a batch, um… like somewhere there’ll be a kitchen on the festival grounds, right?”  

Keith sighs in frustration. "Hunk. I'm. FINE."

___

It is the Saturday night main stage show at the Festival and it has been pretty much raining for the past two days. Keith, as predicted by Lance, is incredibly ill. His skin goes from impressively pale, to burning red as his fever comes and goes. However, Keith plows through performance after performance, sleeping in between. He is hopped up on cold medication and the rest of the band tiptoes around his miserable ass. Lance doesn't even indulge in a single 'I told you so.'

The two of them are backstage in a makeshift dressing room, waiting for the rest of the band. They are the headline act of the night. Keith is sprawled on the only comfortable chair in the room, head resting all the way back. He makes a groaning noise and takes a nasal spray out of the breast pocket of his jean jacket and spritzes each of his nostrils making a gagging noise as the bitter liquid hits the back of his throat.

He groans again as he drags himself up off the chair to head to the one mirror in the space. Romelle had done her best with make up, covering Keith's red nose and sore upper lip. She managed to hide the dark circles. However, Keith was so grumpy that she sent him away and told him to do up his own eyes. The mirror is surrounded by white cabaret lights, its surface covered with band decals and bumper stickers. Keith is crouching to try to see his eyes in a 4 inch by 3 inch space of reflective surface. Holding one hand over his cheek bone, he tries to apply eyeliner with the other, shaking, hand.

"Ugh, shit." He says, almost poking himself in the eye.

"Oh my GAWD." Lance says, turning Keith by his shoulders and taking the eyeliner out of his hand. "Give me that, before you hurt yourself."

It says a lot about Keith's level of energy that he doesn't make the slightest protest. Lance stares into glossy violet eyes and tries not to get lost. He does cat eyes on Keith because he thinks it will look hot and doubts the fevered lead guitarist would or could stop him.

"We should talk about what we are going to cut from the set list." Lance says seriously, while adding a perfect curl of black at the corner of Keith's lashes.

"Nothing." Keith growls.

Lance suspects it is a futile fight. Shiro has already had this discussion with Keith, wanting to shorten their show so Keith can rest.

"Keith." Lance warns, raising his eyebrows and staring right into his friend's face. "You can barely stand."

The dark haired man seems to stumble toward Lance, proving the point. But Keith steadies, closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He opens them again and says with conviction, "I'll be fine once I am on stage."

His gravelly voice pulls at something in Lance's chest. He sighs deeply, because the lanky guitarist knows the discussion is over. He resists the urge to rest his temple against Keith's, instead pushing him back into the chair, saying, "Well I guess you best rest up now, you stubborn butthead."

Keith's eyes are already closed, but he snorts inelegantly, "Zat the best you can come up wit'?" He prods. Lance playfully pushes at Keith's boot with his own foot. "I have to pull my punches, you're at less than half stamina." Keith doesn't respond, and Lance suspects he's fallen asleep.

The show seems to last forever. The rain lets up, turning to a heavy and cool humidity that hangs in the air like a foreboding presence. The crowd is die-hard, having waited for hours, in crappy weather, for the band. Knowing this, The Legendary Defenders give back everything they have. None more than Keith who's raspy voice adds texture to the music. Lance keeps eyes on him, actually worried the lead guitarist might collapse on stage. Galra press would go crazy with something like that. Though Lance is more worried that Keith is pushing himself way too hard.

They finally play their last song and even make it out for a quick encore, which seems to take the last vestiges of Keith’s energy. Lance tries to rush to his side. However Keith has walked off stage directly to Shiro and promptly collapses in his brother's arms. Lance feels panic rise in his throat. He can tell Keith is unconscious by the way his head lolls to one side. Shiro's already beelining to a golf cart that will drive them to the bus. The rest of the band follows quickly in separate carts. Lance can barely swallow over his fear.

There is a doctor already waiting for them when they get there. Shiro had arranged for it. He also has arranged for them to drive to a hotel afterwards, so they all can have comfortable beds and hot showers. Keith wakes up enough to have a quick once over. They don't even go to one of the bunks. The band stands solemnly around as the doctor listens to a shirtless Keith's lungs and heart. She takes his temperature and blood pressure.

"Well, he is clearly exhausted." The doctor says. "But it's not pneumonia… not yet. I don't want to start antibiotics, since it is probably a virus. But it could become bacterial if he doesn't take care of himself. He's too cold for certain." The doctor's voice fades out as Lance notices Keith is already losing consciousness again. He steps forward pulling Keith's arm over his shoulders. The Doctor and Shiro both glance up, surprised. "I am taking him to one of the bunks." Lance says gesturing with his head to the back of the bus. He barely recognizes his own voice, hoarse from performing and raw with concern.

Nobody stops Lance. They all move out his way and Hunk opens the door for him. Lance is kicking off his shoes as he enters the space. Lifting Keith sideways onto the mattress. It is awkward at best. Lance pulls off Keith's wet shoes and socks, but leaves on his jeans, they still have to walk into a hotel and they'll be hell to try to put back on. Lance then pulls off his own jacket, shirt and socks. He climbs on to the bunk and pulls Keith the rest of the way up with him. He carefully wraps blankets around the two of them.

Keith's back is pressed up against Lance's bare chest and only now does he realize how cold the man is. He feels a shiver wrack through Keith's body and has to fight back tears of frustration. "Buddy, you got to take care of yourself. You can't just sacrifice your health like this."

He adjusts until they are more comfortably situated on the pillows and wrapped under blankets. He wraps his arms around Keith's front and holds his hands, trying to warm them. He presses his bare feet against Keith's cold ones, under the covers. Keith struggles for a moment and complains in his sleep. Lance whispers, "It's okay man, I've got you." The dark haired guitarist finally settles and Lance closes his eyes to say a prayer. The engine of the bus rumbles to life underneath them and during the ride to the hotel, Lance drifts into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

The ride to the hotel is relatively short, but even after 20 minutes curled up with Lance, Keith's hands and feet are still cold to the touch. The dark haired guitarist still shivers beneath the thin coverings. Lance stuffs his own bare feet into soggy shoes and puts on his damp shirt. Then he pulls Keith up, wrapping him in the blanket. Thankfully the rain had not started again, so Lance does not force Keith back into his shoes. Lance carefully pulls the other man up and guides him, barefooted, out into the main part of the bus and sits him in one of the back seats. Lance digs them into a cubby finding the blue legendary defender slippers that his sister got off etsy for him last Christmas. Managing to slip them on to Keith's feet and pull him back up into his arms. Shiro steps up to take Keith’s other side, and the two awkwardly support the semi-conscious man down the narrow aisle of the bus. 

Upon exiting the bus it becomes apparent that they aren't at an ordinary 'hotel'. They seemed to be parked in a full lot. In the middle of nowhere, four golf carts were waiting for them here. Adam met them whispering something about, 'Being quiet, so as not to disturb other guests.' As Lance and Shiro struggle to guide Keith to one of the carts he hears Adam whisper to the manager how lucky they were to be able to get rooms at such short notice.

A helpful hotel employee is driving the cart loaded up with Keith and Lance and their bags as Lance had his hands full corralling the dark haired guitarist. Before long they are quietly heading out of the parking lot down impossibly narrow roads. Lance can hear and smell water close by, and there is the calling of nocturnal birds in the distance.

The clouds, seeming to decide that now the concert is over, it's a perfect time to part allowing the bright moon to illuminate the band's path and destination. Lance is distracted by trying to keep Keith wrapped up in his blanket while preventing his butt from sliding off the edge of the cart's seat. Thus, he misses the first view of the entrance to an honest-to-goodness covered bridge over a moat. Lance feels his jaw fall drop as they enter a courtyard and the outline of a castle rises into his view. The building is imposing against the impetuous moonlit sky. The driver of their cart pulls up in front of another, smaller, castle-like structure. The sign out front reads "Maiden's Tower."

"No fucking way!" Lance declared, causing Keith to groan into his shoulder. Both Adam and Shiro responding, the former holding a finger to his lips saying "Sshhhhhhhh." and the latter with a hushed and disapproving, "Lance, language."

The band is definitely out of sorts, But it seems they have booked most of the rooms in this particular building. Shiro is deep in conversation with the hotel employee, while Adam quickly hands out key cards. There are no other people in the entryway/lobby, nor the corridors as they make their way to their rooms. Keith is still barely conscious and Hunk steps in to support his other side. His usual smile is compressed lips, worry showing in the lines between his eyebrows The two stop several times to pull Keith up and adjust his lolling head. "Buddy, you really have to help us out here." Lance whispers into Keith’s ear. 

Now that they were out of the dim, moonlit night and in the warm light of the building Lance notices that Adam's face is pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his nose red. Keith's cold was making its rounds. Adam is leaning heavily against Shiro's side. Shiro meets Lance's eyes with his own pleading ones. "Do you have Keith?"

Lance nods and waves him off. "Take care of your sick boyfriend, I'll take care of... Keith." he said, gesturing with his head toward the man resting against his shoulder. Shiro looks relieved and Lance is relieved that he didn't pick up on the gaff.

Lance is grateful that Hunk has accompanied him, because there is no way Lance could unlock and open the door while holding up Keith by himself. He smiles wryly at Hunk, and the young hotel staff who drops off their luggage. Hunk helps Lance guide Keith to a luxurious bed and they attempt to release him onto the surface gently. Good intentions aside, it is a clumsy execution, as Keith falls face forward onto a delicate floral duvet cover. 

“He doesn’t look so good.” Hunk frowns, starting to pull the blankets up over Keith. “I think we gotta get him dry and warm first Hunk.” Lance says, looking up and catching his taller friend mid yawn. “Dude, go to bed, I’ve got this.” Lance insists. “Are you sure?” Hunk asks with concern lining his face, as Keith begins weakly complaining that he doesn’t need help and just wants to sleep. “Trust me,” Lance gives a tired smile. “I’m a pro at handling grumpy Keith.”

Hunk leaves reluctantly, in part because Keith begins cursing a blue streak as Lance attempts to stop him from burrowing into the blankets. "No can do." Lance said, grabbing Keith by the cuff of his jeans. "Buddy, we have to get you out of these wet clothes and warmed up." Keith's groan of protest, sounded vaguely like a whiny , "Nooooo." But Lance is adamant. He grew up with a Grandmother and Mother had serious protocols around caring for the sick. He must have said this out loud because Keith responded by throwing himself backward in either exhaustion or frustration growling something like, "Fine, undress me!"

Lance's face burns at the potential implication of Keith's wording. He pulls off the damp lion slippers and his mouth goes dry as he tries to figure out what to do next. "Umm," He starts with uncertainty, "you have underwear on, right?" Keith manages to open his eyes enough to level Lance with a sub standard glare. "Yes Lance.  Unbelievably, I choose not to go commando for the coldest , wettest concert we have ever played." in a voice that is rough with overuse and exhaustion. Lance is in trouble, because he feels the effects of that in every part of his, suddenly, overly warm body. "Righto." He said, trying to stay cool. "Can you undo your jeans and I will try to pull them off?

Keith seems to collapse after his small outburst, all energy drained. His hands move as though weighted, toward his waist. His eyes seemed to shutter as he looked down to fuss with the fly of his jeans, he struggles with the button for a moment and Lance is terrified he would need help with it. Finally he gets both undone and started to push the tight, damp, denim off his hips, almost pulling off the red briefs in the process. Lance tries to stay sharply focused on the task at hand, avoiding looking at Keith's toned hips and thighs and knees and… the pants were off… thank heavens. Keith is wrapping himself in the duvet, but Lance is not having it.

"Dude, I am going to run you a shower. You need to warm up."

Keith groans again, but with a kind of unhappy acceptance.

Lance finds himself in the ensuite bathroom and takes a minute to survey himself in the mirror. His own makeup is blurred from sweat, rain and humidity. His cheeks are high with colour and his eyes overly bright in the mirror. He can feel a tell tale tickle at the base of his throat, a foretelling of his own cold incubating in his system. But that is secondary to other symptoms he is currently fighting.

He shakes a finger at himself in the mirror, "Friends do not get turned on helping sick friends." He admonishes his reflection in a husky whisper. "That's just…. Sick." He finishes lamely. He nods at mirror Lance, as though they have come to agreement on some important protocols. But then, inexplicably runs fingers through his hair, trying to tidy the mess of leftover hairspray, weather and dancing. Frowning, because his efforts only served to make everything look more disheveled. 

He turns on his heel to face the shower stall, reminding himself that his reactions were very inappropriate given that Keith is practically unconscious right now, alternating between fever and chills. Once he gets the shower to a soothing warm temperature, he takes a fortifying breath before stepping back into the bedroom. Immediately all his more base reactions shift to nurturing ones. Keith just looks so… cute. If you find sick, drowned cats cute. He has managed to burrito himself into the duvet, with only one arm outside of it, curled under the pillow his head is resting on. His hair is a messy dark halo around his pale skin. Keith's face is not relaxed in the state of sleep. Instead he appears worried, his forehead furrowed and exhausted lines around his mouth and eyes. A line of drool is escaping from his open mouth as he pants shallow breaths that make Lance worry about the congestion in his lungs.

Lance considers leaving Keith to sleep, but one touch of his hand on Keith's indicates the dark haired man is still cold. "Hey buddy." Lance said, shaking his friend gently. "Keith, wake up. The shower is all ready for you." Keith groans softly, pulling the pillow in his arms closer and rubbing his face into it. Lance grimaces at the snot and drool being spread on the expensive pillow case.

"Du-ude." Lance says, rubbing circles around Keith's shoulders. "I know you don't wanna get up, but once we get you warmed up you'll be able to sleep better."

Keith's eyes blink open, and he stares up at Lance with a blurry, uncomprehending look. "Just a quick shower, to warm up your hands and feet and stuff." Keith shivers, as though just becoming aware of how cold he is. "Kay?" Lance asks gently. Long dark lashes blink around violet red rimmed eyes. Lance isn't sure if Keith is actually hearing him. But he moves to the edge of the bed and sits up with the duvet still wrapped around him.

Lance still has his hand resting on Keith's shoulder, still rubbing comforting circles. Keith leans into Lance in an endearing way. Stopping just before resting his face against Lance's stomach. The dark haired man seems to shake himself out of a reverie, looking up again. Lance loses himself in a sea of purple before Keith abruptly says, "You really shouldn't be here."

Lance feels a sharp stab in the middle of his ribs at those words, and stutters out, "Why not?" before he can stop himself. Keith wavers in his spot, eyes squinting in confusion, as though he isn't even sure of the answer. All at once it seems as though it is taking too much energy to look upwards at Lance. "Gonna get sick." He manages, before his chin drops and he finally leans into his friend. Lance wraps his hand further around Keith's back to support him, realizing he is enjoying the moment far too much. He snorts with self derision as he gives into temptation to card his fingers through Keith's hair. "Dude, that is the least of my worries." He says mostly to himself. Keith makes a questioning noise, which Lance ignores, shifting gears.

"Do you think you can make it to the bathroom?" Lance asks, squatting down so he is at Keith's eye level, shifting to continue supporting him, both hands on either of Keith's shoulders. Keith's eyes are closed and it takes him a moment to answer.

Taking a fortifying breath Keith nods. "Yeah, with some help."

Lance hesitates. "Do you think you will be okay on your own once you are in there?' he asks.

"I guess we'll see." Keith says cryptically.

It is a bit comical, untangling Keith out of the duvet and leading him into the bathroom, which is now full of steam from the running shower. Lance settles Keith onto the closed toilet seat in his red briefs and steadies him, before running back into the bedroom and returning with a luxuriously soft, white bathrobe with the Castle's crest on it. He hangs it right beside the shower so Keith can reach it as soon as he gets out. He runs back out to the room to grab Keith's toiletry bag. "Hand that here." Keith says. Lance complies and Keith pulls out his toothbrush and toothpaste, muttering, "Might as well do this sitting down." Lance double and triple checks that Keith is okay before exiting the space. It is a testament as to how sick Keith is that he accepts the doting, careful care with minimal complaint.

Lance paces outside the bathroom door, half expecting a loud crash or some kind thud when Keith faints. But all he hears is the steady running of water. He busies himself straightening the bed and turning back the duvet and sheets. It feels like ages, but in reality it is only ten or fifteen minutes or so before the taps turn off. There are muffled sounds, and some loud hacking coughs and some choice words uttered by Keith, which lead's Lance to rap on the door and inquire if he is okay. Keith must be feeling a bit better, because he growls out, "I'm fine. Stop hovering." Lance is too relieved to be offended.

While Keith finishes off in the bathroom, there is a knock on the door. It is Shiro with a mug of hot tea, a supersized box of tissues and some cold medication. "How's he doing?" Shiro asks, sticking his head in the room, and looking confused and finding Lance alone. Lance gestures at the bathroom door. "He's just getting out of the shower." The manager looks suitably impressed, "You may have a knack for this." Lance shrugs modestly, but is gratified by the praise. "Maybe Keith is just a good patient." He says, just before there is a crash of by something hitting the floor in the bathroom, followed by a string of curses. "Yeah," Shiro says, grinning wryly while unloading his gifts onto the bedside table. "Definitely not that." He pats Lance on the shoulder and opens the door. "Adam sucks at being sick too." he says conspiratorially.

"I can hear you!" Keith calls irritably from the bathroom. But Shiro is already gone.

Lance turns to find Keith bracing himself on the frame of the now open bathroom door.

"Do you need some help?" He asks neutrally.

Keith really looks like he wants to refuse.

In fact Keith looks like he wants Lance to take his offers of help and stick them where the sun doesn't shine.

It takes a moment, but finally Keith relents and says stonily, "Yes, I do."

"What's the magic word?" Lance teases, earning a stormy scowl from Keith. He is so relieved to see that fighting spirit back that he fairly skips to Keith's side to help him back to the bed. He is relieved to feel Keith's hands are no longer chilled. He also quickly discovers that while Keith is being feisty with his words, he can barely hold himself up. Lance takes much of his weight, letting him down gently on the sheets and immediately covering and tucking him in, much like his Abuela used to do.

"You should try and drink." Lance suggests. Keith accepts the mug of lemony scented tea while Lance reviews the back of the medicine box. He pulls open the package, popping a capsule from its plastic case and hands it to Keith, saying, "This should help you sleep, but prior experience tells me it'll give you weird ass dreams." Keith squints at the pill and asks, "How weird?" Lance shrugs and gives Keith's hand an encouraging push. "Getting better weird." Keith attempts to roll his eyes, but seems to either get dizzy or lose his energy half way. He begrudgingly takes the pill, draining the last of the mug and handing it back to Lance and lies fully back onto the pillows, closing his eyes.

Lance is reluctant to leave. He sits on the side of the bed watching because he just wants to take care of Keith right now. Keith is letting him stay close and comfort him, and as bullheaded and independent arsehole, he rarely lets others do that. Lance is not great at keeping things inside, and after a moment the words sneak out. "You really scared me tonight Keith." he hears himself say in a small voice.

Keith doesn't open his eyes, but reaches out to rest his hand on Lance's arm. He moves his lips as though he is trying to talk, and finally Lance hears a drowsy, "Mmm sorry." This is accompanied by a gentle squeeze, before Keith slips into a deep, drug induced, slumber.

Lance doesn't know how long he stays, watching Keith sleep. After a while he rinses out the tea mug and fills it with water, leaving it on the bed side table with the medication. He turns the bathroom light on, but mostly closes the door, so Keith can find his way if he gets up in the night. Then, turning off the rest of the lights he slips quietly out the door and finds his way to his own room. The hallways are dim and quiet.

Lance only does the bare minimum of his night time routine, feeling exhausted from the last few days and the stress of tonight. His dreams are a mix of reliving the evening's performance, Keith collapsing and Lance taking care of him. They are not restful and when his alarm goes off in the morning, he doesn't feel as though he has slept at all.

Chapter Text

Lance stops to check on Keith as he heads down to breakfast that morning. He kept the extra door key from last night, but Shiro must somehow have one too, as the manager is quietly exiting Keith's room when Lance approaches. Shiro holds a finger up to his lips, drawing Lance away from the door.

"Keith's not coming to the signing event today." Shiro tells him solemnly as they reach the entrance to the dining room.

Lance is relieved, but has to ask. "How did you get him to agree to take a break?"

Shiro's eyes dart sideways, "He was sleeping and I, uh, didn't wake him up." He says with a small shrug.

"Ah." Lance nods with a tight smile.

===

It turns out that the 'hotel' is actually a bed and breakfast on the grounds of a famous castle. The Maiden's Tower is the only accommodation on the inside of the moat area. The castle is a museum and only open to visitors during certain hours. This offers a level of extra privacy to guests when the grounds are closed. Lance learns that the tourist site opens at 11 on Sundays, so they will not be disturbed during breakfast. The only other people around are other guests staying in different houses on the property.

Lance opts for some oatmeal and a very large, very hot coffee. He is fighting off his own version of Keith's cold and his stomach still feels tight from the events of the previous day. The others also seem low energy, thus, breakfast is a quiet affair.

Adam must be feeling badly, because he doesn't even come down for breakfast. Instead, it is Shiro who goes over the day's itinerary and informs the rest of the group that Keith would be staying at the hotel. There is murmured assent in response to that decision.

The trip back to the bus (on foot) isn't a problem at all. Some guests do a double take, seeing the band heading from the covered bridge to the parking lot. A friendly mom with two teenagers waves, while her children hide behind her and whisper, "Mom! You are so embarrassing."

It isn't until the bus is on the road that Lance feels the tension in his stomach loosen. He realizes he was worried Keith would wake up and demand to go with them. Lance chats with Hunk as they watch the beautiful grounds of the castle pass by. They are both distracted, Lance notes, and thinks that neither of them want to discuss the heavier stuff on their minds. He decides that at some point this week he should have some real bro time with Hunk. 

----

The event is unspectacular. People are disappointed, but generally kind about Keith not being there. Some fans ask Lance to pass on art or well wishes to the dark haired front man.

Near the end of the signing, as festival staff are helping to wrap things up, Lance feels a pointy elbow, hitting him in the hip, HARD.

"JEEZ. Pidge, What the…"

"SHHHHH!" Pidge whisper-growls,  gesturing, with their head, their eyes never leaving the figure with a camera to the left of the remaining crowd

"Huh… OH." Lance feels his stomach drop as he catches sight of the Galra Press head photographer. Others might call Zethrid a 'handsome' woman, but to Lance she is purely intimidating. She stands a full 6 foot something, and is built like a brick shit house. She wears an 80s inspired leather jacket that serves to make her shoulders look larger than their already massive size. On her feet are knee high, black leather boots with heels adding another inch and a half to her towering height. She wears her customary black snapback with pink lining. It is turned backwards, out of the way of the large digital camera she holds to her face. Even her makeup seems designed to intimidate. All told, Lance feels extremely proud that when her eyes meet his with a challenge, he doesn't waver. There is a moment where they stare one another down, before she gives an unfriendly smile, more of a sneer, and breaks her gaze by raising her camera, taking a series of photos.

Lance studiously ignores her, making a point to be extra gracious to the last of their fans waiting to have tee shirts and posters signed. Afterward, as they are hustled back onto the bus, Lance cannot shake the dread he feels at their non-verbal exchange. Galra Press at their events is never a good thing. He reminds himself that there is no use worrying about it, it's not like they can control what the gossip site posts about them. It is always ridiculous, over-exaggerated drabble, bearing little resemblance to the truth. Still, the whole thing leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Upon returning to the Castle grounds, Lance slips upstairs to peek in on Keith. He  finds Matt already in his room. Keith, at some point, has slipped on some cotton pajama bottoms and is sleeping with his blankets kicked off, his pale skin with a sheen of fever. On the bedside table is an almost untouched bowl of soup.

"Couldn't get him to eat." Matt says, in a friendly voice seemingly unaware of Lance's dark mood.

"He probably won't eat until his fever breaks." Lance replies, with a hint of superiority. His mother always said, “Starve a fever, feed a cold.”

"That's what Coran said." Matt responds affably.

"You should probably leave." Lance suggests. "You know, you don't want to get sick or anything."

Matt shrugs, "Eh, I figure I am already exposed. You know?" 

Not being able to comfortably sit in Keith's room with Matt hovering about, Lance drops off the artwork and gifts on Keith’s desk. While doing so Lance surreptitiously looks over Keith’s sleeping form. He notes that Keith’s breathing seems less laboured than the previous night and his colour is better. He says goodbye to Matt and leaves to go find Hunk.

---

After days of rain, the sky is a deep, endless blue. The sun is warm, but the air is still damp and windy. Despite the improved weather, the castle is not overrun with tourists. It is late afternoon on a Sunday and many of the day-trippers have already headed home. The two friends find a place to have a late lunch in a restaurant/inn beyond the moat. After, they head back in to wander about the actual Castle. Lance cannot help but touch things. There are crests and paintings and miniatures and swords and…

"Hey Hunk, let's get a selfie with this suit of armor."

"Not sure if that's the best idea Dude."

"Mnah. It'll be fine."

Eventually, Hunk has to drag Lance out after the fifth time they are reminded that the exhibits are 'delicate', 'expensive' and 'irreplaceable.'

They find their way to a castle-themed mini putt course adjacent to the castle-themed playground. The two teenagers who had spotted the band in the morning are the only other players. After much deliberation, the shy kids come to ask for autographs. Lance, usually fond of fan attention, struggles to keep smiling as the fans gush at them.

When they leave, Hunk pats the smaller man on the shoulder. "Should I ask?"

"I'm just tired bro." Lance responds.

"If you say so man."

Lance gives a wry laugh at his friend's subtle sarcasm. "Seriously, what else would it be?"

Hunk is on his knees, putting extra effort into lining up a shot between two upright pieces of wood. "Hmmm." Is his only response.

"Hunk? Seriously? What else could it be?" Lance asks again.

Hunk stands to take the shot, and pulls back his putter with a careful swing.

"HuNk!" Lance whines, just as the other man follows through with the shot. His ball rolls directly toward one of the logs, bouncing straight upwards and landing with a splash into the stone lined water hazards surrounding this part of the course.

A frustrated sigh escapes Hunk’s mouth as he raises his eyes skyward.

"Sorry?" Lance offers.

"No problem, just take your turn." Hunk gestures to the starting point.

….

Four holes later, Hunk is once again lining up a shot, this time aiming for a mini covered bridge, over a mini moat into a mini castle courtyard.

Lance asks. "I am just curious, what do you think is going on?"

Hunk sighs. "Buddy, I know you want to talk about it, but can you just stop bringing it up every time I take a shot."

"Oh, am I messing with your 'A' Game there Buddy?" Lance says irritably, gesturing with his golf club. Hunk backs away from the metal implement. "Just for the record, you started this, misTER. By suggesting I am bothered by something, when I am not bothered by AnYtHiNg." Lance says, arms flailing."Cool as a cucumber, that’s ole Lancey Lance." Lance adjusts his hold on the putter and advances into his friend's space. "But since you clearly think. It is something, I want to know what you think it is." He says, tapping Hunk's chest with the handle of the club.

Hunk blinks. Even for someone fluent in Lance , that particular diatribe takes a moment to translate.

Sighing again, Hunk gestures for the other man to move back. Lance responds by giving an over the top flourish, as though presenting Hunk to the green. When Hunk takes his swing, he is grateful that the ball goes up and over the bridge. Unfortunately it goes right past the hole on the other side.

"If you say it's nothing, then it's nothing." Hunk tries in a placating voice.

"Oh, it's nothing ." Lance says emphatically, as he lines up his shot. He swings, almost nonchalantly, and his ball goes up over the bridge and straight into the hole on the other side.

"Ugh!" Hunk groans, "How do you even do that?"

"I don't know man." Lance shrugs as he saunters around to grab his golf ball. "It's like a super power, the harder the mini putt shot, the more likely I am to get a hole-in-one."

Hunk lines up his putt and just as he is about to swing…

"The point is, you thought it was something and I want to know what the something is, that you thought it was."

Hunk's ball goes past the hole again.

"Didn't I just agree it was nothing?" Hunk questions desperately, finally making his putt. “I am pretty sure I just agreed it was nothing. ” He says as he bends to retrieve the ball from the cup.

"But you implied it was soMeTHing." Lance responds sagely, nodding meaningfully at his friend before balancing his putter on his shoulder, making a sharp pivot turn, and marching to the next hole. Hunk momentarily raises his eyes upward, as if seeking patience and grace, before following.

"Did I?" Hunk argued, "Because, I don't remember saying that."

"You said, and I quote, If you say so ." Lance nods meaningfully while making air quotes around Hunk's words.

"Which means… if that is what you say… then it is so." Hunk's eyebrows furrow into a puzzled expression. "I think."

"Except for the tone." Lance quipped.

"The tone?" Hunk asks.

"Yes." Lance says smugly. "The tone that says you think it's something, when you are saying it's nothing."

They are on the last hole and Hunk takes 2 over par, while Lance gets another hole in one.

Lance does a victory dance.

After returning their putters and golf balls, the two friends begin walking back in the dusk.

"If you must know," Hunk begins reluctantly, "you just seem to be hyper-focused on Keith again, and I was a bit worried about it."

"What!?" Lance stops and gesticulates dramatically. "That is the nothing that you thought was something ?" He exclaims, arms wide. "That's ridiculous ."

Hunk shrugs sheepishly. "I just thought…"

"First of all…" Lance interrupts, pointing his finger upward, "I am not hyper-focussed on Keith. I have only ever had an evenly-dispersed, consistent and very reasonable amount of focus on Keith. I have that because he is my bandmate and friend… and friends do that."

Hunk inhales to speak "..."

“Secondly, Again ?" Lance queries, "What does that even mean? I mean, I know what the word means, but there isn't any again here. Just a now... and, like, an always ? I mean, basically, a totally, non-hyper, healthy, consistent, not-too-focused focus on a friend and bandmate."

Lance is out of breath and quiet descends as they continue to walk on the cobblestone road, their shoes scuffing the ground.

"If you say so."

Chapter Text

The band has a delicious dinner in the dining room that evening. Hunk is gracious in not bringing up Lance's minor breakdown on the way back from the mini putt course. Unfortunately, Keith doesn't make it to dinner, but Matt is there, and disgustingly healthy looking. Lance notices grumpily because the tickle in his own throat has progressed to a full blown itch.

The band's next gig is a club show. Then they have a small break planned as they are more than halfway through the tour. Everyone seems about ready for a breather. Dinner, like this morning's breakfast, is subdued, but the mood is light.

The dining room is spacious and stunning in the evening light, warmly lit with candles. There is a timeless quality to the space and with Allura sitting at the head of the table, hair down, wearing a high collared blouse. The tea served in gold-rimmed china helps feed the fantasy Lance is playing out in his mind. He is imagining they are knights of olden times enjoying a rare quiet moment. The antics of the current Boggle game between Allura, Pidge and Shiro mars the image somewhat. He is drawn out of his reverie as a playful argument breaks out across the table.

"No, Pidge, despite Coran's colloquial expressions, quiznak is not a word. You cannot count it." Allura laughs breathlessly, grabbing at Pidge's score sheet as Shiro refers to his phone, clearly the referee of this match. Pidge holds their scoresheet away from Allura's outreached hands, not expecting when Shiro plucks it out of their grasp, his face soft with affection. Pidge's eyes have their usual wickedly intelligent gleam, but it is tempered by good humour and candlelight.

"Sugar?" Matt offers, drawing Lance's gaze in the opposite direction. "No thank you." Lance says, putting his hand over his cup. "I am fighting off Keith's cold." He quips, perhaps a little sharp, given Matt was just being nice.

As per usual, Matt is unaffected by Lance's snarky retort. He shrugs and adds milk to his own cup. "It's nice to see them having so much fun." Matt nods towards the others.

Lance shrugs, "We usually get along pretty well on the road." He muses, not really knowing what to say. Seeking relief, Lance takes a gulp of hot tea, rubbing his tongue on the top of his mouth. He ponders the wisdom of using a fork to scratch the inside of his throat, but quickly discards the idea, rubbing the outside of his neck instead. His nose has a decidedly drippy feeling and he sniffs to see if he can clear the sensation.

"I am going to join the game, you coming?" He gestures again with his head.

"Naw, I am going to check on Keith and hit the hay." Lance gulps the rest of the delicate cup of tea. "See if I can beat this thing." He gestures to his throat.

Before leaving the dining room, Lance fills two mugs with hot water and the lemony ginger bags that Shiro brought up the night before. He adds a large dollop of honey to each and stirs. Sugar is bad for your immunity, but honey is soothing and healing, he justifies. He stops at his own room and pulls on his coziest, softest, blue, flannel pyjamas. It is still late summer in England, but the damp weather of the past few days seems to have worked its way into his bones. He realizes he has left his slippers in Keith's room and pulls on a pair of toe socks instead.

He putters over to Keith's door, knocking before he opens it with his key. There is a tray with an empty bowl and soda cracker crumbs on Keith's dresser. The bed is an empty tangle of sheets, and there is a pile of used tissues on the bedside table. Lance can hear the shower running beyond the closed bathroom door.

Putting down the mugs of fresh tea, Lance winces, "Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Eeeewww." He mutters as he picks up a waste basket and tries to knock the tissues into it with a page of hotel stationary. “Yuck,” he shudders as he throws the paper into the recycling bin. He deposits the trash can beside the bed, so that Keith can just put his tissues straight in there from now on and sneaks some hand sanitizer from a basket of complimentary items on the dresser. 

Lance shakes out the bed coverings and remakes the bed, fluffing all the pillows. He takes last night's tea mug and puts it on the tray and slides the whole thing outside the door. Puts Keith's tea next to the half full box of tissues, and then settles himself on top of the covers, sitting up, on the other side of the bed with his own tea. Grabbing the TV remote he switches on the flat screen and starts flicking through stations.

It isn't long before Keith comes out of the steam filled washroom, no shirt and a fresh pair of cotton pyjama bottoms low on his hips, with a towel over his shoulders. Lance glances over and has to force his face to remain impassive as he brings his eyes back to the T.V. screen.

Is it hot in here?

"By all means, make yourself at home." Keith says voice dry and nasally.

"Thanks man." Lance fires back, pausing momentarily on Nicholas Cage in full body leather, revving a motorcycle. Keith plunks himself onto his own side of the bed. Lance continues flicking through stations.

"Hey," Keith says, "I like Ghost Rider. "

"You would." Lance heckles, finally stopping on an episode of Friends.

"Really?" Keith complains.

"What?" Lance says, gesturing at the screen. "It's the episode With all the Thanksgivings ." That is all the argument needed to support his choice and thus he settles in with his tea.

Keith sighs, as though the discussion is taking too much of his energy. It is only then that Lance looks over to see Keith haphazardly rubbing his hair dry with his towel.

"Oh. My. God!" Lance exclaims. "What are you doing? No wonder you always have split ends."

Keith's face is utterly baffled.

Lance holds out his hand, "Give. Me. The. Towel." He says seriously.

Keith, still unsure, cautiously hands the towel to Lance.

Lance pulls himself up onto pillows and crosses his legs, gesturing for Keith to sit in front of him. The whole time he is lecturing Keith about proper hair care.

"That tangles everything and is way too rough for your cuticles. You need to be gentle with them Keith.. Do you hear me? Gentle ." Lance carefully enunciates the last word.

Wide eyed, Keith is still staring at Lance, who is still gesturing in front of himself. Perhaps Lance takes hair care more seriously than most. But whatever?

Keith slowly moves to sit in front of Lance as studio audience laughter highlights Joey running around with a turkey on his head.

"Gentle" Lance says again, this time close to Keith's ear.

Keith eyes him warily over his shoulder. "With my cuticles ?" he asks. It is too amused to be sarcastic, but it is clear that Keith is making fun of him.

"I didn't even know that hair had cuticles ." Keith mutters, looking at his nails. “I thought cuticles were here.” Keith says, wiggling his fingers in Lance's face over his own shoulder. 

Lance swats him away, unperturbed by the teasing. “Nail care is a whole other lesson Keith, and I shudder when I think of what you do with those. As a guitar player you'd think you be more careful with your hands. But since you have a short attention span, today we will focus on hair.” He lectures as Keith settles in front of him, lacking the energy to actively push back. "You pat away extra moisture, gently and firmly." Lance says as he presses the towel against Keith's midnight locks. "That helps flatten the cuticles. It makes your hair shiny." Lance cannot help but smile when he says this.

Keith snorts, Lance ignores him.

"This is serious Keith. Gently and firmly. Gently and firmly ." Repeats Lance, with meaning, as he continues to towel dry Keith's hair 'properly.' Lance suspects by the movement of Keith's head that the other man is making a face and mouthing the words. However, Keith soon leans back, relaxing into Lance’s ministrations. 

The scene on the TV shifts to college aged Ross and Chandler coming home for Thanksgiving to the younger versions of Rachel and Monica.

Lance reluctantly puts down the towel once Keith's hair is mostly dry. He gives into the temptation to gently finger comb it and fluff it out a bit, experiencing a thrill of delight when Keith leans further into the touch. The mood is broken when the latter bursts into a coughing fit and has to get to the tissues again and Keith settles himself back on his own side of the bed.

Lance chuckles at Ross's embarrassing attempts to be noticed by Rachel. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Keith stretching and sighing.

"I don't get how those two finished the series as end-game." Keith muses, settling on his own side of the bed.

"Seriously?" Lance asks. "They were literally being set up since the first episode."

Keith scoffs, "Yeah, but it just got… boring. That whole 'break' thing."

"Comic genius." Lance objects, "The best jokes are the ones you can go back to - over and over again."

Keith eyerolls, blowing his nose and clearing his throat. He almost puts his used tissue on the bed side table. “AHEM, “ Lance gestures meaningfully at the waste basket on the floor. Keith throws a half hearted scowl at Lance, and continues his tirade. "It’s just, Ross never seemed to really get Rachel. He didn't respect her." Keith says, tossing the tissue into the basket.

Lance's sputters. " But they had a cute little baby." He reasons, "And they had to work so hard to get together. All that drama." Lance gesticulates, hands waving.

Keith shrugs, settling into his pillows, on his side facing Lance. "I kinda thought her and Joey were a better couple.”Keith said, shrugging and snuggling into the blankets. “I mean Ross kept chasing her, even when she wasn't interested. He would try to trick her and trip her up. But when Joey caught feelings, he dealt with them himself. He respected her." Keith’s nose scrunches as he thinks about it, no longer watching the screen..

"I liked the way he encouraged her in her aspirations,” Keith continues after a pause,” “Even at the beginning. Remember how Ross belittled her and called her 'just a waitress'?"

Lance stared open-mouthed at Keith's philosophical analysis. Who'd have thought Keith would be wise in the ways of sit-com love? His silent stare seemed to make the other man feel uncomfortable.

"Phfft." Keith said, squirming. "I mean, it's not like I know anything about relationships." He shrugs, turning his attention back to the screen.

By the time Monica knocks on Chandler's door with a turkey on her head, Keith is dozing. Lance switches off the flat screen and swallows the last of his cooling tea.

He pops a capsule out of the medicine box, encouraging Keith to take it with the last of his own beverage. Then Lance rinses Keith's cup and fills it with water, just as he had the night before. Turning out all the lights except the bathroom, Lance grabs his own mug and heads to the door, feeling an odd satisfaction in this time with Keith after having not seen him all day. He cannot help but turn and whisper into the quiet room, "Night Keith." After a moment he hears a shuffling of blankets and Keith's gruff and sleepy voice whisper back, "Night Lance."

---

The next morning Lance wakes up feeling rested for the first time in ages. His throat, however, feels like a gravel road. Something is playing on the edge of his consciousness. Like a nagging feeling, some puzzle his brain is trying to solve or a thing he needs to remember. He ponders, wondering if he had a particularly important dream that is creating this feeling. He doesn't spend too much time worrying about it though. Today they are heading to Edinburgh and it is a 5 hour trip on the bus. Lance is really excited about going to Scotland so he puts his nagging thoughts on the back burner. He showers and heads down to breakfast leaving his ipad downloading some shows to watch on the journey.

Breakfast begins with everyone relaxed in a mostly jovial mood. It seems that most of them got a decent night's sleep. Keith hasn't made it to the dining room yet, but the others are in various stages of breakfast. Adam still looks wilted, but he has a cup of coffee and his trusty clipboard, leaning ever so slightly into Shiro, who looks down at him with warm eyes before giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

Lance decides on scrambled eggs and toast, and pours himself a cup of coffee from the carafe and is just enjoying his first sip when Pidge says "Shit." in a show stopping voice.

They are not looking at the laptop screen in front of them, but instead rubbing their nose, beneath their glasses, shoulders slumped in a posture of disappointment. The mood at the table shifts in a moment. Something about their tone fills the air with cold heaviness.

Shiro and Allura tilt back the screen in front of Pidge, to see what has caused their distress.

"Oh Dear." Allura says, softly. Shiro doesn't speak, but an angry breath comes out of his nose and his eyes squint dangerously.

Lance doesn't even register getting out of his own chair as he walks around the table to see what has everyone so upset. His blood runs cold as he catches a headline on the "Galra News" home page.

TLD on Verge of Break Up?

Troubled Front Man Struggling On Stage and 'Letting Down the Team'.

"No Fucking Way!" Lance exclaims with frustration pulling out his phone to bring up the entire article. Hunk grabs his hand, "Don't do it man. Don't read it. Don't give them the hits and get all worked up." he says with soft urgency. Lance pulls his hand out of Hunk's and stalks back to his chair.

"I guess we should have expected something from them." Allura intoned, disappointment lacing every word. "I was so relieved they did not comment on the double booking…" Her words taper off with a sigh as she returns gracefully to her seat. Coran rubs her back. "It's not your fault." He says kindly. But Allura seems to take it on anyway. "Perhaps we should have made an announcement at Saturday's show?"

Shiro, fist clenched, scoffs, "Keith would have never allowed it." He says harshly. "You know that." He follows, in a softer tone.

"Why do they always go after him ?" Pidge asks angrily, already typing into their computer. "He was sick."

“He still is.” Hunk says thoughtfully, but his tone shifts and his eyes become sharp. "Pidge." says in a warning tone.

Pidge ignores him, studiously tapping away at the keyboard. Both Shiro and Allura are alerted to something in Hunk's voice and both take note of Pidge's screen.

Hunk reacts faster than the others, slowly pulling the computer out of Pidge's reach. "We can't cyber attack their servers." He says plaintively. "Remember what happened last time?"

Pidge stretches forward to keep typing as Hunk continues pulling the laptop backwards. "I didn't get caught." They say defiantly, now stretched flat against the table still trying to type.

"Pidge." Shiro says gently as Pidge makes one last attempt to reach the keyboard. "Curse my short arms." They mutter sadly, falling face down against the table. The manager reaches a gentle hand, but before he can offer comfort, Pidge jumps up and turns to Shiro, face scrunched and dampness in the corner of their eyes. "I hate them." Pidge manages before throwing themselves into Shiro's arms. The manager hugs the smaller body and looks helplessly at the rest of the room.

Allura breaks the silence. "Well, I will call our legal department and see if there is anything we can do to get it pulled off their site" Her eyebrows are pinched with stress. Pidge follows Allura and Coran to call Head Office as Shiro pulls Adam into a quiet conversation and they head out of the room as well.

Lance is coldly furious as he gives Hunk a challenging look and pulls up the story on his phone. Hunk shrugs and sighs, raising his eyes skyward for a moment. Hunk is right, Lance will be bitterly pissed off after he reads this story. But he can't help himself, he has to know.

TLD on Verge of Break Up?

Troubled Front Man Struggling On Stage and 'Letting Down the Team'

Sources close to The Legendary Defenders have shared details of Keith Kogane's erratic behaviour on the band's much anticipated European tour. It seems the lead singer barely made it through their main stage show at the Reading Festival in England this past weekend. He also missed an important band event the following day. The Defenders apologized for his absence saying 'Kogane was fighting a virus.' However, The Galra Press has heard that the problems Kogane faces may be more serious.

Kogane, who is known for his questionable life choices, is rumoured to be courting a solo recording contract with Blade Records and has been seen talking to the company's executives. Blade is a small label, their only claim to fame being the mega star Norlox. We at Galra Press imagine they are salivating at the chance of scooping TLD's main talent.

For those who do not know, Blade is also the home for 80's rocker Krolia, who is currently run's Norlox's management company, Marmora. Some of you will remember Krolia's addiction issues and questionable past, which brought her own recording career to a premature end. We imagine that Kogane would be more at home with the party vibe at Blade Records, as he may find the straight-laced image of Altea oppressive.

Remember, you heard it here first.

There is a photo of Lance at yesterday's signing, staring with sharp and challenging eyes at the camera. The implication of the photo with the story is that Lance is angry with Keith. Lance's fury and frustration must show on his face as Hunk pulls out the chair beside him. "I told you not to read it." He says gruffly.

"It's bad." Lance says, still seeing red.

"They never write anything good." Hunk says rhetorically.

"Legal isn't going to be able to do anything." Lance's whole face is pulled into an angry pout. "They skirt around the truth and cast aspersions, but just enough to imply something, never outright saying it."

"That's what they do Lance." Hunk reasons gently.

Lance moves to look at his phone again, but this time Hunk pulls it out of his friend's hand.

"Don't you DARE read the comments." Hunk says seriously.

"What comments?" Keith's voice comes from behind them.

Lance can feel the colour drain from his own face, as he watches Hunk pale beside him.

Keith moves around the table grabbing a coffee, looking around at the deserted space with half full plates. "Everybody already ate?" He said plopping down on Lance's other side.

Lance tries to school his face to meet Keith's gaze, but the dark haired man sees right through it.

"Wh-at?" Keith questions. "What happened?" He asks again, looking worriedly around the table.

"Auuuhhh." Lance begins…

But Hunk simply hands over Lance's phone. Keith takes it uncertainly, meeting Hunk's serious and apologetic gaze. Lance watches Keith's changing expressions as he reads the short paragraphs. The lines around his mouth tighten, a sadness flashes momentarily in his violet eyes. His shoulders slump ever so slightly. Lance watches it all, wishing he could protect Keith from every last word. He watches when Keith steals his posture, straightens his back and a mask falls over his face.

He deliberately hands Hunk back the device and shrugs. "It isn't anything they haven't said before," Keith says dryly.

Lance wants to rail, to yell, to cry. "How can you be so blasé about this?" He fires at his friend.

"Lance." Hunk whispers. He senses Hunk's warning arm in front of him. But Lance is staring at Keith's emotionless face. He wants Keith to rage, to deny everything. To come out swinging, just like he would have in High School.

Keith scoffs, pulling a piece of toast off of Lance's plate and taking a bite. He chews with conviction, takes a swallow of coffee and then says, "What's new about it Lance? Keith Kogane. Child of a broken home. Unreliable. Gonna leave the band, if he doesn't break it up with his crazy-ass behaviour first."

Keith raises an eyebrow, but then his face breaks for a moment. There is a brief flash of vulnerability before he looks away and makes a vague, hopeless gesture with his hand. He swallows twice before saying, "It's just what they always write," he announces to the opposite wall. Then, taking a fortifying breath through his nose. "I'm going to go pack." he decides, dropping the bread crust back onto Lance's plate and pushing his chair back.

Lance grabs his hand to stop him. "They're wrong Keith." He says it with conviction.

A flash of doubt crosses Keith's face, but he agrees, "Sure. Whatever you say."

"And they suck!" Says Hunk emphatically.

Keith gives the smallest of smiles. "Yeah, that too."

Chapter Text

The band was back on the bus and traveling north to Edinburgh to do a club show, they were without an entourage. The skeleton crew they had brought with them to the Festival were all now off for a break along with the rest of the team. It was an absurdly small show, Adam joked that it was little better than an open mic night at a pub. (Which was an exaggeration, of course.) Sadly, their music had not caught on in Scotland, but Lance had pulled out all the stops in begging, whining and attempting to bribe the management team to get a gig up there. For some reason, Mr. Slav had actually thought it was a good idea, something about creating the best chance for smoothly navigating a successful end of the tour, or something like that. Lance was grateful for his vote.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Scotland.” Lance mused to Coran at the front of the bus. “You know my Gran-da was from there. Allura Joined them, sitting across the aisle from Lance. “I have always been curious as to how your Scottish grandfather ended up in Cuba.” She queried. 

“Aw, well, we don’t talk much about it since we emigrated.” Lance said, uncomfortably rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “In the 1950’s Gran-da was an idealist. He was into Marx and all that, which wasn’t popular at the time, ya-know. With the cold war starting. I guess he was reading about Che Guevera and found his way to Cuba in the mid 50s. Viva la revolución.” Lance laughs sheepishly, bodily animating the story. “He was barely 19. According to my Abeula, he was very handsome. Obviously.” Lance adds with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. “But it’s not a popular conversation topic where we live in Florida where the name Castro is pretty much profanity .” He shrugs wryly. “I think it could have prevented Mum and Dad from getting Greencards, him being a rebel and all, but he was also a UK citizen… sooo…..” Lance makes a face and wide hand gesture as he runs out of words. “I don’t remember him that well. But Dad does this great impression of him, especially after a few drinks. It all gets us going.” Lance says with a pang of homesickness.  

Matt and Keith move closer to listen while Lance shares his story. Matt sprawls on the two seats behind Allura and Keith standing just behind. 

“Wot’s dat lek?” Matt says in a butchered accent. “Aye. Scottish brogue?”

Lance winces. “No no no no no. You ask, Fit’s ‘at aboot ?”

“Huh?’ Matt’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. 

Allura’s laugh is spontaneous and light, drawing Pidge to the group. Pidge pushes Matt’ feet off the seat and plops down, laptop and all. 

‘I can nay understand wotcha jabberin on aboot.” Matt shoots back exaggerating the long vowel sounds.

Lance gives him a long suffering glare. “Yer butcherin’ yer ax-cent dare laddie.”

Keith smiles and drops into the seat behind Lance, apparently deciding this is entertainment.

“Oi, you wanna go?” Matt got out, sounding like he was from the wrong side of London or something.

Lance covers his face, trying not to laugh. Ever up to a challenge, clears his throat and says 

“I hav-nae a clue whit yer on aboot.” He says pointedly. 

“‘At’s nae eh Heelan ax-cent. I dinnae whit ‘at wis.  

Ye winnae fight? Weil heid tae ‘eh gairdian an I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug.”

Pidge, Matt and Allura burst into laughter, Lance can hear Keith chuckle from the seat behind him and feels a sense of satisfaction and victory.

Matt and Lance go back and forth a bit more, but the game gets old quickly.

“What exactly does it mean to give someone ‘skelpit lug’?” Pidge asks as the laughter dies down.

“I believe it translates loosely to mean you will ‘box someone’s ears, Number 5.” Coran responds. In the past weeks, the older man had begun referring to the band by their respective heights, much to Lance’s annoyance. Keith had somehow grown slightly taller than him last summer – after they were all supposed to be finished growing. Rude.

“Coran,” Allura says, glancing over in astonishment, “How on earth did you know that?”

“One of my youthful romances was a Scot, fiery people – they are – very passionate.” Coran responds, clearly gearing up into storytelling mode.

Allura blushes, not wanting to hear details of her mentor’s romantic interludes. “Pidge, I am immensely interested in the updates you have been working on for Altea’s financial software. Shall we go over them right now?”  “Sure thing.” Pidge says, jumping up into the seat beside Allura, with an unnatural amount of excitement about financial data management, as far as Lance was concerned. 

With that, the group falls into the pastimes that have become habitual for the past few weeks. Keith pops in his earbuds and pulls out his notebook. Matt appears to be going through his own music accounts looking for songs, probably for the Diva Project. Hunk is sitting further back in the bus with his own laptop in front of him. Beside him is a stack of dogeared gourmet food magazines that he has collected on the trip. He also has recipes scribbled on different scraps of paper, some even on napkins.

Coran seems to notice that Lance is the only band member still attentive and begins his tale. Lance did try to think of a polite excuse to escape, but Coran has always been a rousing storyteller. Lance ends up listening attentively and helps navigate by watching for various exits. Luckily, Coran’s story about his lost Scottish love, either isn’t too graphic, or, Lance doesn’t fully understand the terminology being used. Either way, Lance enjoys the older man's narrative and is not permanently traumatized by it. The whole time Lance keeps up his Scottish brogue, enjoying the older man's laughter. 

…

Upon arriving at their hotel in Edinburgh, Lance notices he has a wee bit of a problem. 

He is standing by the door of his hotel room trying to catch Hunk’s eye as the bell boy who helped bring his bags up leaves in a huff. Lance tried to tip generously to make up for the unintended insult, but it didn’t seem to work.

Lance is conscious of Pidge and Matt still in the hallway, playing with the wheeled remote control device they built as a dolly cam. They seem to be testing the device’s weight bearing capacity, having loaded Matt’s bulging equipment case onto the unit. Pidge has set up an obstacle course on the way to their room, using all their other luggage.   

“Pissssht. Hunk.” Lance stage whispers across the hall. Hunk turns with a questioning look. Lance motions with his head inside his open door, praying that Hunk will get the message. Hunk makes a comically confused face, but abandons his own door to follow Lance into his room. “What’s up buddy?” Hunk asks with concern. Lance is about to share his dilemma when the stupid remote control device blocks his closing door. It is soon followed by Pidge who enters, saying, “Yeah, what’s the problem Lance?” 

Lance’s eyes widen, and he can feel full blown panic mode set in as Matt follows Pidge and the dumb RC robot into the room. Lance doesn’t speak, he just points at Pidge and Matt and gestures for them to leave. Which makes everyone more curious, and more intent on staying.

Hunk looks really worried, “Jeez man, what’s going on?” Even Pidge looks a little concerned. Matt however has unloaded his bag onto Lance’s floor, and has flipped over the R.C. device to mess with mechanisms on the underside of the unit. Lance rubs his hands down his face. What is it with that guy?

“ARRRRGH.”

“Obviously something is wrong Lance. You need to tell us what is happening.” Pidge says moving closer, watching him carefully.

“Akeeptrynastapwitdaax-cent’anAhav’naybinabletameketg’away.” Lance mumbles fast, staring down at Matt on his floor. Lance looks up with sheepish eyes. 

“What now?” Hunk says, fully confused. 

Pidge simply crosses their arms, pushes their glasses up their nose and stares at Lance like he is a bug under a microscope.

Lance inhales deeply. “A keep tryna stap wit da ax-cent an A hav’nay bin able ta mek et g’away.” He says loudly enough to be heard, ears and cheeks burning. 

Hunk laughs, “Dude, you had me worried there for a second. Good one, now cut it out.”

“Nae Hunk. A cannay stap mysel’.  ‘At lad whit carried ma bags called meh a ‘jammy bastard’. Thought A wis make-ing fun o’ him.”

Matt, finally getting up from the floor, purses his lips. “Well, I can see why he would be offended, when you think about it, it doesn’t seem very respectful.”

Lance rolls his eyes at the eldest Holt sibling. For a genius, sometimes he could be an eejit. 

“Weil, A wasnay tryna dae summit ta upset summon, wes Ae? A cannay stap!” Lance said more emphatically.

“He makes a valid point Lance.” Pidge says thoughtfully. “I mean, if you go around speaking in that over-the-top fake accent, people are going to be insulted.”

OMG - do they think Lance is doing this on purpose? He pulls his hair in frustration. “Is naw like A'm naw tryna speek nermal Inglish.” Lance says emphatically. 

“Oooooo. This is bad.” Hunk sits down on Lance's bed, wringing his hands, “We are going get kicked out of Scotland, by angry Scots.” 

Matt seems unperturbed. “Maybe we could shock you into speaking normally again.” He says thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, Yeah, Like scaring someone out of having hiccups!” Hunk claps his hands, latching on to the idea. “Okay we gotcha buddy.” He says, pulling a paper lunch bag out of his carry-on, blowing it up and immediately popping it with a loud bang. “Okay, talk now.” 

“Are ye off yer trolly?” Lance asks.

“I don’t think that’s how scaring people works, Hunk." Pidge observes drily. “Given that he fully expected the loud bang, because he watched you inflate the bag.”

“Oooh, right,” Hunk says, looking sheepishly at the torn brown paper in his hands. “And that was the only bag I had.” He says forlornly, and bites his bottom lip.

Lance plops down next to his best friend. “A ken aill git oor arses kicked.” He says dejectedly. 

“Well,” Matt says thoughtfully “You could avoid speaking to or in front of anybody outside the band until we leave.”

The other three look at Matt in disbelief.

“Yup, we’re dead.” Hunk sighs.

Lance is too upset to be offended.

Pidge’s eyebrows are still pulled together in thought. “I mean, it doesn’t HAVE to be a scary kind of shock.” They say, looking sideways at Matt. “Perhaps some very unexpected information could startle his system enough to reset it.”

Matt doesn’t seem to immediately grasp what Pidge is talking about. 

But then…

“Oh no. Pidge, that’s not, I can’t…”

Lance is watching the pair carefully.

“Desperate times, call for desperate measures.” Pidge says seriously. 

Matt surveys the room. He seems to make a decision and takes a deep breath…

…

“Mullet!” Lance calls loudly, rapping on Keith’s door. “Answer the door. I know you’re in there.”

Lance is knocking constantly, so he falls slightly forward when the door opens suddenly. Keith looks rumpled, like he had been napping, he still hasn’t fully recovered from the cold, and Lance feels a moment of remorse before he remembers his reason for being there. 

“You. Went on a date. With Matt??” he accuses.

Keith’s eyes are suddenly fully awake and he pulls Lance into his room, checking the hall for eavesdroppers, before closing the door behind himself. 

“Jeez Lance,” Keith pushes the lanky man back into the room. “The whole world doesn’t need to know.” 

The inertia has Lance falling backwards, hitting the corner of Keiths bed with his legs. So he sits down awkwardly. He is still grappling with the new information. 

“I just don’t get it. I mean Pidge told me you guys weren’t dating?” Lance blusters mostly to himself, shaking his head in confusion.

“How do you even???... Ugh. We aren’t dating.” Keith responds emphatically, rubbing a hand down the side of his face, frustration edging his still sleep roughed voice. “We went on a date.”

Lance makes a look of confusion, “But..?”

Keith sighs, leaning forward, “Okay Look. I am going to explain this once. One time. That’s it." He gestures emphatically. "I will do that ONLY if you promise that the second this conversation is finished you will never mention it again.”

Lance can tell Keith is serious. “I promise.” Lance responds immediately.

“Swear it.” Keith pushes.

“What? Dude, you can trust me.” Lance exclaims, offended.

Keith straightens, raises a single eyebrow and crosses his arms.

"FI-ine." Lance draws out the word with an eye roll. "I swear."

Keith sighs again, and begins to pace, rubbing his hands on his thighs. He pauses to lean against the dresser. He runs his fingers through his hair and then his hand over his face. Sighs again. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighs one more time before beginning. “So. Matt and I were talking about relationships.”

Keith holds up his hand, because Lance is about to interrupt. Lance bites his tongue. 

“And during this conversation, I realized that there are… certain… normal things that I haven’t done."

He pauses, reflecting.

"In high school I wasn’t what you would call social...” 

Lance snorts, and opens his mouth, but swallows any sound when Keith shoots him another sharp look.

Lance makes a gesture covering his mouth, so Keith knows to continue.

“Aaand" Keith begins again, with another sigh. "Soon after the end of high school we were touring.”

“And... then... well... " He gestures. "We were talking about it, we realized… that... I had never been on an actual date.” He finishes in a rush.

There is a beat, where Lance absorbs this information.

“That’s rid-dic-u-lous Keith, Of course you’ve been on dates. I mean, there was that time…”

Lance pauses. 

“Well, there was that…”

Lance furrows his brow and racks his brain.

“But, didn’t you….?”

He scratches his head... slowly looking up at Keith amazed.

“I, uh..."

He squints at the dark haired man.

"Really ??” Lance stares at his friend incredulously.

“Never.” Keith says with finality, before lowering himself to sit beside Lance at the foot of the bed.

It only takes a minute before ….

“But, But, But, Wait… Have you? Ummm? “ Lance makes suggestive eye and hand movements.

“Yes, Lance, I have had sex.” Keith answers flatly.

Lance blushes. But can't stop himself.

“But… without ever dating?” 

“Not a necessary step.” Keith says shrugging as though it doesn't matter. 

“But, that’s so… unromantic.”

Keith face shutters, with a small tilt of his head he murmurs, “Maybe I am not the romantic type.”

Lance sees him bite his lower lip and turn away.

Oh, Keith.

“Anyway.” Keith plows on, oblivious to Lance’s soft eyes. “We discussed it, and thought maybe we’d try it. 

“A date?” Lance clarifies.

“Yep.” Keith nods, momentarily glancing at Lance before turning his eyes forward. 

“And?” Lance prompts.

“It was fun.” Keith says shortly.

“Aaaand?” Lance pushes.

Keith gives him a curious glance.

“Aaand we weren’t in to each other, so we decided to just be friends?” Keith responds, clearly unsure what Lance is asking.

Lance isn’t sure what he is asking either and while pondering the information download he pushes himself up onto the mattress until his back is resting against the pillows and the headboard.

Keith watches him and shrugs, deciding to lie down beside him. The dark haired man seems exhausted from sharing. 

Lance’s brain is a kaleidoscope of questions. He is finally able to pull one out of the spinning mandala of colourful words in his brain. 

“So, whatcha guys do on your date?” He asks casually.

“Umm,” Keith seems to pull himself out of a doze, and tucks his hands behind his head with his elbows out. “Well, we went to the movie, you know, the red carpet thing, hung out at the opening for a while, got a pizza together and drove up to Reading for the festival.” 

“That’s it??” Lance questions.

Keith seems confused. “Yeah,” he hesitates, “Well, we played each other songs we liked on the drive, and talked about music.”

“So, that was it? That was your date?” Lance asks again.

“Yeah. It was chill. I liked it.”

“Hmph.” Lance hums, thinking.

“Hmph what?” Keith now defensive, sits up. “It was a good date. A movie, dinner, good conversation.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Lance replies innocently.

“Don’t.” Keith holds up a finger warningly.

“Don’t what?” Lance blinks, making his eyes wide.

“Don’t start with whatever you are going to start. Don’t say there had to be chocolate, or wine, or flowers of effing violins for it to count as a date.”

“I didn’t say any of that . “ Lance replies, putting up his hands defensively. “ I mean, any one of those things would have been nice.” He said, watching Keith roll his eyes. “But, it sounds like a perfectly fine date.” Lance finishes, placatingly. 

“It was.” Keith says. “So now can we leave it? Stop discussing it? Never discuss it again?”

“Yeah.” Lance says and he honestly believes he can let it lie 

 "Good." Keith says, flopping back down on to his pillow

“Just one thing.” 

“Oh my god.” Keith groans, covering his face with his hands.  "I knew it, I knew you could just leave it." 

“It’s just that you and I have done basically, almost exactly the same thing, or something very similar at least twenty different times.”

Keith removes his hands from his face and Lance can tell he is genuinely shocked. “Seriously? Seriously? This is what you are going to get stuck on?”

‘I am just saying, I mean, asking what is different about it? Like, what is different from when we did it and when you and Matt did?”

Keith is sitting up slowly, blinking in surprise. “Clearly Lance.” Keith is enunciating every word carefully, “The difference is that before Matt and I hung out together, we agreed, decided, together, that it would be a date.”  

“But, just saying, just spit-balling here, couldn’t people decide after they hung out that they went on a date ?”

“Lance. I am pretty sure, that is not how it works.”

“But you don’t know for certain, because you've only been on one date?” Lance points out. He feels this is irrefutable logic.

“But… why would anybody do that?!” Keith sputters. “Why would they decide that after the fact?”

“Maybe they didn’t realize it was a date until after? MAYbe they looked at it in hindsight and thought ‘ HMMMMM I think that may have been a date.’ And for you, the benefit to you would be:  Keith goes from having only ever had one date, to having had many.” Lance answers smoothly. Damn, he should have been a lawyer.

Keith is genuinely speechless. He sits for a moment, mouth open, in shock. He says finally, “No, No Lance. It doesn’t work like that. We are not doing that.” And he lies back down on the bed, eyes closed and arms crossed.

Lance also crosses his arms and sighs. He crosses and then uncrosses his legs and sighs again.

Keith groans, “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” Lance asks, aghast.

Keith sits up again, looking Lance dead in the eye.”You’re offended.” He states flatly. 

“Little bit.” Lance replies stiffly, tilting his head and looking away.

He hears Keith’s frustrated exhale and turns back, “I mean, hear me out, it seems a bit unfair, don’t you think? You and I have literally gone to plenty of red carpet events that involve a movie or theatre, with a party afterward, and we have had many interesting conversations at those events.

“Dude, you flirt with anything that has legs and a pulse at those events” Keith says with heat.

Lance pushes back. “Judgemental much? That is just my outgoing personality, and if you don’t like it, see if I ever take you on another date.”

“We’ve never been on an hurphmm!” Keith smacks himself in his own face and growls into his own hand with frustration throwing himself backward onto the bed. 

Lance crosses his arms across his chest and pouts. 

Lance can hear noises from the street and a distant rumble of a plane overhead.

“You are not going to stop, are you? Not until I agree that all those events count as dates.” Keith finally says from under his arms, which are crossed over his eyes.

“Hrumph.” Lance responds, turning further away from Keith.

Keith sighs, yet again, his voice resigned and laced with exhaustion, “Fine Lance. They count as dates.”

Lance beams, “See, was that so hard?” He playfully swats Keith's abs.

“Yes Lance, yes it was.”

Another moment

“Are you happy now?” Keith asks wryly.

“Yes.” Lance answers, still beaming.

Keith uncovers his face to say, “To be clear though, as per our original agreement, we are never discussing this again.”

“Ab-so-lute-ly!” Lance smiles down at amethyst eyes.

“Kay.” Keith seems to release all the tension in his emo body, and shifts into a more comfortable position..

Lance feels content with the end of the discussion. He actually has a moment to appreciate the decor of the room. Everything is tartan. It is delightfully tacky.

Until.

“Keith?”

“Yes?”

“Just one more thing.”

Keith pulls away an arm to look at Lance with incredulity.

“Just an important distinction." Lance holds up one finger, to enunciate his final point. "If all of those events now count as dates, and we have agreed that they do.” He pauses for Keith’s to respond, but is met with silence, so he continues, “I am just saying, that means that I took you on your first date, right?"

“Out.” Keith growls, pointing at the door.

“Okay, Okay.” Lance says, getting up, “But we are clear on that right?” 

Keith springs from the bed, pulling Lance by his wrist, to the door. He pushes him out and shuts it with a click in the other man's face.  

“Just so long as we are clear on that!” Lance repeats, unperturbed, loud enough to be heard in the room. 

Chapter Text

Having completed the Edinburgh Show, which was only a mediocre success, the band has a full 10 days to relax and do whatever they want. Lance, feeling much better after a full night's sleep and a pot of orange peel tea (the night lady at the front desk had recommended it for his throat) is excited for the break. The plan is to meet up in Spain for their next big gig on Thursday the following week. Lance is woefully aware of his lack of planning for his time off when the band gathers for breakfast the morning after their show.

Pidge and Matt are describing their joint plans to attend not one, but two different conferences over their time off. “I was asked to sit on a panel at the Electronic Sound Summit in Liverpool later this week.” Pidge beams proudly. “We are discussing the future of inclusivity in music. I mean, it is a really big deal to be invited, they usually try to ensure the speakers are mostly local artists. I am really looking forward to it.” Matt grins at his younger sibling, “You have been a great role model in the industry, people look up to you.” He says. Pidge blushes and Lance notices their eyes are a bit damp. 

“What about you?” Pidge deflects, “Having your paper on Acoustic Modeling , accepted by the Audio Mostly conference at Saint Pölten University is a pretty big deal. I am so glad we get to go in person, instead of you presenting remotely. There are some really cool speakers and workshops. I am definitely going to one that explores the negative of an audio composition.” Pidge says excitedly. While Lance tries to decipher the last sentence, Matt jumps back in with, “What about the ‘talking trees’ presentation? That seems right up your alley.” Pidge squints at him, “It’s about creating soundscapes, not actually communicating with trees.” They sound disappointed and Lance is completely lost.

“Well that all sounds fun.” Lance nods and smiles. Pidge completely misses that Lance is at sea, and hasn’t understood at least half of the conversation, because they continue excitedly. “The best part is that Norlox is in Austria at the same time as the AM conference, and Mom is flying in for a few days. We’ve rented a chalet together. It has been ages since we’ve all been in the same country, let alone the same city” Pidge is clearly over the moon, and Lance feels guilty for the stab of jealousy he feels at them connecting with their family. He really should call his sister tonight. 

Matt turns to Keith, whose attention is divided between eating his waffle and scrolling his phone, and Lance hears him say, “The offer is still open, if you want to have a visit with Krolia. We’ve got lots of room. Mom and Dad would love to see you.” Lance watches Keith shift uncomfortably, and Lance feels a pang of sympathy, knowing that the dark haired man struggles with feeling like he is intruding when invited to family stuff. “I haven’t decided yet, but you aren’t there ‘til next week right?” Keith asks sheepishly. Matt smiles reassuringly, “Yeah, it’s no rush. Just remember you are more than welcome. Let us know, Kay?” 

“We’ll see you in Austria, right Hunk?” Pidge asks animatedly and Lance catches the guilty look Hunk shoots in his direction. “Yeah, it is, uh, definitely on my list. I’ll be in Vienna when Norlox is there, I gotta try some authentic Wiener Schnitzel and Sachertorte don’t I? Purely for research purposes.” he says awkwardly, now avoiding Lance’s gaze. Pidge does pick up on that, and shoots Lance a questioning glance, which he responds to with a shrug. Lance feels perplexed, as he and Hunk hadn’t planned anything for the next week or so, but he had assumed that he and his bud would spend it together. 

After breakfast he follows his friend up to his room. Hunk invites him in with a look of resignation. “So, what’s up?” Lance asks. He is met with Hunk looking both sorry and guilty. “I mean, we haven’t really discussed what was happening over the break, but it sounds like you have a plan.”

Hunk is rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting Lance’s eyes “Yeah, about that man…” He begins awkwardly, “You’ve just been, well, you know… kinda distracted… And I really wanted to talk to you about stuff, but there never seemed to be a good time… And, ummmm. It’s just that, sometimes you have big reactions, and it isn’t a bad thing, it's just you. And it is okay, I mean,  I love you for it man, big feelings and all… But you know, I wanted to say something in Amsterdam, but then we met Krolia and … well ya know how that went… after the movie opening you were in the worst mood... And I also tried to bring it up in England, when we played mini golf,  but you were all focused on… well… Other stuff… And  I was gunna bring it up yesterday, but then you were stuck talking in the accent and when we fixed it, BAM you were gone… talking to Keith and I just….”

Lance is getting antsy. “Just spit it out Hunk!”

“This week I am going on a tasting tour with Shay to do research for our restaurant!”

WHOA.

Hunk did not shout that last sentence. His words were clear. But not overly loud. Even still, they echo in the silence that follows them. 

Lance draws in a deep breath, and suddenly needs to sit down, so he lowers himself carefully onto a chair by the breakfast table in the room.

Hunk looks sheepish and worried, and Lance realizes how preoccupied he has been thinking about Keith, that his best friend hasn’t really been able to talk to him, even when Lance made space for bro-time. He feels a familiar sense of shame that usually leads to him being defensive. But he knows this, and tries to proceed with caution. 

“I am going to need some context for that last statement.” Lance says as evenly as possible.

Hunk takes a deep breath himself and sits down in the other chair leaning his arms on the table crossing his fingers together. 

“Shay and I have been talking, for a really long time, about opening a restaurant.” 

Lance nods, because he knows this. But it was always a future thing, not a now thing, because they have a band, tours, recording, writing and all that stuff. He says as much to Hunk.

“I know,” Hunk says calmly, “But the band is also very much a permanent thing and Shay doesn’t really want to wait until we get too old to tour to do this. She is excited about it, and,” Hunk takes another deep breath, “and so am I.” He meets Lance’s eyes with a beseeching look. “I am sorry to spring this on you like this. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I wanted to talk about how we could make room for things like this AND have the band. Not that this isn’t a great life. It's a great life.” Hunk repeats emphatically. “It's just, there are other things that I want to do.”

Lance can feel the spiraling panic that comes up when these kinds of conversations arise. So much of who he is, is invested in the band. Hunk must see it too. 

“Don’t do that man.” Hunk says placatingly. “Wanting things to be different is not the same as wanting out.”

“Maybe not for you,” Lance scoffs, “But Keith pretty much has one foot out the door.”

“Lance, this isn’t about Keith!” Hunk says shortly. Hunk rarely gets angry, but Lance can tell he is at the edge of his patience. “Listen.to.me.” Hunk brings his face forward, catching and holding Lance’s eyes. “I love the band. I am staying in the band. Shay loves the band. She supports me in my musical career. I want a restaurant. Shay wants a restaurant. We need to work together with the band to make room for both.”

Lance feels his eyes smart with tears and Hunk immediately melts. “Awe, buddy, don’t cry.” He says, enveloping Lance in a bear hug. 

But Lance feels terrible, guilty that Hunk hasn’t been able to talk to him about this, sad, because it has clearly been a source of conflict in Hunk’s relationship, scared, because that is how he feels when things change. 

He and Hunk talk it out. In the end, both cry some tears and share many hugs. Hunk invites Lance on the tasting tour, but Lance declines, not wanting to be a third wheel and thinking the couple really need some quality time together. He leaves when Shay calls Hunk to give him the details of her incoming flight the next day.

…

Lance is antsy when he gets back to his empty room. It isn’t even 11AM. Most of the band is booked into the hotel until tomorrow and he had thought he would be sightseeing with Hunk today. But he hadn’t really planned that with Hunk, just expected that he would always be there. He feels himself spiraling again, getting caught up in his own thoughts.

Nope, no. Not doing this. He grabs the acoustic guitar he brought up yesterday from the bus and the notes from the song he was working on.

He almost chickens out at Keith's door, because he can hear that Keith is playing, maybe working on new music. Lance realizes that like Hunk, Keith isn’t always going to be sitting there, waiting for him to show up. Keith is branching out, trying new things. It’s the thought of returning to his empty room that has him knocking on the door. He hears the music stop and Keith calls out that he’s coming. In his mind's eye he can see Keith note something in his writing journal before coming to the door. Keith appears, hair pulled back, pencil behind his ear. He seems surprised to see Lance, or maybe he is surprised to see him with guitar in hand.

Lance hadn’t really planned further than this and is kind of panicking at the thought of being sent away. “Hey!” He says, “Am I catching you in the middle of anything?” he says, pretending not to have heard the guitar before he knocked. “Um. Just finished.” Keith says cryptically, motioning behind him. “Ah, so I’ve been working on something.” Lance manages, “And… I was kinda hoping you’d give it a listen, ya-know, let me know what you think?”

Lance doesn’t miss the way that Keith’s eyes seem to light up at the prospect. He has to suppress a bitter thought about how they could have been writing music together for weeks, if Keith wasn’t being so secretive about his own compositions right now. But when Keith wordlessly widens the entry by stepping back, Lance is so grateful to not be alone, his bitterness drains away.

He hands Keith the pages he is carrying and busies himself taking his guitar out of its case and sitting on one of the beds. Once done, he watches Keith’s pursed lips and furrowed brow as he reads through the pages, making ‘hm’ sounds as he reads. Still studying the pages Keith picks up his own guitar in his other hand and sits on the other bed across from Lance. Keith, sets the pages on the bed beside him and strums the intro chords as if trying to get a feel for the song, and wrinkles his nose and changes one of the chords to a minor when he plays it through again. 

Lance fidgets, “I was thinking it sounds better like that, but I was trying to keep the first part light.” Keith doesn’t look up, now strumming through the first verse. “There is lots of emotion here, why pretend there isn’t.” He says, simply.

Lance feels something shift, Keith is already in the zone, probably he’s been working on his own writing since breakfast. They don’t have to do the awkward settling into the process. Keith is in the music already, and it gives Lance the perfect opportunity to get out of his own head. Keith pulls the pencil from behind his ear and makes a few notations on the pages in front of him and spreads the composition on the night stand between the two of them. “Why don’t we try it like this?”

And just like that they are writing together again. It was so easy, Lance just had to show up, song in hand and ask. He and Keith go back and forth with the melody and about an hour later they are working on flushing out the harmony and background. Keith doesn’t make any edits to the lyrics, and Lance wonders if he can read the hidden meaning in them. He can feel that bone deep feeling of contentment sinking in, God, he had missed this.

... 

It is well past 2 when they decide to wander down to find some lunch. They find a corner in the dining room. Keith is still in the mellow, quiet space he goes when writing music. Lance, on the other hand, feels like he can run a marathon. 

“Whatcha doing after this?” Lance asks excitedly as Keith is still perusing the menu. “I was hoping to do some sightseeing, I hope it isn’t too late.” 

“Me too.” Lance said, bouncing in his seat. “I was going to head down to Old Town, maybe start up at the Castle and walk down. It may be too late today, but I wanted to get a tour of the vaults. But I am sure there will be an evening whiskey tasting or something. Wanna come with?” 

“Umm, I ah, wanted to see something a little bit different.” Keith said, seeming to come to a decision about his meal and closing his menu. 

“We could go where you want to go.” Lance says agreeably, catching the eye of a waiter. He is anxious to get the rest of the day started. 

“Um,” Keith blushes adorably and Lance’s brain goes blank for a moment. “I don’t know if you would be really interested.” He defers. Lance would press the matter, but at this moment the waiter arrives to take their orders. 

Once he leaves, Lance jumps back into the conversation. “Really Keith, what is it you want to do? I am good with anything. I’ve always wanted to come here.” 

“Well, in that case, we can do what you want.” Keith says, continuing to avoid the question. “I can extend my stay a bit and do my thing tomorrow.”

“Wait, you're not headed off somewhere with Shiro  tomorrow?” Lance inquires, surprised. 

“Oh no,” Keith squirms uncomfortably. “He and Adam are having a romantic getaway. If he finds out I am venturing off on my own, he will invite me. But I'm definitely not interested in following the lovebirds around.’ He smiles wryly, his cheeks still pink from before. 

“That’s funny, I am in that exact situation too.” Lance says gleefully, “Shay is coming to do a ‘tasting tour’ with Hunk, and while I am totally welcome to join them, not really interested in being a third wheel.”

Keith nods, empathetically.

 “We should hang together!”  Lance suggests enthusiastically. “At least for the next few days. Check out Scotland, maybe head to Amsterdam after?”

Keith hesitates, and Lance loses some steam. “I mean, I know you might be going to Austria next week. But we can have loads of fun between now and then.”

“Uh,” Keith hesitates, but their drinks are arriving so he may just be waiting for the waiter to leave. “Um.” Keith says again, clearly thinking about it. “Sure Lance, that sounds fun.” He finishes.

Even though Keith isn’t as enthusiastic as Lance would hope, he is thrilled at the prospect of spending the next few days with his friend, seeing the sites, maybe writing more music together, getting back into their old groove. 

They are halfway through their meal when Lance remembers. “So, what is it that you wanted to see today?” he asks.

Keith pauses, a forkful of scotch pie almost to his mouth. He seems to debate responding for a moment. He finally answers,“The Royal Botanical Garden.” before taking his bite of food. 

Lance stares back, nonplussed. “You want to visit the flowers?” Falls out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “I mean, that’s awesome man. Flowers are great. But they exist everywhere, right? I mean, why do you have to go to a special garden, to see Scottish flowers?”

“Like I said, I can just go on my own.” Keith responds smoothly. 

“Actually, never-mind. I totally want to go see the Royal flowers.” Lance announces with enthusiasm, “Who died and made them Royalty anyway? Will I have to bow when I see them? Am I allowed to speak before being spoken to? This is the stuff to write home about.”

Much to Lance’s delight, Keith chuckles, “That’s not how it works Lance, the garden is royal, the plants are just plants.” 

“If you say so.” Lance agrees happily.

Chapter Text

Lance decides to ham up his excitement about visiting the royal flowers, since it makes Keith’s eyes light up and draws laughter out of the other man. However, his shenanigans extend their meal until well after 3pm. They decide to visit the gardens the next day. Todays plan is a quick visit to the castle followed by a meandering walk to Old Towne via the Royal Mile. That should take a few hours, setting them up for a perfectly timed dinner near the vaults. Lance managed to google and book a spooky evening tour of the vaults that includes a whiskey tasting for that night.

The two ran up to their rooms to change and pack for the outing. Lance takes this opportunity to poke his nose in on Hunk and invite him along. He finds the Samoan man surrounded by pamphlets, with his laptop open, trying to add the last minute touches to a perfect, romantic, European, whirlwind foodie tour. Lance laughs to see his friend so engrossed in his project. Hunk comments on Lance’s light mood, which Lance attributes to finishing a song, leaving out that writing with Keith was a big part of that. He is certain that Hunk knows that part anyway. Hunk bows out of tagging along, gesturing to his laptop, also looking more content than he has in a long while. 

Keith reports back, having popped in to invite Matt and Pidge, he found them likewise engrossed in preparation for the next few days. Keith expresses relief at not having to sit through another practice run of Matt’s presentation on Acoustic Modeling. “He wanted me to ask questions last time, but every time I did, they both seemed to find me funny.” Keith said irritably. “I mean, it isn’t like everyone understands how to calculate the impact isolation class of a venue.” The dark haired man mutters, crossing his arms moodily. 

“Whatever that is.” Lance says laughing. Lance is more than happy that it is just the two of them tonight.

The late afternoon sky is overcast as the two walk up Castle Hill. “The grounds are only open until 6.” Lance muses, flipping through the visitors guide that he picked up at the entrance. “Any priority stops?” He asks. “We should probably visit the Crown Jewels and Stone of Destiny.” He continues, trying to think of one liner that would link the exhibit back to his running jokes about royal flowers.

Keith doesn’t take the pamphlet when Lance offers it to him. “I want to see the Great Hall.” He says with certainty. 

Lance shrugs, not sure why Keith is interested in that spot in particular, but refers to the map, “That’s in the same area as the Crown Jewels, so I guess we can head straight there. After that, we need to visit St. Margaret’s Chapel so I can tell my abuela all about it, and it is beside Mons Meg, which is the biggest frickin' cannon you have ever seen. And that should be about all the time we have.” He says, folding the map up and stuffing it in his back pocket. 

They are met at the entrance to the to the Honours of Scotland by a tall man in early 19th century clothing. He has reddish hair brushed back, with ivory skin. Both his clear blue eyes and mouth hint at a deep sense of humour and Lance is instantly reminded of Coran. The man approaches with a discernible limp, supported by a beautifully carved walking stick. He informs them that his black and white plaid pants, black cut away long coat and embroidered gloves harken to his old profession as a lawyer. “Aye lads, but now I ‘ope to contribute sum-what to pre-serving the ‘istory of ma native country.” He says in melodic tones. “We canna ‘ave Scotland’s customs melt into toes of ‘er sister and ally. Can we lads?” The actor/guide fills them in on the history of artifacts, while remaining in character. Lance is having trouble keeping a straight face though, because, somehow the guide keeps using the term jewels in a way that could have double meaning.

“Indeed the Honours of Scotland are significant, an’ need to be treated with a certain delicacy.” He says with soft rolling R’s. He gestures to a crown on a humongous pillow “‘At crown originally belonged to James da fifth. ‘E was known to be protective of his jewels. “ Lance tries to school his features, but catches Keith’s eye and snorts inelegantly. The guide is unaffected, he continues around the giant pillow to describe the history of the sceptre in a case just beyond.  “‘Course it all ‘ad to be hidden durin’ da Great Rebellion. We dinna want Cromwell ta get ‘is grubby ‘ands on oor jewels.” A snicker escapes Lance and Keith elbows him, while trying to stifle his own laughter.   

The guide continues to appear oblivious to the boy’s mirth. “An again, win Scotland joined wit’ Ingland to become Great Brit-on, the jewels were ‘hidden in a chest.”

“An ample one I am guessing.” Lance said, without thinking, his eyes examining the length and breadth of the sceptre.  

“Sorry?” The guide pauses, turning, an eyebrow raised. 

Lance blushes, clearing his throat. “Uh, I mean, it would have had to have been a big box , cause, ya-know, big jewels .” He says gesturing to the display. Keith’s face disappears behind his hand. 

“Aye,” The guide says, nonplussed, “T’was a very big box.”

Lance is dying.

“It twas ma’self and some others that finally brought the jewels back ‘ere to Edinbourgh Castle.”

“You’re Sir Walter Scott!” Keith exclaims. 

“Aye Lad.” The man smiles, eyes sparkling. 

“I’m a bit of a fan.” Keith says, blushing at Lance’s look of astonishment.  “Is that why you are here, I mean the person, er, character, in this room? Because you brought the jewels back?

“Aye, I coul’na defend my homeland, on accoun’ of polio.” He said, tapping his walking stick on the ground. “But this I coul’do.”

Keith smiles, and the two men seemed to share an understanding. “Would you have fought for Scotland?” Keith asks, “If you had been alive during the civil wars.” Lance was surprised, having no idea that his friend knew Scottish history.

“Nay, t’is said I were a Jacobite in ma ‘eart, but a unionist in ma head.” Sir Walter sighed. “Scotland ‘as ‘ad too much blood shed. Tis better ta fight in the courtrooms than the fields. Less glory, but less gory.” He winked at them as he saw them to the exit of the exhibit.

---

“So… a fan of 19th century romantic poetry?” Lance prompts. “You’re completely ruining your bad boy image.”

“Am I?” Keith said, a secret smile playing at his lips as he guides them through the next room, glancing up at signage on the way.

“Absolutely.” Lance smirks confidently, letting Keith lead him into the Great Hall. 

Lance feels his breath drawn out of him upon entering the room. The Hall is magnificent, rich red walls and a wooden hammer beam roof. At the far end of the room is a ginormous fireplace with Greco styled pillars and sculptures on top. Six hanging chandeliers light the space, along with floor to ceiling windows allowing the late day natural light. The lower half of the room sports ornate wooden paneling lined with suits of armor and hanging in every bare spot, shining in the reflected light from each window, is every kind of sword you could imagine. He hears Keith sigh, with something that can only be described as delight. 

Once Lance has his breath back, he whispers to Keith, “You are one weird dude. Nobody should like blades this much.” Keith grins, obviously in his happy place. ‘Kinda makes me a bad boy , huh? “ He says, raising his eyebrows. Not waiting for an answer, he turns to the nearest wall to study the weapons hanging there. Lance pauses, flummoxed for a moment, and then laughs to himself as he continues into the room. 

The guide in this room is dressed as a Scottish servant in a wimple, probably a 16th century housekeeper or maid. She calls all the children wee’uns, and speaks nostalgically about her bairns. Keith and Lance don’t engage, partially because there are more guests for this character to attend to and but more because Keith is fully enthralled with the swords. Lance follows along silently, only seeing nominal differences between the weapons, but he enjoys watching Keith’s face as he examines each; as looks of interest and happiness pass over his features. 

They stop in front of a massive sword. “That’s a claymore.” announces Lance, confident in his 80’s movie training on such things. “Hmm, It’s actually a two handed Highland Sword.” Keith muses, leaning forward to study the handle and kneeling to get a closer look at the blade. The guide steps forward and confirms Keith’s assessment. “Aye, ‘ats a claidheamh dà làimh.” she says in smooth gaelic. 

The housekeeper explains to a gathering crowd that the Gaelic word claidheamh mor, or Great Sword, was mistakenly applied to the larger, two handled swords. Now experts have determined that the claymore are the smaller, basket-hilted broadswords, and she points out some on the walls. Keith follows to study a particular specimen that is carefully crafted with gold designs on the handle. “See how both edges of the blade are sharpened.” Keith murmurs to Lance, not taking his eyes off the sword. “Yup, looks deadly.” Lance muses, not really knowing how to respond. 

Keith’s facial expressions are a subtle thing and Lance prides himself on having been friends long enough to read them. So when Keith suddenly snaps out of his reverie, Lance feels guilty. He turns to Lance looking a bit chagrin. “Sorry, I… I can get really lost in this stuff. Am I taking too long?” 

“No, man, not at all. I can tell you are having fun. It’s totally fine. All good.” Lance says soothingly. 

Keith seems unsure, but continues his trip around the room, a bit less buoyant than before and when he has made his way back to the entrance, he gives the room one last look of longing before stepping over the threshold. Lance laughs, “You okay there buddy?” He asks, “You don’t want to go and give the two handed highland one a kiss goodbye?” 

Keith’s confused look makes Lance laugh harder. “I was just joking.” 

“Well yeah ,” Keith says, rolling his eyes. “Because that would be weird .” Sending one last look at the glittering walls before they return the way they came and head out of the building. 

They have to jog over to the Chapel, and only take a cursory peek at the space. Lance says a prayer on the bones of St. Margaret and they pause to take a picture beside the giant cannon. 

The Castle is slowly closing for the evening, but the outside lights are turning on and the building glows, looking otherworldly. There is an ease between the two men that hasn’t existed for many months and Lance sighs contentedly. They begin their walk down the cobbled Royal Mile. They pass some touristy shops and pause for a moment in front of the Scotch Whiskey Heritage Centre and peek in the windows. Uncharacteristically, Lance stays silent, enjoying the unspoken connection.

Surprisingly it is broken by Keith who says, “Is it really weird for me to like poetry? I mean, I am a songwriter, isn’t that the same thing?”

“Maybe not weird.” Lance muses, “Just unexpected.” 

Keith’s nose crinkles and Lance wants to kiss it until it smooths again. He has to sigh when the thought doesn’t just pass, but instead digs deeper. 

Lance makes the mistake of trying to explain, “It’s just that you collect knives, ride motorcycles and play the guitar, those are things that aren’t usually associated with Lady of the Lake and Botanical Gardens.”

“But I’ve always liked those things.” Keith says, sounding melancholy. 

No, no, no, no. Lance thinks. We are not going there. We are having a nice evening together.

“Keith, nobody is saying you can’t like those things. It’s just, you defy simple explanation. It means you are complex. It is a good thing.” Lance says soothingly.

Keith stops dead, and Lance walks at least four steps past him before noticing. 

“No Lance, I am sure that isn’t right. People don’t like complex.”

“Sure they do” Lance says, back tracking, trying so hard not to kiss the confused off Keith’s face.

“I am pretty certain if you go on a blind date, and ask what your date is like, nobody wants to hear complex as the first characteristic.“ Keith insists.

“But we both know you’ve never been on a blind date, so you don’t know for sure if that is true.” Lance responds smoothly.

Keith doesn’t rise to the bait so Lance tries another tactic. 

“Dude, come’on, Hunk suggested some really good restaurants by the South Bridge and all the stabby weaponry made me hungry. Let’s just walk and enjoy the evening. Get some food, taste some scotch. Ya know, bond over some bro time. I don’t know what’s up with you right now. Why you gotta be so…”

“Complex?” Keith supplies dryly.

“I was going to say difficult .”

“Same difference.”

Lance resorts to “ Nuh-uh .”

Keith doesn’t respond, but starts walking again. 

This is not the vibe Lance wants for the rest of the evening, so he bites the bullet, looks like they are going to have to go through a difficult conversation to come out on the other side. He takes a breath, “ Do you want to talk to me about it, you know? Whatever it is you are trying to figure out right now?”

Keith doesn’t respond right away, but Lance doesn’t push. He knows Keith struggles with this. So as hard as it is, he stays quiet.

Finally Keith sighs. “I guess I want to be more me , I also think I am trying to figure out who the people are who are okay with all of me …. Or maybe just most of me .”

It is Lance’s turn to stop dead. “Um, was this like a test?” He can hear his heart beating inside his ears, he literally teased Keith about everything today.

“Kinda.” Keith says thoughtfully as Lance falls into step beside him.

Lance’s mouth is dry as he swallows and says quietly, “Did I pass?”

Keith startles, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean I was testing you. I was just testing how long I could do it, be more me . All the parts.” 

Lance almost collapses with relief. “So you do trust me, like enough to be yourself?”

“Uh, yeah. ” Keith says. ‘I mean, you don’t actually have a problem with me liking knives, or flowers, or poetry… Do you? ” He asks, his nose wrinkling again.

“No,” Lance laughs, “I think it’s fucking adorable.” Oops, that slipped out. Lance bites his lip and keeps his eyes forward, feeling his face burn. 

They continue in silence until Keith finally says. “Good, because I know way weirder shit about you.”

Lance sputters, before managing another eloquent, “Nuh-uh.” Looking sideways at Keith, who is giving him side-eye.

“You wanted your picture taken with a giant cannon, and you went to an actual exhibit of crown jewels and couldn’t hear the guide say the words crown jewels without turning it into a euphemism.”

“Oh, come on Keith! He was totally doing that on purpose!”

“You mean using the correct words to describe the actual artifacts in his section of the museum.”

Lance sputters and finally lands on, “At least I am not a fashion disaster from the 80s”

“His outfit was from the early 1800’s Lance. There were pictures in the exhibit if you could pull your mind out of the gutter long enough to look at them.” Amethyst eyes sparkling.

“I was talking about you.”

“I know.” Keith responds shortly, lips curling. “It’s how I know when I’ve won an argument, you bring up my clothes or hairstyle.”

“That’s not even a little bit true.”

Keith doesn’t respond again, just keeps strutting down the road with that small smile on his lips.

Lance considers challenging Keith to a race down the crowded cobblestone streets, but the sidewalks are packed with tourists and he cannot face Shiro if both of them end up in traction at this point in the tour. He tries to come up with another distraction, and notices as they pass the Mary Kings Close. 

Lance points over to the Close, “We have to remember that spot, that is where our tour is tonight.” Looking at his phone, “We should eat, the tour starts at 8 and it’s after 6.” 

They end up at the World’s End Pub, but soon after they get inside, Lance regrets it. It is busy and loud and he can tell Keith is getting overwhelmed. He asks the host if they can seat them in a corner somewhere. The host seems to get the wrong idea, thinking Lance is on a date of some kind, which is how he and Keith end up at a small table beside a window with a corner booth seat. Keith seems relieved to be off to one side, and doesn’t seem to notice the spot has been set up for intimacy. Lance guesses that is a plus of him not having been on many dates. 

The waitress recommends the Team’s Favourite Platter to Share. It is WAY too much food for the both of them, but they decide they can bring leftovers back to the rest of the band. But as they wait, Keith is clearly overwhelmed. After the second time he hops up to pop outside for some air, Lance requests that the waitress packs their meals to go. She seems perplexed but does it, Keith comes back as Lance is paying (with a hefty tip for the trouble) and Lance explains that they are going on a picnic. 

The boys wander further down between the tightly packed buildings and Lance begins to feel guilty that he and Keith may have to eat on a city bench on a crowded street. Lance actually wonders if they can pop a squat on the Palace grounds. Keith is suspiciously quiet, probably questioning why Lance would pull them out of a restaurant with no plan as to where to go. 

At this moment, Lance notices a close to his left, just past an all year Christmas shop. The sign above says Dunbars Close, but down the narrow alley, there appears to be a park. He walks through, mentally crossing his fingers. Sure enough, he finds a park with carefully trimmed hedges and perfectly cared for paths. He heads for the first bench he sees, and sits on one side, setting the take out containers in the middle. Keith is taking longer to get to the bench, because he is taking in the greenery, looking up at the trees and vines, and bending down to see the flowers. Lance begins pulling containers out and opening them up, setting up a little meal. 

Keith sits down opposite him with a deep sigh, and Lance is relieved to see the tension draining out of the other man. 

“Better?” asks Lance.

Keith takes another deep breath. “Much better.” He says, gratitude shining in violet eyes.

They eat in silence, both hungry and tired. It has been a long day, even though it has been fun. Lance considers canceling the vault tour and whiskey, but he also doesn’t want this to end.

The boys dig into their meal, beef sliders, chicken wings, beer battered fish, rosemary fries and non alcoholic, sparkling lemonade. 

The mood is contemplative, and Lance finally breaks the silence, saying the first thing that comes to his mind, as he often does. “Why the testing, you know? Why are you testing to be more you.” Lance creates quotations with BBQ sauce fingers in one hand and a chicken wing in the other.

Keith has been enjoying the garden while he eats. It is a beautiful spot, made more so because it is awash with light from the lowering, late-summer sun. He has to shake himself out of a reverie to answer the question.

“Um… I guess it’s because of Kara.” Lance is surprised, and it must show on his face, but Keith isn’t looking at him. “I think I was tempted to try… to … uh… be perfect… because I want… I need…” Keith's lips press together as he tries to express himself. “But then, I realized it would be bad… like really bad… if she started loving me for being someone other than myself.” Keith huffs out another sigh, and blinks several times, nodding to himself. 

Lance can feel tears prick his own eyes. “You got to know that she’s going to love you because you're awesome. Because you, the real you, has always been awesome.”

“Thanks Lance, but, it’s more complicated than that.”

“I get that.” Lance nods. He doesn’t fully understand, never having to question his parent’s love, never missing one and not knowing why. But he gets that it is complicated. Maybe this is why Keith has trouble with the idea of being complex. It’s hard work and sometimes it hurts. Lance doesn’t share these thoughts, he cleans his fingers on wet naps and packs away the leftovers and the two leave the quiet garden.

When they return to the Edinburgh streets, the mood has shifted, some of the taverns and bars have live music playing, the crowd has changed from day time tourists to nightlife. Men and women dressed in their finest evening wear, laughter trickling out of open doors and patios. The air has gotten cooler and if they could see the sun, it would be just finishing it's dip behind the horizon.  

The two struggle back up the hill, tired from an afternoon of walking and lethargic from full bellies. They find the way back to Mary King Close, barely making it on time. They are dropped right into a full experience tour of some of the vaults. The guides, like at the castle, are fully in character. They share terrifying ghost stories, one about a little girl and her doll.

The whiskey tasting is next. Lance dives in, trying shots of all 6 different drinks they offer, Keith sticks to the mini plastic cups and sometimes only has a taste of them. 

“Why arrrn’t you drinking.” Lance says, leaning heavily into Keith. “Thought you liked whiskey.” 

“I do like whiskey, but one of us needs to stay sober, we are in a strange city.” Keith says good naturedly. 

“S’right, tis a strange city… with its ghost girl dolls an shit.” Lance says, holding his empty shot glass to emphasize his point. “But we’ve bin in stranger cities.” He confides to Keith.  

Keith’s lips curl, “I agree, Jacksonville was pretty weird.”

“Jack-can-ville wasss-okay. No ghosts there.” Lance waves emphatically. “Miami, has a one legged ghost in the ole cuban consulate. She’s mad, slams the gate.” Lance makes a door closing gesture. “She slams the gate an kills the cat.” Lance pauses, “Wait, ssat her??? Or the nother ghost, I think I might have them confused in my brain.” He says waving his hand in front of his head.  

“So you believe in ghosts then?” Keith asks.

Lance looks at him, poor Keith doesn’t understand, Lance has to explain it to him slowly. “Keith. I. am. CUBAN. an. I. am. Scottish.” He makes another generalized hand gesture. “Stuper-shit-shush as fuck.”

This draws a chuckle from Keith and Lance is pleased. “What ‘bout you?” Lance asks, “D’you believe?” He tries to stare seriously into Keith’s eyes. This is an important question. 

“You know I do, I even have the tee-shirt.” Keith says, referencing his X-files merch.

“MMM not talk-ING ‘bout ALE-EE-ans Keef. MMM talkin’ about ghosts. Is different.”

“Sure,” Keith shrugs, “The energy that’s in a person that makes us a person must go somewhere. A ghost seems like a thing that could happen.”

“Thaz no good Keef.” Lance smacks himself in the face in frustration. “One of us haz to BEE-leave an th’other haz to be the cynic….mmm… wrong werd … hole on… the skeptic .”

Keith scowls. “Who says?”

“Buzzfeed Un’solled.” Lance says emphatically.

Keith is uninterested, he’s looking at his phone. ‘Prolly talking to Matt.’ Lance thinks, ‘Keith’s always talking to Matt.

Keith taps his side. “Kay, I ordered an Uber, let’s get to the door.” 

“Why’d ya go an do that?” Lance pouts.

“Because I don’t want to carry you up that effing hill.” Keith says sternly, but it’s okay, Lance can see the smile in Keith’s eyes. He thinks about kissing him, but remembers Keith doesn’t like it when Lance does that after drinking. He will have to do it tomorrow.

He says as much when they are installed at the entrance to the close waiting. “T’morrow, when MM sober, MM gunna haf ta kiss ya.”

Keith smiles, but this time his eyes are sad. Lance thinks that is wrong, Keith shouldn’t be sad. “Tomorrow you aren’t going to remember anything about wanting to kiss me.”

Lance leans back against the stone frame for the close, the coolness seeping into his overheated body. Keith is so silly. Lance says that. “Yer Sillee Keef. So Silleeeee. MMM not gonna ferget, I’ve bin thingink 'bout it all day.”

Things really get fuzzy after that, but when he wakes up in his hotel room, head throbbing, he buries his head in his pillows. 

He did it again.

He effing did it again. 

Chapter Text

It is with dread in his stomach and an ominous feel of deja vu that Lance heads down to breakfast that morning. He is dressed in his favourite pair of jeans and new blue shirt. The comfortable tee has a white x in the center, creating the impression of the Scottish flag. Lance had considered wearing the other shirt he bought. It boldly claimed “I don’t need therapy, I just need to go to Scotland.” Somehow, that didn’t seem all that funny this morning.  

He had bought the souvenirs yesterday, before recklessly drinking 6 shots of whiskey in a two hour period. He consoles himself that he did this after having his wits scared out of him by creepy stories about terrifyingly sad little girls living underground. He justifies his actions because it really had been a very emotional day. It all started with a difficult heart to heart with his bestie, Hunk, leading to writing with Keith, and ultimately trying to remember why not to kiss the guitarist every single time he was so freaking cute. Which was very difficult, okay? Because Keith was dangerously adorable for the entire afternoon. All this happened during a visit to a city that Lance had dreamed of visiting his whole life.

Lance had grabbed a comfy snapback, and a pair of sunglasses. Together they created a laughable amount of UV protection for the traditionally overcast Edinburgh skies. He had, thankfully, stayed hydrated the previous evening. Keith had left water at his bedside. But even before that, he recalled the dark haired man sneakily giving Lance sips of soda water in between shots last night. The recollection causes Lance to wince, just another cringe memory of his ill-advised, self-medication session.

What the hell was he going to say to his friend this morning? ‘I’m sorry, Keith,  I really just want to hang out like bandmates and best bros, until you wrinkle your nose and then the image of me chewing on your lower lip shuts down my ability for rational thought.’ Or, how about, “When I make you laugh, I sometimes forget what country we are in. But don’t think too much about it, because I am so scared of my feelings that I require alcohol to act on them.”

As he heads out of his room, already late for the time he’d promised to meet Keith for breakfast, he bumps into Pidge and Matt. The siblings are struggling with luggage, computer cases and the damned robot, which Coran has nick-named Dolly. Dolly is weaving up and down the hall, Pidge’s carry-on bag and laptop strapped to its platform. Pidge is pulling a suitcase on wheels with one hand while attempting to steer the robot, via remote, with the other. This explains why Dolly is running into walls. A harried looking business woman grimaces as she is almost tripped by the small machine. Matt, has both his laptop and his carry-on bag balanced on his own rolling suitcase, which he is pulling behind himself. Meanwhile he is trying to type on his phone with his other hand.

“Our flight is in less than two hours, we are really pushing our luck, I think we should take a car to the Airport.” Pidge says irritably.

“But I really wanted to take the Tram, and they come every seven minutes, we’ll be there in plenty of time.” Matt says, “It's a domestic flight and we’ve already checked in online, we just need to go through security.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t stay up til two searching music sites for… ‘er.” Pidge pauses, seeing Lance, “Your presentation, we’d have more time.”

Matt looks up momentarily and nods at Lance before looking back down to his phone, where he is typing with his thumb. 

“Ummm, can I grab something?” Lance says, as the two siblings pass his door. “Yes,” Pidge says, unceremoniously handing him the handle to their suitcase, taking the remote for the robot into both hands. Just in time too, as the wheeled menace barely misses hitting the leg of a table on which sits a very elegant and expensive looking vase.  

“Why didn’t you get help from a staff person or a cart?” Lance asked.

“Slept in.” Says Pidge shortly, as the group stops in front of the elevator. 

Matt releases the handle of his suitcase, taking his phone in both hands. Almost instantly his laptop begins to slip from it’s precarious position. Lance catches it with his free hand, shifting to pull the strap over his shoulder. 

“Hmmmm.. Thanks.” Matt acknowledges distractedly, barely looking up from what he is typing. Lance notices he has one ear bud in and is listening to something.

The elevator dings and the doors open. Lance, Pidge and the rolling robot get inside, but Matt remains in the hallway. “I can’t risk losing the signal, I will grab the next one.”He says, glancing up for barely a moment.

Pidge rolls their eyes. “Matt, we are already behind schedule.”  

“I need to find the perfect song.” Matt says, attention already returning to his phone. 

“Aarrgh! Fine!” Pidge says, forcefully pressing the L button. They must lose focus, because their other hand presses on the remote control causing Dolly to do donuts between the two humans.

Lance realizes that his sunglasses are overkill in the dark elevator and moves them to rest on the visor of his hat.

Pidge is in a foul temper and Lance feels awkward, so he tries to lighten the mood. 

“Siblings, am I right?” He says with a sympathetic eye roll.

“Really Lance, this is how you're going to handle this?” 

“Wait, what? What did I do?” Lance asks, perplexed.

“Everything! The hard way. Every.Single.Time.” Pidge says, emphatically. 

Lance blinks back shocked, but Pidge is staring forward, jaw set. 

The elevator reaches the Lobby and the doors open. Lance walks Pidge, in silence, to the front desk, where they begin checking out. He deposits their bag and Matt’s computer beside the, now stationary, robot.

“Good luck on your panel.” He says, turning to head back toward the dining room.

“Lance, hold on.” Pidge calls him back. “I am sorry . It’s just… “ His friend sighs, “Are you still spending the next few days with Keith?” Pidge asks.

“Uh, Yeah, that’s the plan.” Lance says, his hand rubbing his neck in discomfort. “If he still wants to. Did you hear something? Does he not want…? ” 

“Look Lance, It’s none of my business but…” Pidge seems to assess the next words carefully, “Can you guys try to get your shit figured out before we meet up in Spain?” Pidge seems to consider saying more, but decides against it. Matt has made it to the lobby, and Pidge jumps forward to give Lance a quick hug goodbye, which Lance returns.

“I’ve checked us out and the tram will be at that stop,” Pidge points to a post outside the front door, “In four minutes.” They tell their brother. 

‘Right.” Matt says distractedly. “See ya Lance.” He calls over as he picks up his computer bag. A staff member from the hotel is walking with Pidge, rolling their suitcase and asking about Dolly. 

“Yeah. See ya!” Lance says watching the group walk away from him. He follows them with his gaze until they step through the ornate revolving door. Sighing, he garners his nerve to head into the dining room, where he is now more than twenty minutes late for his meet up with Keith.

He finds Keith sitting at a table with Shiro and Adam looking distinctly itchy. It is not as though the dark haired man often looks comfortable in social settings, but in this particular situation Keith clearly squirms from whatever Shiro is saying to him. His colour is heightened, but not in the cute, blushy way, more in a ‘I am developing hives from this conversation’ way. 

“It is a beautiful spot in Seville, very close to where we are meeting up for the concert next week. I think you could do with a break.” Shiro is saying. Adam looks less than invested, all the men still have their brunch menus, clearly, they haven’t ordered yet. 

“Hey, can I join you guys?” Lance asks, hands tucked in his back pockets, rocking heel to toe beside the table. Technically he and Keith were supposed to meet, but he is late, and since he cannot remember the whole ride home last night or the process of getting to his room and to bed, he is a bit worried that Keith may not want to see him today. He tries to catch Keith’s eye for a clue, but the other man is studiously examining his menu while Shiro continues to extol the virtues of hot springs in Seville Spain.

“Oh please, pull up a chair.” Adam says dryly.

Lance plunks down, into the empty spot between Adam and Shiro. The former hands over his own menu, “I’ve decided what I’m having, and I am sure Keith has too. Takashi hasn’t even looked at his menu because he is trying to convince his brothe r to come on our romantic vacation.” Adam doesn’t seem angry as much as bemused. 

‘Oh,” Lance says in as natural a tone as he can muster, “I thought Keith and I were going to hang out for the next couple of days.” It is a statement, but Lance’s eyes hold a question, and Keith finally looks up from the menu for a second, before glancing back down. It isn’t long enough for Lance to get a read on the other man’s emotions. 

“Keith, why didn’t you just say so?” Shiro asks. 

Keith doesn’t answer, but the waitress arrives to take their orders. Lance asks for steak, eggs and chips with lots of coffee and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, because: hangover breakfast . The conversation between the older men turns to Allura and Coran, who have headed back to the States for Altea Record’s Annual General Meeting. “They will be back in enough time to get a bit of a break before we have our next show.” Shiro is saying. “In fact, I think Allura will be more relaxed for the rest of the tour, she has been pretty stressed preparing for this meeting.” Adam is nodding in agreement. Lance is still trying to get Keith to look at him.

Shiro seems to pick up on Keith’s mood and asks, “What do you two have planned for today?”

Keith is busy folding a piece of paper, that looks like it was part of the fancy table setting, into a mini origami frog. He doesn’t answer and there is a moment of awkward silence before Lance says, “Iiiiee, ah, I think we're heading to the Royal Botanical Gardens. Is that right Keith?” 

“Hmmm.” Keith hums almost to himself, raising his eyes for only a moment to say. “That’s the plan.” Before looking back down to his folding. 

Shiro watches Keith for a moment, before sending a look (that Lance cannot decipher) to Adam, who shrugs at his boyfriend. Shiro then turns his questioning eyes toward Lance, who gives a wry smile, nods, and tries to act like everything is normal.

‘That’s right Shiro, I don’t want to jump your brother the second you leave. I just want to hang out with him in gardens and other completely innocent places, that would be perfect for making out.’ Lance has to drop Shiro’s gaze at that errant thought. 

“Well that sounds fun.” Shiro says, sounding like he would, never, not ever, purposely visit a royal garden. 

‘Yes,” Lance says, because there is rarely an awkward silence that he does not feel obliged to fill. “ Royal flowers,” He teases Keith. “I am supposedly in for quite a treat.” Keith is now tapping on the back of his mini paper frog, making it hop across the table.

Thankfully the food arrives, saving all of them from the uncomfortable silence.

Apparently Shiro and Adam have some shopping to do before heading off to Spain, they need bathing suits and other vacation attire. The couple discuss the minutiae of their shopping and travel plans. Despite being mind numbingly boring, the conversation takes all pressure off of Keith and Lance to participate, which is a blessed relief. Lance wonders if it is purposeful, but cannot stomach the idea of the two other men knowing how messed up things are between him and Keith right now. 

When the plates are cleared, Keith has still said barely a word. Shiro and Adam have decided to take the scenic route to Spain taking the train. They are stopping in Glasgow, London and Paris on the way. They four make plans to connect before Shiro and Adam head out. Shiro gives Keith a playful nudge, and the younger man shakes him off, while giving him a small smile. Shiro also pats Lance on the shoulder, and Lance might be imagining it, but he feels like it is a warning. Adam drags Shiro away with a wave. Though Shiro looks back before leaving the dining room, Lance cannot help but feel he has been given fair notice: by both Pidge and Shiro.

 “Get your shit figured out.”

“Hey.” Lance says, when it is just him and Keith standing beside the table.

“Hey.” Keith says quietly, his eyes focusing to the left of Lance’s face.

“Uh, do you need to go back to your room for anything?” Lance asks, trying not to squirm too much, settling to bounce forward and back, heels to toes. 

“Just to brush my teeth.” Keith replies, giving Lance frustrating little to build a conversation with. 

“Same, same.” Lance says, “Meet you back in the lobby in a few minutes?”

Keith nods and peels out of the dining room, before Lance can say another word.

They both meet up ten minutes later. Lance finds Keith reviewing the brochure rack, looking at a sightseeing map.

“So, uh, how do we get there?” Lance asks.

“I figured we walk.” Keith says, waving the folded paper in his hand, “It is about half an hour on foot.”

“Okay, walking again…” Lance says, surprised. 

Keith stops meeting Lance’s gaze for the first time that day, his eyes look tired but sharp. “What, you want to get a cab or something?” And it sounds enough to Lance like a challenge that he immediately responds in kind.

“Phhbbt. Of course I can walk, I can walk for miles. I’m, like, the best walker. Once. I even…”

“Fine. Then we’ll walk.” Keith cuts him off and turns toward the door. 

The Concierge encourages the men to take complimentary umbrellas with them, which Lance accepts gratefully, but Keith refuses. Lance can tell Keith is in a mood. Lance is biding his time, trying to figure out how to address the events of the previous evening. He is grateful that Keith hasn’t told him to get lost, and is taking that as a win.

Since their Hotel is on St. Andrew Square, Keith informs Lance that there is a garden there too, and he wants to walk through on the way. Lance glances up at the thick cloud cover, but doesn’t challenge Keith. He is wary of any confrontation with the other man right now. 

Lance is stuck in his own head and can only follow Keith around. As they begin the walk up past the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, he ponders how to break the silence, when Keith breaks it for him.

“What was up with Shiro today?” He says out of the blue. “No matter how overprotective you are, you don’t bring your little brother with you for your first real vacation with your boyfriend.” He looks to Lance for confirmation, but continues before he can respond. “It’s not like I have never been alone before.”

Lance gets hooked on that. “But, yer not alone. I’m here. Remember? We made plans to hang out together.” He says, gesturing between them, and voice building in heat. “Which begs the question, Why didn’t you just tell Shiro that ?”

Keith huffs, “I didn’t know if it was still on. The last time you got drunk and said or did something you regretted, you barely spoke to me for a week.” Keith says it so plainly, without malice, that Lance is struck silent. 

Finally he says quietly, “I wouldn’t’ve bailed. You should know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, it isn’t always evident what you’re gonna do Lance, you're pretty inconsistent where I am concerned.” Keith says sharply.

Lance inwardly winces. Alrighty then, Keith isn’t pulling any punches today. 

They walk further, Lance digesting those words. 

“It’s not like you’ve been consistent either.” Lance throws back. 

“Whatever.” Keith mutters.

“ See .” Lance gestures at the other man. “What you did, right now, right there, you just blew that comment off. You used to push back about something like that.”

“I supposed to push back? So, you want to fight me? ”

“Yes! No! Kinda. I don’t wanna fight . That’s not what I meant. But we used to spar, like verbally, and it was fun to go back and forth. And it was funny. We don't do that anymore. And every time I try to get it going, you just pfffffthhh.” Lance accents the sound with a broad hand gesture. “Like, what gives?”

“Maybe I am just tired of fighting Lance.” Keith says, forehead pulled into a scowl. “And sad.”

The quietly spoken words shake Lance’s core. He holds back the words that want to come. Are you tired of me? Of us? Of the band? This isn’t about you Lance, he reminds himself.

“Why?” Lance asks, softening his tone. “Why are you sad?”

Keith’s scowl turns thoughtful. “No reason… Lot’s of reasons… Maybe I am just feeling stuff that has been locked up for a long time.” They walk a while in silence before Keith speaks again. He shakes his head. “Sometimes it just feels dumb, I am doing what I love, I have more success than I ever dreamed of. What right do I have to want more?”

Lance nods silently. It is terrifying to want more. The delicate balance he was able to keep when he and Allura split up, that they were able to keep the band together, to stay friends. It is scary to take risks when it could cost you everything.

“What do you want Keith?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” Keith says. “Part of the problem is that I never really knew. I feel like sometimes I am just along for the ride.”

‘That’s crazy, you know that right. You are a humongous contributor to this band, I mean you write or co-write most of our songs.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Keith smiles, wry but genuine. “I never went looking to join a band in High School. I just followed Shiro. I mean, I stayed for… well… lots of reasons. But it wasn’t because I wanted  to be in a band.”

“And that makes you sad?” Lance asks, his heart in his throat.

“No, not that.” Keith says looking over the tall buildings along Dundas Street. “I am just trying to figure myself out. Meeting my mom…  things like that bring questions - feelings. ” Says Keith exasperated.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Asks Lance. He wants to understand, but he also wants to be confided in. He wants to prove that he is still worthy of Keith’s trust. Keith doesn’t answer.

They are heading uphill to a bridge, as they cross, Keith points down, lips turned up. “Look Lance, cannons .” His eyes hold mischief and Lance realizes this is the energy from their old sparring matches. Less overt, but the same energy. “Should we run down and get some pictures?” Amethyst eyes twinkle. 

“Thanks, I’m good.” Lance deadpans back.

“Thought I’d check.” Keith says.

Lance figures that the change of topic was purposeful, so when Keith begins again, he is surprised.

“You’d think that finding my Mom and knowing that she always loved me would make me happy. But… “ Keith stops walking. Lance steps in front of him and turns, needing to see his face as he speaks. 

“All those years I didn’t have her, it hurt, but it was a hurt I always knew. 

Now that she’s here… 

Now I’m sad about all the lost time . It’s like looking back at my life, all the moments I wished she was there… 

Now I can see her there. 

So instead of missing having a Mom , I miss…

… my mom .”

Lance feels his heart break a little bit, imagining young Keith at little league with no Mom cheering him in the stands, or maybe in class every year, where kids are making Mother’s Day cards, with no Mom to make one for. He tries to imagine how it would be different to miss something hypothetical vs a real living person.

“I am sad. But, there is a part of me that’s mad.” Keith says, sounding surprised as he said it, as though he just realized it.

Keith turns and looks out over the gray horizon from the bridge. It is windy up here and his dark hair is tossed about. Lance has to lean closer to hear the next quiet words. “Sometimes I think that parts of life are easier when you believe you can’t have something, that it wasn’t meant for you.”

This is the most open Keith has ever been with Lance outside of the metaphor of music and songwriting. Lance has been afraid to respond, lest Keith stop talking, but this statement jars him into words.

“I don’t think that is the way it works.” Lance says with certainty.

“Hmmm.” Keith responds. “It’s funny you say that,” He says cryptically, “Because I’m pretty sure I learned it from you .” He finishes before turning to walk the rest of the bridge.

Lance pauses on that windy bridge to consider those words, but cannot find the logic in them. He turns and jogs to catch up with speed walking Keith.

It is a short walk from the bridge to the gardens. Almost miraculously, the wind dies down and the clouds thin once they arrive. Lance doesn’t know what he expects, but it is definitely not what they see. Upon entering the gardens, Keith, visitors’ guide in hand, takes them past a beautiful glass house, with arched windows, down into a large area of many interwoven paths, and creeks. There are little wooden bridges, stone steps and tiny waterfalls. The area is huge and signs indicate this is the Rock Garden . It isn’t rows of flowers (as Lance had imagined) but hedges and flowering bushes and different trees. They spend at least an hour wandering through the winding pathways.

Keith has fallen silent, he appears content, not maudlin. Lance also finds himself under the spell of the beauty around them. The garden isn’t busy, perhaps a mid week morning visit has worked out well for them. It is hard to believe they are so close to the bustling city here. 

Keith then leads the way to the Alpine garden, with succulents and special drainage designed to protect the plants from Scotland’s wet weather. Surprising, Keith can name many of the plants in this section. Lance had always noticed the table in Keith and Shiro’s shared apartment, with pots of cactus and succulents, and even heard Shiro tease him about buying special soil for his plants, but can’t help but feel he is seeing a new side of Keith. Maybe this is the ‘Keith being Keith’ thing the dark haired man is working on.

After that, they head to one of the buildings, needing a snack and a washroom break. Lance is drawn to the English country garden behind the Botanic Cottage. He purchases two bags of crisps and two drinks and then wanders out back of the building. Keith should be able to find him easily once he finishes in the men's room. 

There are school groups out here, one group of 20 or so kids have butterfly nets trying to catch different insects and another group of children have a page with illustrations of different plants, crossing them off as they find each one. 

When Keith arrives, Lance is looking at a particular garden plot. He smiles, handing over the snacks. “I found the Royal Flowers.” he says with a grin. “They are wearing red, and they are tall and regal.” He teases. Keith huffs and sits on the grass path to snack. Lance plays with one of the flower stems. “Are you not impressed?” Lance says in a fake British accent. “At, my stately appearance?” He voices for the flower. “Perhaps you are appropriately in awe of my majesty.” He continues. But at that moment, the delicate stem of the flower snaps. Keith has to cover his face with his hand.

“Lance, I am pretty sure you are not supposed to pick the flowers.” Keith scolds, quietly laughing.

“I didn’t pick the flower on purpose.” Lance defended in a mock whisper. “In a way, it picked me” He said, stepping away from the plot and sitting beside Keith. “Besides, it is your fault for bringing me here.” He says teasing, tucking the flower behind Keith’s ear. “I am tempted to make you a flower crown with those daisies.” He gestures down the path, to a swaying patch of yellow and white. “But these red ones would look better on you.”

Keith smiles at him softly. “So you’re breaking the rules and then framing me with the evidence?” He says, gesturing to the flower behind his ear, but he doesn’t move it.

“Sounds ‘bout right.” Lance nods, “But, as I’ve said, you’re to blame.”

Keith is just so beautiful right now and the events of last night are weighing on Lance’s mind. Maybe he and Keith don’t have to discuss his drunken ramblings as much as he should act on them. He realizes that he has been staring at Keith’s lips while thinking all of this, and Keith has noticed.

“Lance, what are you doing?” Keith asks in a whisper, a real one this time.

“Thinking about kissing you.” Lance answers honestly. 

“Let’s not do that in a garden full of first and second graders.” Keith suggests in the same hushed voice.

“So somewhere more private then?” Lance asks, watching the corners of Keith's lips pull upward slightly. 

They sit for a while longer and finish their snacks. Lance watches as Keith moves the flower from behind his ear into the button hole of his jacket. Lance watches everything Keith does.

Finally the two stand and walk out of this section, they wander into another area. The garden is busier now and they run into gardeners and tourists on their way. After half an hour or so, they find a quiet spot near the Chinese Pavilion. Keith is still pausing at different plants, sometimes reaching out to touch or smell them, but Lance is fully focused on Keith. They happen upon a gazebo, and Keith steps into the small space. He turns and Lance is right there.

“This seems pretty private.” Lance says not taking his eyes off Keith's face.

A look passes over those purple irises. “Hmm,” Keith folds his arms and cocks his hips to one side in a playful pose. ”Here I was thinking you were just talking big again, no real plans for follow through.” 

The gibe doesn’t seem fair, and though it lands lightly. Lance becomes more determined. He steps forward into Keith’s space. “So, can I?”

“Can you what?” Keith deadpans. Lance is walking them toward a pillar slowly.

“Keith.” Lance says warningly.

“Lance." Is the rejoinder as Keith’s back meets the beam behind him. 

They are face to face and Lance moves slowly, giving Keith every opportunity to turn away, but instead he feels one the other man’s hands come up behind his neck while the other winds around his waist. 

Lance tries to keep his eyes open, he wants to witness every part of this, but as soon as their lips touch, there is too much of everything. So much sensation, it feels like a live wire where their lips meet. Tingles generate from the place where Keith’s hand supports his neck, fingers tucked into the back of Lance's hair. More electricity from Keith’s other hand sliding more firmly about his waist, pulling their bodies in line with each other. 

Lance began this kiss, but he is already at sea, Keith is taking over. It is all Lance can do to stay afloat, he finds his own hands sliding up to cradle Keith’s cheeks. Why did he fight this for so long? His brain cannot imagine a single reason not to do this all day, everyday. 

It is so good.

It changes ever so slightly, Keith huffs out a mewl of satisfaction and Lance suddenly is hungry for more. He presses forward, now it’s lips, tongues and teeth. He pulls back to make satisfying little nips at Keith’s lower lip, which brings out little sounds, each making Lance more curious. He pulls away from Keith’s mouth and the other man tries to follow, but Lance moves his lips along Keith’s jawline, and is delighted to hear more little mews and throaty sounds of approval. Who’d have thought a tough guy like Keith could make soft little sounds like that. He finds the hollow under Keith’s jaw, and licks, and he feels Keith jump and gasp. Oh yes, he needs to remember that spot . He thinks about giving it a tiny bite, but suddenly he hears a sound… many sounds. The sound of a large group of children cresting a hill.

He jumps back from Keith, and OMG the other man looks wrecked. God, did he make Keith look like that? It is almost enough to make him risk leaning in again. 

But no. 

Now is not the time. 

But soon. 

Definitely soon,

They had to explore all of this again very soon. 

Chapter Text

Lance feels as though he is floating as he leaves the botanical gardens. The boys decide to walk west to a bicycle rental shop that one of the gardeners told them about. They are keeping an eye out for a place to grab lunch. Lance spots a sign, and drags Keith into a fish and chips shop insisting that they get a Deep Fried Mars bar. They end up sitting at a picnic table outside the chip shop sharing the melted chocolate deep fried decadence before starting on their actual lunch. 

“Amazing.” Lance says. “My life is now complete.” He says smacking his lips and licking his fingers to get every last taste of chocolate. He takes a moment to lie back on the bench, and for a moment the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

“Hmm” Keith says, munching on his fried fish. “I don’t know if I’d call it life changing.”

Lance finally pulls himself up and polishes off his chips. He picks some of the batter off his fish, enjoying the flavorful crunch. It isn’t long before he reaches over and nabs one of Keith’s fries.. 

“OMG - what is that flavour?” Lance winces after eating the chip.

“It’s vinegar.” Keith says with a smirk. 

“Why, Keith. Why would you do that? Aren’t you sour enough?” 

“Don’t you remember?” Keith laughs. “I started putting vinegar on fries in senior year to keep your dirty paws off them then.” 

“Well, now you can stop.”

“Why would I do that?”

 “Because now you like sharing with me.” Lance says, eyelashes fluttering.

“I like vinegar on my fries more.” Keith deadpans, adding some more vinegar, salt and ketchup for good measure.

... 

The boys rent bicycles and head north east following bicycle paths along the waterfront. It doesn’t take long before they are racing. They spend the afternoon riding the paths, deciding to head back into the city. All too soon the clouds get darker and light rainfall begins. 

“We should head back anyway if we are going to make it in time to see Shiro and Adam off.” Keith says, looking up at the sky. 

"You're just saying that because you know that if we stay, I will even the score.” Lance chides.

“Aren’t we like 17 to 2?” Keith deadpans, amethyst eyes sparkling.

“Twelve, mullet brain. 17 to 12” Lance throws back. 

They make good time back to the bicycle shop, but now the rain is coming down in earnest. Once they drop off the bikes, Lance pulls the umbrella out of his backpack and pops it up, calling an Uber on his phone with his other hand. He sees Keith coming out of the corner of his eye and continues walking, keeping a good five feet ahead of the other man.

Keith is on to him. “Lance, c'mon, share the umbrella.”

‘Nuh-nuh.” “You could have had your own.”

“I’m soaked, my phone is getting wet”.

“Not my problem Keith, your grumpy pants declined an umbrella and now your grumpy pants can pay the consequences.”

“Remember the last time I got rained on until I was soaked?”

Lance stops and Keith joins him under the black dome.

“Low man, that was low.” Lance says with mock seriousness. But he cannot really complain. He is giddy to be so close. The moisture in the air heightens the spicy scent that he associates with the dark haired man. 

They stand staring at each other. Keith’s hair is sticking to his face and rivulets of water run down his cheeks, which are pink from exertion and the cool air. Lance reaches up to push hair out of Keith’s eyes without even thinking. Keith leans into his hand and Lance feels the bottom drop out of his stomach from the small gesture. So pretty, he thinks. Keith blushes and Lance realizes he said the words aloud. 

“Lance.” Keith’s voice is soft. “”We have to be careful in public.”

Lance smiles. “Mm being careful.” He murmurs as his hand gently pushes errant hair behind Keith’s ear and follows the locks down until his hand is resting on the other man’s shoulder. 

Keith reaches up to take Lance's hand, squeezing it and bringing it down between both of his own.

A honk sounds behind them and they both jump. 

...

Once back at the hotel, they run into Hunk and Shay. Hunk is wearing an honest to goodness dinner jacket and Shay looks stunning in a flowing floral dress that highlights her olive skin and her dark, short hair, styled around her face. She smiles broadly at the two guitarists, who are dripping into the lobby.

Shay hugs them, paying no attention to their drenched state. “These two look like they’ve already started enjoying an adventurous vacation.” She says to Hunk. 

“Yeah. A soggy one.” Hunk smiles wryly, shooting Lance a quick questioning glance.

 “This one,” Shay gestures to Hunk “ Was worried that you would be lonely or bored.” Shay grins at Lance, taking in his relaxed stance and smile. ”Clearly that is not the case.” 

“Clearly not.” Lance smiles back, giving Hunk a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Keithy boy and I have big plans for the next few days, but we’ll see you in Austria… Maybe?” He says, shooting a questioning look at Keith.

The other man smiles easily. “That’s the plan.”

At this, Hunk’s posture seems to relax and the couple says their goodbyes, before heading out front, hopping in an airport limo.  

Warm dry clothes are definitely in order, so they part, to head to their rooms to get sorted. Keith checks in quickly with Shiro and it turns out that they only have time for a quick drink before the managers have to be on their way to the train. 

...

Shiro is not as easily reassured as Hunk. He seems fairly reluctant to leave Keith and Lance to their own devices. Lance gets the feeling that Shiro is trying to pull him aside for a chat . But Adam and Keith seem determined to prevent that. 

Drinks feel a bit like an interrogation rather than saying goodbye. Shiro asks staccato questions about their day, which they answer honestly (leaving out any make out sessions). Shiro then begins asking for details about their upcoming plans. Keith is evasive, but more because they haven’t really figured out what they are doing for the next week. 

Adam practically has to drag Shiro to the door. Lance is about to breathe a sigh of relief, when Shiro turns and says, “Lance, can I have a moment?” He sees Adam facepalm and Keith sigh over Shiro's broad shoulder. “Uh, sure.” 

Shiro leads Lance to two potted Ficus trees to one side of the lobby, just out of sight of Keith and Adam. “You do realize Keith is dealing with a lot right now?” He asks seriously. 

“You mean with his mom and stuff?” Lance says, brow furrowed. 

“That and other things.” Shiro says. “He doesn’t need any more stress or complications at the moment.” 

Lance feels offended on many levels, he is not prepared for the implication that he is somehow not good for Keith. “I can’t imagine what you mean.” He responds, folding his arms over his chest and meeting the older man’s eyes.

Shiro seems to realize that he has crossed a line. “Lance.” He says more gently. “Keith is working some stuff out, and I think it is really good, healthy. I just…” The man has the sense to look chagrined, “I don’t want him to get confused… or… distracted.”

Lance again plays dumb, “I thought the whole point of having time off is to get our minds off the stress of the tour and other things. He says pointedly.

“Lance!” Shiro stops himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I am worried about him okay. He puts up a tough front, but he’s just… dealing with a lot.”

Lance is pissed and it shows in his narrowed eyes and stiff posture. “Keith is a big boy, I think he can handle bumming around Europe for a little over a week, with one of his oldest friends.” 

Shiro sighs, looking upward for a moment. “You’re right.” He sighs again. “I know you’re right. I just… “ He meets Lance’s eyes and there is real worry in them, but he sighs again. “I was out of line. Sorry.” And with a pat on Lance’s shoulder the man turns on his heel and walks determinedly to meet his boyfriend. He stops and hugs Keith close, and heads out the front doors. 

“Sooo… Keith says, walks over with his hands deep in his pockets and shoulders near his ears. Lance is still fuming after his chat with Shiro, but Keith looks adorable enough to distract him. “What exactly happened there?” The darker haired man asks sheepishly.

Lance sighs and considers sharing Shiro’s complete lack of boundaries with Keith or not. Shiro seemed genuinely worried and in the end he apologized. He’d rather not hash out the details of the interaction. Not when there are more enjoyable things to do. “I think he is worrying about chandeliers in elevators.” Lance jokes.

“Hmmm.” Keith responds, clearly not believing Lance, but he doesn’t press the issue. 

“You hungry?” Lance asks.

“Not really.” Keith smirks, “I think I am still digesting that fried Mars bar.”

“Hey.” Lance challenges, “That was an authentic Scottish cultural treat.”

“Yes, we must be sensitive to the culinary habits of the people who invented Haggis.” Keith teases back, moving toward the elevator. 

“Wotch yersel'. Yer goina git oor arses kicked.” Lance smiles and presses the up button.

“You watch yourself,” Keith warns back, “We don’t want a repeat of Laird Lance BlabTAIR.”

Lance is fully offended. “WHAT!? Did Matt come up with that?” Keith shakes his head.  “Wasssit Pidge, the little gremlin? I am glad I have enough time to plot appropriate revenge.” 

Violet eyes crinkle., “It was Hunk.” He says, climbing into the elevator. 

“GASP” Lance draws his hands to his heart. “My bro? My Bestie? What could have happened to have brought on such cruelty? It must have been the poisonous influence of the Holt siblings.” Lance wipes pretend tears from his eyes. ”My Hunk is steadfast, I know his loyalty could not have been easily swayed.”

“Yes, I think he is steadfast. Aaaand despite Shiro’s extensive influence I have WAY less patience. So maybe drop the accent.” Keith turns and winks at Lance and backs out of the elevator on their floor, then turns again toward his room

That smirk and wink is all it takes to put Lance in an entirely different mood, as he speeds up to catch Keith’s hand to pull him back to face him. Keith still has the shadow of a smirk on his lips, as though he knew exactly what he was doing to the other man. Lance leans in to catch his lips, losing them, and catching them again and again as Keith keeps pulling them toward his door. Once there, he pushes Keith up against the flat surface and kisses him soundly. He can feel Keith searching for a key card, but is hellbent to distract him. Keith must find it, because he places a hand on Lance’s chest pushing him back a few inches. They are both breathing heavily. 

“Just to be clear.” Keith says, between breaths “We need to pace ourselves. I am not up for more than… “ He gestures between them, “This.” He swallows. “What we are already doing.” Lance is nodding, he’ll agree to anything right now to get back to kissing Keith. The other man must pick up on this, because he sobers. “I am serious Lance, you are way too good at distracting me.” 

The words are an echo of Shiro’s and it causes Lance to pause. He isn’t sure he has all the pieces, but this seems an important part of the puzzle. He stills, meeting Keith’s eyes more clearly,  matching his seriousness. “Yeah, we can take things slow.”

This seems enough to reassure the other man, because he leans forward and gives Lance a gentle peck on the lips and turns to focus on unlocking the door.

The mood has shifted, but isn’t heavy. Keith pauses to pull his wallet and phone out of his pocket, and Lance sits on his bed and lounges, watching him. 

“What do you want to do?” He asks. Keith is distracted momentarily, looking at his phone. “Uh… I was thinking that we might go for a swim.” He says, before focusing on the text he is responding to, a smile playing at his lips. “Zat, Matt?” Lance asks neutrally. 

“Hmm?” Keith hums, looking at the screen. Finally satisfied with his message he glances up. Cheeks pink. “No, it’s… uh… my Mom.” He finishes, happily.

“Oh!” Lance is surprised. He hadn’t really thought about how the two were staying in touch and how that was all going. “Do you text a lot?” 

“Yeah.” Keith says, putting the phone down on the dresser. “Couple times a day, sometimes more.” He says, heading to his bags, and rummaging through.

Keith never unpacks at hotels, which is the opposite of Lance, who, even if they are just staying one night, will place his next day's clothing in his drawers. Lance had once asked about it, and Keith shared simply that he had learned early on that temporary places to stay aren't home and to treat them as such was a great way to feel disappointed on the regular .

Keith seems to finally find the red swimming trunks he was digging around for. “So, what do you say?” He says, “Want to head down to the pool?”

Lance watches him disappear into the bathroom through heavy lidded eyes contentment sinking in, because this is the comfortable connection he missed, but now it includes other fun stuff, like kissing. “I dunno.” He pretends to ponder his choices. “Swimming with you, or watching the new Pixar flick my nephew recommended to me when I called home yesterday. I am really not sure.”

“Well, if you hurry your ass up, we could do both.” He hears through the door.

“My fine ass is plenty fast without your nagging.” Lance calls back, enjoying the repartee. Lance is lazily standing up and stretching when Keith comes out of the bathroom in swim trunks with a towel around his shoulders. “Wow, I can see that. Fast as lightning.” 

Lance grins and catches the ends of Keith’s towel, pulling him forward slowly. Keith comes willingly and Lance catches his lips gently. “I just wanted to give you a kiss goodbye before I got changed.”

Keith says no more and leans in for the kiss, which is definitely longer than the quick peck that Lance had planned. So much skin is very distracting and Lance finds his hands resting gently on Keith’s waist, thumbs moving up and down as much as he dares, while remaining mindful of the promise, that he just made, to take things slow. When it all feels a bit too much, he pulls his lips away and rests his temple against Keith’s. “I think it is very…” he leans in for another quick kiss, “very important to point out...” and another, “that you can be distracting as well.” He finishes with another quick peck, and with great effort, takes a step back from Keith, hands and all.

“Am I now?” Keith asks. Lance can tell he is up to something. “Perhaps you need more motivation to move your ass then.” The dark haired man says, pulling the towel from his shoulders and swatting Lance’s aforementioned ass with it. 

“Dude, that is so childish.” Lance scoffs in mock anger. “I was trying to delay your inevitable defeat when we swim heats in the pool.”

Keith swats him again. “That’s interesting, since I only suggested swimming so you could save face after you lost so badly at cycling today.”

“Lies.” Lance says while trying to grab the end of the towel.

“Sad but true.” Keith says, evading capture and flipping the towel from the other side catching Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance is now headed for the door, while Keith follows, taking another swat with every step. 

“See you in ten, and be prepared for the embarrassment of losing every race. I tried to warn you and protect your pride, but you have dishonoured the noble house of McClain, and now I must defend my family’s honour.” Lance says, with as much dignity as he can muster with a towel swatting his back side.

“How does your family feel about the speedo that you had on at Allura’s last pool party? Because I am sure I heard Veronica say something about disowning you if you ever wore it again.” Keith grins.

Lance makes his escape into the hall without a snappy rejoinder, but he is still smiling.

...

Swimming is less boisterous than planned as the shallow end of the pool is full of three families with small children. Keith and Lance race a few times across the deep end, but soon end up floating on their backs. The pool area is too noisy to chat.  Lance glances longingly at the hot tub, but his attention is diverted by his stomach growling and the two decide it is time for dinner. 

“Let’s get into our jammies and order room service.” Lance says once back on their floor. It is barely past 7 o’clock, but it has been an eventful couple of days, and they still need to plan for the rest of their time off. 

“As long as we stick to the rules.” Keith responds, head tilted sideways, finger wiggling in his ear, trying to get water out. 

‘Dude, we’re watching a PIXAR movie, I think we are fairly safe on that front. Can we meet in my room?” Lance asks. “Hunk left me a stash of snacks and I don’t want to have to drag them over.”

“Sure.” Keith responds. Now placing his hand flat over the same ear, trying to suction the water out. 

“Dude.” Lance stops him in front of the door. He wiggles Keith’s ear lobe gently. “Now go lie down for a minute and let gravity do the work.” Keith blinks widely at Lance, who can’t resist leaning forward and kissing him on the nose. “Tried and true trick from my Abuela.” He winks. Stepping back before he gets too distracted. ‘See you in a few.” He gives a mock salute, turning on his heel to get to his room.

Wow, how does he go from assuring Keith that he can keep his hands to himself, to wanting to ravage him a mere ten seconds later? He has to consciously not get carried away with this stuff. 

...

Lance has a quick shower and gets on his coziest pajamas. Even at the end of August, Edinburgh’s average temperature is cooler than he is used to. Keith isn’t there yet, so he pulls out the room service menu and picks up his laptop. He logs into his account on the appropriate streaming service, before flipping back to the tabs he had been looking at yesterday. 

He’s hoping Keith will open to his suggestion for how to spend the rest of the week. He feels a bit nervous asking, but the worst that could happen is Keith saying no and they spend the next few days together doing other fun stuff. Still, Lance is hopeful.

There is a quick, short knock at his door, and he opens it to find Keith in black pajama bottoms and a soft, well worn, purple, band tee-shirt. The shirt is from their very first tour, and seeing it brings a feeling of pleasant remembrance. In his mind’s eye can recall the band practice when the shirts arrived. Lance had handed Keith a red one, which he often wore on stage during the club tour. But at the end of practice, Keith had quietly asked Allura if he could grab a purple one too. He’d seen Keith in it before, but it seemed more a shirt for comfort, for at home, not public. It is well worn and the colour brings out Keith’s eyes. 

Keith’s hair is damp and mussed. Clearly he hasn’t been following Lance’s advice on drying it properly. He has also brought two extra pillows, to which Lance takes great offense. 

“Ya know, they have extra pillows in here, right?” 

“You are a pillow hog. ” Keith responds flatly. “And I want to be comfortable.”

Lance smiles and tosses Keith the room service menu and flops back onto the bed, pointedly pulling all of those pillows to his side. “I am getting the Chicken Supreme . What do you want?”

Keith flips through the pages. “Steak and potato wedges.” 

“Predictable.” Lance says, rolling his eyes.

Keith ignores him, and plugs in his phone beside the bed. “This okay? My, um,  mom … She’s been texting about next week.”

“Sure.” Lance says. He puts in their room service order through the web page on his computer. 

“So what’s this movie about?” Keith asks, settling in.

“Mermaids.” Lance says simply, ignoring the other man’s incredulous look. 

...

Half way through the movie, dinner plates pushed off to the side on the floor, Lance pulls out Twizzlers and Fuzzy Peaches from his and Hunk’s stash. When offered some, Keith nabs the whole bag of fuzzy peaches out of Lance’s hand, and switching it over to his other side, he slips their fingers together. “Now I have to ask you if I want to eat the peaches.” Lance complains. Keith responds by throwing his leg over Lance’s. “You’ve got Twizzlers.” Not taking his eyes off the screen. 

Lance snuggles into Keith’s side resting his head on the other’s shoulder. Another gorgeous shot of animated water. “I miss the ocean.” Lance sighs. 

“We are on an Island Lance. The North Sea is literally right there.” Keith points roughly east.

“It’s not the Ocean.”

‘It kinda is though.”

“I miss my Ocean.” Lance sighs wistfully.

“Dude.” Keith brows pull together, perplexed, still watching the screen. “The Atlantic Ocean is the same Ocean that surrounds Florida… aaand Cuba.”

Lance snuggles more deeply into Keith’s shoulder. “Mmm homesick, ‘at’s all.”

“Hmmm.’ Keith rests his head on Lance’s, turns for a moment to kiss the top of his head. “We’re heading back soon. Half done the tour.”

Lance tries to focus on the movie, he is home sick, but doesn’t want the tour to end, this to end. What and who are he and Keith back home? He’s not even sure who they are with the rest of the band. Shiro’s words from earlier come back to haunt him, what if this is bad for Keith. What if he is bad for Keith? That seemed to be what Shiro was implying. 

But Keith is sitting up to cheer Luca in his bicycle race, and Lance forgets his worries to join in. 

...

“It is huge Keith.” Lance plays with Keith’s fingers as they lie side by side. The movie is now over, they have been talking about everything and nothing for the past few hours. “Hunk and Shay are actually going to do it, to open a restaurant. He told me they are leaning toward noodle dishes with creative meat and fish options. But they haven’t 100% decided yet. It is going to be dine-in, and fancy, with wines that complement the foods, and palette cleansers… “ Lance runs out of steam. “It’s just a lot. I mean, how is he going to go on tour if he has a restaurant to run?” Lance feels bad almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Keith pulls Lances hand up and kisses his fingers and holds them to his chest. “He’ll hire or promote a chef and he’ll have a manager, and, of course, Shay will be there to run things.” Keith leans back, closing his eyes. “Lots of musicians have restaurants and other businesses.”

When put like that, it sounds so simple. 

“He may need to take a break from things to get the restaurant up and running, but I think he can figure out touring if he really wants to.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?” asks Lance, unable to let it go. 

Keith opens his eyes to look at Lance thoughtfully. “Then we find a new drummer. Shiro’s been getting some practice.” he teases. 

“Really though, do you think that could happen?” Lance presses anxiously.

“Shiro taking over for Hunk?” Keith asks confused.

“No, Hunk leaving.”

“I dunno.” Keith hums. “I mean, he’s usually pretty happy on the road and when we are creating music. But anything is possible. I don’t think anyone planned on doing this forever.” He muses.

Lance feels panic rise in his throat, because Keith is wrong. Lance planned on doing this forever. He throws a pillow at Keith’s face to end the conversation before he blurts a million fears and ruins their time together. 

“That was completely uncalled for.” Keith says, throwing the pillow back, it bounces off the side of the bed and Lance reaches over to retrieve it, grabbing his laptop as he sits back up..

“Have you thought much about the next week, before we need to meet your Mom?” Lance asks as casually as he can.

“I have some ideas.” Keith says, humour showing in the crinkles around his eyes. “I suspect you have some too.” He nods toward the laptop.

“Wellll.” Lance begins, “There just happens to be this remote island studio with accommodation in the Outer Hebrides and they just happen to have an opening this weekend, from Friday to Sunday evening, aaand we wouldn’t have to record or even write anything, but we could if we wanted to. The Western Islands are supposed to be really beautiful. I figured we could head to Glascow tomorrow, which is the real music town in Scotland, then head north from there.”

Lance pulls up the website for the Studio. “It is pretty remote, but we can take a ferry from the Island of Skye, which just sounds cool, right?”

Keith pulls the laptop over to his own lap and sits up to look at the screen showing at the surrounding area with waterfront paths and beaches. He clicks over to the equipment available at the studio pausing on a photo of a gorgeous grand piano and huffing to himself as he reads the list of vintage guitars. Lance has to bite his cheek to keep from babbling as Keith continues to review images of the recording and mixing spaces, as well as the floorplan showing multiple bedrooms, a living room and kitchen area. 

“So,” a small smile pulls at Keith’s lips. “Let me get this straight.” He looks at Lance. “You want to work on our vacation.”

“Like I said, everything is there if we want to write or record something. But we don’t have to. There is lots of cool stuff to do and it is a really pretty place to visit.”

Keith clicks on a map of the island and pulls back from the Hebrides to look at the surrounding area.

“Are you thinking of staying in Glasgow for the night? It is still a pretty long drive after that.” Keith muses thoughtfully. 

“I hadn’t thought about where we’d stop, to be honest.” Lance answered, getting excited that Keith is considering the idea.

“So we could, say, head up to Loch Ness tomorrow, and travel the rest of the way to the Great Bernera on Friday morning?” Keith asks, almost too casually.

At first Lance is so excited, the request doesn’t totally sink in. “Yeah dude, it twists more inland, but shouldn’t add too many extra hours.” Then, “Wait a minute… Why do you want to go to Loch Ness ?”

Keith shrugs, trying to hide a smile. “Just sounds cool.”

“Let me get this straight, you think it’s weird that I want to write music on our vacation. Meanwhile, you want to hunt sea monsters?”

“I wouldn’t hunt her.” Keith says, scandalized. Then, realizing his mistake. “I just want to check it out. It sounds like there is interesting local history there.” He struggles to keep a straight face.

“So I can book us in for the weekend then?” Lance grins, pulling up the Studio’s website again. He is taking this as a win. 

“Sure.” Keith says, eyes sparkling.

Chapter Text

The morning is a blur of packing and organizing. Lance has really settled into the hotel room over the past few days and he needs to do three sweeps of the room to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. He realizes his mistake in not off loading stuff onto the bus before James drove it down to Spain, so he has a ridiculous amount of luggage and other paraphernalia. He slides Red into her case and sighs a breath of relief. There will be just enough time to grab a quick bite to eat and check out before the van from the car rental company arrives to pick them up. 

He finds Keith in the dining room scrolling his phone. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Lance asks, waving down a waiter. 

“I’m trying to figure out if they have tours of the Old FruitMarket.” Keith says, still looking at the screen.

“Really?” Lance is surprised. “How did you even know I wanted to go there?”

“I dunno Lance. Maybe it was the 600 times you suggested that we play the Old FruitMarket when we were planning the tour.” Keith responds dryly.

“Phhbbbt. You make it sound like I was obsessed.”

Keith looks sideways at Lance. “You brought your laptop to Shiro’s New Year’s Party and made us all watch the virtual tour on the Glasgow Concert Hall website.”

Lance avoids responding to Keith by ordering his breakfast. 

“Anyway,” Keith says once they are alone again. “Looks like we can just take a walk through.”

“Cool!” Lance gratefully takes a gulp of his coffee. “Anything else we should check out while we are there?”

“Hmmmm, Keith reads off his phone. ”There is a Cathedral, beside a cool Necropolis.”

“Wassat?”

“Fancy name for a Graveyard.”

Lance shudders, still haunted by their ghost tour.  “I’ll pass.”

“Ummm, art museum, science museum, another botanical garden.”

“Not feeling it.” Lance says. “You?”

Keith shakes his head. “There’s a bagpipe museum.” He says, a lilt to his voice.

“No way!?”  

 …

Lance feels too scattered to confidently drive on the correct side of the road, So Keith drives the first leg of the journey from Edinburgh to Glasgow. The drive is just over an hour, but Lance sneaks a nap in.

“Sorry about that.” Lance says, hoping out of the car and stretching. In his mind, co-pilots are supposed to navigate and keep the driver company.

“Bout what?” Keith asks.

“Sleeping.”

“Hmm? It was good. I like the quiet.” Keith says, distracted by pulling his jacket on and locking up the car.

“Are you implying I talk too much?” Lance teases.

“Are you trying to tell me you don't?” Keith responds without missing a beat, finally getting the remote lock to work.

Lance is about to protest, but Keith leans in slowly giving Lance a quick kiss on the lips. Lance loses track of his thoughts and sputters for a moment like a fish out of water. He catches a glimpse of the corners of Keith’s eyes crinkling slightly, before the other man turns to look up at the grand entrance and walkway in front of them. The building is stunning with arched windows and doors with detailed Italianate pillars, and a sign over top that reads “CITY HALLS”. 

The two wander outside the front of the building, reading the inscriptions on the front sidewalk. Pointing out interesting verses to each other. Lance is lulled into the magic of the hall, which seems to vibrate like a place of worship. He feels his breath exit his lungs in a sigh as they step into the entrance way. For a moment he just breathes it all in. The two finally head up a beautiful, red carpeted, set of stairs to the City Halls’ Grand Hall, which is closed for a performance today. They wander around and peak into the recital room, and head back down to follow the corridor to the Old Fruitmarket. 

Lance enters the space and sighs again. He imagines the band on stage, all the Old Market signs twinkling with fairy lights, a general admission audience seated at candle lit tables, or perhaps standing room only. He looks around at the wrought iron framed balconies and curved ceiling. A pigeon has found its way into the building and is flying around the empty space, and Lance envisions special effects that give the impression of flight. Meanwhile, Keith distracts himself so that Lance has time to daydream. He is reading plaques and other signage, when Lance finally comes out of his reverie. “Some day.” Lance says, with stars in his eyes. 

“Sure.” Keith responds. “Our next European tour.”

…

While Lance was eating breakfast, Keith had called to arrange a tour of The National Piping Center (not to be confused with other Bagpipe museums, because, believe it or not, there are more than one). The tour is actually given by a piper, who also provides a lesson.

This is where both men discover that bagpipes are extremely hard to play. Especially if you are laughing so hard you cannot take a deep breath or maintain aperture. 

“We don’t have to go all the way to Loch Ness, that sound is definitely a Sea Monster’s mating call. Do it again and Nessie’ll come to us.” Lance doubles over when Keith tries again. He is laughing at both the sound and Keith’s frustrated expression at not being able to play an instrument, by ear, the first time he picks it up. 

“If you would stop making me laugh, I could do this.” Keith says, pushing at Lance’s shoulder half heartedly.

“Oh? That sound you just made is my fault?”  Literal tears are coming out of Lance’s eyes. “Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

“It does.”

They eat a late lunch at the Museum before getting back on the road. Lance is still nervous to drive so Keith takes the wheel again. They begin the three and half hour drive to Loch Ness. 

…

Keith insists on driving through Paisley. “My… uh… Mom told me about this.” He says, pointing out a parkette with the remnants of an old well. “This is one of the Memorials of the Scottish Witch Trials.” They pull over quickly and Keith snaps a photo on his phone. He points out a plaque in the middle of a busy intersection which says, Pain Inflicted, Suffering Endured, Injustice Done. Lance really doesn’t know what to say, and it is clear Keith is lost in his thoughts as they get back into the car and continue north.

The Scottish countryside is beautiful, the sky is both big and close, the rolling mountains that surround the road fuel Lance’s imagination. He keeps up with his shotgun duty as a navigator and entertainer. He made a Scottish Road Trip playlist, he had to throw it together late last night, so it is a small sampling of some of his favourite Scottish artists and songs. Keith turns it off after the third time 500 Miles plays, but Lance makes a point of breaking into song if there is more than two consecutive minutes of silence. 

They know they are getting close once Nessie shows up on every sign and concrete Nessie statues begin to appear. As they approach the Airbnb that they’ve booked for the night, they come to narrow roads, sided with stone walls. Keith pulls into a small car park beside the water and they walk down their shoes crunching on the gravel path. The water is murky and deep and while they can see across, it goes on for miles in either direction. The wind is strong and the sky is overcast again. The moment feels outside of time, and Lance can actually imagine an ancient creature beneath the swirling depths. 

He shivers and leans into Keith, who leans back. They could be the only two people in the world right now, and Lance regards the other’s profile feeling a sense of astonishment. He is marveling at where they were two short days ago versus right now. His superstitious nature hints that it is the magic of the Island, which makes him never want to leave. He finds himself nuzzling under Keith's jawline, that sensitive spot he promised himself he would investigate again. He feels Keith huff a laugh and feels warm despite the wind. Keith’s arms wind around him and, as much as he wants to kiss the other man, this feels different. He turns into the hug wrapping himself around Keith’s waist and is surprised to feel a surge of sentimental emotion. He blinks, as his eyes tear up. There are words he wants to say, even though it is way too early to say them. Instead he squeezes Keith tight, snuggling his head onto the other man’s shoulder. Please stay, his heart whispers. I need you.

…

They find their way to the Airbnb and let themselves in using the code given by their hosts. Lance puts on the kettle for tea and Keith brings in their overnight bags and Red without Lance even asking. Keith has an acoustic guitar with him, and old Denver that was his father’s. It isn’t an expensive guitar but it has a sweet mellow sound. They aren’t really hungry yet, given their late lunch and the quiet mood has followed them from their stop beside the Loch. Keith switches on the gas fireplace, and it fills the space with a warm glow. 

Lance piles a bunch of pillows on the floor and sits in front of the fire with his tea. Keith lounges on the couch scanning his phone. 

“Keef, come down here.” 

Keith stretches his legs out and rests his feet on Lance’s legs.

“No, I mean actually come and sit with me down here.”

Keith looks over the side of the couch as though he is looking over the edge of a cliff. 

“Mmm comfy up here.”

“Sooo, be comfy down here.”

Keith drops another few pillows off of the couch, puts his tea on the coffee table and lowers himself down, sitting between Lance’s legs. They adjust until they are both comfortable, Lance looking at Keith’s phone over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around Keith’s stomach, the other elbow resting on the couch.

“Watcha looking at?” Lance asks.

Keith adjusts slightly, bringing up the phone to show Lance. “Just trying to figure out the best plan for tomorrow.”

“Mmm, look at you, all organized.” Lance says, pressing his nose into Keith’s shoulder and then neck, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse there. “What happened to the fly by the seat of your pants guy? Has he been abducted by aliens and fed to sea monsters.” Lance teases. Keith hums and leans back into Lance’s nuzzling. 

“They have boat tours.” Lance observes as Keith flips through one of the tourist sites. Keith shakes his head slightly. “Oh yeah, maybe we won’t stick you on a crowded boat of other humans, where the only escape is the ice cold water.” Lance says, his hand finding a small patch of skin between the bottom of Keith's shirt and the top of his jeans. His fingers play with the material absentmindedly, until Keith wiggles and catches his hand with his own. Lance grins, “Little ticklish there?” He asks with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Keith anticipates his next move and spins out to face him, kneeling, trying to grab one of Lance’s hands while holding on to his phone with the other.

“Lance,” Keith laughs. “There’s hot tea on the table and… my phone.” 

“Your phone?” Lance asks. “What’s happening with your phone?” He says, moving his free hand into the general vicinity of Keith’s ticklish spot causing him to jump reflexively. Keith is holding on to Lance’s other hand, and they are struggling to each take the advantage. 

Keith leans in and sneaks a quick kiss, distracting Lance enough to get his hand free and try to tickle Lance himself. 

“That is cheating, and it also isn’t going to always work.” Lance says, using his free hand to pluck Keith’s phone up and throw it, gently, to the couch. This turns out to be a mistake, because once his hand is free, Keith grabs both Lance’s thighs and pulls them forward so he falls on his back, onto the pillows, laughing. Keith uses the opportunity to tickle Lance behind his knees, which even through denim is a particularly sensitive spot. In an act of desperation, Lance runs his hands up Keith's chest and pulls him downward by his shoulders and Keith falls forward, against Lance’s chest. 

Suddenly everything shifts. 

Their bodies are pressed to each other in all the right ways. They stare into each other’s eyes, gasping in little breaths. There is a moment where Lance just appreciates pink tinged cheeks and sparkling dark violet eyes before they are kissing. These are not the light playful kisses they have previously shared. These are desperate, needy kisses, with their hands running over each other grasping.

Lance’s fingers move up gradually, from Keith’s shoulders to his neck, before they tangle into his hair. He is demanding, tilting Keith’s head just so, to deepen the kiss and feeling the  shockwaves through his system fueled by the sounds of appreciation he hears from Keith. The other man is just as demanding, running his hand from behind Lance’s knees, under his thighs to shamelessly grab his ass. He feels Keith adjust where their bodies touch and he sees white for a moment. He gasps and Keith’s lips leave his to move along his jawline to the side of his neck.

“Mmmmm, babe.” Lance finally gasps. “We okay?” Keith moves again and Lance can’t help but push up to meet him as he swears he feels a nip of teeth on his collarbone.

Sweet heaven . 

“I… uh… this seems…mmm… like… the opposite of… slow.” Lance pants. Keith’s kisses gentle along his shoulder, where the loose neckline of his shirt has been pulled to the side, but the kisses don't stop. Lance runs his hands up and down Keith’s back.

“Hmmm… we're good.” Keith murmurs against his skin, working his way back up to Lance’s lips. “Clothes are on.” He breathes before deepening the kiss. Lance gives himself over to the sensations and sounds Keith is making. He tries to remember the spots that cause the other man to gasp or squirm. But slowly the intensity wanes and the kisses become less desperate and more gentle. When Keith pulls back his lips are swollen and his hair is mussed, he looks soft and rumpled and Lance feels his heart squeeze.

“We should eat.” Lance says finally, when they are lying snuggled in a messy pile of pillows, cold tea forgotten on the coffee table.

“I don’t want to go out.” Keith says, pressing his cheek to Lance’s chest. 

“There was a small grocery store, just at the turn off.” Lance remembers. “We could make something.”

Lance drags a reluctant Keith out to drive back to the small shop, where they find the ingredients for tacos and some breakfast fixings. Back at the cottage, Keith fries up ground chicken with spices while Lance tackles the guacamole and chops lettuce and tomatoes. Keith surprises him by making a quick black bean salad with canned beans, corn, lime juice and some red onions. 

In the end, it all feels very domestic, just the two of them cooking a meal together, eating, and cleaning up. They joke, Lance acting surprised that Keith actually knows how to feed himself, Keith suggesting Lance should only use sharp utensils with supervision. Over dinner they plan the next day. As they are cleaning up, Keith gets a call from Shiro checking in, and then his mother. Lance decides that he should take the opportunity to connect with his own family. He knows it is Abuela’s Bingo night, and likely his Mom will be with her. He figures he will call the main house on the weekend. Instead, he dials Ronnie to see how things are going. 

Veronica has just finished a very stressful day at work. She puts him on handsfree while she drives home. She is the guidance counselor and volleyball coach at the high school that they attended as kids. She doesn’t get along with the principal, who isn’t very progressive, and she isn’t finding him helpful in dealing with the latest round of funding cuts and the current Don’t Say Gay Bill that has her feeling frustrated and constrained in supporting her students. After hearing about her dreadful week, he shares what he has been up to, with obvious edits, but somehow his sister’s interest is still piqued. 

“Wait, wait, wait. You are traveling around Scotland with Keith? Just the two of you ?” 

“Yeah.” Says Lance, like it is no big deal. Because it is not a big deal. Even though it totally is. He isn’t sure why everybody else is so invested. 

“And..?’ 

“And what?” 

“How many bedrooms are in the cottage?”

“Two.” Lance answers simply.

“And you are using both of them?” Veronica checks.

“Yes, that is why we booked a two bedroom.” Lance says as though any other accommodation would be unthinkable.

“And you are using them both for sleeping ? That is, you are sleeping in separate bedrooms ?”

“No, we are using one for field hockey. YES, of course we are sleeping in separate bedrooms. What is up with you ?”

“I just thought you two were finally getting your shit sorted out .” Veronica complains.

“Ya know, that is a funny choice of words…” Lance begins, but notices Keith, in his pajama bottoms, standing outside the threshold to his room. “Aaand on that note, I’m going to let you go, we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Okay little bro, love you, and please, do all the indecent things that you know would make me proud.”

“KAY, BYE!” Lance says, his face burning. OMG why is his family like this? 

Keith looks a bit uncertain standing there, and it is making Lance nervous. 

“Can I come in?” The other man asks awkwardly. 

“Sure.” Lance says, pulling the clothes, cosmetics and other toiletries he had piled on the bed while chatting with his sister off to the side table so Keith can sit. He perches on the end of the mattress, and Lance is conscious of how far away he seems.

“Zat Veronica?” He asks, trailing his hand over patterns on Lance’s bed spread, not looking up.

“Yeah, she is having a tough time with Iverson, the guy’s such a dick wad, I don’t know why she chose to teach there.”

“Mm, he’s not so bad, a bit old school, I mean, he was a principal before the internet existed, what does he know about kids today .”

“Those are generous words, didn’t he suspend you like three times before you were a junior?” Unbelievably, despite tabloid claims about Keith being an unmanageable delinquent, as a teen, he had actually settled down a lot after joining the band.

“Mm,” Keith shrugs, “ We came to an understanding, eventually.”

They sit in silence for a moment, nothing more to say on that topic. 

“Was there..”

“I came to..” 

They both start speaking at the same time. 

“Go ahead.” Lance encourages.

“Well, “Keith begins, blushing. “I am ready to crash and I just wanted to say good night.” 

The man is practically bashful, and Lance is melting. He has to curb his urge to tease, because Keith already looks like he might bolt. “Um, can I get a kiss goodnight?” Lance asks with a sly smile.

“That’s kinda why I came.” Keith says, giving his eyes a roll before looking up at Lance through his lashes. This is all too cute, and very unlike their previous interactions. Lance is delighted at getting to see these new sides to Keith. He crawls over to where Keith is sitting and considers how to proceed. All of their kisses to this point have been spontaneous or heated, but this all feels so innocent, and a bit awkward. Lance leans in and places a gentle, chaste kiss on Keith’s nose before finding his lips. At first it is just soft, but when Keith’s hand comes up to cup his face, Lance opens his mouth and Keith deepens the kiss. He feels the urge to let everything heat up, but also knows that they both need to take things slow, to feel this out, to build trust. He pulls back, and Keith doesn’t chase his lips. Just smiles with his eyes, and whispers “G’night.” His husky word vibrates through Lance’s body and he just knows that he’ll play it over in his head instead of sleeping tonight. Lance smiles, “Night Keith.” He is gratified to see Keith’s pupils widen slightly at his own edgy voice.

He watches the other man leave, and literally catches himself staring off into space for ten minutes before he shakes himself out of it and heads to the bathroom to do his nightly skin care routine.

…

“I want to get this one for Pidge.” Keith says, holding up a green tee-shirt with a silhouette of Nessie in front of an orange setting sun, with the words Undefeated Hide-and-Seek Champion surrounding the image.’

Lance laughs, “It’s perfect!” 

“I’m going to get it in a large size. They like stuff baggy. Maybe they will wear it as pajamas.”

While none of those sentences were phrased as questions, Lance gets the feeling Keith wants reassurance in his gift buying. “Good plan.” Lance says, hiding his own shirt for Keith in his basket of other souvenirs.

This morning, they had taken the canoe at the cottage and paddled along the shore near to the private beach attached to their airbnb after having a breakfast of coffee and toast. It took a while to build confidence as Lance has no canoe experience. However, Keith is an expert, having gone on many portaging trips with his dad. Once Lance felt they were not going to flip into the icy cold water of the Loch, they paddled across to the ruins of Urquhart Castle for a while before heading back. While it was a great view from the water, and quite beautiful, they had no sea monster sightings to report thus far. 

It was fun to chat with the locals. Everybody had a story. Their waiter at lunch, a tattooed young man with olive skin and brown eyes, said that his partner's 99 year old grandmother told stories about seeing the sea creature during her youth.

They packed up at the cottage, to check out before lunch, which was at Cameron’s Tea Room. Lance insisted that they visit a well recommended local eatery in order to have something to report to Hunk about their meals. The two were now puttering through the attached shop, finding souvenirs for friends.

“Is there anything you want to do before we head out? We should leave by three, because we have to be at the Ferry forty five minutes before it leaves Ullapool.” Lance says to Keith as they pay for their purchases. 

“There is something I thought you might like.” Keith says thoughtfully. 

Lance is intrigued, but Keith is tight lipped as he leads him back to the car. They drive up the mountainous landscape a short distance and pull into a parking area with a sign that says Falls of Foyers beside an entrance to a hiking trail. 

“Dude.” Lance trying to hide his delight. “More walking?” He teases.

Keith shrugs, not taking the bait. “We could just stay in the car and make out.” He offers.

“Don’t tempt me.” Lance says seriously as Keith climbs out of the driver's seat. 

They follow a path with a wooden rail on the cliff side, into a forest, ferns carpeting the ground. It isn’t long before Lance can hear the water, and he grasps for Keith’s hand to ground himself. The path is quiet except for the sound of the falls, bird song, and the occasional hiker coming from the other direction. Very soon, they are walking through rocky outcrops. After twenty minutes or so, they arrive at a lookout and Lance gasps at his first view of the water coming through rocks. Impulsively he hugs Keith from behind, hearing the other man huff with laughter. “I thought you’d like it.”  

They hang around this spot for a few minutes, taking some pictures. Lance, who usually lets the marketing team handle his social feeds, snaps a rare selfie of him and Keith in front of the beautiful view and posts it with the caption, We didn’t find a sea monster, but we did find a little piece of Heaven . He figures it is safe to share the location, since they are leaving Loch Ness soon, and aren’t that well known in Scotland. When more people arrive, they head further down the path and find another beautiful spot. Lance gets some more pictures and leans against the metal barrier, feeling the spray against his face. The falls are beautiful down here, but loud. 

They decide not to follow the trail further, nervous of being late to get to the ferry to Great Bernera. There is only one this evening and if they miss it, they will not be able to get to the studio until the next morning. But Lance lags just a little bit, waiting to be sure they are alone, he pulls Keith toward him gently, the other man coming willingly and meeting his smile, knowingly, sheepishly. There is no way he is wasting this romantic spot, and he wants to let Keith know how much he appreciates the gesture of bringing him here. Their kiss is soft, like the one the night before, but filled with longing. It is way too short.

There, with the sound of water rushing against Lance’s ears, again he feels at sea, without mooring except for the man in his arms. There are so many questions about whether this can last outside of the bubble they are creating for themselves. 

But that is all a problem for future Lance. 

Right now, Keith is here, in his arms, and that is all that matters.

Chapter Text

The waters of Loch Broom are like glass when they pull up to the Ferry Terminal in Ullapool. Lance appreciates Keith providing direction into the town as he is still nervous to be driving on the opposite side of the road. The white buildings with gray roofs against green foothills and mountains are breathtaking. It doesn’t take long to sort out their tickets. The overcast sky feels close and the fluffy clouds reflect on the water. The smell of the ocean fills Lance with comfort.

At this point there isn’t much to do but wait. Lance is nervous. Other than the one song, he and Keith haven’t really written together since they finished the last album. Lance told Keith that they didn’t have to work while they stay at the studio, but much of this plan is built around his hope that he and Keith will compose together. He is definitely hoping that Keith will share some of the music he has been writing in the past few months. He realizes now that he may have set himself up for a lot of disappointment, and wanders to a rack of tourist brochures, hoping to find some other fun things to do while on the islands, in case they don’t end up writing together. Lance tries to send a quick text to Hunk while looking over the pamphlets, but it doesn’t go through. Cell service is spotty, his phone showing two bars at best.

Soon they are driving onto the lower deck of the Ferry, and once the boat’s doors lock behind them they are free to wander up to the observation deck. Lance pulls on a windbreaker, and Keith grabs his leather jacket as the wind is picking up and the evening air is cool, especially out on the water.

There are beautiful green hills with houses and barns on the shores all around them, but Lance finds his eyes drawn to the way the wind catches Keith’s hair, blowing it around his face, Laughing when the other man gets annoyed and pulls it back into a ponytail with a band on his wrist. Even still, small wisps escape, and Lance is hard pressed not to toy with them, or the pony tail, or kiss the now exposed and defined jawline. Usually Lance would be talking up a storm but, in this moment, the combination of the breathtaking landscape, the calming influence of water and being with Keith, allows space for peace. As the boat traverses the summer isles, the wind gets stronger and a fine rain begins to fall. Lance presses into Keith’s shoulder, his thin jacket not quite keeping him warm enough. Without hesitation Keith pulls him in, trying to share warmth. His mind goes blank for a minute when Keith murmurs into his ear, “If you are cold, we can head to the lounge and grab a coffee.”

They decide to eat a cafeteria dinner on the boat, to save themselves figuring out a meal when they arrive at their destination. As they get closer to the other harbour, Lance’s peaceful mood dissipates. He has little appetite, and chatters about everything he sees. Nerves and excitement are warring with each other. The boat trip is more than three hours long and after eating, they move to the indoor observation lounge. It isn’t long before Keith is dozing on his shoulder. As they approach the Isle of Lewis, a flock of sea birds are visible on the surface of the water, somehow staying upright, afloat, on the choppy waves. Lance envies them.

He can see the docks from the observation window and travelers around him begin to gather their items as the boat approaches Stornoway. Lance hesitates to wake Keith. He feels they are on a precipice and wants to prolong the peacefulness of this moment as long as possible. All too soon, there is an announcement telling them to return to their vehicle. He looks down to Keith blinking himself awake and feels his face pull into a smile.

“Hi.” Lance whispers.

“Hey.” Keith replies softly, with sleepy eyes.

Keith leans up for a kiss and Lance meets him halfway. It is short, but deep. Lance tries to imbue it with his feelings. Instead it seems to draw his own fears to the surface. They pull away and gather their items and head down to the rental car.

Lance drives again, because Keith seems a bit foggy and tired. It isn’t a fun drive with rain pelting down, Lance’s hands tight on the steering wheel as Keith acts as a guide using an old school map along the twisting roads.

They are greeted by a bright eyed and ruddy cheeked young woman at the studio who gets them settled in fairly quickly. There is coffee, tea, and some basic groceries that Lance had requested when booking, so no need for them to head out again that night, which is a relief. The weather certainly isn’t inviting. While Lance would love to recreate the tea time snugglefest they had yesterday, he can see Keith is waning and he is feeling strained and off-center himself. In the end they both climb into bed early after making an attempt at watching one of the DVD 007 movies in the cabinet beside the large flat screen TV.

…

Lance isn’t sure what wakes him, but he is drawn out of bed, his bare feet padding out to the kitchen in search of something to drink. He sees the lights on in the control room and, still half asleep. He grabs an extra glass of water and heads toward its glow.

Keith isn't in the control room, he is in the dead room playing the piano. He must have considered recording, because the equipment is on, and Lance can hear his music through the speakers. Keith seems to be feeling out a piece on the piano. He plays it through again and again, and Lance can hear the minor changes he is making from where he lounges on the couch.

He’s not sure how long he lies there, lulled by the melancholy story the composition is telling. He hears Keith miss a note and then another, and then stop. It isn’t a graceful end, more of a keyboard smash than punctuation, probably a less than satisfying one, given the sound proofed space.

Lance feels a moment of panic, only now fearing that he has invaded a private moment. He sits up grabbing the extra glass of water and heads to the door, switching off lighting and equipment on the way, so both men enter the hall from different doors at the same time. Keith startles slightly, his eyes are red rimmed, but it could be from exhaustion. Lance holds out the water as a peace offering. Keith accepts it, but doesn’t speak.

“That was beautiful. Something new you’ve been working on?” Lance asks. It is the best way to confess he has been listening, maybe opening the door to more.

Keith nods slightly, notebook in one hand, water in the other.

Lance turns to walk toward the living area, not wanting to return to bed, leaving the door open for Keith to talk about whatever he is processing right now.

Keith follows, draining the water as he walks. He gently places the glass and his dog eared writing journal on the kitchen counter as he passes it. The sounds echoing in the quiet of the space. Lance settles down on one of the living room couches and is relieved when Keith joins him, lying down with his head on Lance’s lap. Keith must sense Lance’s surprise on that because he looks up and asks, “This okay?”

“UmmHmm.” Lance hums and nods. Keith turns on his side, his head facing away. Lance begins running his fingers through the other man’s hair.

“Sounded sad.” Lance tries, testing the waters.

“Heavy.” Is all he gets from Keith who is tilting his head back with his eyes closed.

“Are there lyrics?”

“Not yet.” Keith murmurs. “S’hard to write ‘em. S’bout lots of things.” he continues, leaning into Lance’s hand in his hair. “Complex.” Keith huffs the word with a humourless laugh.

Lance doesn’t push, just gently runs his fingers through Keith’s dark locks, massages his scalp. He feels the tension slowly drain from the other man. He wonders if he has fallen asleep until Keith turns onto his back and meets Lance’s eyes.

“When we get to Austria, and… when it's time to see my … um… mother. Can… would you just… like… hang out with us for a bit?”

“Of course.” Lance says. “Are you sure?”

“We’ve never actually been alone with each other before.” He winces a little when he says this. “Besides… Neither one of us are good at … conversation.” He says, with a wry pull of the lips. There is a self deprecating smile in Keith’s eyes.

“No problem.” Lance smiles down at him. “I can talk for all three of us.” He says, being self deprecating right back.

Keith sighs and closes his eyes, looking like he might fall asleep. As much as Lance would love a sleeping Keith on his lap, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night on the couch. He gently jostles him. “C'mon. We should go to bed.” Keith blinks back at him and gets up slowly, to walk together toward their rooms, but Keith stops. Lance turns, waiting.

Keith looks at his own door with something akin to panic, and looks back to Lance, “Can I… uh… sleep in your room?”

“Sure.” Lance says, keeping his voice as even as possible. It is clear Keith is vulnerable right now, and Lance treads carefully. Something has the other man off kilter and Lance definitely wants to support him in the best way he can. He opens the door and steps back for Keith to enter the space first.

“Which side?” Lance asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” Keith responds, but he quickly crawls under the blankets on the side furthest from the door, almost as though he is afraid Lance will change his mind.

Lance climbs in beside him. He slowly wraps himself around the other man, the big spoon to Keith’s tightly wound ball. “This okay?” He asks softly. Keith nods ascent and presses back into Lance for comfort. It seems to be mere moments before the dark haired man drifts to sleep. Lance muses that he must be exhausted. Lance’s tired brain can’t really process the events of the past hour, but his heart is brimming with protectiveness from the vulnerability Keith has shown him tonight. He lets himself match Keith’s breaths and drifts into a dreamless sleep.
…

It is late in the morning and they probably should head out grocery shopping at some point. There are sandwich fixings for lunch, but they may want something other than eggs, toast and beans for dinner tonight. The wind and rain are a disincentive to leaving the space. Keith has been sprawled on the couch reading something on his tablet as Lance sits on the floor fiddling with the embroidery floss and beads he had purchased in Loch Ness. He is making bracelets for his niece and nephews. There is comfort and comradery in the quiet moments after breakfast.

Lance had awoken alone, a rumpled pillow beside him. Keith was in the kitchen fiddling with the stovetop percolator and gas burners, his hair wet from a shower. Lance discovered the other man had gone for a run in the misty dawn, and tried to calculate the few hours of sleep Keith is operating on. The math was made easier by a cup of rich, surprisingly good, coffee with extra sugar. Keith described the rocky shoreline and local area as the two put a breakfast together and Lance asked light questions and teased until the other man’s tense face pulled into a small smile and light came into his tired eyes. After breakfast Lance got showered and dressed and they settled here, in a bubble of warmth highlighted by rain pelting against the windows outside.

Keith plunks his tablet on the coffee table and slouches further onto the couch, one of his feet on the floor pressing against Lance’s leg.

“Do you ever think about doing covers of other people’s music?” Keith asks with a yawn, watching until Lance looks back at him, then, after a beat, turns his gaze upward.

“Keith,” Lance responds with mock disappointment. “Haven’t you read the popstar handbook?” He makes a teasing tsk sound while shaking his head. “We cannot do a cover album until after we record our sixth or seventh LP. It’s like, to do covers, you have to be considered easy listening but it should be before your earliest music is oldies.”

Keith squints at Lance for a moment and then readjusts. Snorting and closing his eyes. Supposedly he had expected to be taken seriously. Too bad. Lance is gaining momentum and continues with.

“Then you follow it up with a Best Of album, and a Christmas or Holiday one.” He says, turning his attention back to the bracelet. “But those can be released in the same year.” He adds, with authority.

“I meant live.” Keith says in a dry voice, glancing over momentarily, with a scowl that is rendered ineffective by the crinkles around his eyes and the sparkle within them.

“No Keith,” Lance sighs loudly and focuses on picking another bead for his creation. “The Live Album comes after the Christmas one.” He then meets Keith's eyes with mock seriousness. “There are rules.”

Keith ignores his teasing and pull his arm over his eyes, still trying to have a serious conversation. “I read somewhere that George Micheal performed covers at benefits because he didn’t want people to believe he was only performing to promote his music.”

“Hmmm.” Lance ponders this. “I get that, but, if people are buying tickets to see us play, they are likely our fans who want to hear our music. It’s kinda ripping them off to play something else.”

Keith glances from beneath his arm at Lance but once their eyes meet, he shifts his gaze, yet again, addressing the ceiling. “I learned guitar beside a campfire, with my Dad.” He says flatly. “We played different songs, from different artists.” Keith takes a big breath. “I miss it.” He says simply, eyes closing and head tilting back.

Lance stops fiddling with the bracelet in his hands and just stares back at Keith. Keith must expect a response, because when he doesn’t get one he opens his eyes to glance back at Lance who is watching him with a half smile. After a beat, Keith looks upward again.

Lance feels a full smile stretch across his face, “Why d’you keep doing that?”

Keith actually scowls now, but he blushes at the same time, which is delightful.

“Doing what?” Keith directs to the ceiling.

“Look.At.Me.” Lance says, bemused.

Keith glances at him, holds his gaze for three full seconds and then becomes engrossed in removing invisible lint from his tee shirt. Shrugging with forced nonchalance. “What?”

“Why do you keep looking away?” Lance is now trying not to laugh. Keith is pink and his nose is wrinkled with frustration.

To his credit, Keith doesn’t continue to pretend to not know what Lance is talking about. He sighs deeply and says, in the general direction of the back of the couch, “You’re just really, really cute right now.”

Lance glances down at his well worn baseball tee shirt, faded jeans with frayed seams and bare feet. His tattoo is partially covered by his sleeve. He didn’t do a full skin care regime last night and definitely didn’t shave or spend much time fixing his hair this morning. He feels rumpled and comfortable, but not cute. Definitely not cute.

“Pardon?” Lance grins, bemused. “I didn’t hear that.”

Keith meets his eyes fully now, as though he has been issued a challenge, one he has accepted. While he hasn’t moved from his position, his posture is suddenly more alive, hands flat against the leather of the sofa, but strung like a bow, like a predator waiting to strike.

“You heard me Lance.”

Lance loses all capacity for speech at the gravelly sound of his name in Keith’s voice.

Keith continues, “Right now you look absolutely beautiful,” Lance feels his face burn at the words. “But you are doing something that needs patience and could be easily mussed up. I don’t want to interrupt it.”

Lance considers the situation, looking down at the bracelet he is working on and admittedly, he is at a delicate point in this process. He has been weaving a grouping of beads into the pattern and they will be loose and could all fall out, the threads will unravel at this point if he doesn’t add a few more rows to stabilize it. His fingers shake as he tries to temporarily tie it off, giving up after the third try and deciding he can start over as he drops it into the box of supplies and climbs onto Keith on the couch.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Keith says, looking up at him, hands landing softly around his waist, affectionate eyes.

“Yeah, I did.” Lance responds before dropping his lips down into a kiss.
…

The grey weather finally lets up and an unbelievably clear blue sky appears. The air smells clean imbued with fresh rain and ocean air. They pack a picnic of sandwiches and fruit and hop in the car to go to the Callanish Stone Circle. Keith drives, and Lance supports by joking about the livestock as they pass stone fences lining fields of sheep, furry cattle, and even a pony or two.

“Look, a bunch of cows.” Lance grins gesturing to the fields.

“Not a bunch, two cows, just two.” Keith tries to sound stern.

“A herd of cows.” Lance corrects himself.

“Oh my god, Lance, two cows.” Keith huffs.

“Of course I’ve heard of cows.” Lance continues to himself, because Keith won’t play along.

“I will boot you out of this car.”

“No silly, a cow herd.” Lance is undeterred.

Keith is shaking his head.

“So? I didn’t say anything confidential.” Lance finishes the skit and gives Keith a brilliant smile.

They arrive at the stones. Huge rocks standing upright, jagged, yet smoothed by weather and time. They are surrounded by rich green grass with sparkling water reflecting the deep blue sky. A sea breeze blows through the stones, gentle, yet enough to raise hairs on Lance's arms and the back of his neck. This place is beautiful and timeless and he has to pause to catch his breath as a the stories heard at his Abuela's knee reverberate through him. Those who live on small islands in deep oceans learn respect for things larger and older than themselves.

“These are literally the oldest rocks in the world.” He warns Keith, reading the sign.

“Hmm.” Keith responds walking through the centre stones in a spiral. He raises his hand up at the largest one, in the middle, and Lance grabs his wrist, stopping him.

“Dude, didn't you hear me? You could possibly, maybe, actually fall through time if you touch that.” He says, alarmed.

“Which would be awesome.” Keith responds, humour making his eyes sparkle.

Lance waggles a finger in front of the other man’s face. “No.Touching.The.Stones.” He says through gritted teeth.

Lance is pretty sure Keith sneaks a touch when he is not looking, but he doesn’t disappear into another century, so Lance lets it be.

Their next stop is Uig Beach, where they spread out a blanket on the white sands and Lance rolls up his pant legs to wade in the cool water. Keith does not join him, promising to swim when they get to Spain. They eat their sandwiches and watch the sun move across the sky. Lance tries to not think about the fact they are not writing together, he tries to enjoy the chill afternoon they are having, especially when Keith distracts him with kisses.

“Stores won’t be open tomorrow.” Keith reminds Lance, “We should head back and pick up what we need before it gets too late.” Keith is pink from wind and sun, and Lance sighs, starting to pack up the remnants from their picnic. He feels like time is getting away from them. Everything seems to be too short. He pauses and does some deep breathing, and counts to ten forwards and backwards with the breaths. Keith gently touches his back, an indication that he knows Lance is spiraling and then steps away, taking the bags back to the car, giving him space. Lance doesn’t want space and has to fight a feeling of panic when he leaves. Lance manages to stop himself. He has to close his eyes. He sits and takes practiced breaths until he calms down. Once centered, he picks up the blanket, shakes as much sand as he can off of it, and folds it sloppily.
…

They stop for supplies and, now, back at the studio, Lance begins a simple dinner of burgers and oven baked fries while Keith takes the wood and kindling left for them by their hosts out back to a firepit. By the time Lance comes out with a tray of plates and drinks, there is a roaring fire. They pull up patio chairs and watch the blaze, eating as the sun finds its way to the horizon. The fire makes Keith’s eyes sparkle and puts his high cheekbones in stark relief. Keith grabs the plates to take in, while Lance lounges under a blanket. Keith comes out with two acoustic guitars, his own and one from the studio.

Lance intuits that as much as he wants this to be the moment he has been waiting for, he knows it is not.

“What do you want to play?” He asks Keith.

“Dunno.” The other man says shortly, shyly.

They fumble through some songs they used to play. Lance is shocked at how little he remembers. Keith is right, that is something he wants to change, he shouldn’t only know his own music. They figure out chords for some current favourite tunes, and play around with harmonies. As darkness overtakes the campfire, they set the guitars aside.

There are so many things Lance wants to say, to ask, but instead he fills the silence with chatter. He talks about Pidge and Matt's new robot, about Coran’s stories of Alfor, about Veronica’s job and what his niece said the last time they skyped. Keith listens with interest and makes a few soft responses. He laughs at the right times and on the surface, it is a perfect night. But underneath Lance’s thoughts dance and spin like leaves on the wind. Questions play, and tender words push against his lips. He doesn’t utter them.

When they head to bed, each in their own room tonight. The coals banked and guitars put away. Lance lies there, his hair smelling of campfire. He reminds himself that Keith doesn’t have to write with him, that he is hyper fixated on something he cannot have, and discounting all the other beautiful things that are happening. He reminds himself that it is Keith's choice. Not writing together doesn’t mean he is being left out, or left behind. He feels tears roll down his cheeks and tries to understand why he is so afraid. Keith has shown he cares in so many different ways. Finally, Lance drifts into an uneasy slumber.

Lance wakes late to find the studio empty. Keith left a note on the fridge saying he had gone for a walk. Lance makes a cup of substandard coffee, not having Keith’s finesse with the percolator. Everything is too quiet. He shaves, showers and dresses. He makes a simple meal of eggs and salsa on toast. He frets about Keith walking along the rocky shoreline and imagines him falling and knocking himself unconscious, being pulled into the ocean. He loses himself in the horrific day dream. He is imagining having to explain everything to Shiro when he hears the door open below and Keith’s cat-like steps come up the stairs.

Keith smells like the ocean and fresh air. His eyes are bright and there is a lightness to him that Lance immediately resents. He greets Lance with a smile, which Lance does not return. Keith notices immediately.

“You okay?”

“M’ fine.” Lance says coldly. He watches Keith’s eyes narrow in confusion and feels a wave of shame, which immediately makes him angry. Why does he feel bad? Keith is the one who took off and scared the crap out of him. Which his rational mind pushes back on. Keith had left a note, he wasn’t even gone that long after Lance woke up.

“Good walk?” Lance asks, trying to return to neutral ground.

“Yeah.” The word comes like a sigh. “It’s beautiful here. Thanks for suggesting it.”

Lance’s mood sours further. He didn’t choose this place because it was beautiful. He chose it because it was a private studio, where people make music. Lance knows he is being irrational, but he is having a lot of trouble figuring out how to pull up out of this nose dive.

“I’m going to go play some music.” Lance says, before he even realized he decided to do that. But it seems like a good option. He can tell he is looking to pick a fight, and that is not what he wants right now. He hasn’t figured out how to get what he wants, and he knows past Lance would go on the offensive, so running away seems the safest option.

“Okay.” Keith says slowly.

No, that’s not what he wants. He wants Keith to ask to come, or to get mad or to do something other than acquiesce. He picks up Red and heads to the Live Room, firmly closing the door behind him. He plugs in and sets up and then sits, and sits, and sits. Now he is lonely and embarrassed. He strums a chord and it seems too loud in the empty space. He feels his face pull into a pout.

Now what?

“Did you want to record something?” Lance jumps as Keith’s voice comes over the speaker from the control room.

“Sorry.” Keith says over the speaker, but Lance can tell the fucker is laughing by his voice.

“I dunno.” Lance admits, defeated by his roller coaster emotions.

“We could lay down tracks for that Willow Smith song we sang last night.” Keith suggests.

Lance shrugs, “Sure.” He says, looking up to the window where he can see Keith turning on equipment and adjusting settings on the sound board.

And they take turns recording and playing, laying down tracks for three different songs. Not their own music, but covers. It is a delicate dance and it is fun and… for now… it is enough.

After a few hours they have to wrap it up and pack. They organized dropping the rental car at the airport in Stornoway to fly out from there to Edinburgh where they will meet an evening flight to Vienna. Lance has the audio files sent to Altea and the team back home, as they won’t have extra time on the road to play with them. Keith heads out to the car with the last of their luggage and Lance pauses to look back at the studio. His dreams of writing and recording with Keith here still taste bittersweet on his tongue. He makes a wish that they will one day return.

Keith is waiting for him, leaning against the car, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans. Almost as though he’s read Lance’s mind, he meets his eyes with his own fiery and determined ones, “It’s a great spot.” Keith says. “I hope we come back sometime.” This small thing is enough to set fire of hope in Lance’s chest. Lance finds himself unable to respond, rubbing the back of his neck, looking for words. But Keith just leans forward and plants a kiss on Lance’s lips, before turning to open the driver’s side door and sliding into the car.

…

Monday morning in Vienna is warm compared to Scotland. Lance wears his jean shorts and a NASA shirt and generally celebrates sunshine. He spends an extra ten minutes deciding which sunglasses he is going to wear. Keith is pacing in Lance’s hotel room and checking his watch and chewing on his cuticles, which he hasn’t done since the second last year of highschool and Lance lectures him about it while pulling his hand away from his mouth.

“Keith, my dude. We are fine, we have forty-five minutes to get to the café.”
Keith is dressed in black jeans and the shirt Lance got for him in loch ness. A black tee with a silk screened Nessie in the water, with bigfoot walking foreground to the right, a full moon behind them with a UFO to the left background. While he looks adorable, Lance asks,

“There is supposed to be a high of 80 degrees today, are you set on that heat sink of an outfit? Because you still have time to change.”

Keith stops pacing to look in the mirror. “I look okay, right?”

Lance smiles, “You look great, but you might melt. Do you want to change?”

“No.” Keith says. “ We’re good, this is good.”

The concierge at their hotel orders them a cab to a fancy café in the Gloriette of Schönbrunn Palace, and holy crap is that place fancy and huge. They are seated by an extremely curt waiter beside a window with a glorious view. Lance is enthralled by the endless length of the Palace below them. He is so distracted that he misses Krolia, er Kara’s arriving at their table.

‘Hello.” Kara says politely sitting down. “How was Scotland?” She gives a practiced, professional smile.

“It was great.” Keith nods.

Lance waits a beat, and it is apparent that Keith has finished talking. He looks to Kara, who nods back at Keith and silence descends.

“Uh… we went to Loch Ness…” Lance prompts Keith, trying to kick start conversation.

‘How was that?” Kara asks.

“Good. Yeah, great.” Keith responds.

“That’s where Keith got that shirt.” Lance prompts again. Only to have Keith nod again, saying nothing. “We got it at this café, which had a great brunch.” Lance continues, leaving openings for Keith to jump in, but to no avail.

“Um Right after we went canoeing, which was cool, cause I’ve never really done that… but apparently Keith has done it a lot. Right?” Lance said, giving Keith a meaningful glance.

Finally the darker haired man seems to catch on. “Yeah, you know, uh, portage trips and stuff, with, with, um. Dad.” Keith manages awkwardly.

“Yes. He was very into that outdoorsy stuff.” Kara smiles kindly.

Again, silence descends.

“It’s a good thing to have, you know, survival skills.” Lance sputters, “Like Keith had no problem starting a fire the other night after a biblical amount of rain."

"-It was a bonfire.... In, like, a fire pit, ya-know. I mean, we weren’t out committing arson or anything.” Lance assures her.

“I mean, it is really handy for Keith to be good at that kind of stuff.” Lance manages, almost rolling his eyes at how dodgy that all sounded.

Lance is relieved when Kara chuckles and gives Lance a kind smile. “Yes, it is very helpful." And to Keith, "I am glad you father was able to share those skills with you, it sounds like you had some really special times together.” Her smile is wistful and there is another moment of silence, less awkward, more weighted.

"Yeah, we did." Keith says, softly, warmly. "We really did."

Something shifts, and conversation goes a little more smoothly after that, but it is hard won and awkward as heck. The experience is prolonged by the slow service in the café. Finally, they manage to finish eating and pay their bill. Lance is hoping that the sightseeing at the palace will help smooth over any stagnant conversation.

“There are three Labyrinths and a Hedge Maze on the palace grounds.” Kara shares as they walk down the hill.

“What’s the difference between a labyrinth and a maze?” Lance asks, his long strides heavy as he navigates the steep decline.

“A Labyrinth has only one entrance and one path. You walk in and follow the path to the centre and then follow it back out again. It is often used as a tool for prayer or meditation.” She says, her words always clear and precise. “A maze has many paths and both an entrance and exit. It is a game or a test.” She gets a glint in her eyes as she says this, which instantly reminds him of Keith.

“How shall we play this Keith?” Lance asks, “Should we try to see who can do the maze faster? or …”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t finish.” Lance complains.
Keith shrugs.

If Kara were not with them, and hill were a little less steep, this would be the moment where Lance would challenge Keith to a race to the maze. Instead he shrugs back with a grin.

Of course Keith beats Lance through the maze, but it is close. The surprise is that Kara kicks both of their asses. Completing the maze in half the time it takes either of them.

They walk one of the remaining labyrinths before heading across the grounds to see the Roman Ruins. The grounds are a bit overwhelming. They come up over a hill and Lance blinks. That can’t be right.

“Am I seeing a white grand piano in the middle of a park right now?” Lance asks, blinking a few times.

“There are more than 140 public pianos in Austria.” Kara smiles.
“Oh, I’ve got to see this.” Lance grins down the hill.

Keith points over to a restroom. “Can I meet you down there?”

Lance and Kara walk down together. Lance feels a growing comfort with her quiet nature, realizing that he has practice with Keith.

Kara sits and runs her hands over the keys. Lance slides in a seat beside her. He is struck at how her long fingers and delicate hands look like Keith’s against the ivories.

“Do you play?” She asks.

“A little bit.” Lance smiles, “Not as well as Keith. But I know you do.” He says, a hint of challenge in his tone.

“Yes.” Kara murmurs. “I do.” She seems to be speaking more to herself than Lance.

He listens as she plays the first few bars of a song he recognizes. He feels himself humming the melody as he tries to figure out where he knows it from.

The words surface in his brain as she hits the chorus. 'Easy On Me'.

“Hmm, Adele.” Lance hums.

“It has been playing in my head on repeat today.” Kara gives a small, Keith-like smile, continuing to play softly as she speaks.

Lance absorbs the music and her words thoughtfully.

“He doesn’t have to, you know?” He feels compelled to say after a moment. “You know, go easy on you?”

Kara nods, “I know. And thank you! You’re a good friend to him.” She continues playing. “Don’t worry. Shiro has also said as much.” Lance notes the tight lines around her mouth. “The song is more for me, the self talk can be…” She tapers off as she begins playing the second verse..

“Humph.” Lance tilts his head ruefully, remembering his own run in with Shiro.

Kara shoots him a questioning glance. “Shiro can be… protective.” He explains.

“It’s good,” Kara says ruefully, “That he has that. Like me… he can be…” She searches for the right word, “Reckless.”

Yes, that is a pretty good word, Lance thinks. He brings his hands up and plays the melody for the next chorus and bridge.

He softly sings. “I had good intentions and the highest hopes, but I know right now that probably doesn’t even show.”

He pulls his hands away as she finishes the last few bars and they sit together as the echo of sound dissipates.

Keith wanders down the hill, oblivious to the reason for their sudden thoughtfulness.

Soon after, Keith feels comfortable enough to head to lunch at the stadium with his mother, where she has work to complete and Norlox’s band is doing their sound check. Lance bows out, wanting them to have some time without him as a third wheel.

Lance considers calling Hunk, or Veronica. But ends up wandering back to the hotel on foot. His thoughts run in all directions.
Mostly he plays over the words, “I had good intentions and the highest hopes, but I know right now that probably doesn’t even show.”

Chapter Text

Lance wanders back to the hotel in a haze. He feels a headache starting at his temples and realizes he hasn’t stayed hydrated enough in the heat of the day. There is some sweet relief as soon as he enters the air conditioned lobby. But finds himself aimless, with no plans until that evening, when he is supposed to meet Keith, Hunk, and Shay to head to the Holt’s rented house. He finds his way back to his room and drinks two glasses of water and lies down.

The anxiety he has been keeping at bay swirls around his system. Now they are back with the band, and for the foreseeable future him and Keith will not be alone. He had hoped that by the time this happened that he would have some clarity about the direction they are going, some definition for their relationship. Lance’s own feelings about the past week are a muddle of excitement and fear, of anticipation and dread.

He tries to breathe. Lance can imagine moments with Keith, magical dances with each other, perfect song writing sessions, hot make out sessions, but his brain stalls at anything more tangible. The idea of a future together seems improbable. Every time he attempts to imagine beyond these magical moments fear overwhelms him. Part of him wants Keith to take charge, define who and what they are, and then, to inform the rest of the band. He shakes his head at that thought.

He experiments with telling himself this is a hormonal crush, not something you build a lifetime of dreams on, but his heart objects, huge. The searing pain he feels at thinking about losing Keith is very real. 

He is too emotionally spent to try to process all of this… he pulls out his phone to watch some videos, to try to alleviate the intensity of the emotions, Short funny videos, watching them in succession, skipping past anything too deep or emotional. It isn’t long before he drifts off, phone falling out of his fingers onto the mattress. 

…

“Lance, how are you buddy?” Hunk exclaims, pulling his friend into a bear hug. Lance hugs back with equal gusto. Hunk looks good, relaxed, his smile easy, without the lines of tension that had been gradually developing before their time off. 

“Good.” Lance nods, and smiles. “Good.” He repeats, because he can see Hunk is on the verge of asking another question, he jumps in with, “Tell me about the tasting tour.”

Hunk is immediately diverted, sharing, in detail, the beautiful places he and Shay have seen so far and the delicious things they have eaten. Shay smiles indulgently, adding the odd comment, and answering when Hunk asks a question like, “What did they serve the fish with?” Lance tries to pay attention to the detailed information that Hunk is sharing, but many of the terms are lost on him. Lance does watch his friend’s eyes and expressions. Hunk seems directed, determined, there is a certainty about him which Lance envies. 

Shay seems to hold a different side of the conversation. Hunk describes recipes, flavours, textures and the perfect tool to poach an egg. Shay talks about food that is in season, ethical farming practices, interesting restaurant design and even different point of sale systems. As they share their stories Lance is struck by how the two of them compliment each other, bring out the best in each other. He files the thought away with other things for future Lance to ponder.

The three of them have gathered at a rooftop lounge at the hotel waiting for Keith, so that they can head to the chalet that the Holt’s rented, just outside of the city. 

“I’ll have a Almdudler please.” Hunk asks when the server arrives. Lance shoots him a questioning look, having not even looked at the menu. “It's non-alcoholic and I think you’ll like it.” Hunk assures him as Shay orders a cup of tea.

 “I’ll have an AmDudLer too.” Lance says, pulling out one of the menus as the server leaves to get their drinks. “I forgot to eat lunch.” Lance complains, a frown pulling his features as he notices the lounge offers mostly dessert items. 

Hunk peers over his shoulder and points to something called Marillenkuchen, “That is an apricot cake, I think it would be fairly filling, though pretty sweet” He says, pursing his lips to one side. “That or the apple strudel should tide you over without putting you into a sugar coma.” Hunk concludes after reviewing the menu.

Lance orders when the server brings their drinks and looks up to see Keith arriving, pink cheeked from the heat and a small smile playing at his lips. Lance forces a smile, trying to act as natural as possible. 

“Someone looks happy.” Shay says with a huge smile at the dark haired man. If possible, Keith blushes even more. Lance feels self conscious at that, even though nobody is really paying attention to him right now. 

“I just got to jam with Norlox and the band,” Keith says in an exhale falling into the chair across from Hunk. 

“No way?” Hunk exclaims loudly enough to turn some heads. 

“Yeah.” Keith nods, in that breathless tone, turning to meet Lance’s eyes, his own aglow with excitement, “And Kara played too.” He sighs, as though he can’t believe it actually happened.

Lance feels the joy emanating off Keith and it is enough to override the  fears. He smiles fully and utters a simple, “Wow, that’s, uh, that’s great Keith.”

Their eyes meet for a moment of shared affection before Hunk interrupts asking about what they played? Who is in the current band? And a million other fanboy questions. Keith chuckles as he tries to keep up. 

When the apricot cake arrives, Keith steals the slice of orange decorating Lance's plate, to which Hunk raises an eyebrow. Lance looks away, not ready to explain something he doesn’t yet understand. 

…

The four of them pile into Hunk’s rental car to make the half hour trip out of Vienna toward Pressbaum. Hunk puts a large cooler in the back. Lance takes the wheel and Hunk rides shotgun needing the extra leg room. 

While Lance tries to focus on getting out of town, Hunk and Shay ask about Scotland. Keith tells them about Loch Ness and the Calenish Stones. 

“Lance was worried that I, and I quote, would fall through time if I touched them.”

“I think the fact you thought that it would be fun to disappear to another century was the real problem there.” Lance says, checking his mirror, while merging lanes.

“So superstitious.” Keith teases, eyes rolling. “While we were still in Edinburgh we went on this ghost tour…”

“Nope, no, no, no, no! No! We are not talking about the creepy little girl ghost Keith.” Lance interrupts, enjoying Hunk’s rich laugh beside him.  

“Did I ever tell you about the time Lance and I were junior counselors at a sleepover camp?” Hunk asks the others with a smile.

“So now it is just jokes at my expense?” Lance asks dryly. “I am chauffeuring everyone into the wilds of Vienna Woods and this is my payment?”

“Please, do tell it.” Shay says, eyes sparkling.

 Hunk, the traitor, turns his attention to the back seat with a smile. “This guy thought it would be funny to tell ghost stories by the campfire.”

“Which is a totally normal thing to do at sleepover camp. I wanted the kids to have the full camp experience. That is the kinda guy I am.” Lance says emphatically but softens it with a half grin.

“Right, the superstitious, scaredy-cat thought that telling ghost stories by the campfire was a great idea.” Keith teases dryly.

“In my defense, those kids were, like, nine. The stories should not have been all that terrifying.”

“Well, we discovered that nine year old's can tell some pretty scary stories .” Hunk says drawing out the last three words. “And this one kid told a Cinderella story that included a disembodied cow's head instead of a fairy godmother.” 

“I have heard this cow story.” Shay says smiling. “It is not meant to frighten people.”

“It was scary the way this kid told it.” Lance says, quickly glancing into the back seat. “Definitely scary.”

“It was a pretty creepy story.” Hunk admits. “But everybody, including Lance, went to bed without incident, and scary story telling night seemed to be a success,” 

“It was a success and became legendary among camp experiences, and we were awarded Best Camp Counselors of the Decade. The End.” Lance says quickly and loudly.

“Nice try.” Keith says, reaching forward to pat Lance on the shoulder. “Hunk?”

Hunk grins back at Keith,  “Ya know how those camps are decorated outdoor style.” He continues chuckling. “Canoe paddles, old lanterns, wool blankets and stuff like that.”

“For the record, I stand by my response.” Lance says preemptively. “It was a reasonable response. Other people would have had the same response.”

“As I was saying,” Hunk gives Lance side eye for the interruption. “–There were decorations, including a fake bison skull over the entrance to the bathrooms. But, most of us never gave it a second glance… until that night.” Hunk adds ominously. 

“Oh dear.” Shay says, laughing.

Keith is hiding his face behind a hand. “I am afraid to even hear the rest.”

“Lance got up in the night. “

“Like a normal person who had to pee.” Lance defends again, taking one hand of the wheel to shake it with emphasis. 

“Then he saw the bison head over the entrance to the washrooms.”

“The moonlight hit it DIR-ECT-LY. It looked like it was floating.”

“You didn’t.” Keith says dryly.

“I believe he did.” Shay leans forward with delight, looking at Hunk for confirmation.

“Lance pulled the emergency alarm, evacuated all the cabins while screaming ‘Cow’s Head! Cow’s Head’ until the camp director turned on the field lights and everyone saw that it was that plastic bison skull.” Hunk finishes the story with a wide smile, gazing fondly at his long time best friend.

The sound of laughter reverberates through the car and Lance can’t help but chuckle at the memory. He is proud, because at one time he would have been mortified at the retelling of something so embarrassing.

“Did you get fired?” Keith asks incredulously.

“Surprisingly no.” Lance smiles back, meeting Keith’s eyes through the rearview mirror. “We finished out the session.”

“Though we never got camp counselor jobs again.” Hunk shakes his head.

“Poor you.” Lance consoles, “Missed your calling and had to be a rock star instead.”

“And a Chef slash restaurateur.” Shay adds brightly.

…

The Holt’s chalet is not nearly as large as Lance imagined a Chalet would be. The wooden structure is beautiful, but only a story and a half in height. There are four small bedrooms upstairs, all with slanted ceilings. The main floor consists of a great room, almost entirely filled with a large wooden table and chairs. There is an open concept kitchenette to one side. At the back there is a decent sized washroom beside a large sauna. Out front a deck is nestled into some water features, and several walking paths heading in different directions.

“Awww, Cute.” Lance exclaims, coming up behind Pidge to give them a hug, mostly as an attempt to hold their arms to their sides. “It’s a Pidge sized cabin.” 

Despite Lance’s careful approach, Pidge is able to slide out of his hold and punch him in the upper arm. “Yeah, it’s awesome. It’s got a sauna. This chalet kicks ass.” They go take another swing at Lance who holds up his arms protectively, but Colleen catches Pidge’s elbow as they wind up. Mrs. Holt makes a warning sound in the back of her throat and Pidge drops their arm, but raises an ominous eyebrow at Lance before being pulled, sideways, into a bearhug from Hunk.

Lance laughs at the sight, while rubbing his sore arm as Colleen opens her arms invitingly. “ I am so glad you could make it Lance.” 

“Me too Mrs. Holt.” Lance says, leaning in, drinking up the mom hugs.

“You know better. “ She leans into him, “It’s Colleen.”

Shay, Hunk and Sam seem to have made a plan for dinner as they pull out Käsekrainer sausages out of the cooler and get the barbeque fired up. 

Keith and Matt have already wandered off, down one of the paths, so Lance follows the gang inside and is immediately put to work slicing red onions for a spinach salad. Shay and Hunk bounce back and forth prepping ingredients for sides, until Sam pokes his nose in to say the barbeque is ready. 

When Keith and Matt return on one of the walking paths Hunk is pulling delicious, cheese-filled, sausages off the grill. Matt has picked up a walking stick along the way and the two men still seem to be deep in discussion as they enter the building. With all the cross talking in the kitchen, Lance can’t hear what either are saying two each other and Lance starts to feel frustrated and petulant. 

Hunk seems to have a sixth sense about Lance’s moods, because he immediately gestures to his friend. “Let’s get the refreshments.” Hunk smiles as he pulls four bottles of Stiegl and four cans of fizzy lemonade out of the bottom of his cooler. He hands Lance a bottle opener while he pulls down beer glasses from a shelf. Lance makes quick work of opening the bottles and Hunk begins filling each glass half full of beer and topping it off with lemonade, handing Lance one of the glasses. Lance takes a sip and grins up at his friend. “Nice.” Hunk nods back, taking his own drink. “Right?”

Lance ignores the empty seat beside Keith and plops down beside Hunk and focusses on loading his plate. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of confusion cross Keith’s face and tries to push away the uncomfortable feeling of guilt he feels rising in his chest. Pidge sits on his other side and he immediately asks how their panel went at the conference in Liverpool, only to listen with half an ear as Pidge chatters excitedly about the experience.

The meal is delicious, there is good natured ribbing, since Matt is presenting his paper the following day, Pidge jokingly calls him professor . Hunk and Shay begin retelling their culinary adventures and Colleen updates the band on how the Holt’s family dog, Bae Bae, is doing, including sharing lots of cute pictures on her phone. Lance can feel the worried glances Hunk is sending him, and tries his best to smile and joke around with the others. 

Dinner wraps up early and they sit around the table chatting for a while. They talk about news from home and world events. They ponder what causes they should support when they return home. It isn’t long before the outside light is dimming, shadows lengthening. Many of the group have an early day tomorrow. Sam is spending the morning with Colleen because the following afternoon Norlox and the band are moving on to the next city, Matt has his presentation at the conference, Hunk and Shay have reservations at a famous restaurant and the chef has promised them a tour of the kitchen. 

They clean up quickly, dishes sliding into a dishwasher, Hunk and Sam washing the larger items at the sink. In the hubbub, Keith pulls Lance aside. “Mm gonna stay here tonight.” Keith says softly. 

Lance is surprised. He was counting on an opportunity to talk to Keith, to have some time alone with him.

“Zat okay?” Keith prods.

Lance realizes Keith is expecting a response.

“Umm, aren’t Matt and Pidge going to the conference tomorrow?” He asks haltingly.

“Yeah, I thought I’d just go offer some moral support while Matt did his presentation and catch a ride into Vienna with Sam.” Keith said, eyes blinking. “I’ll be back before one.” He says softly.

“Ya, sure, whatever.” Lance says, attempting flippancy, but sounding defensive.

He notices Keith’s eyes narrow questioningly. Keith is rubbing circles on the inside of Lance’s wrist, and has been since he pulled Lance aside he realizes. Lance stares into those  eyes and feels the pull, like he is a satellite always orbiting around the dark haired man. Keith  leans forward hesitantly, but Lance turns away. He isn’t ready to kiss in front of the band. He isn’t sure when he will be. He hears more than sees Keith pull himself upright, to his full height and the intake of breath that comes with it. 

“Kay, see you tomorrow.” Keith says quietly.

“Yep, see ya.” Lance says, not meeting Keith’s eyes, but seeing Pidge watching them with a look of resignation. Pidge definitely rolls their eyes. 

Lance hands Hunk the keys and climbs into the back seat of the car, leaving the lovebirds to sit together. He rests his head on the window and pretends to doze to avoid taking part of the conversation. 

...

The next morning, Lance putters around his room after getting up. There isn’t really anybody to hang with, with Keith at the conference and Hunk and Shay at the restaurant. He considers booking a bus tour, but ends up wandering the streets in his snapback and sunglasses, a cup of take-out coffee in his hand. Eventually he finds a bench and watches as the world passes by. Vienna is opulent, maybe more so after the rustic simplicity of the Scottish landscape. It is a different kind of beautiful. A brighter and busier place, fantastical.

Lance is staring off into space when he feels a soft brush of fur against his bare ankle. A fluffy, smokey blue-gray cat is weaving between his legs. He reaches down to pet the animal and she purrs loudly. “Hey you.” He says in greeting. The cat places her front paws on the bench extending her long body so Lance can have better access to scratch behind her ears. She looks up at him with intelligent blue green eyes, and Lance nods at her.

“I’m mucking it up, aren’t I?” He says, and she tilts her head as an acknowledgement making a distinct trilling sound in the back of her throat. “You don’t have to be judgy about it.” Lance defends. “I never really understood why I act the way I do with him. It’s just one of those things… ya-know.” 

The cat jumps onto the bench and takes a few steps away, her back turned and her tail flicks.

Lance smiles, a small self deprecating backward pull of his lips. 

“Fine, maybe I do know.” Lance sighs with a small eye roll. “But old habits die hard, right?”

The cat gives him a skeptical glance over her shoulder. 

“Look, I never said I was a fast learner.” Lance looks away and covers his face for a moment, a deep sigh coming from the very center of his being. 

The cat must take pity on him, because she pads back over to him and he feels her head nudge his shoulder. He looks down and pets her from head to tail, scratching her back as she presses it up into his hand. 

“Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in a black and white movie, and all I have to do is take that step, across an invisible line to full colour. But, I can never go back if I do that. No matter how beautiful everything is technocolour, black and white has been good to me. Safe.” Lance whispers the last word to himself. 

The cat makes a quiet trilling sound in her throat and settles her paws halfway onto his lap. They sit there as Lance finishes his coffee, undisturbed until a hooded crow lands in front of them, pecking at the cracks between the stones in the sidewalk. The cat silently jumps to the ground and falls into the crouch and the crow looks over, flicking its head, in a gesture that says, “ As if .” 

“Good luck with that.” Lance says, getting up to throw his empty cup in the trash. His movement causes the crow to fly upward. The cat gives him an unimpressed look, tail flicking with irritation. “Sorry.” Lance says, bending down and giving the cat one last scratch behind the ears, which she allows with feline regal-ness and disdain.

“Thanks for the chat, I’ll see round Blue .”

…

Lance googles Vienna fashion district on his phone and hops in a cab to spend the afternoon doing some retail therapy. He stops for some photos with fans, answers questions, signs a few autographs, but mostly tries on gorgeous clothes and spends enough money to make his ears burn. He picks up an adorable, blue gray party dress for Veronica and a soft cardigan for his Abuela. He finds a button up vest and matching jacket for himself, they go perfectly with a black collared shirt he finds at another store. He gets his niece and nephew each a ridiculous pair of rainboots that look like lady bugs, and matching umbrellas. He loses track of time and it is after two when he piles his parcels into the back of a hired car to bring back to the hotel. 

Hunk finds him in his hotel room, soon after he gets back. “Oh good.” Hunk says, seeing Lance’s purchases. “I was going to ask if you had some formal wear.”

It turns out Hunk and Shay had managed to finagle reservations for a four course dinner with live music for that night. “It was too good of an opportunity to turn down.” Hunk says with a smile. “Are you up for it?” 

Lance knows there is deeper meaning in that question, but he sees how excited his friend is and cannot deny him this experience. “Sounds great!” 

“Colleen has just dragged Keith out to find something appropriate for the occasion, but otherwise everybody else is set.”

Lance chuckles at the idea of clothes shopping with Keith, while making a call to the hotel’s spa. If they are going out for a night on the town, he is going to treat himself to a facial, a massage and a mani/pedi.

…

Lance is dressed in his new vest and jacket, the black button up perfectly pressed by hotel staff. His lack of preparation when they first left Edinburgh has served him well, because he has been lugging around a pair of dress shoes that now come in handy. His hair lies in perfect waves, and his skin practically glows. He tucks a white handkerchief into his lapel pocket to complete the look

He finds Pidge in the Lobby wearing a soft, green, silk, scoop-necked shirt under a stylized white blazer and flowing black pants. “Wow.” Lance says, speechless. “Pidge, you really dressed up.”

“You say that as though I always wear cargo shorts and tee shirts.”

Lance falters. 

Pidge laughs. 

“I know, I know, I hardly ever get fancy like this, but this outfit is so comfortable. And…” Pidge slides their phone into the side of their pant leg. “It has pockets.” Pidge whispers conspiratorially while grinning wildly.

Hunk and Shay look like an old time Hollywood couple as they descend the lobby stairs, Hunk resplendent in his black dinner jacket over a gold collared shirt with a tie. Shay in an emerald green, flowing evening gown. Lance hears murmurs in the lobby as people recognize them followed by the clicking of pictures being taken.

Hunk checks the front of his phone the moment he reaches the main floor. “I am a bit worried about the time. What are the chances Keith is pitching a fit about wearing a tie?”

“100 percent.” Lance says, at the same time Pidge says, “Extremely high probability.”

Hunk sighs, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

However, it is moments later that Colleen, Keith and Matt appear on the landing. Lance feels a jolt, because Keith looks gorgeous in a black turtleneck and long charcoal jacket. His hair has been pulled back into a half ponytail, with the bangs falling softly around his face. He is laughing at something Colleen is saying. As he turns down the stairs, he meets Lance’s eyes and something like electricity moves through Lance’s body. Keith smirks, and Lance blushes, because only then he realizes his mouth is hanging open. He closes it with a click and stands taller as the trio descends the last few steps. 

“We were just about to take bets on whether Keith would need to be tranquilized to be forced into a suit.” Lance exclaims as Shay says, “Everyone just looks so lovely tonight.

Lance hears Pidge sigh audibly, while Keith adverts his gaze with a wry smile and a small shake of the head. Colleen responds to Shay with, “We do make quite an attractive group. And it is so nice to have a reason to dress up. All I ever wear in the greenhouse are jeans and tee shirts.”

Hunk has arranged for a limo and they step out into the evening sun to climb into the car. 

Lance is flustered getting in the car and ends up sitting between Keith and Shay. He feels Keith’s shoulder press into his in a small secret greeting. The relief that Lance feels at this washes over him, almost as though he had been going through Keith contact withdrawal. Lance leans back, and presses his leg against Keith’s in response. 

It would be so easy to take Keith’s hand and play idly with his fingers or to kiss his temple. But he doesn’t know how to do that in front of his other friends. He doesn’t complain in the least when Keith casually rests his elbow behind Lance’s head, and leans in, head on his hand.

Their eyes meet for a moment, and Lance tries to say thank you and I am sorry in that glance.

…

A four course meal is a lot of food, especially if you cannot read the menu. 

“Psst, Hunk I can read exactly two things on this menu - Beef tartar and Ceasar Salat.”

Hunk helps everyone order. Keith sits next to Lance and beneath the table their legs are tangled up with each other. 

The wine is flowing and everyone is laughing and it feels like all the best times they have spent together as friends and co-workers. 

Leaving the restaurant to go to the concert meant losing the tablecloth camouflage for hand holding and footsies. 

...

The group settled into their seats at the Hall, and the first few strains of Strauss’s Blue Danube Waltz began to play. Lance feels cultured, knowing the name of the piece, because his sister Rachel did ballet for twelve years. After a moment he turns to look at Keith, who is entranced, so deeply affected by the music it shows on his emo face. Lance looks past Keith to Hunk, who is also amused at Keith’s reaction.

Once the piece is finished, amidst the applause Lance leans in to ask, “You okay there Keefy boy?”

“I..um.. I’ve just never seen classical music live before.” Keith says with wide sparkling eyes. Hunk and Pidge hear this and turn toward them.

“Never?” Lance asks. “Like, ever?”

“Yeah, I really only hear it in movies, and there’s usually other stuff.. You know.. Going on.”

“OMG - So Cute.” Lance says, without thinking. Only realizing his gaff when Hunk clears his throat. He looks up to see Pidge laughing maniacally and Shay watching with a small smile, blushing. 

He is saved by a pianist taking the stage to play Mozart’s Concerto no 23.

…

In the limo back from the concert, everyone is in a mellow mood. 

Hunk and Shay are only stopping back at the hotel to pick up their luggage and head to the airport.

“Tuscany is known for its distinctive dishes.” Shay explains.

“If we only have one stop in Italy, we figured that would be the best place, until next time.” Hunk smiles at Shay.

“We’re headed back to the Chalet.” Matt says smoothly, “There is one final day of the conference.”

“And Mom is here until Thursday, so we might as well fly out then.” Pidge says, leaning against Colleen who smiles at her kids.

“It's just us heading straight to Spain tomorrow.” Lance says, winking at Keith. “I guess we get first dibs on rooms at the villa.” He grins.

Keith gives a shrug as acknowledgement, staring out at the streets of Vienna.

…

After saying good-by to their friends, Keith and Lance head upstairs. ‘This is it.’ Lance thinks, ‘Finally some time alone, to talk.’ Lance reaches out. Keith looks down, at their joined hands and his brows crease into a question. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to come to my room and hang?” Lance asks.

Keith shrugs, still looking at Lance quizzically. “Sure.”

Lance had forgotten the mess of bags and shopping that he had left spread all over. He rushes around to consolidate it on the desk under the window, one of the umbrellas rolling on to the floor.

Keith picks it up and looks at it, a small smile playing at his lips as he places it next to the other one. “For Nadia and Sylvio?” He asks.

“Hmm Mmm.” Lance answers watching Keith’s face. “We should probably, you know, talk.” 

Keith, still looking at the umbrellas, inhales deeply. “Yeah, probably.” He murmurs.

“Thanks, by the way, for helping me yesterday. With, you know, my mom.”

“No problem,” Lance says, yesterday a thousand miles away right now.

Keith pulls himself up, stares Lance dead in the eye, and its there, that point of no return look. 

“Gonna be honest Lance, not really feeling like talking right now.” Keith says, standing up.

Lance sits up straighter. “Umm..kay, what do you..?”

Keith takes two purposeful steps and is standing in front of Lance.

Lance braces himself, trying to hold Keith’s gaze. “...want to do? He finishes as Keith runs his hand down the side of Lance’s face.

“This.” Keith answers leaning in for a kiss. The first kiss is deep and short and Lance feels like a boat that has been capsized. He chases Keith as he pulls back. “Is this okay?” Keith asks, “Can we do this?” 

“Yeah.” Lance nods manically, “Yup, this. This we can do.” Before their lips crash together again.

…

Lance wakes up alone, his alarm insistent. He had set it early because he has ALOT of packing to do and they have an early flight. Even with the extra hour, he is still racing to get to the lobby in time to meet their ride to the airport. 

Keith grins at him, as a bellboy helps him downstairs with his many bags and begins loading them into the car. 

“I got you a croissant.” Keith says, shaking a paper bag in front of him. There is some butter and jam in there. “I figured we could grab coffee at the airport.”

Lance has to swallow the words, “I love you.” and does so by bitting off a large piece of the pastry. He manages to say, “Fank ooo.” Through a mouth full of buttery goodness.

The flight to Spain and the trip to the Villa where the band will be staying for the next few days are uneventful. Lance dozes, falling asleep against Keith's shoulder. Keith, in turn, leans his cheek on Lance’s head.

They are the first ones at the Villa and meet the young caretaker Antonio, who lets them in and shows them around. They choose rooms to the back of the house, overlooking the pool. 

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a swim.” Lance says, throwing a towel at Keith. 

…

After a few hours by the pool, and an early dinner of frozen pizza, Lance feels the mood begin to shift. Their friends are arriving soon, and the talk they postponed last night now needs to happen. As they clean up from dinner, he feels Keith get pensive. He sees the determined set of his brow. Yup, this talk was happening.

They make tea and move to the spacious and comfortable living room, with rich burgundy walls and large cozy couches and a giant black grand piano.  Lance sits tensely. Keith starts.

“Lance, this thing? Between us, what is it?” 

“What d’you mean?” Playing dumb, before he can catch himself. 

“I mean, what are we doing with the kissing and the touching?” Keith says, eyebrow raised, a hint of dark humour in his eyes.

“Keith, if I have to explain that to you… " Lance quips. Again, his mouth did that before he checked in with his brain.

“Lance, stop. I thought we were… We really need to talk this through, because I am starting to think we are on different pages about things and… I need to know.”

“Yet there are so many times that we seem on the very same page about things.” Lance says salaciously, thinking of the previous night. 

“Okay, let's try this a different way. Lance, what's your plan?”

“Plan?”

“Yes?”

“I mean, I don’t have a plan… per say.”

At these words, Lance sees a light die in Keith’s eyes, the playfulness dissipates. 

“It’s not like you ever have a plan Keith.” Lance says defensively.

“It’s not like I ever had time for one, Lance, I spent most of my life reacting to all the shit being thrown at me.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right, you have way more trauma than me I forgot. Sorry to step on your toes there samurai.”

“Wha?” Keith takes a deep breath. “Lance, with the band, you had a plan. With Allura you had a plan. You always have a plan.

"My plan with Allura? Enlighten me."

"Dating, fairy tale wedding, super couple reigning over musical empire, cute perfect kids.”

“We never talked about the kids…” Lance defends and then feels his face burn as Keith watches him.

“What do you see for us?” Keith asks, his words weighted.

Nothing… Everything… 

“Well Keith, I had a fucking plan. I'll give you the short hand: music, band, team, girl, marriage, kids, retirement to the good life. Make my parents proud. Write things that make a difference, donate to good causes. Win accolades and awards. And I fought for it, it wasn’t easy. I didn’t have your god given talent for music and writing, but I got there and then it got shot to hell. So no. I don’t currently have a plan.”

Keith recoils. Lance winces at the pain in the other man’s eyes 

“You’re jealous... of me?” Keith's face is shattered.

“Not anymore… sometimes.” Lance can't stop the words from coming, the fears have had free reign in his head and heart for so long. Even the ones he knows aren't true.

Keith doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He pushes himself back on the oversized leather armchair he is sitting on. Pressing his lips together. Nodding. A live wire trapped in a small flammable space. Lance watches as he reigns himself in.

“So things change. You get to have a new plan.” Keith says, the words are strained. They seem to come at great cost.

“No Keith, you are confusing me with everyone else in the band. Pidge, is a fucking genius, right now they are writing industry specific app, that they have created a platform for, that they will offer free to small music producers. Knowing Pidge, it will probably become the standard within 5 years. Shay is literally already asking them about POS and inventory systems for the restaurant, another technological hurdle to clear. Allura runs a company. A successful one. A growing one. Hunk is starting his first restaurant with the love of his life. But you've seen him, he has enough recipes and talent to open ten more, Shiro is a natural born leader, he could be president someday. And you… “

“What, what about me?”

‘For someone without a plan… I mean, things seem to be turning out just fine.” Lance says. He wishes he didn’t already sound so resigned, so bitter. 

Keith’s eyes narrow. “Okay, what about you?”

Lance scoffs. “What about me? What about me? My story is this: I get to be in a cool band, we make great music together, they become like family and when it is all over, I retire to the quiet life . That’s it, that’s my story. I didn’t get given more Keith, I can play a cool riff, I can sink a mini putt, and I work well in this team. That's it All she wrote.”

“Jesus Lance, what a cop out. You don’t sound happy about any of that. You can have more.”

“Okay Keith, soothsayer extraordinaire, what is my amazing future. What do you see waiting for me?

“What I see doesn’t matter! It’s supposed to come from you!” Keith’s voice is raised. It knocks Lance out of his anxiety induced pity party and reminds him what he wants. He tries to ask for it.

“Well I see us … maybe.” 

“Us? Maybe? “ Keith’s eyes narrow slightly. ‘Okay, Why?”

“What do you mean why? I have strong feelings for you, why else?”

“Why now ?” The words are soft.

“Huh? I mean, I guess things have been building for a while and I just feel like, now I can do this. I want this.” Lance asks.

“Define this .”

“You know, this.” Lance gestures between the two of them. “Us. This.”

“The this that can’t hold hands or kiss in front of our friends?’ Keith asks pointedly. “Because, I want more.”

“I want more too.” Lance says, not sounding sure.

“I want someone who builds a plan around me.”

“Why, so you can blow it up?” Lance says bitterly. 

Keith winces, “What?”

“I made a plan.” Lance feels outside of himself as the words pour out of him. “A plan for us to go and write music together, but you don’t want to write with me anymore.” 

“What… Lance… you said?” Keith falters, confused.

“I care about you and you don’t believe me.” Lance accuses, immediately changing the topic.

“Oh, I believe you have strong feelings Lance. We have been doing this cat and mouse thing for way too long for me not to know that.”

“Cat and mouse? What the fuck?"

“Lance, why now?”

“Huh?”

“Why now? Just over a month ago our kiss didn’t mean anything, suddenly you want some version of us .” Keith gestures between the two of them. “What’s different?”

“I guess, a lot of things are changing at once, and that helped me figure out what was important to me.”

Lance can tell Keith isn’t pleased with this response.

“What things exactly?”

“Like a lot of things, Hunk and his restaurant, Allura having AGMs and having to submit quarterly reports, you stopping writing with me… just things.”

“Me having a date with Matt?” Keith asks smoothly.

“Yes!”

“No!” Lance immediately knows that the first answer was the wrong answer. 

“So, you want me because you thought someone else might?” Keith’s eyes and voice are like ice.

“That’s not what happened Keith... I just, I was scared before, and then being scared became less important.” 

“Scared? Of what?”

Lance is still not used to Keith getting calmer when he is angry, he is used to him flying off the handle and losing his shit.

“Afraid of getting into a relationship with a bandmate, the last time it didn’t go so well.” Lance is bluffing. He knows it and Keith knows it. Lance's fears are so wide and deep that he hasn't even looked at all of them in detail. 

“Right.” Keith nods, the disbelief lining his single word.

“Are we still here?” Lance retaliates. “Has nothing changed? You don’t trust me? You don’t trust what we have built, the band?”

“OMG, you sound like effing Galra Press. It is a little more nuanced than that Lance.”

“Okay then, explain the nuance. How is this you not backing away from connection and intimacy because you’ve been let down in the past?” Lance winces inwardly, it feels like a low blow, but his mouth is still moving faster than his brain. 

Keith goes very still. “Can you hear yourself right now?” He says coldly.

“I’m just saying, you're letting them get under your skin with those articles and insinuations and it's stopping you from having things that will make you happy.” 

Keith scoffs, and looks up, shaking his head with a wry smile. “You don’t get it Lance,” he says, voice laced with defeat, “I don’t give two shits what those articles say. What hurts is that you believe them.”

Lance recoils as though he’s been slapped. 

“You think I am halfway out the door. I’m the one who is supposed to have abandonment issues, but you're the one waiting for me to leave. And,” Keith says, as though he just realized something, “You’ll do anything to get me to stay. To save your precious band .”

Keith presses his lips together, and blinks, his hands are fisted and Lance feels like his whole life is slipping through his fingers like sand. 

Keith meets his eyes with wet lashes and says, “For what it’s worth, I have been happy these past few years. I do consider the band my family… And I definitely have those strong feelings for you too. If this had been a year ago, or even just a few months ago, I may have… It might have been enough."

"But, now there is some stuff I need to figure out for myself, before I know whether I can do this.” He gestures between the two of them. “And it sounds like you have some stuff to figure out too.” Keith folds his lips inward for a second and nods, meeting Lance’s eyes,  blinking hard. He turns and grabs his jacket. The words, “I’m sorry Lance.” are barely above a whisper, as Keith lets himself out the door.

Chapter Text

Lance doesn't know how long he sits alone in the living room, but long enough for shadows to stretch across the space. He hears voices through the inside entrance to the garage and guesses that Keith had returned and run into Antonio, the young man who had let them in yesterday,

Antonio had shown them the motorcycle he was fixing. It sounded like he and Keith were discussing the repairs, or just the bike in general. The villa had come with vehicles the band could use. This arrangement only possible because the house is  held in trust by Coran as part of Alfor’s will, to be released to Allura once she turns 25. 

Lance gives up waiting for Keith to come back in and heads up the stairs to his room. He considers calling home, but it is barely three in the afternoon in Florida. Veronica is just finishing up classes; His father would be heading out to pick up the grandkids from school; His mother is on afternoons at the clinic this week; and Abuela would likely be napping in the porch swing. A deep desire to be with his family overtakes him. He closes the bedroom door and slides down it, sitting on the floor. 

The disembodied feeling he had while arguing with Keith is still with him. He knows the numbness will dissipate, and it is going to hurt like hell. He isn’t even sure of half of what he said, just that most of it was ugly. An ugly flood of his fears seeping out, because the dam he had built inside to keep them at bay had failed spectacularly.  He does know that he had hit Keith with every low blow he had in his arsenal. Shame bleeds through the numbness and he feels the first tears start sliding down his cheeks.

He wants to rewind three hours and be the brave person he imagines himself to be. He wants to tell Keith how he feels and how afraid he is of losing everything. He wants to figure out how to hold hands and kiss in front of their friends, and his family and…

It doesn’t matter now.

None of that matters now.

...

The house is big enough for two men to avoid each other. The rest of the band starts arriving the next morning. Lance is sitting by the pool, his feet in the water, when Pidge and Matt get dropped off by an airport limo, mid morning on Thursday. They are debating some unintelligible topic, pausing at the patio door from the kitchen to wave hello, before heading up to choose rooms.

Lance is playing the piano in the living room when Hunk comes in about an hour later.  His friend takes his bags upstairs, chooses a room and changes quickly, because he is back downstairs within fifteen minutes, with Pidge trailing behind. There is no sign of Matt, and Lance suspects he is off with Keith.

Hunk sits down in front of Lance pulling him from his reverie, no longer playing the piano, just sitting on the bench. “Hey buddy, I was hoping we could have a chat.”

Lance takes one look at Pidge and Hunk’s serious faces. “This is an intervention isn’t it?”

“Oh. Um.” Hunk blinks in surprise. “Yeah, it kinda is.”

Lance sighs and moves to sit in one of the overstuffed couches. He leans back with a posture of resignation. “Alright, lay it on me.”

Hunk and Pidge share another look. “So, we’ve been worried about… umm.” Hunk begins.

“My obsession with Keith.” 

“Your obsession with Keith”

Pidge and Lance say simultaneously. 

“I know.” Lance sighs, rolling his head back on to the cushions behind him. “It’s a problem.”

“Apparently we’re good at this!” Pidge murmurs dryly to Hunk, who responds with a furrowed brow and a quick head shake.

Pidge sighs, “Right, right, help Lance through his emotional constipation . I got it.”

Lance sighs again. “It's fine guys, I’ve already screwed it up and there's no chance for… well, let’s just say I have some perspective and I’m going to get myself back on track. Good ole Lancey Lance’ll be fine.”

“Lance what happened?” Hunk asks, sharing a look of concern with Pidge. 

“It’s nothing. It’s just that Keith and I are not a thing , and we're never going to be a thing .” The words squeeze Lance's entire chest to say aloud. It seems impossible to believe he is heartbroken when he only just figured out he was in love.

Hunk and Pidge wait, having been through this with their friend before. Lance doesn’t know if he is grateful or if he is annoyed that they know him so completely.  He might as well just push through it. “Keith thinks I only decided to… to.. To give us a chance because I believe he was going to leave.” Shit, his eyes are blurring. He blinks fast, trying to stop the tears. “He thinks I was just trying to get him to stay.”

Pidge meets his gaze seriously, expectantly, when they say, “And?”

“And what? Pidge?” Lance snaps at the small keyboardist, who doesn’t even flinch, still meeting him with a clear, questioning gaze. 

Hunk looks chagrined and Lance feels chastined by his words. “I think Pidge is asking why you waited until now to let Keith know how you feel.”

Lance stares in surprise at his best friend. “Because I only just realized I had feelings for him.”

“Wait, What?” Hunk seems nonplussed and Lance feels frustrated.

“I.Just.Figured.Out.That.I.Have.Feelings.For.Him. What is so hard about that to understand?”

“Uh. That’s totally not what I expected you to say.” Hunk looks lost and turns to meet Pidge’s gaze. 

“I knew it. I freaking told you.” Pidge is shaking their head.  “ Oblivious .”

“ I am right here !” Lance points out emphatically. “And kinda in a fragile state, if you didn’t notice.”

“So, wait.'' Hunk adjusts himself on his seat, leaning toward Lance in a thoughtful pose. Hunk is resting his arms on his knees, hands folded together with the index fingers pointing forward. “In the past six years, you didn’t notice that you have… always had… particularly… intense reactions to Keith. Like, in comparison to … pretty much everybody else?”

“Dude, he’s Keith, he is intense , he inspires intense reactions.” Lance says flippantly.

“For some folks more than others.” Pidge mutters, rolling their eyes. “I got this Hunk.” They say, also leaning forward, though instead of thoughtful they look menacing. Lance leans further back into the cushions behind him.

“So, all those times in high-school, when you were ragging on Keith about his fashion sense or his hair, or his emo musical tastes or the fact that he was chewing mint gum instead of fruit flavoured, did you not recognize the obvious sexual undertones that the rest of us were, un-consensually, I might add, being subjected to?”

Hunk smacks his hand to his face. “Not helpful Pidge.”

“Pssshht.” Pidge makes a dismissive hand gesture toward the Samoan man, eyes never leaving Lance’s, whose pupils are blown wide in disbelief. 

“Nope, no. That never happened. I don’t even know what…”

“And 3,” Pidge begins counting down.

“Like, that wasn’t a thing…” Lance looks at Hunk for reassurance.

“2”

“Was that a thing…?” Hunk, shrugs apologetically at Lance.

“1”

“Oh.My.GOD!” 

“And we have lift off.” Pidge announces, lips a flat line..

“Omygod, omygod, omygod.” Lance repeats, covering his mouth. 

 “I think you broke him.” Hunk says.

Lance is beginning to curl into a ball and rock back and forth on the couch.

“My job here is done.” Pidge begins standing up. 

Lance is grabbing Hunk and pulling the larger man in to snuggle with him as he has his breakdown.

“Don’t you dare leave me to deal with this.” Hunk hisses through his teeth at the keyboardist.

“You got this Hunk.” Pidge says, slapping the man’s shoulder, “Tag me back in when he decides he needs to do the play by play of the last 6 years.” Pidge gives a mock salute and peels out of the living room.

It takes about 20 minutes of Lance repeating, “How did I not know?” Burrowing into Hunk’s arms and rocking back and forth before he finally quiets. 

Hunk is hugging him from behind, so Lance wraps his own arms around himself, overtop of his friends. “So, like… did everyone know?”

Hunk sighs, pressing his lips together and to the side, while he thinks about his answer. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Like everyone , even Shiro?”

“It’s not like we talked about it. But, yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think Keith knew?”

“I am not sure Lance. I mean, there were definitely points where I think he suspected, but he had his own feelings to contend with. You didn’t talk to him about this?”

“No.” Lance says, feeling lost. 

“So like, Allura knew?” Lance asks after a pause.

“Once again, we never talked about it. But I do think she didn’t take you seriously for a long time, because she thought…” Hunk hesitates. “I can’t say that, I don’t know anything for sure Lance.”

“So, do you think Keith had feelings for me too? For how long?”

“Lance, you have to talk to him about this.”

‘Sit’s-too-late-Hunk.” Lance feels the tears he had been fighting come up. “He already said no, that he doesn’t want this. He already walked away.”

‘But maybe if you explained…” Hunk begins gently.

Lance pushes out of his friend’s arms to face him, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Explain what? That I was so deeply in denial about loving him, that I only just realized it. Somehow I don’t think that is the confession that will fix everything.”

“Buddy..” Hunk begins compassionately, reaching for a box of tissues (they had come prepared for an intervention).

Lance grabs a handful of the soft sheets and loudly blows his nose. “The horrible thing is, that he isn’t wrong.” Lance hiccups and gestures with the handful of kleenex. The tears start flowing again in earnest. “I am sure I realized it because I felt him pull away.”

“Oh, Lance.”

“It gets worse, I knew I was having those feelings and I tried not to act on them. I tried to shut them down, until I really felt there could be someone else. That mm-maybe someday he could  have s-someone else an’ it was only then th-that I p-put m-myself out there. Be-Because I didn’t w-want to l-lose him.”

Lance stares up into Hunk’s eyes, starkly honest. “He deserves so much better.”

“Lance, you can be better . With the way your last relationship ended, it makes sense that you were gun shy.”

“Hunk, you’re such a great friend.” Lance says earnestly. ”An’ th-that excuse might even had some traction, if I w-wasn’t in love w-with him the whole freakin’ t-time. An’ if he h-hadn’t walked o-out last night saying he n-needed more.”

Lance finally breaks down into sobs, and rests on Hunk’s shoulder, soaking through his friend’s shirt. 

After finally crying himself out, Lance pulls back from his friend’s arms and wipes his eyes and blows his nose again. 

Hunk had been rubbing circles on his back, and kept doing so as Lance moved from feeling back into his thinking brain. “I can’t figure out how I was able to be in denial for so long.” Lance says, brow furrowed in thought.

“Well, you didn’t figure out you were bi-sexual until right before you got together with Allura, so maybe that was it? That Keith was there before your bi awakening, so you didn’t really…” Hunk’s voice trails off in the face of Lance shaking his head.

“I knew I was bi since forever . I came out after Pidge was out, and everyone was so accepting and supportive.” Lance confesses.

Hunk’s face drops, “Bro, you didn’t expect me to support you?”

“I did, I just didn’t expect everyone to.” Lance says blandly. “I also didn’t know how to tell my family. It was just a thing , and I dunno… it was hard..”

Hunk thinks for a moment. “I get that it is hard and complicated. But Keith has been out since we’ve known him.”

Lance huffs a laugh. “But he’s Keith, and Keith’s allowed to be different. And he was Shiro’s brother, so I figured anybody had a problem, they’d get their asses kicked. I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s just, I feel like I have a different set of rules.”

Hunk thinks about this and leans in to hug his friend again. “You get to be you . Right?  You know that? You get to be who you want to be, and do the things you want to do. Right?”

“So people keep telling me.” Lance says wryly, with a small eye roll.

“So… “ Hunk begins slowly. “Did you believe you weren’t allowed to have something… with Keith?”

Lance feels his mouth fall open, the small o it makes. The memory is so clear, he can almost feel the wind on his cheeks. 

The penny drops.

Sometimes I think that parts of life are easier when you  believe you can’t have something, that it wasn’t meant for you.

Lance whispers the words. 

“Pardon?” Hunk asks.

“It’s something Keith said.” 

Lance’s words come slow and thoughtful. 

“I thought…”

“I thought I could never really have him, but it was enough if he was there.”

“I told myself that would be enough.”

“ I guess I never saw him in context…never imagined he could want more with me… but I was scared that he would leave .”

Lance feels like he’s been hit by a ton of bricks. 

“To me, he was just untouchable .”

“It was safer that way.”

Hunk doesn’t seem to fully grasp Lance’s self dialogue, but still stays with him through it. 

They sit, snuggled together for who knows how long. Lance even dozes, exhausted from the emotions.

They can’t sit forever though. Allura and Coran arrive, soon followed by Shiro and Adam. Pidge wanders down the stairs. Matt and Keith remain noticeably absent. Finally Lance and Hunk make their way to the kitchen for a meal of sandwiches. Nobody mentions Lance’s blotchy face, or bloodshot eyes, but he can see the concerned and questioning looks. He isn’t ready to talk more about this.

Lance convinces Hunk to go out with him for the afternoon and evening, even though Shiro eyes them with disapproval, suggesting the band should have a planning session over dinner. Lance can’t face Keith yet. The revelation of the extent and depth of his feelings has gutted him. He feels as though his heart is open to the world, that it could fall out of his chest at any moment. They manage to stay out late enough that almost everybody is in bed when they get back.

…

The next morning Lance finds Pidge is sitting in the kitchen at the large oak table wearing the shirt Keith got them in Loch Ness.

Lance scuffles past to pour a cup of coffee

“Hey.” they say in a quiet voice. 

“Hey.” Lance croaks. 

“I am sorry. You know. For yesterday… I mean. In retrospect, I guess it was pretty insensitive, what I did.”

Pidge looks miserable and Lance plops down beside them, coffee in hand.

‘To be fair, you were right. I was spectacularly oblivious… for a freaking long time… it must have been hard to watch.”

“It was.” Pidge agrees wryly. 

“Still, it didn’t warrant me shifting your entire paradigm without a clutch.” Pidge winces at their own attempt at humour. If Lance had the energy he would ruffle their hair, but instead he nods and sips his coffee.

“I guess I figured you were still dancing around one another … not… well.” Their voice trails off.

“--Not that I FUBRed it up so badly it is unsalvageable.”

“Umm. Lance.”

“No, seriously. How can I even call myself a fan of romantic comedy when we were clearly set up from the beginning with a rivals to lovers arch. It was obviously in the script, yet I managed to play the oblivious part so perfectly that I missed the maybe there is a chance part entirely. It took something really special to crash and burn as badly as I did.” He nods to himself. “To blow it up so magnificently.”

“Um… this tirade doesn’t seem entirely healthy.” Pidge says slowly, eyes worried.

“It’s okay Pidge, I am just trying to make a joke at my own expense.”

“It’s not really all that funny.” They say, their mouth a flat line.

“Nope.” Lance agrees, popping the p. This time he does reach over and ruffle their hair. 

“Okay, Okay, Stop now. Stop. Jeez. Did that make you feel better?” They say irritably.

“Little bit.” Lance manages a wry smile. 

Pidge gets up to put their dish in the sink. They stand for a moment beside the counter before impulsively hugging Lance. Lance leans in, drinking up the offered comfort, tears pricking behind his closed eyelids. They then sit beside him, flipping open their laptop. The steady clacking of their fingers on the keyboard fills the kitchen. Lance sits, nursing his coffee as, slowly, the house wakes up. Hunk joins them, bleary eyed. The two drink coffee and watch the sun lift into the sky to the soundtrack of Pidge’s staccato typing, punctuated by the odd curse word. It is comforting. Not the same as being at home in his mother’s kitchen, but enough for now. 

Adam and Shiro come into the kitchen from different doors and greet each other with a formal, “Good Morning.” After a few more formal exchanges. Lance shoots a confused glance at Pidge who whispers, “Remember when we were wondering how it would be to see them fight. Well,” two eyebrows arch above their glasses,  “Now we are getting our chance.”

Pidge shares this while packing up their laptop quietly, and gestures with their head out the terrace door. Once outside they bump into Matt who greets them all with “Hey guys!” for the trio to simultaneously Sshhhh him.

“Wassup?” Matt asks, after Pidge leads them all a safe distance from the door onto the pool deck. 

“Shiro and Adam are having some lovers quarrel, and it is weird as fuck.” Lance says emphatically.

“Oh, that.” Matt says, seemingly unaffected. 

Pidge pushes their glasses up and explains, “It started last night, when you and Hunk bailed on dinner and Keith spent the evening in the garage.” To Matt, “Do you know what’s going on?”

The morning sun now bathes the pool and surrounding deck in light, and it is already getting warm enough that the group seeks the shade of a table with an umbrella beside a cute pool house and shed.

 “Yes, I got an earful last night, being in the room next door to them. Apparently Adam thinks Shiro is acting overprotective of Keith out of guilt. Something to do with a conversation the bros had after Shiro’s accident.” Matt begins. “I don’t really know the details, but it sounds like he feels really badly about some things he said and how afraid Keith was about possibly losing another significant person in his life.” He shares the overheard information unabashedly.

“According to Navyda,” Matt begins, Pidge noticeably rolls their eyes at the mention of Navyda , “Shiro likely is experiencing unaddressed PTSD which may be presenting as anxiety and an unrealistic desire to protect Keith from painful experiences. Also, Adam probably has other concerns about our band’s lack of work/life balance and family boundaries.”

Lance blinks for a moment. “Okay, some of that sounds plausible and the rest sounds weird and who the heck is Navyda?”

“She’s a know-it-all that he met at the audio conference.” Pidge says dryly, reopening their laptop.

“I wish you would give her a chance.” Matt says irritably. 

“I am just saying, she’s never met Shiro, or Keith, or Adam, or most of the band, so maybe we should take her diagnosis with a grain of salt.” Pidge says in a matching tone. 

“It seems like you really don’t like her…” Matt begins. 

Lance and Hunk’s eyes meet and they understand each other immediately, and in this moment, Lance is again grateful for his best bro. They quietly push their chairs back and slowly stand. 

“I don’t think you have given her much of a chance.”

The two men extract themselves from the table and walk backwards slowly along the deck.

“It is difficult to give someone a chance if they never let you talk.” Pidge counters.

“She has a freaking opinion on EvErYtHiNg.” 

They find their way to the front entrance but can still hear Matt’s sarcastic response

“Because you are so meek about your own thoughts.” 

The two run upstairs to grab shoes and their wallets and phones. As they come down the ornate staircase they find Keith slowly backing out of the kitchen with a coffee cup in his hand. Lance feels a jolt of longing. Keith's hair is limp and eyes are shadowed. Lance feels a kick of guilt at the sight. But underneath, with new self awareness, he recognizes the pull in his chest. Now that he can name it, now that he is no longer fighting or denying the deeper emotion, he almost feels it arch out of him toward Keith.

Keith seems to feel it too, because his eyes sharpen as they meet Lance's and dark haired guitarist leans toward him, as though he is drawn to Lance by an invisible string. 

From the kitchen they hear:

“I think it would be good to let Keith eat before you begin needling through his private affairs.”

“I wasn’t need…” In his mind's eye, Lance can see Shiro pinch the bridge of his nose. “I just thought he might want to discuss what is bothering him.”

Keith's eyes flick back toward the kitchen and he runs unsteady fingers through his hair.

“What_the_fuck?” Keith whispers in the general direction of Hunk and Lance, his eyes drawn to the disagreeing voices in the other room.

“Lovers spat.” Hunk pats Keith’s shoulder comfortingly. “Lance and I were going to walk down to a café and get some breakfast. Wanna join us?”

Keith glances back at Lance and Hunk but cannot hold their gaze. Lance feels his heart squeeze in sympathy, because can see how overwhelmed Keith is.

“Ummm… Antonio said I could take the sports bike out for a spin,” He says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the garage. "I might do that,'' he murmurs, avoiding eye contact as the voices get louder and move closer to the hall.

 “Now you’ve made him uncomfortable.” Shiro’s deep voice carries over the threshold. 

“Me? I’ve made him uncomfortable? I’ll tell you what is making him uncomfortable, Takashi…”

 “Yup, thats-what-I’m-gonna-do.” Keith hands Hunk his half full coffee cup and beelines to the interior access to the garage, leaving the other two men staring after him.

“We should go too.” Lance urges Hunk. Hunk looks around with uncertainty and pours the coffee into a potted plant, placing the cup beside it and the two men sneak out the front door.

...

Once outside and a safe distance from the house, Lance’s grabs Hunk’s shoulder and says, with feeling, “Bro I am so grateful for you at this moment, but I should tell you something.”

Hunk seems to brace himself for the worst. “Okay, what.”

“I think you just poured that coffee into a plastic plant.” Lance says seriously.

The tension is broken and the two men laugh. Lance feels some of the heaviness from the past forty eight hours shift slightly. He is so grateful for his best friend. 

Over breakfast Lance and Hunk discuss the new restaurant. “It isn’t exactly easy to find a location right now. After that we have to renovate, which involves getting architectural drawings and an engineer and we both want to use environmentally conscious contractors and materials. It could take six months or more.” 

“So no music?” Lance asks.

“I think we should plan to attend some specific gigs or benefits over the first half of next year.” Hunk suggests. “It’ll be at least that long for you guys to write new material for another album.”

“If Keith ever writes with me again.” Lance says morosely.

“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound.” Hunk says sheepishly. “You do need to talk to him. And soon. We have a tour to finish.”

“I know.” Lance wants to rest his head on the table, but it is too small and wrought iron.  “It’s just, I said some really terrible things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just kinda freaked out. My mouth got ahead of my brain… and I started saying stuff." He looks at his friend through the tops of his eyes, pleading for understanding.

Hunk doesn't press, he just waits patiently. It's up to Lance to share more if he chooses.

Lance sighs...  "I brought up the effing Galra articles and implied they made him not trust the band... and... that if I were to make a plan for our future he would blow it up… umm… and some other stuff.”

Lance doesn’t want to look up to see the disappointment in his friend's eyes, but when he finally raises his head, Hunk looks more concerned than judgmental. “What did he say to you, that you responded like that?” 

Lance huffs a humorless laugh. “He reminded me that I used to have a plan, ya-know, for my life. He wanted to know my plan … He wanted to know what all of the stuff we were doing together meant.” Lance said sadly. In the light of day it was so clear he had been arguing with his own demons, not Keith. 

“Did you tell him how you feel about him?” Hunk asks softly.

“I told him I have strong feelings for him.” Lance says.

“Those words exactly?” 

“Yep.” Popping the p, another humourless laugh. “Not exactly a living up to my rep as a loverboy. Guess I gotta go with ‘strong feelings-boy’ .” He finishes lamely, making quotes with his fingers, a huff, and a wry smile.

Hunk does not laugh. “You have to talk to him Lance.”

“I know.”

…

The garage has an upper level. It is an "A" frame loft space that has been converted into a kind of games room. Lance, Pidge and Hunk have sought refuge here. Sitting on the floor playing cards, when Coran and Allura's heads appear like meerkats checking for predators. The trio must pass muster, because the other two ascend the spiral staircase. 

“Are they still at it?” Hunk asks, seeing their drawn faces.

“It’s dreadful. And Coran Did.Not.Help.” Allura says pointedly to the older man.

The older man's moustache twitches as he gestures broadly. “I simply answered Shiro’s question, my dear, I am not sure how it added to the kerfuffle.”

“When he asked where the rest of the band was, you told them they were hiding in the garage like children do when their parents fight.” Allura said, lowering herself to the floor while Coran pulls up a salad bowl chair.

“Oooooh, that probably invoked feelings of shame.” Hunk says, lips pursed to one side. 

“Did they both get defensive after that?” Pidge asks. 

“As a matter of fact, they both got very defensive.” Allura says pointedly to Coran.

“Well when the kettle’s lid fits the pot…” Coran begins.

“Coran, that is not even the saying.” Allura says fist clenched. She crosses her arms and looks away. She blinks several times. 

“I am sorry.” She says, now trying to catch her tears with her fingers at the corners of her eyes. “It is just that I finally have a small break from my executive duties and I was looking forward to enjoying the rest of the tour and now everyone is fighting with each other.”

Pidge shuffles closer to Allura, and nudges her with their shoulder. “Wanna play UNO?” They ask softly. “We can deal again, I mean Lance is losing spectacularly and it is fun to watch, but we can start over.”

“Yeah Princess,” Lance teases, “I mean, I was just planning a magnificent comeback, but I will sacrifice it to start a new game.”

Allura sniffs, blushing, but nods. “Yes. That would be lovely.” 

…

Dinner is a tense affair. Thankfully Shiro and Adam seem to have negotiated some form of truce, but Lance still hasn’t been able to work up the courage to pull Keith aside to talk, and even if he had, Keith had made himself scarce for the past two days. 

Keith arrives, drawn and scowling in a black tank top with a black and red plaid shirt tied around his waist, his eyes avoiding lance completely. Lance feels it acutely, his face burning at the memory of the hurtful things he said two nights ago, but Hunk nudges his shoulder, providing a grounding influence. They have work to do. They are a team, and they have a tour to finish. Now is not the time.

Adam hands out copies of their itinerary. “There have been some changes to the next few weeks of shows.” He says, embodying the steady, professional tone that makes him a solid tour manager.

“Really we’ve just added the one show, but it shifts our travel schedule a bit.”

Lance looks at the list of cities, dates and clubs, and sees the added show in Croatia. “We are performing with Norlox again? At the Higher Festival?” He didn’t expect his voice to come out as raw and incredulous. His words draw a glare from Keith and he feels his cheeks burn.

“Yes.” Adam says smoothly, meeting Lance’s eyes. “We were invited to join for a few songs, it fits perfectly into our schedule and it is a great opportunity.”

Lance doesn’t drop it, “But, that is a House and Dance music festival, that’s not our genre.”

He feels, more than sees, Keith give an eye roll, but turns his attention to Allura instead.

“You agreed to this?”

Allura also seems prepared for his objection. “Yes Lance. There are some opportunities for partnership with Blade Records and, while I am cautious, it seems reasonable to build a stronger relationship with them.”

“But it isn’t even our style of music, you don’t think that could backfire?” Lance presses.

“We are not even doing a full set.” Shiro assures him. “Matt and Keith have been working on new arrangements for some of our songs with the new midi, and we are looking at some covers that we thought might work well with Norlox’s band.”

“Whoa, Matt and Keith are creating a set list, without the rest of us?” 

“No Lance.” Shiro’s voice holds a warning tone, “This meeting is, in part, to create that set list. Keith and Matt were just experimenting with some…

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha, Matt and Keith were reworking music I co-wrote because why? So we can jump genres? Become Norlox groupies?”

“Jeez-us Lance, we are reworking a couple of songs for a live performance.” Keith growls. “You make it sound like we are selling our songs to an advertising company to turn into ketchup jingles.”

Lance covers his face, he knows he is overreacting, but everything feels so far out of his control. In the past, it would be him and Keith reworking the music. Obviously that isn’t the best option right now. But this just stings. It also stings that he knows he is being managed, that Shiro, Adam and even Allura are making decisions without him, trying to address the clear disconnect between him and Keith. This alone leaves him feeling embarrassed. They are treating him like he is a spoiled prima donna.

Shiro and Adam are sharing a look over their heads. Adam sighs deeply, “If this a no go for you Lance, or anyone else,” He adds, addressing the group, “We can pull it from the roster. We haven’t confirmed anything yet.”

There is a moment of silence before…

“Fine,” Lance says, making an obscure gesture with his hand. “We’ll do it, but I get final say, veto power, on the arrangements.” 

Adam looks at Keith, who mutters, “Whatever.”

The rest of the meeting is much of the same and by the end Lance is emotionally spent. He decides to take a night time dip in the pool to loosen his tense shoulders. He loses himself in swimming laps, but at some point feels he is being watched. 

Keith is sitting on the concrete stairs to the patio door. He has a bottle of water in his hand, but it isn’t open, he is just twisting it, peeling off the label. He is wearing the plaid shirt now, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. Lance is trading water and notices how tired and drawn  the other man looks. He has to stifle the urge to climb out of the water and smooth out the lines on Keith’s face, to kiss his temple and toy with his soft hair, until he smiles. Lance wonders if he will always have these urges, if someday they will fade. He doubts it. Now that he has acknowledged his feelings, they feel so deeply a part of him, that he isn’t even sure who he would be without them.

He swims to the edge of the pool and rests his arms on the deck and waits.

Keith doesn’t look at him, staring down at the water bottle in his hands, his mouth a flat line. “We need to talk.”

Lance nods and pulls himself up out of the pool. He notices Keith’s gaze fall on him, and can’t help but milk that for what it is worth. Keith still wants him and a cruel part of him wants Keith to feel the longing Lance feels. He pads over to the chairs and takes his time wrapping himself in a fluffy robe, gently toweling his hair. He grabs one of the chairs and drags it over to where Keith is sitting and plops himself stretching out his long legs, hoping Keith gets a good look.

Keith’s eyes are knowing, he is fully aware of the game Lance is playing. But there is a solidness there. The dark haired man has decided on a path, and isn’t going to be swayed off of it. For all of his impulsive nature, Keith’s tenacity is a force to be reckoned with, and Lance feels a twinge of regret as he reconciles himself to that.

Lance owes Keith an apology, but cannot seem to force it out. Keith called this little meeting, so Lance waits for him to talk first. 

“So, um, I think I owe you an apology.” Keith begins, and Lance wants to object, but is rendered speechless in his shock. “I think I had this idea of what you were offering, I have this picture in my head and it’s just more than you, or maybe anyone, can give me.” Lance didn’t know his heart could hurt more than it already did, oblivious to his distress Keith continues, “But I value our team, and I value our friendship, and if you are up for it, I want to find our way back to that.”

Lance swears he can hear his heart break with an audible crack, it shatters through his body so viscerally that he is surprised to find himself whole and still sitting on the chair on the deck of the pool with Keith, and his gorgeous dark hair and violet eyes finally meeting Lance's in the shimmering light. 

Lance swallows, and nods, and is amazed he can find words or even move his face enough to utter them. “Yeah… I don’t want to lose that either.”

Keith seems relieved and Lance wonders if he will have to spend the next day, scrounging the pool deck for pieces of his heart.

“Umm, it’s going to take some time.” Keith continues, looking down at the water bottle again, and Lance wonders if he practiced this before he came out here. “I um” Keith clears his throat. “I am going to need some time.” He sighs. “After we get back home, I am going to head out again, and stay on the road with Norlox and spend some time with… my mom.”

“But you said you were tired of being on the road.” 

“Yeah, I did.”

They sit in silence for a long moment, while Lance absorbs this information. 

“I owe you an apology too.” Lance finally works up the courage to say. “I said some pretty horrible things…”

“--It’s okay.” Keith cuts him off.

“But..” Lance begins, frustrated.

“It’s okay.” Keith repeats. “It’s okay Lance, I understand, and I… I really just want to forget it.” He finishes, his words stilted.

Lance feels that Keith doesn’t understand at all, but is silenced by the enormity of the misunderstandings between them and his own fears. Because ultimately Keith is right, he can’t give the other man what he wants right now.

“Kay.” Lance manages. Keith reaches out and hesitates. Finally he pats Lance on the knee with the water bottle and murmurs “G’night.” before heading into the villa.

Lance sits alone in the darkness.

“Kay.” Lance whispers again into the empty space. 

Chapter Text

“A diva is someone who was here yesterday, who’s here today, and you can tell they’re gonna be here tomorrow. ”Barbara Tucker

Lance is dialing home before he even realizes it. His freshly washed hair wrapped in a towel, a moisturizer on his face, a fluffy robe around him, and his slippers on each foot. He steps out of the steaming bathroom, picks up the phone and dials home. It is ringing before he realizes what he has done.

“Hello Mijo !” His mother answers warmly and it feels like a hug. He can hear noise in the background and remembers that the family is gathering for Labour Day weekend. “Hey Ma.” He sighs. Relieved and missing them at the same time. 

“How was Scotland?” She asks. Lance has to swallow, because the heartbreak is so recent and the memories bittersweet. “Amazing.” He manages, but his voice catches, and he knows she can hear it. 

“Ma, is that Lance?” He hears Luis’ loud voice, in his mind's eye he can see them all, preparing dinner together. The work of many hands. The little ones will have been recruited to set the table, Rachel showing them how to fold napkins into crowns, his Abuela swatting hands away from the deep fried plantain balls. “Lemme talk to him.” Luis' voice booms close to the phone. 

Simultaneously someone calls his mother, something essential requires her attention. “Can you talk to your brother for a second?” She asks even as the phone is passed over. 

“Bro, did you hear about my new gig?” Luis asks. Lance smiles. “It’s a union shop, I get benefits.” Luis continues. 

“Yeah, Veronica told me about it.” Lance says, smiling.

”Frigging NASA, I mean, I am a Facility Maintenance Electrician, but for NASA.” He can hear Luis beaming through his words. “Gotcha a shirt when I was up for my interview.” Luis says and Lance has to blink, his brother’s thoughtfulness should not make him cry.

‘Thanks.” Lance huffs, trying to make it sound like a laugh.

“Where ya all now?” Luis asks, oblivious.

“We’re in Spain.”

“Oooph.” Lance hears Luis grunt through the earpiece. “Careful Nadia, slow down and that’s not how we carry the salad tongs.” Lance hears the apology, a child in motion, heading away from the phone. “I don’t know how they do it Lance, but when they are at that height and moving at high speeds, with something in their hands, they somehow manage to whack you in the nuts. Every Friggin’ Time.” Luis complains.

The laugh that breaks out of Lance catches him by surprise, and it is a bit unhinged. 

He sits down on the bed, while the laughter subsides.

“Laugh it up Rock Star . Someday you’ll have kids and I can watch you get elbowed and stomped in every tender part. Not to mention puked on.”

God he misses his family.

“I hear she started kindergarten.” Lance says, trying to find conversation on common ground. It has been difficult over the past few years to know what to talk to Luis about.

“And took it over.” Luis says, pride, awe (maybe a little fear) in his voice. “She’s the boss of room 106. Lil’ too much of her Aunt Rachel in her.”

“Thought you might wait to start school after the move.” Lance says. 

“It’ll be a month before we head up to the Cape, she has too much energy to be at home while we try to pack. I’m not worried, she’ll land on her feet there.” 

“Zat Lance? Give it to me.” He hears Rachel at a distance.

“What’s the magic word?” Luis asks and Lance can hear the smirk in his voice.

Lance hears a tousle on the other end of the line, and Luis grunt and say “Jeez. I thought we were trying to be a good example for the kids.” Before Rachel’s clear voice comes through.

“What’s this I hear about you traveling Scotland with Keith?”

“And hello to you too, little sis.”

“I am older than you. By 8 minutes.”

“And yet so much smaller.”

“Seriously Lance, have you two finally gotten your shit together?”

Ouch. 

“Um, I don’t know what everyone is talking about, but Keith and I are friends.” He is pleased with how smooth the sentence sounds. His heart bleeds on the last word. 

“Jeesus - fuck. Really? Are we back to this?” 

“Language.” He hears his mother’s voice and a dull sound. He can imagine Rachel getting a swat to the back of the head. 

Lance stays silent. 

Rachel seems to take the hint. “How’s the tour going?”

“I mean, it’s been cool, but it is starting to get tedious.” Lance says honestly. 

“Oh, traveling Europe with your friends is tedious?” Rachel teases. “Poor you.” 

Lance falls into the old joke. “Well, ya-know, I actually got a blister on my finger this week. And, I broke a nail. And I don’t have my regular manicurist here…. Sooo. Yeah. I am feeling the struggle right now.” It is half hearted, but he hears Rachel huff a laugh and imagines her small smile. 

“Seriously though,” His tough-as-nails sibling softens a little bit, “You okay?”

“I’m homesick.” Lance answers honestly.

‘Well we miss you too.” Rachel says seriously.

“How are you doing?”

“You know.”

“Nope, actually I don’t. Not until you tell me.”

“Dad wants to talk.”

‘Rach…”

“Lance.” His father’s deep voice come’s over the line. “How’s the trip been so far?” 

“Generally good.” Lance answers. “How are things there?”

“We’re all doing fine. You heard about Luis’ new job, ya?” The older man pauses.

“Have you been keeping up with the news there, and here at home?”

“To be honest, I’ve been a bit distracted.” 

There is a sigh, “Smart kid like you, with money and influence could help shape policy.”

“Dad, you know Altea tries to stay apolitical.” He doesn’t mention the debates the band has had with the Executive Team at Altea. Their desire to stand up to oppression and violence both at home and abroad. However, Allura is only one on a team of executives, and they have the Board of Directors to answer to. The Charitable Foundation is where they put their focus when trying to make change in the world. Lance knows that, for his father, this isn’t enough.  

Lance is too weary to have that whole conversation right now. 

He is saved by Veronica, “Da, can I please talk to Lance?”

She must head outside, because the din of background voices fades. 

“Hey, how is it going, how were Scotland and Austria?”

Lance sinks backwards onto his pillows. He can hear Veronica inhale deeply and wonders if she is sharing a joint with Marco on the porch.

“Good, they were good.” He answers honestly. “If Abuela smells that, you are going to get the lecture of the century.”

She huffs in response. “I can handle a lecture. Besides, it is better for all of them if I mellow out a bit. Rach is uptight enough for all of us.” 

Veronica inhales again. With her exhale she asks “And?” 

“And what?” Lance says back. But he already knows what she is asking.

“Scotland and Austria were good, AND?”

“We’re friends Ron.” He says with finality. “Just friends.” It is a relief to say it to her, since she knows more than anybody, knows that he’d tell her if things had changed. It is like confession in church, as though now he will be atoned.

Veronica sighs. “What do you need right now?” She asks.

Lance feels the wry humourless smile pull tight his face. He needs to write music, with Keith or without. He needs to be honest with himself about the fearful thoughts that set up shop in his head and live there rent free. Yup, he needs to address those. He needs to imagine the future again, to have dreams. 

“I need to finish this tour and come home.”

…

Lance hears the rumble of the bus pulling up outside the gates of the villa, and groans into his pillow. It is hours before they leave for Lisbon, and he wonders exactly how much the neighbours will hate them for parking a huge tour bus on their narrow street for the entire morning. There is a hiss of air as the door opens and Lance takes that as his cue to get up. 

Every muscle in Lance’s body resists movement. Despite the early hour, he can hear the murmur of voices and can smell coffee brewing. He forces himself up into a seated position and glances at his phone, noting the six texts from Veronica and one from his mother. 

He had talked to his family until they sat down for dinner. Nadia bubbling with excitement about her first weeks of  kindergarten, Sylvio updated him on the new T.V. program he wanted to watch with his Uncle and the action figures that would ‘ make great birthday presents Uncle Lance.’ Veronica shared her relief about getting through the first difficult weeks of the school year. Marco sounded as overwhelmed as he always sounds when the house is full of people. His mother asked, in a knowing way, how he was doing. Lance told them about Loch Ness and playing a bagpipe, about the Calendish Stones and the Palace in Vienna with its labyrinths and piano. 

The call was a blessing, because by the time it was finished Lance was exhausted, partially from holding back all the things he couldn’t say. He missed them more after disconnecting than when he dialed the number. But once it was done, he was able to fall into a deep dreamless sleep. 

The ride to Lisbon follows along the coastline, and for large swaths of time Lance lets his eyes stare out onto the ocean, finding a sense of calm from the sight. Pidge and Hunk sit with him, sharing in bursts of conversations and moments of silence where they scan their phones. 

About an hour into the trip, Keith finds his way over to the group, toying with a stack of papers. Clearing his throat he leans against the seats on the opposite side of the aisle. 

“Thought y’all would want to look over the arrangements Matt and I have come up with for the Norlox gig.” Lance wishes his toes didn’t curl from the hint of Texan in Keith’s accent. The twang used to come and go based on the other man’s mood. Now it was a rarity, often arising when Keith had a few drinks, or listened to certain songs. You’d think a broken heart might allow for some relief from the hormonal deluge that hits each time he meets the other man’s eyes or witnesses cute Keithisms. But no such luck. 

“Yeah, sure.” Hunk says, keeping his tone light, moving over to make space for Keith to sit beside him. However, the guitarist keeps his spot across the aisle and hands over the papers. 

In the stack are three of their more up-tempo songs, rearranged to a dance beat. Some of the arrangements are drawn from other artists and DJ’s sampling of their work. Lance cannot find fault with any of it. Even if he was still in the mood to try. The last sheets are from a late nineties dance tune by Ultra Nate entitled 'Free'.  

“The Norlox team has some suggestions of their own, for collabs, but this is what we’re starting with.” Keith shrugs. 

“There’s not much for me to figure out.” Hunk frowns. “ Most of the percussion will be from MIDI and sampled dance beats.”

“There is a bunch for me to learn.” Pidge says, shifting through the pages in their hands.

“Yeah, it’s pretty keyboard heavy.” Keith says.

Lance flips through the pages a few times, and can feel everyone’s eyes on him. 

“Looks good.” He says finally, eyes on the pages.

He can hear Keith’s sigh, and senses the tension drain from the others. He feels ashamed at the level to which his previous reactions have put the band on edge. 

“The vocals are okay?” Keith asks, his voice soft, but laced with steel. Lance knows if he pushes back, they will be in for a fight. But there is nothing to push back against. Besides, that’s not the kind of connection he wants with Keith anymore, if that is what he ever wanted. 

Lance swallows every ounce of fear to look Keith straight in the eye with a smile pulling on his lips. “Looks great.”

He sees something shift in the violet depths, before a careful mask falls over Keith’s face. “We thought we would do a run through at sound check today.” He says.

“I guess we’d better learn this one then.” Lance says, holding up Free .

“Shall we?” Allura asks, popping up from the seats ahead of them. She meets Lance’s eyes and he sees an understanding there, something that he needs right now. 

…

The concert in Lisbon is played at an old converted warehouse. They run through the dance versions during sound check and adjust the arrangements. Everything is so careful, Lance feels like he is on tenterhooks. But after sound check he sits at Pidge’s keys and runs through the dance versions of their songs a few times. He makes some notations on the sheets.

He doesn’t share his thoughts until they are doing the sound check at Sala Razzmatazz in Barcelona. He doesn’t know what he expects, but Keith and Matt just look at his changes and run them by the rest of the band before including them into the arrangements. It is all done without any drama, and Lance begins to breathe again. They can do this, they can survive this. He feels even more optimistic when the band heads to the Big Bang Bar after their show to catch some local music.

The stop in Monaco is a blur, they play the Salle des Etoiles and again the tour seems to be speeding by. 

…

“Ya know an interesting fact about Croatia?” Lance asks looking up from his phone. 

They have just finished breakfast and the band is gathered in a great room of the hotel they are staying at for a jam/practice session/meeting. Their Venice performance isn’t until the following day and they are running through the collab songs Norlox’s team sent over, as well as shifting some things for the last few shows.

“Game of Thrones was filmed there?” Hunk says holding up a finger. 

“Really? Cool!” Lance says, “But..”

“They don’t even know how many Croatian dialects there are there.” Pidge says glancing up from their keyboard, which they are currently wiring into the MIDI and linking to Matt’s laptop. “There was a language side panel at Matt’s conference and that came up.” 

“Neat Pidge, but I was actually…”

“It is where the cravat and necktie were invented.” Coran says thoughtfully. “Quite the claim to fame, I’d say.”

“Huh…” Lance says, losing his train of thought. 

Keith turns to Coran. “The Mag light was also invented by a Croatian.”

“Righto my lad.” Coran responds. “And the first torpedo was designed and built there too.”

“And the pen.” Allura says, flipping her long hair over a shoulder to look back at them, from where she is making notes on a yellow legal pad. She holds her own pen up with a smile.

“Actually I was… “ Lance began again.

“Oh, oh, oh.” Matt jumps in, snapping his fingers at  Pidge, “What about the guy who created the concentric iron bands for the dome of St. Peter’s when they found the crack?”

“Rudjer Boskovic.” Pidge said, not missing a beat. “Yeah, he was Croatian too.” 

“Okay, okay, okay. That is all super cool . But what I was trying to say is that Croatia has a Salsa Festival.” Lance’s words coming in a rush.

“Oh, I do love a good Salsa!” Comes from an enthused Coran. 

‘He is referring to the dance.” Allura interjects with a smile.

“Righto.” Coran says cheerfully, “I knew that, of course.”

Allura smiles, “Of course.” 

Lance smiles, relieved to have finally gotten to his point. “Anyway, the festival is in the summer so we missed it. But it looks like there is a real Salsa vibe there. Sooo. .. what'dya say? Team building dance night when we get to Dobrovik?”  Lance says, widening his smile and doing a flourish with his hands.

“Oh, yes please.” Allura says, perking up, turning around in her chair to face the rest of the group.

Shiro shrugs, “Depends on how the other’s feel about it. It sounds fun, Adam and I took some lessons in Seville, so it’d be a chance to practice.” He says with a smile.

‘He means show off .” Adam says as he walks into the room, clipboard in hand, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “You want an opportunity to show off .” Adam accuses Shiro, ‘Because our teacher called you a natural .” He teases.

“Well, I did have those classes before the first tour. So, I wasn’t really a beginner.” Shiro says with a modest smile, his cheeks tinged pink. 

“Nuh, uhh.” Pidge objects flatly while unplugging a cable to re-plug it into another socket. “I am definitely more of a Lindy Hopper than a Latin Dancer. Furthermore, I make sure to steer clear of any activity where stiletto heels are worn by at least half of those in attendance.”

“You dislike stilettos?’ Allura asks, apparently crestfallen, as a lover and defender of beautiful footwear.

“Pidge dislikes getting trampled by stampedes of people who stand miles taller than them.” Matt interjects, his fingers flying on the laptop keyboard.

“Actually,” Pidge corrects in a bored tone. “I have an appreciation for functional clothing, and I find stilettos lacking in many categories. They don’t cover most of your foot, they are designed with minimal points of contact to the ground , which adversely impacts balance. Aaand because of that design flaw, running in them is a challenge.” Pidge says, counting the issues off on their fingers. “And if they are not boots, they have these weird wrap around straps that thread through impossibly small buckles.”

“They make excellent weapons.” Allura counters.

“Only if you can get the mini buckles undone to take them off.” Pidge responds immediately.

“True.” Allura concedes.

“Also.” Pidge says, acknowledging their sibling. “Matt’s right. The higher the average height of a crowd, the higher the likelihood of me not being seen by said crowd , which has been known to result in me being stepped on.” 

‘Told ya.” Matt says smugly, earning a well aimed cable tossed at his head.

“Please Pidge.” Allura begs. “Come for the music and we ensure you are always in the presence of a tall escort. Please.” She presses her hands together as she looks at the keyboardist earnestly.  “I assume there is live entertainment?” She directs this last question to Lance.

“Of course.” Lance responds, without actually knowing if this is the case.

“All right,” Pidge relents. “But there had better be Sangria.”

“Will you guys give a pre-outing dance lesson?” Matt asks, perking up. “Navyda is flying in from Manchester for the weekend, it would be an awesome way for her to meet the band.”

Pidge rolls their eyes, and Matt tosses the cable back at his sibling who deflects the projectile with one of Hunk’s drum sticks.

“Oh, I wish Shay were here! She loves dancing” Hunk says, pointedly taking the stick from Pidge.

“How about you Keith.” Lance asks, pleased his smile doesn’t waver. 

Keith shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

…

To have an extra day in Croatia, they leave for Dobrovik straight from their gig in Venice. They take turns crashing in the bunks at the back of the bus and pull up to the hotel in time for breakfast. They check into rooms to get a few extra hours of sleep.

Kara joins the group for their dance practice session, stunning Matt’s new partner into silence with her tall elegance. She and Keith dance together beautifully despite her being taller than him in her stylish heels. Lance assumes that she has had professional training, by the sharpness of her turns and the placement of her hands. Lance and Hunk led the group a few practice dances in the New York style and basic social salsa steps. Most of the team had done some ballroom training as part of their original, pre-tour, lessons. Lance had been dancing most of his life at family gatherings and festivals back home and Hunk had been one of his earliest practice partners. 

Adam, Allura, Shiro, Pidge and Coran are taking turns dancing with one another. Pidge insists on leading for every dance, which is fun because Coran often forgets to follow when dancing with them. Lance has to focus elsewhere, so as not to laugh out loud at the ensuing battle of wills.

“What about the Casino style?” Allura asks Lance as they begin to wrap up the practice session.

 Allura had visited Cuba with his family when they had been a couple and dancing had been one of the highlights of that trip. 

“I doubt we’ll need it.” Lance says. “It’ll probably be the basic social dancing style.” 

‘Oh.” She says, her disappointment clear.

“We can go over it if you want?” Lance suggests, and her face lights up.

“Thank you Lance.” She says in accented tones. “It is my favourite.” 

They form a circle of leads and follows, and Pidge sits out citing the concept of changing partners as dangerously close to a mosh pit .

…

Much to Lance’s relief. There is live music and Sangria at the first club they go to. The Legendary Defenders are not well known in Eastern Europe, but Kara is recognized almost immediately. She handles herself very well, but it becomes clear she isn’t fully comfortable with the attention. 

Lance notes that soon after a tall man with a scowl that rivals Keith’s on his moodiest days joins their group. The man has a heavy brow and a long gray braid, which is the only observable indication of his age. Lance watches him from the bar and the guy is built, pecks the size of Lance’s thighs. The dude makes Shiro look small. It is clear Keith is acquainted with him, and Lance wonders if he is Kara’s bodyguard until he sees the two meet eyes. The giant’s stone face softens when he looks down at Kara, who’s responding smile is unguarded. The moment is so genuine that Lance feels his cheeks burn, as though he has witnessed something private. He files the information away as he averts his gaze.

The music is amazing and there are partners abounding and Lance loses himself in dancing, checking in with the group, and trying to stay hydrated. Pidge is staked out at the table with Kara’s brick-shit-house of a friend. Sometimes he finds Kara or Keith there with them. Lance is surprised that Keith isn’t at the table more often, until he realizes he’s chatting with the musicians, miming when there was a language barrier. He sees Allura on the floor with different partners, sometimes dancing with Hunk, their complimentary heights and fluid grace create a vision. Coran’s dance style is a bit eclectic, yet he doesn’t appear at a loss for partners. Shiro and Adam seem lost in each other, and Lance is glad they seem to have fully gotten over whatever was happening in Spain.  Matt and Navyda have found a small table to sit at together and don’t seem to dance much, but appear deep in conversation while making moon eyes at each other.

Kara and her boyfriend/bodyguard leave first. Shiro and Adam conspicuously disappear soon after that. Coran, Matt and Navyda bow out soon after. Hunk and Allura manage to coax Pidge out onto the dance floor once it is less full. 

It is almost midnight and Lance is thinking about heading back to the hotel when the first chords of the song vibrate through the room. He seeks out Allura’s eyes with a grin, while Hunk, recognizing the tune whoops and literally runs across the floor to hug Lance. He has danced to this song one thousand times and it brings back as many happy memories. A circle is forming on the dance floor. Allura grabs an unsuspecting Keith, dragging him over, a rueful smile playing on his lips. Hunk begins to lead and it is only natural for Lance to follow. Others form a circle with them at the side of the dance floor closest to the band. As they move from partner to partner a few of the leads laugh with surprise to find Lance in their arms but go with the flow until at his next turn his partner is Keith. 

There is a moment of hesitation, and Lance feels a sense of panic at the thought of Keith deserting him on the dance floor. But the dark haired man reacts with his usual grace, guiding Lance through a series of spins. Where Keith holds his hand it tingles, every gentle guiding touch is a brand on Lance’s skin. Lance feels his heart rise up into his throat. It feels like he is floating above the ground. Every step is perfectly timed, graceful, he can read Keith’s lead like a sheet of music because he knows him so well. Too soon, it is time for him to be passed to the next partner and the loss of Keith’s touch feels like a physical blow.

Soon after they wrap up for the night. Pidge is unsteady on their feet. Hunk and Keith guide them back to a waiting car as the keyboardist complains about the dangers of alcohol soaked fruit. Allura folds her arm into Lance’s elbow as they leave the overly warm dance hall.  

“You guys go ahead, Lance and I are going to walk a bit.” She says to the others. Lance thinks about objecting, because his feet bloody hurt, but there is a part of him that needs reassurance, that needs to reconnect with each of his friends, to know he hasn’t messed everything up.

“How are you Lance?” Allura asks, when the other’s are gone.

“Dancing was good.” He says. Having learned long ago it doesn’t go well to lie to Allura.

“How are you Lance?” Allura asks again, and he glances at her, catching the smile playing on her lips.

“Tired of touring. Ready to be done with this one.” He repeats the answer he has used many times over the past few weeks. 

“Lance.” She says, walking him toward the wall, lining the edge of the cliff, looking over the water. Letting go of his elbow, she leans on the stone and stares out toward the bright moon. “What happened?”

He joins her against the wall, but the words won’t come. His throat is clogged by emotion. “I can’t.” He says simply. “I can’t.” He repeats.

He sees her deep breathe more than hears it, the water is loudly crashing against the rocks below.

“I understand.” She says just loudly enough to be heard over the water. ‘That you cannot talk about it. Especially to me.”

Lance nods, staring forward at the moon. Relieved.

‘What about the other things?” Her clear voice rings over the waves.

“Other things?” Lance croaks. 

“Yes.” is the calm response. 

Lance looks over at her clear blue eyes against soft brown skin. He remembers how Keith decided to be brave. To be himself, honestly himself , with the people he cared about. Lance can try that. Can’t he? Not in the defensive way he had with Keith, but in a more honest way. He looks out over the water again. 

“I don’t have a thing .” Lance tries.

“ A thing ?” 

“Like you all have a thing.” Lance flounders.  “Hunk has his restaurant and Pidge is programming and you are running a company and Shiro’s like a professional Dad and Keith… he's writing songs without me... and…  he may be going on tour after this… With Norlox.”

He feels Allura gather herself, ponder his words thoughtfully, before responding.

“You must know that every single one of us wants to stay in this band.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do. We’ve discussed it.” He feels her hesitate. “We have also discussed a hiatus.”

Lance doesn’t even have the energy to be defensive. “Well nobody discussed a hiatus with me.” 

“We’ve tried to. But we thought, well, I thought that you may be more receptive to it if we assured you, individually, of our plans to return, to keep making music together.”

“So, shall I try again. What is this about?”

Lance has to breathe through his panic, but he plods on. “I don’t know what I am doing. Literally Allura, I have no idea. It’s like I open my mouth and all I want to say is ‘Stay” but it isn't’ fair to ask Keith to stay, or you, or Hunk or Pidge or Shiro. And with Keith, for some reason instead of saying Stay , somehow I end up saying fuck off instead.”

“Lance, listen to me.” She says, turning him to face her. “You don’t have to ask anyone to stay. We are all still here.” Allura’s face is full of questions, confusion.

“I put all my eggs in one basket.” Lance muses to himself. “In this one basket.” 

“Which basket Lance? The Legendary Defenders or the relationship with Keith?” 

“TLD.” Lance cannot hold her gaze. “I never honestly thought I had a Keith basket.”

“Is that so?” Allura asks, her eyes sad. 

“Obviously, that is the whole problem.” Lance says irritably.

“Lance, I see a different problem. Can I tell you about it?”

“Sure. Why the hell not?” He sighs. 

“I have observed that when you love something, you put your everything into it. As you said, all of your eggs in one basket. I have always admired that about you. The determined way you learned to play music, to build this band. The commitment you put into being the best brother, uncle or friend you can possibly be. It is quite beautiful actually.” Allura smiles. “ But sometimes it is a bit… untethered.”

Lance blinks, because that is how he often feels with Keith, at sea, like he can't put his feet on the ground.

As though Allura has read his mind, she says, “I have noticed, with Keith especially, this can happen.” 

“Did it happen with you?” Lance asks.

“It did.” Allura confesses. “And when I felt myself losing my own footing, I could feel you try to keep it for me, at the cost of your own. That is when I knew that I had to take a step back and re-establish that for myself.” She reached up to touch his cheek gently, only when she wiped the tears away did he realize he was crying. “I also knew, without a doubt, that you would hold space for what I needed without reference to yourself. It was tempting to have you try to be my everything while the rest of my world was falling apart, it would not have been good for either of us.”

Lance thinks back to that time, right after Allura lost Alfor. “I would have been happy to do it.” Lance says with certainty. 

“I know.” Her words were soft. “Thank you.” Allura says, taking his hands and giving them a squeeze. Her eyes are misty but she smiles. “But, I don’t think you quite found your footing after we ended things.” 

Lance plays that over in his mind. The truth of it doesn’t bring him comfort, it feels scary. Almost as though Allura knows this, she squeezes his fingers again. “Sometimes, it seems as though you can only find it when you are doing it for others.”

Lance closes his eyes and feels dizzy, feels the hollow place inside where he needs to be needed. The deep resistance to what Allura is saying at war with the truth of her words.

“I think all of us want you to find your own anchor, the thing that feeds your soul and keeps you grounded.” 

“But that is the band.” Lance answers heatedly.

“Is it?” Allura asks simply.

“I get that from other people, from my connection with them.” Lance pushes.

“I see, and I do agree that our connections are profoundly important.” 

“Maybe my thing is bringing people together?” Lance says, unsure.

“Okay, and now the band is together. You brought us here… what’s next?” Allura says, her smile gentle.

“But…”

“Let me try a different approach. When you have completed writing a song, are you finished writing songs? Forever?”

“Wha….” Lance stutters. “Of course not… but…?” 

Allura presses a finger to his lips. “Think about it Lance.” She stares up at him with loving eyes. “Just think about it.” 

…

They are two hours into a rehearsal with Norlox’s band and Keith is clearly losing his patience. Norlox, to their credit, is as affable as ever. The Blade team has added a remix of the song “No More Tears (Enough is Enough)” to the set list and the number includes Pidge on keyboard and MIDI and Keith, Lance, Norlox and Allura singing together. Hunk has absolutely nothing to do, except a small drum solo that could be done with the MIDI, but it would be weird not to have a member of their band on stage.

Keith is struggling with the dance moves, which is confusing to everyone involved. “Keith, can we just watch you run through it?” Norlox asks, and Lance winces, because Keith looks peaked out and frustrated at the request.

Lance, Norlox and Allura stand at the bottom of an elaborate staircase on the stage and watch as Keith comes across the top part and begins his descent. As he steps down the first few stairs he does something weird with his fingers against his leg and a lightbulb appears over Lance’s head. Norlox caught it too. 

“He’s used to having his guitar on stage.” Lance murmurs.

“Or some other instrument.” The mega star nods, taking over the situation. “Alright, we are going to switch this up a bit.” He calls out to the team.

…

The Legendary Defenders only play one of their own songs with Norlox's band and Lance is relieved that it has been received well, as there was a real risk it would have flopped. The cover of “Free” is also met with enthusiasm, though Pidge shoots him a tired look from over the top of her triple level keyboard. He’s not sure they’ll agree to do this ever again.

Lance has stepped off stage for a quick change, pulling a silver suit jacket over his crisp white shirt, someone is slipping a silver tie over his head. Allura is on stage right with him sliding off a jacket that was covering her floor-length, silver, evening gown. She winks at him, “If I trip you’ll catch me, right?” He grins back, “I’ll try.”

They hear Keith and Norlox on stage, singing the intro to the number. They are sitting on hairdressing chairs, their own silver outfits covered in black capes. Keith hits a note and holds it, and the dance beat comes on. Lance and Allura step out on stage arm and arm to meet Keith and Norlox mirroring their pose and the four descend the stairs together. 

The original mix had planned for them to divide the stage, moving back and forth across each other as they sang, but instead they stand elbow to elbow, holding mics. A dozen back up dancers perform behind them in silver costumes, and the crowd loves it. 

The night ends in applause.

Just like that, there are only two shows left in the tour. 

Chapter Text

Acxa named the group The Generals Skuul Of Rock

Acxa added Ezor21 to the chat

Acxa added ZZ_on_Top to the chat

Acxa added Too_Many_Matts to the chat

Acxa added Keef to the chat

Axca: We need a chat. Keith told me about the Diva Project.

Axca: Dude, if you are working with the Generals, we need to discuss your musical influences.

Ezor21: Ummmm. Gonna need some context here… Diva Project??

Axca: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0vt2vCNJ9bbq9sWZ4Dtegd?si=20bde6c3aac94c66

ZZ_on_Top: Who put this together exactly?

Axca: Matt and Keith

ZZ_on_Top: LMAO. Was the irony of two cis men curating a list of female identified musicians lost on everybody?

Too_Many_Matts: Okay, I am not sure if I am offended, or even if I am allowed to be offended. However, I was unaware Keith had made a decision about working with the Generals.

Keef: I haven’t yet.

Acxa: You say that, but you made the face. :/

Keef: ! 

Keef: What face?

Too_Many_Matts:  He made the face?!  :o

Acxa: He made the face.

Keef: WHAT FACE?

Ezor21: I actually like the playlist.

Too_Many_Matts: Thank you Ezor.

Keef: Great, thanks for all the support.

Ezor21: You should use emojis Keith, in text that came across as sarcastic.

Keef: Imagine that.

Ezor21: That one too. :D

Too_Many_Matts: I have decided not to be offended, this chat is officially the best. <3

ZZ_on_Top: Hooray! White male approval, we have achieved mediocrity.

Ezor21: Zee baby, be nice. :)

ZZ_on_Top: I was being nice.

….

ZZ_on_Top: Has anyone else noticed how many of these songs are about men? 

Too_Many_Matts: Love songs generally are about another person.

Ezor21: SRSLY though. Zee an’ I were just talkin’ about how all this music is “mad/sad, I loved and lost” music.  

Ezor21: Women write kick ass, put on yer big girl panties and face the world songs. We need more of that. My two suggestions are 

Ezor21: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xo1VInw-SKc

Ezor21: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4

Axca: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hkmuTvkp_s

Ezor21: Ooop, I like this one too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljVS2c4tTPY '

Ezor21: Specially for Zee.

ZZ_on_Top: Thanks babe, but I like this one for Zee ;) <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-t5hD4DP2Xc

Ezor21: The anthem. You shared the anthem.

Ezor21: It is almost like you have accepted Keith into the pack. 

…

Ezor21: This is the song I was talking about during the zoom call. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Azb4Au5lUQM

Ezor21: Keith, did you listen? what’d think???

Ezor21: Keith!  >:( Your thoughts??? 

Keef: You have to wait the full 2 minutes 10 seconds for me to actually play it.

Ezor21: AND??

Keef: It was okay. I expected something edgier, but it was good.

Ezor21: You didn’t like it. :’( He didn’t like it.

Keef: I didn’t say that. I just thought Willow Smith and Avril Lavigne together might have been more metal.

Ezor21: Zee, he is dissing our girls. :/

ZZ_on_Top: Careful Keith, they will pick up on your negativity and we will never make it to the Red Table.

Keef: OMG I had been listening to the Wicked Wisdom stuff Acxa downloaded for me and I wasn’t expecting the song to be so mellow. Jeez.

Ezor21: Mellow??? The F word comes up twice, they play in a parking lot, there is spray painting on public property!! :o ?????

Keef: Compared to the stuff Acxa sent... it was mellow.

ZZ_on_Top: Why do you speak?

…

Ezor21:I don’t think Keith is in his end of relationship, rage phase anymore.

Ezor21: Let’s phase out the Lemonade and Jagged Little Pill and move toward more Enya.

ZZ_on_Top: I find her stuff too elusive and abstract. Keith seems to need more concrete symbolism.

Ezor21: True, he does have a literal streak. 

Keef: I am right here. Can’t you set up another chat to talk about me?

Axca: We have another chat.

Ezor21: Yeah, it's called The Lesbians Saved Voltron chat.

Ezor21: We thought of adding you, but you don’t like girls.

Axca: We didn't really think about it. Ezor suggested it, but I didn't think she was serious.

ZZ_on_Top: We try not to discuss you on the other chat. Some things in our life must remain Bechdel Certified.

Keef: WTF?

Ezor 21:So many things to learn - young Padawan. 

Too_Many_Matts: With this conversation, my life is complete.

Keef: I hate you all.

Ezor21: I guess I was wrong. He IS still in the rage phase. :/

…

Keef: WTF is Voltron?

Chapter Text

Lance is surprised to find Keith waiting for him when he opens his door the following morning. As much as Lance feels his nerves kick in at the sight of Keith's wary eyes, the other man's disheveled hair brings a smile to his lips.

Keith is wound up like a coil, in that way where energy buzzes around him. It was Keith's default when he was younger, a live charge, barely contained, easy to set off.

The deep breath Keith takes seems incongruous to his monosyllabic greeting of "Hey."

The build up to the singular word causes Lance to stifle an nervous and unhinged laugh.

None of this bodes well.

"Hey?" Lance responds, trying to rein in the warring emotions he is feeling.

At this moment a notification goes off on his phone and he reaches for it. Staring into Keith's intense face is overwhelming and he needs to have an excuse to look away.

"Don't!" Keith's sharpness makes Lance jump, nearly shattering his already frayed nerves. He is speechless in shock and Keith holds up his hands in a gesture that is supposed to be soothing, but only makes Lance more tense. "Just… maybe avoid looking at your phone… for a bit. Kay?." Keith asks, eyes pleading.

"Why?" Lance says slowly, his face furrowing in confusion. He momentarily wonders if this is a dream. It feels too disjointed, not nearly enough context clues. Nothing about this situation is making sense right now.

"Um," Keith says, grabbing the fabric of Lance's jacket sleeve, and pulling him sideways down the hall, "We need to talk."

That snaps Lance's barely held control. He pulls his elbow out of Keith's grasp, sharply.

"Dude, What the hell?!"

Keith turns back, eyes wild and Lance notices he is taking short breaths, close to panic. The observation brings everything into sharp focus. "Keith, what is it?" Lance asks in a whisper.

"We… just really need to talk." Lance feels his phone buzz again, and notices Keith's wide eyes follow the sound.

"What is happening?" Lance asks again.

"There is a story on the Galra site this morning. I need to talk to you because… I just… I need to explain…" Keith manages.

A cold dread fills Lance's chest. Nothing good comes from a Galra post.

"Dude." Lance ignores the multiple notifications coming in on his phone, he meets Keith's eyes plainly. "It's going to be fine. Whatever it is, it will be fine."

Instead of easing the other man's fears, Keith's face becomes even more pinched with worry.

This time, Lance grabs the other man's sleeve and pulls him back in the direction of his own room, opening the door. His phone is now going crazy and he makes a point to pull it out, and toss it face down on the bed, throwing a pillow over top.

He sits on the other bed and gestures to the side chair, which Keith hesitantly falls into. Keith is literally on the edge of his seat, his hands forming fists, his body holding tension in every muscle. Finally, the dark haired man rubs his face and runs his fingers through his hair. Despite (or perhaps because of) the adrenaline in his system, Lance feels a pull in his stomach at the sight. Keith can't seem to meet his eyes right now, and it is all Lance can do not to take the other man's hands into his own.

"Just tell me." Possible scenarios running through his head. The kiss on the streets of Edinburgh, the photos from Loch Ness, them sleeping snuggled on the plane to Spain. So many times Lance was careless, so many opportunities for a sleazy gossip site to turn a private moment into public fodder.

"There is a story today about me joining another band." Keith says, and Lance swears he has a moment of vertigo, where everything around him spins.

"Pardon?" Lance hears his voice ask, though he is certain he is entirely outside of his own body right now. "Come again?" His voice continues, from far away. "You did what now?"

The first feeling he is aware of is a deep sense of loss.

"I didn't." Keith says flatly. Disappointment in his eyes.

"Didn't?" Lance asks. Lost in the kaleidoscope of emotions. "You didn't?"

"I didn't join another band." Keith says with more force. Something about it snaps Lance back into his body.

"Right." Lance says, slowly coming back to himself. He still doesn't have enough information and he can still hear his damn phone pinging off notifications under the pillow. "So no biggie right? Just some of Zarkon's B.S., unfounded and annoying." He says, trying to laugh, but it comes out more like a gasping cough.

Keith's face is still pinched, and Lance feels his own fists clench into the decorative bedspread underneath. "Right?" he asks again.

Keith's face is pale and his tongue peeks out to lick his lips before he speaks.

"I have been discussing working with another band while opening for Norlox for the rest of their tour."

Lance feels his mouth pull into a straight line and the blood drain out of his face. It takes a lot of effort to swallow the bile that rises to his mouth. But he does. He then nods stiffly, encouraging the other man to continue.

"It is a temporary arrangement. If I agree… and… to be clear… We haven't agreed on anything yet. Even if we do, I am definitely not part of their band. More like a short term deal where we play together. They get some exposure working with me, and I get a band…" Keith pauses, face pained, Lance can hear his own heart counting the seconds until he continues. "I get a band to do some solo performances… and recordings."

Right.

There it is.

The silence that descends on the room is deafening.

"Who?" Lance manages. "What band?"

Keith looks down, unable to meet his eyes. Lance wonders how much worse this can get.

"They are called The Generals ."

"And they are…?" Lance says, some tension easing.

He's never heard of them.

"Acxa's band." Keith says slowly, "With Zethrid and Ezor."

"Whaaat?!" Lance is on his feet. "Are you crazy? Gee, I wonder who leaked the story Keith. Could it be the two people who work for the effing Galra site?"

"They didn't, and they don't work for Zarkon anymore."

"Ri-ight?" Lance can feel his face heating, his voice rising. "Did they tell you that? What could they possibly gain by telling you that?" He says, crossing his arms and thrusting a hip to one side. "Oh, I know," He says, placing a finger to the side of his mouth. "Hmm, maybe a huge fucking story that implies TLD is breaking up. No pay off there? Totally trustworthy individuals, those two. They always have our backs."

"Look, I know you don't have a reason to trust them." Keith says rising to his feet, voice matching Lance's. "But Acxa does trust them, and I trust her ." Then, quietly. "Also, Kara really wants to help people trying to get away from Zarkon."

Something about that takes the fight out of Lance.

After all, Lance has made many concessions for family.

Still.

"Are you honestly going to work with them? After everything?"

"Maybe." Keith's voice is pensive. His lips pressed together and then to the side. Quiet.

"Probably."

Lance sinks back down onto the bed. He rubs his hands over his eyes. Too much information, too many emotions, before breakfast, before coffee. A small part of him feels the need to keep pushing.

"Zethrid took the photo used in that last article about you."

"I know." Keith says simply falling back into his seat.

They sit in silence.

"You're going to do solo stuff." Lance says. It isn't a question. He feels his mouth pull down as he says it.

"One or two singles I want to record on my own." Keith doesn't flinch from the truth. He says it simply. "They have an album to promote, I am not joining their band. Trust me Lance." He smiles wryly as he meets the Lance's eyes.

"They definitely don't want me as a permanent fixture."

"Don't you feel a bit used? You know, for the exposure you can provide?" Lance asks, not able to let the matter drop entirely.

"No. I get something out of this too." Lance notes the set of Keith's mouth, the line of his jaw, the clarity in his eyes.

"You said you were tired of the road." Lance says, thinking of their last conversation about this. The words sound mournful, even to his own ears.

The dark haired man hums agreement. But makes no further explanation.

"Did Allura talk to you about a hiatus?" Keith asks finally.

Lance huffs wryly. "Yeah."

"What do you think?" Keith is very still, holding a different kind of tension then before. Lance doesn't have to look up at him to know the careful blank face that he will see.

"It makes sense, Hunk has the restaurant to pull together, Allura will need to refocus on executive duties for the fourth quarter, Shiro's got Shiro things to do, you're… hanging with your Mom, and Pidge is plotting world domination…" Lance shrugs.

Keith's mask breaks, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth and Lance feels his face relax into a returning smile, amazed at the warmth and satisfaction pooling in his stomach. It doesn't override the dread he feels, but his ability to make Keith smile has always been a boon to his ego. He turns on the bed to lean against the headboard and pillows.

"The Generals huh?" Lance says.

"I haven't given them an answer yet." Keith defers.

"You're gonna do it." Lance sighs. "You made the face."

Keith rolls his eyes. "Yeah, apparently I have a face ."

Their eyes meet and they both huff out a laugh and a miniscule amount of tension drains from the air.

Keith's hair is ruffled from him running his hands through it, his eyes still drawn, with lines of tension around them, but there is a light in there, affection, And a small smile plays at his lips.

Lance loves him so much.

The phone under the pillow makes another, insistent, series of pings and buzzes.

"I probably should deal with that before it explodes." He squints over at the pillow.

Keith presses his hands onto his knees to stand and walks over to the pillow, pulling it up he tosses Lance the phone. Glancing at the screen he sees endless notifications.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need coffee to deal with this." He says, turning off the sound and putting the phone in his back pocket. "You eat yet mullet?" Lance says, pulling himself up off the bed to stretch while walking to the door. He pauses in front of Keith, forgetting himself for a moment as he reaches up to fix Keith's hair. Realizing what he is doing, he freezes, hand held awkwardly.

Keith shifts the moment by crossing his arms and turning, falling into the old script. "I don't know if you noticed but it is not, and has never been, a mullet."

"It's not so much the hair as the personality." Lance shrugs as he turns to head to the door, holding it open for Keith to step through, he responds, without missing a beat. Yes, this is safe, not exactly comfortable, but safe.

"That doesn't even make sense." Keith shoots back.

"It only doesn't make sense because you haven't had breakfast yet."

"Lance, you didn't eat yet either."

"Exactly."

…

"I think the best choice is not to confirm or deny anything until the tour is over." Shiro crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the seats behind him.

The band has gathered on the bus to discuss their response to the the galra site post. "I respectfully disagree, The Legendary Defenders are one of Altea's biggest names and money makers, it could be detrimental for the company overall if we allow this rumour to gain traction." Allura argues, her fingers are clenched.

"It could create quite a muddle." Coran agrees. "It is always better to get in front of these things, take bull by the ears, and control the story, so to speak."

Lance and Hunk meet eyes, catching the older man's gaff, connecting to the moment of humour within all the tension.

"They have the story." Matt says lifting his arms in a defeated shrug. "Anything we announce will confirm what they wrote.

"Matt's right." Adam says thoughtfully, "As per usual, they haven't actually lied. They've implied that Keith joining Norlox's tour with The Generals means TLD is breaking up, but haven't actually said it. Once we confirm Keith's going on tour with Norlox, followed up by an announcement about the hiatus, it looks like we are buying time, delaying an announcement that the Defenders are disbanding."

"Alas, uncertainty creates panic in the business world." Coran rubs his hands together worriedly. "Allura is correct. Sensitive partnerships and ventures can run amuck if it looks like we are losing a major asset." 

Lance bristles at the band being referred to so materially.

"Do we know who the leak was yet?" Pidge asks, pushing their glasses up their nose.

Lance crosses his arms at the question, not wanting to get into a fight with Keith again, when he is shocked to hear the dark haired man say a quiet. "Yes."

Keith had been mostly silent through the conversation, sitting with elbows resting on his knees, looking down at his clasped hands, clearly uncomfortable to be the center of another drama.

"Who?" Shiro's deep voice vibrates through the space. He is eyeing his brother intently. Keith sits up rolling his shoulders, as though the tension has become too much. He meets Shiro's eyes. "Lotor.'

There is a moment of shocked silence.

"Why am I not surprised?" Allura's voice is laced with dangerously cold anger.

Lance feels his hackles rise. "And Lotor knows… because?" He directs his question to Keith.

"He's their publicist." Keith sighs, Looking back down at his hands. "He sent a message bragging about it right after breakfast. Seemed to think he nabbed us… them… some great publicity."

"Right. Great." Lance falls back against his seat. "That's. Just. Great."

Allura sighs pulling her shoulders back, head held high. "I am calling Altea's legal department to draft an agreement. Blade records, Marmora and The Generals' management will sign it. When there is an official announcement confirming Keith's collaboration with them on the Norlox tour, it will come from us." The words are clipped and clear. "And any other future announcements involving TLD members will be made by Altea."

Shiro shifts uncomfortably. "What would be their, or Keith's incentive to sign an agreement like that?"

"Keith has a contract with Altea, and thus Altea can object to him leaving on this tour and/or recording under another label."

Lance is shocked, "Allura our contracts…"

"Are legal documents, and therefore interpretive." She cuts him off with precision. "In any case, Altea can tie up the process long enough for Norlox's tour to be over." Her eyes are sharp and cold.

Keith's are hot, angry. "You would do that?" The betrayal echoes in his voice.

Allura meets Keith's gaze and while her expression softens, her voice remains firm. "We know Lotor and he almost always is playing at a bigger game than he lets on. While your creative freedom is important, I have to protect the interests of Altea. You cannot tell me, not for one second, that Lotor does not have ulterior motives. We need to maintain some control over his publicity stunts." She says the last two words as though they taste bad.

"Fine, whatever." Keith doesn't argue, but crosses his arms and leans back, eyes sparking, clearly fuming.

The meeting doesn't last much longer. The only other strategy they can come up with is to mention in each of the next two concerts how much they love working with each other.

…

The band has decided to stay an extra day in Croatia in the wake of the gossip. They are not well known here, and the anonymity is a blessed relief.

That night Lance and Hunk decide to check out some of the festival. Matt has recommended seeing a DJ named CiCi. He, Pidge and Navyda plan to join them shortly.

Lance knows his friend's have suggested the outing to get Lance out of his head. He also knows Keith has used the extra time in Dobrovik to hang out with his Mom, so there is no chance of running into him tonight.

They find their way to the club early, Lance is hyped up. He knows this isn't the place to vent, they are here to dance. But he takes advantage of the techno beat drowning their conversation out for those who might want to eavesdrop.

"It is bad enough that he is working with Zethrid and Ezor, but Lotor too?" Lance says loudly close to Hunk's ear.

"Yeah. That guy is totally skeezy." Hunk says, with a shudder.

'I've never liked the way he looked at Allura. Like she's property or something." Lance says, eyebrows furrowed.

"I probably shouldn't say this, but I've noticed exactly the same thing with how he looks at Keith." Hunk responds as he holds up two fingers to the bartender, who almost immediately places two ice cold beers on the counter, and opens them.

"Yup." Lance says, raising an eyebrow at his best friend while taking a sip from the beer bottle that is handed to him. "You definitely should not have told me that."

"I don't think we should let this Galra article get us down. Seems like they want to stress us out, and if we let them, they kinda win." Hunk nudges Lance's shoulder while paying for their drinks and trying for a small smile. "They are always going to write shit like this, and for some reason we are target number one for their crap."

"Oddly enough Hunk, the gossip isn't what is stressing me out right now." Lance sighs deeply.

"Keith…" Hunk says, kindness in his eyes.

"Keith." Lance repeats. "Starting with the fact it will take the entire hiatus for me to get over these feelings for him. If…" Lance closes his eyes. "Plus he's touring with…" Lance makes a vague gesture, to which Hunk nods, understanding. "And the hard part is… I think I understand why he is doing it… and.. And I want to support him . Like… I really, really want to support him. But…" He says, shaking his head, with another vague gesture.

"You're worried." Hunk supplies.

"Really fucking worried." Lance says. "Not just for TLD, but, just, this whole thing looks like a disaster in the making."

"That it does." Hunk says, patting Lance on the shoulder. "Ultimately, it's not our choice to make. We gotta let Keith be Keith." He says, holding out his beer bottle to clink against Lance's.

"Yeah, sure, Let Keith be Keith." He says back, clinking the bottles together before tipping it back for a long drink of the cold brew.

…

Lance and Hunk hang by the back of the club, furthest from the stage. They have a few beers and take in the scene until Pidge, Matt and Navyda arrive. Then, they find a spot on the dance floor. The beat and the beers work their magic as Lance finds his rhythm. It's at least an hour later when he makes his way to the back of the club for a washroom break and to grab another drink. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a flurry of bouncy plaits and pauses. There was something very familiar about that, he thinks, and turns slowly to follow the movement.

Nyma always startles him with her smallness. For the energy she gives off, you would think she was a giant of a woman, but she is petit. Her hair almost seemed too heavy for her slight frame. He notes that she has added a rainbow's worth of colour to the long tresses and her eyes squint up at him in delight. He is reminded how she always seems to be laughing at some secret joke. It used to amuse him, attract him. Now he feels his guard go up.

"Hey Lance!" She shouts up to him, over the pounding base. "Hey Nyma." He says, warily. She snags the drink the bartender places on the counter for him, and gestures with her head toward the stairwell and starts walking that way, tossing a grin over her shoulder, assuming he will follow. Lance considers just ordering another drink or going back to the dance floor, but finds himself following her to the door.

"Fancy seeing you here." She says, dimples forming on both cheeks. Here, on the landing, the music is slightly muted. She is wearing a simple purple crop top and a matching skirt. The colour brings out her eyes, fringed with dark lashes. Lance is struck by how much they remind him of another pair of violet eyes. God, he realizes, he was so oblivious. As always Nyma wears layers of jewelry, bangles tinkling on her wrists, arm bands and rows of chains around her waist. Her skin is shimmering with sweat and body glitter.

"It was so weird to see you last night, they've never had a performer like Norlox take the stage at this festival before. Usually it is only D.J.s." She grins, a lilt to her voice that sounds innocent, but Lance has learned better.

"Well Norlox is pretty special." Lance answers, neutrally. "What brings you here?" He asks, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

There is a tinkle of laughter, light and airy. "Rolo is dj-ing tonight. He opened for CiCi. Did you miss it?"

Lance realizes he was so intent on processing with Hunk, that yes, he did manage to miss that.

"I… uh.."

"I'm kidding." Nyma says, cocking her head to the side. "His show is tomorrow." She takes a sip of Lance's drink and offers it back to him. Lance shakes it off, glancing back toward a vending machine offering water bottles, and turns to head that way.

"Sooooo." Nyma draws out the word as she bounces after him, playing with the swivel stick in the drink. "Big news today, on the galra site."

Lance schools his expression. "Not really. I mean, Keith has been talking about going on tour with Norlox. We've done a few shows with him already."

"Wow, you're surprisingly chill about this." Nyma presses. "I remember you used to stress about Keith's antics all the time."

Lance shoves down the irritation that rises up in his gut. In no way can he lose his cool here. Nyma has used him already to get a leg up in the music industry. He isn't going to let her use Keith too.

When he doesn't respond, focusing on pushing coins into the vending machine, she presses further.

"I mean, he's playing with The Generals?"

"So you know them?" Lance asks, bending to pull out the water bottle, surprised that he is genuinely curious.

"Only by reputation." Nyma gives a light laugh. "Their music is a little harder edge than my regular style. I mean, I can see Keith vibing with it, I guess."

"So you don't know them?"

"I think I understand them to some extent, you know, being a woman in this industry." A small crack shows for a moment in Nyma's armour at this. Lance watches her, intrigued.

"What?" She says, uncomfortable with his regard.

"What do you mean?" Lance asks.

Nyma's huff of laughter is less of a tinkle and more honest bemusement. "Oh come on Lance." She says resting her hand on his chest flirtatiously. "After all this time you can't still be that pure-hearted, naïve… ooooh." She says, her voice tapering off as her hand drops.

"What?" Lance presses.

"It always surprises me." She smiles, her whole face, even her eyes. And Lance remembers why he fell for her. "You, and how you manage to avoid cynicism in this industry."

"I dunno." Lance says, thinking about the band meeting today. "I don't think I have stars in my eyes anymore."

"And that is a crying shame." Nyma says, tilting her head sideways. And he can see it now, how she pulls the mask down, how that moment of vulnerability is gone, how she is already embarrassed by it. She takes a gulp of the drink and places the empty cup on a ledge, turning, but Lance reaches for her wrist to stop her. They move to the side, lingering at the top of the stairwell. Lance taking one step down, to be closer to eye level.

"Can you explain it to me?" Lance asks.

"The industry?" She scoffs, but her eyes are full of the secret mirth.

"The Generals? You? What do you understand about that?"

This time Nyma's smile is softer, it makes her seem delicate. "I think your experience has been better than most." She muses. "You know, Altea is supportive of their talent, I am sure having Allura in the band helps. Your manager is a long time friend, with vested interest in all of you. You're lucky Lance." She says seriously.

In theory Lance knows this, but there is something earnest in Nyma's expression, which makes him lean closer.

"Sometimes, especially in certain circles, you have to play the game. Maybe you don't have to, but it really feels like you do. You get told that the ends justify the means. But, it isn't really true. Especially when you do things, not great things... and it doesn't really pan out the way you've been told to expect." Her mouth pulls into a wry line, so very unlike her usual teasing grin. "I am sorry for that." She says meaningfully.

He believes her.

"Anyway, I heard that Zarkon kept promising Ezor and Zethrid opportunities, connections, to expand their career. And he did help sometimes, but just enough to keep them doing his dirty work." She shrugs. "I guess I was really impressed that Keith could overlook what they had done, enough to collab with them." Nyma's face breaks into a watery smile. "That's what I heard, anyway." She tilts her head and takes an awkward step backward.

"Hey you two." A bouncer calls up from the landing in heavily accented English. "You can't loiter on the stairs, people gotta get by."

"Okay." Lance gestures with his water bottle. "We'll move."

He steps up to walk toward the entrance to the club floor, but is pulled back by Nyma who plants a kiss on his cheek. "See ya Lance." She smiles cheekily. But Lance can still see her wet lashes and grateful eyes. She waves as she walks past him and disappears back into the crowd.

…

"You are an idiot." Pidge says, dropping her phone in front of him on the bus the next day. Three grainy photos of him, talking to Nyma on the stairs of the club the previous night. They are clearly taken on an amateur's phone, but they tell a story.

His head leaning close, to hear her, his face invested in what she is saying, her open vulnerability. He feels a sharp, protective instinct. Nyma is careful to never show herself so fully, especially in public. It looks intimate. Her kissing his cheek sealing the deal. Even without the misleading text beneath.

"It's not what it looks like." Lance responds, closing his eyes, leaning back with an exasperated sigh.

"Like that matters? The world is addicted to drama about romantic love and the pictures 'look like' fan art." Pidge exclaims. "How did you even do it? You were gone for ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"I guess I have a special talent for drama." Lance says sarcastically.

"I'll say."

"Pidge, maybe give him a break, okay?" Hunk says, lowering himself into the seat beside Lance. "I mean, I am curious about how that happened." Hunk says gesturing to the phone. "But we may want to focus on how to tell the rest of the team. Because the timing sucks." He says meaningfully.

"I think we're too late." Pidge says, watching Shiro, Adam and Allura simultaneously drawn to notifications on their phones.

That's how they end up having another debrief on the bus.

"Clearly it wasn't a set up." Adam presses, to a tight-lipped Shiro and a stony Allura. "The camera quality isn't good enough."

"He's right." Matt agrees. "This shot was taken at a distance on a phone. If Nyma were setting Lance up, she would have had a proper photographer there."

"Maybe she didn't plan it ahead of time." Coran suggests. "But took the opportunity that was presented."

"That's not what happened." Lance says flatly.

"Dude." Hunk says softly. "She's set you up before."

"I know." Lance says. "I can't really explain, other than to say she was explaining something important… and apologizing… kind of. The only reason we were having that conversation was because I pressed her to."

Nobody seems to have anything to add. Lance fidgets in the silence.

"What does it matter anyway?" Lance says. "It is just more of the Loverboy Lance thing. Last time we checked, it plays well, almost counts as good publicity."

He is met with incredulous stares.

"You didn't read the write up, did you?" Hunk asks, mouth pressed into a line.

"I figured the photos said it all." Lance sighs looking around, trying to read the faces around him. Keith hasn't met his eyes since this discussion began, and all Lance wants is a private minute to assure him that nothing happened with Nyma. That he didn't just jump from a thing with Keith to start things up with his ex. This seems of paramount importance in comparison to everything else.

Nobody seems to want to speak.

Finally Shiro breaks the silence. "They're spinning it as background to the other story. They are implying that Keith is leaving the band with a broken heart." Lance feels Keith flinch at Shiro's words. 

"Oh."

...

Their arrival in Sarajevo is lackluster. Lance tries to remember how excited he was to visit this city, to go to the Olympic venues he'd heard about since childhood. They de-board the bus in uncharacteristic silence. Lance still hasn't been able to pull Keith aside. It was too awkward, and altogether too painful.

He settles into his room and hears a sharp knock at the door. Pidge is standing outside in a baggy shirt and cargo shorts, looking determined. He lets them in without a word and Lance leans against the door and sinks to the floor dramatically.

"Alright, have at it." He says, beleaguered.

Pidge drops down, cross legged in front of him. "What happened?" Pidge asks plaintively.

"What do you even mean?" Lance asks. "A lot of things have happened, Pidge. Yer gunna have to be more specific."

"With Nyma? What happened with Nyma?" Pidge eyes narrow, and Lance feels like a specimen under a microscope. "I can usually figure out what your motivations are. This doesn't make any sense to me." Pidge says.

"She said she understood something about The Generals, something about being women in the music industry." Lance sighs. "I asked her to explain. That's all."

"You're kidding."

"God's honest truth."

Lance is not expecting the punch to the shoulder and it is jarring.

"Ouch. What the fuck Pidge?"

"You had to go to Nyma for lessons about gender in the music industry? You are an idiot."

"It's not like I set up a tutoring session." Lance complains, rubbing his shoulder. "She said something and it tweaked something in my brain, so I asked about it. It was actually very helpful, thank you very much."

"Yes, that totally explains having a heart to heart with your ex-girlfriend in a public stairwell. I mean, a full-on, intimate, conversation with someone who's very last interaction with you was to screw you over with the tabloids."

"Well, when you say it like that it just sounds bad."

"I literally was on a panel about gender in the music industry at a conference, less than a month ago."

"Maybe I didn't understand that gender was an issue in this particular situation." Lance defends, watching for another flying fist.

Pidge just looks disappointed. "Gender is always an issue."

"Yeah, I know Pidge. I just forget sometimes."

"Because you can." Pidge says.

"Because I can." Lance says.

"I do understand Pidge." Lance says, holding up his hand.

"I know." Pidge's voice is softer now. "I will work to be less of a privileged white asshole, if you could be less of a male one."

Lance nods in agreement.

"So, what did she tell you?"

"Nyma said we're lucky. In the industry. Because we have a decent label and manager who both have a vested interest in our wellbeing." Lance has been playing over this in his mind all day. "Basically implying that not everybody has that, and lots of musicians, including Ezor and Zethrid, end up playing 'the game' thinking that is how to get ahead."

"Nyma is right about that." Pidge agrees. "Her own lack of decent management doesn't make what she did to you okay though."

"She didn't say it did. Actually, she said that the ends didn't justify the means. She apologized, Pidge."

"Good." The keyboardist shrugs.

There is a moment where they just sit, Lance contemplating their experience with Altea, with Shiro, his ability to imagine that that his experience is the norm, and all the other shitty stories he hears are rare. He thinks of how Allura was prepared to prevent Keith from touring with Norlox and his Mother to protect Altea. That was shocking, and while Lance understands her reasoning, it felt awful to witness it.

He ponders the discussions on the bus... something else comes to the surface.

"The thing you said today, about the world being addicted to romantic love. That bugs you, doesn't it?"

Pidge rolls their eyes. "Well, Duh."

"Do you think I'm like that?" Lance asks

Pidge eyes him thoughtfully, "You did get caught up in the fairytale with Allura. But after that ended, I figured you would mature."

"And…?" Lance presses.

"Weeelll…" Pidge hedges, a smile pulling at their lips.

Lance reaches over to ruffle their hair in retaliation.

"Stop, stop, stop." They say pulling away. "I hate that. So much." Pidge murmurs, trying to fix their hair.

"Honestly, Lance. You value all of your relationships. Sometimes you struggle to stay grounded. But I think you recognize that friendships and family are as important as romance."

"I guess so." Lance toys with a loose thread on the carpet. "So, why the negative vibe about romance right now. It is that you don't like Matt's new… person ?"

"Girlfriend. He has officially started calling her his girlfriend." Pidge says flatly. "And I like her fine. I just find it so weird that someone can go from being a stranger to the focus of your life in such a short time. I get the brain chemistry and how intense that is. But seriously, from an anthropological perspective, communal and familial relationships are way more vital to our survival. The hormones serve to ensure procreation, but after that, I mean… what's the point?"

"Wow." Lance says nonplussed. "When you say it like that, romance sounds… um… very un romantic. It actually sounds kinda terrible."

"Right?" Pidge responds emphatically."

"It's really not though." Lance says, a smile curling his mouth as he thinks about Keith. Memories of their moments in Scotland together, not just that, of their years together in the band. Warmth pooling in his chest. He catches Pidge smirking at his sappy smile. To retaliate he says, "And the brain chemistry is clearly not just for procreation. Also, the hormones can be a lot…"

"Nope, stop." Pidge covers their ears.

Lance pulls their hands away to say… " of fun."

"Gross." Pidge playfully kicks at Lance to make him stop. "You are a sappy, disgusting, romantic, horndog and you should be grateful that I put up with you."

'I could say the same about you, you cynical little gremlin." Lance collapses with laughter.

When their laughter dies down, Lance nudges Pidge with his foot. "This phase Matt is going through, this new relationship energy thing, it will settle down. You'll get him back and maybe even a sister too."

"I know." Pidge sighs.

"Well, I am single now. You should just hang out with me more often."

"Lance, that is awesome, because I was thinking of replacing Dolly's wheels with higher traction ones, which could mean that I need to rewire the driving mechanism, which gives me an opportunity to reprogram the remote steering. Want to help with that?" Pidge eyes sparkle with mischief.

"Actually, I think Hunk has been lonely on the road, and you should definitely hang out more with Hunk."

…

Their last show is in Athens on the last day of September. Lance remembers when they were planning the tour how he had hoped to spend a few weeks in Greece after it all. Now he cannot wait to get home.

There is a bitter sweetness to the end of this tour, more acute than he's ever felt before.

He finds Keith alone in the green room of their final venue.

"Hey." Lance tilts his head, trying to catch the other man's eyes. "Can we chat?"

"Ummm." Keith hesitates. Lance knows it isn't the best timing, they are going on stage within the half hour. But pegging Keith down over the past few days has been a difficult thing.

Lance sits down tentatively.

"What is it?" Keith sighs.

Lance meets his eyes squarely. "I need you to know, to understand that nothing happened between me and Nyma in Croatia."

"Lance, it's not really any of my business even if anything did happen."

"No." Lance says firmly. "It matters to me that you understand that the time we spent... you know... us... in Scotland. I mean... what we had... you and I... that was significant for me. It's gonna take some time for me to want that with anybody else."

Keith's wide eyes blink at Lance.

"I just… I really need you to know that." Lance manages, finally looking away.

"Right." He looks back and Keith is still there, still wide eyed, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Lance wants to kiss him so badly, he can almost taste it. At this moment, everything else is forgotten. There is only now, only Keith. Ever so carefully he nudges forward, testing the waters, seeing if this is what Keith wants too. Lance is astonished when the other man leans in…

The door flies open as the rest of the band arrives, discussion about the set list in full swing.

...

Once on stage, Lance is aware this could be the last time the band plays together for a long time, or maybe ever. Lance sings every word with meaning. Every ballad is sung to Keith, who sings his parts back at Lance. Every note, every chord is a dream, a wish, a prayer.

Lance knows that this changes nothing. That once they go home, Keith is going to leave again, to go back on the road with another band.

But he has now, he has tonight, and he isn't going to waste it.

Chapter Text

Lance spends the first days back in California in his pajamas in the apartment that he, Hunk and Pidge keep as a home base in Santa Monica. 

Pidge had headed home with Matt, despite the fact that they’re expected back for a meeting at Altea on Tuesday morning. Lance figures they really need time with Colleen and Matt. Sam will be on the road for another few months and it sounds like Matt is also heading out with Keith on the Norlox tour.

Upon arriving home from the airport, Lance and Hunk had left their suitcases in the hallway of the apartment, put on pajamas, ordered a pizza and landed on the couch, too tired to talk. 

The next day, Hunk is up before Lance has even shuffled to the kitchen for a coffee. Hunk and Shay and real estate agent, off looking at restaurant locations, while Lance nurses a coffee and calls his parents to let them know he’s landed and safe. He putters around the empty apartment, reads the newspaper, checks out some social media sites and (much to Hunk’s disgust) eats cereal for every meal. 

On day two he showers, only to put on a new pair of pajamas. He ventures as far as the balcony of the penthouse to watch the hazy sky, the ocean, and to ponder life in his bunny slippers. Hunk brings home Thai food. They eat as Hunk shares the details of the different locations he and Shay are considering for their business. He shows Lance endless pictures and listings on his phone, while outlining the pros and cons of each. Lance tries desperately to track the different options, so that he can give meaningful feedback.

On the third day, Lance sleeps until ten. When he wakes, he decides that he is now over the jet lag and gets shaved, showered and dressed, only to crash on the couch for three hours. Realistically he knows that having his first coffee at two in the afternoon isn’t the best plan, but his brain needs the kickstart, okay?

As he is pouring that first cup, his phone buzzes and he slides his thumb down the screen, savoring a satisfying sip. It’s a message from the concierge that Keith is downstairs wanting to come up. Even as Lance responds in the affirmative he heads to the bathroom to check his hair and teeth. He tucks and then untucks his shirt and plays with the top of his hair. For a split second he considers using some concealer to hide his dark circles.

Holy shit, it’s just Keith. ‘Relax.’

But he can’t help it. His heart is racing with anticipation. 

He considers flopping onto the couch, but instead places himself at the kitchen island, flipping open a magazine, trying to look as though he has done something meaningful or productive or even interesting since getting back to the states.

The elevator dings and Keith is in the apartment calling out, “Hey!” Seeking out the inhabitants. Unfortunately Lance, in an attempt to appear casual, has strategically chosen to take a sip of coffee, so he is mid swallow when his eyes land on Keith dressed in a suit jacket over a mock neck shirt, with dark, perfectly cut, designer jeans and a pair of cowboy boots. 

Um. Wow. 

Keith comes in to find Lance choking on a mouthful of coffee..

The dark haired man immediately looks alarmed. Lance tries to hold his arms up in a calming manner, but has to put them on the counter to brace himself.

“I’mmm okay,”*hack*hack*cough* “Just swallowed wrong,” *cough*gag*wheeze.

Lance finally gets himself under control and is fully aware that any effort to fix his appearance was wasted. There are dribbles of coffee on his shirt, his hair is a mess and his face is beet red. He grabs a handful of paper towels to wipe his mouth, his chin, the magazine, the stool (how did he get coffee on the stool?) and the breakfast bar.

“Right.” Lance tries again, voice ragged. “Welcome to our humble abode.” Gesturing to the seat across from his own. “What brings you here?” 

Keith pulls off the jacket, hanging it on the hooks to one side of the kitchen and pulls out the stool opposite Lance, still looking around. “Hunk out?”

“He’s with Shay, looking at locations for the new restaurant.” Lance supplies.

“Right. Good.” Keith says, nodding. “I was kinda hoping we could chat.” He says, settling on to the seat.

“S’up?” Lance says, with forced casualness. Keith pauses and raises a single eyebrow, and Lance blushes, which makes Keith’s lips pull up at the corners. Great. If possible, Lance blushes even more.

“You okay there?” Keith asks.

“Perfect.” Lance bluffs. “Tote-tall-lee Awesome.”

“Hmmm.” Keith nods again, and Lance prays there will be a time where he isn’t so keyed up just by being in the other man’s presence. Keith on the other hand, seems calmer than when he arrived.

“I’m kinda freaking out.” Keith confesses.

Or, maybe not.

“About?” Lance blinks.

“I haven’t been on the road before without you guys, without Shiro.” His hands pull into fists. “Kara, er Mom, will be there. But it isn’t like we… I mean… I get… Well, you know .” He gestures toward Lance. “And you guys are used to me . And, The Generals are intense. I mean Zethrid mainly, is really intense.”

Keith’s cheeks burn pink as he takes a shallow breath.

Lance pushes air out the side of his mouth as he deciphers Keith’s outburst and figures out what he wants to say.

“We-ell, it’s gonna be different. For sure.” Lance says, sliding off his chair to grab another cup of coffee. “You want one?” He holds the pot up and gives it a shake. 

“Sure.” Keith sighs out the word.

Lance pours out both coffees adding a sugar to Keith’s and filling his with a sweet, vanilla flavoured creamer. In part he is stalling for time as he thinks through how he wants to respond to this. Keith seems grateful for the warm cup to hold onto when Lance slides it over. 

“I mean, it really depends on what you want out of this.” Lance begins. “You’ll get time with your Mom, which is important, right?” 

Keith nods, behind the mug, as he takes a fortifying sip.

“And you are looking to grow as a musician, a performer and” Lance needs to clear the lump in his throat, “...a writer?” He phrases it as a question, but it is a forgone conclusion. Keith has said as much. 

Lance looks up to see the other man staring down at his cup deep in thought. “I mean, different doesn’t mean bad.” he continues, “And you’ve always been good at learning on your feet. It seems to be your thing, y’know. So, it sounds like a perfect situation for you. The kind of challenge you like.” He offers, with a small shrug.

Keith seems to think about it, still toying with the cup in his hands. He raises his head to look Lance square in the eye, and the intensity of that look almost causes Lance’s heart to beat right out of his chest. “Yeah.” Keith says, nodding once. “That sounds right.” After a beat, a quiet, “Thanks.”

Lance shrugs. “No biggie.” He lies. 

“I’m gonna miss you… guys.” Keith says seriously.

“Yeah. Same here.” Lance says. “But you are going to stay in touch, right?” He asks. “You’re gonna call and stuff?”

“Yes. Sure. If you want me to.” Keith says, then his eyebrows furrow. “I’m actually not very good at that.” He continues. “So maybe…”

“I should call you?” Lance offers, because the alternative, not talking to Keith for the next several months is not an option for him right now. 

“I mean, yeah, that works.” Keith gestures vaguely. “Or, we could set up a regular time. That’s what I do with my Mom.” He explains, and he is blushing adorably. 

Lance feels a smile pull across his face. “Yeah. We could do that.” He agrees, tension releasing from his chest. 

They chat some more, about Hunk’s restaurant and Keith’s motorcycle. Inconsequential things. All too soon, “I really have to go. I got these meetings.” Keith gestures to the jacket he hung up in the kitchen. “That’s why I am dressed like this.” His lips pull back wryly. “I just needed to… I mean.” He pauses and meets Lance’s eyes again. “Thanks Lance.”

“Right.” Lance says, taking their mugs to the dishwasher, his heart sinking at the thought of how little time they have left before the other man is back on tour.

 “It’s a nice fit.” Lance says, after turning back, watching as Keith pulls on the jacket. He appreciates the way Keith shoulders fill out the sharp lines of the jacket, how his abs look under the dark fabric of the shirt, and the heels of the boots shape his legs and his as… Keith clears his throat and Lance forces his gaze up to meet the other man’s eyes. Keith's eyes are sparkling with mirth and something else. 

Lance walks him to the elevator and when the doors open, he pulls Keith into a hug, which the other man returns without hesitation. 

“See you tomorrow.” Lance says into his shoulder.

“Yeah.” Keith says after pulling away. He pats Lance’s shoulder once, then a second time, and steps into the elevator, leaning against the back rail. Lance watches as the doors close, taking a mental picture to get him through the next few months… or years… or for-fucking ever.

It is with these thoughts that Lance sinks to the floor in a puddle of bi-crisis-drama, and berates his past self for the years of being totally oblivious to the chemistry and feelings that clearly still vibrate between the two of them. Feelings that now need to be shelved so that Keith can actually live his life and figure out some of his own stuff. He tries not to imagine how it could be different, how he could be leaving to go on the road with Keith if he had just dealt with some of his own demons. 

Hunk and Shay find him there a half an hour later, when they return from their latest real estate adventures.

…

“The Board of Directors has asked that we create a better definition between The Legendary Defenders management team and Altea as their label.” 

Allura is wearing a crisp blazer over a showy blouse, her hair pulled back, and her face schooled. Her referring to TLD as separate is notable. Their label, not our label. It signifies the role she is playing in this meeting. Lance used to hate when Allura switched to her corporate self, he saw it as distant and inauthentic. But now, he realizes that she has to do this. The way that Shiro shifts from friend to father-figure to manager . 

“As you know, my father started Altea as a management company, but had to diversify when he lost his biggest client. For a short time he tried to provide management services while producing music, but that was not a good mix. Altea is strictly a record label, and for the rest of our artists that is clearly our role. However, with TDL the boundaries have not been clear.”

“Wait, Altea is our label and Shiro is our manager.” Lance protests, looking around the table. They are seated in the Altea board room, large comfortable chairs and a huge oblong, blue tinged, glass topped table. 

“Yes, of course, Lance.” Allura agrees. “But Shiro’s offices remained within Altea after he took over that role. Our close working relationship has provided him with a window into Altea’s operations. Which is concerning to some of the executive team and members of the Board. Especially since Shiro plans to maintain his role as Keith’s manager while he is on loan to Norlox's team for this tour. There is a…” She pauses, grappling for the right words. “Lack of clarity, especially if Keith records solo work under another label.”

“Wait,” Lance turns to Keith, surprised. “You’re planning to record under The Blade's Label?”

“We’re still negotiating the terms.” Shiro answers for Keith who squirms with discomfort.

Altea has a contract with TLD, but the language of that agreement does not prevent them from individually pursuing solo opportunities elsewhere. As long as The Legendary Defenders meet their agreements as a band, they have a tremendous amount of freedom to collaborate and work with other artists and labels. It is just not something any of them had taken advantage of, until now.

Lance is uncomfortable with the shift in dynamics. Shiro’s response is one of a manager advocating for a client, namely Keith. The vibe of this meeting is a huge change from the lived-in, family feels they were sharing on the road. He can understand what is happening, and why. But, it feels off kilter.

Allura smiles, it is her crisp boardroom smile, but it reaches her eyes. “I believe Shiro has an announcement.”

Shiro leans forward in his chair, meeting the eyes of everyone in turn. “Adam and I have decided to set up our own Management Company.” His voice vibrates with confidence. Lance feels it as reassurance.” We will be taking on other clients. We’ve brought on a partner, Curtis Blake. We are also hiring staff from Altea who’ve already been handling management related tasks.”

Even with Shiro’s steadiness in sharing this information, there is a shocked silence from the rest of the band, except for Keith and Allura, who clearly had a heads up.

“We’re calling it Atlas Management.” Shiro continues, working to dispel the awkward moment. “We are currently looking for new offices, but we have all the paperwork together. I just want the rest of you to meet Curtis, and review your contract, before we confirm everything.”

“Whoa.” Hunk breathes. “What exactly does this mean for us?”

“Well, it won’t be that different. TLD’s management agreement will be grandfathered into the new company, unless there are things you want to renegotiate.” Shiro offers with a smile. “We’ll need to go over all of that fairly soon, because Keith is set to leave early next week.”

“It also means that Shiro will have two partners and a staff. Which means he’ll be able to take vacations and have down time.” Adam interjects pointedly. 

“That too.” Shiro shrugs, shifting in his seat.

“But everything is cool between the two of you right?” Lance asks, gesturing between Allura and Shiro, thinking back about his conversation with Nyma. “Altea is good with Shiro… er… uh Atlas?”

“Of course Lance.” Allura assures him, and the rest of the band. “We are actually formalizing how we should have been working all along. It will provide some much needed definition about roles and responsibilities.”

“Indeed,” Coran interjects. “Things were becoming a bit of a muddle.”

“But you’ll still drive the bus right?” Hunk asks Coran, eyes wide with worry. Lance almost laughs, because in the many things that will change, he doesn’t want to lose Coran either.

“Of course!” Coran enthuses, “I am Allura’s Executive Liaison when she is on the road, and driving the bus is one of the main perks of my job. They’d have to pry that steering wheel out of my cold dead hands.”

Lance isn’t sure that Executive Liaison is an actual job title, or even necessary one, but he is grateful all the same.

Pidge has been quiet through much of this discussion. “Do these changes impact the service agreement we added to my contract for the app I designed?” Pidge asks. “You guys are pretty much in the beta testing stage?”

“I am glad you brought that up, Pidge.” Allura sits up straight, meeting Pidge’s gaze. “I have proposed that the financial software remain your intellectual property, but that Altea retains some exclusive rights in exchange for financing its development. It means you will have to set up a business and, of course, we’ll need to negotiate the details. However, it means you can provide it as a solution to other businesses, including our partners and affiliates.”

Pidge leans forward in their seat, eyes sharp behind their glasses, hands folding in front of them on the table. 

“Does that work for you?” Allura hesitates.

Pidge is still thinking. “Sounds like it could work.” They say slowly, appearing deep in thought.

“So, Pidge has a company now?” Lance asks slowly.

“Not yet.” Pidge says thoughtfully a smile forming on their lips. “But soon.”

Allura seems pleased at Pidge’s response, some tension leaves the young woman’s shoulders.

“The last item we need to discuss is the hiatus .”

…

The elevator doors open with a swoosh and Lance heads directly to the kitchen, pulls out a container of Salted Caramel Coconut Bliss. He grabs a spoon on his way back to the couch and plops himself down.

Hunk has just made it to the living room, a worried crease forming between his eyebrows.” You doing okay little buddy?”

“Mmm fine.” Lance answers, popping the lid off the container and digging a spoonful out. He puts the whole spoon in his mouth and is rewarded with delicious sweet flavour and then a massive case of brain freeze. He sees stars in front of his eyes for a moment.

“You sure?” He can hear the smile in Hunk’s voice.

“Yup, why wouldn’t I be?” Lance asks, his voice petulant to his own ears. He scoops up another spoonful of decadence.

Hunk heads past him to the kitchen and Lance can hear the cutlery drawer open and rattle closed again.

“You literally crashed on the couch, and are eating ice-cream straight out of the container. The dairy free ice cream we keep on hand for Keith.”

“Firstly.” Lance says, mouth full and waving his spoon,” This stuff is deliciousness personified, it is for me, just me, and only me. Why would we grocery shop for Keith? He doesn’t even live here. Not to mention he has forsaken us by disappearing, on tour, with freaking Norlox. Clearly that nullifies any previous agreement we may have had to keep sweet treats on hand for him at our house.”

Hunk drops down beside Lance on the couch, and reaches over with his own spoon to nab some of the ice cream. Lance pulls the container against his chest and turns away. “Mine.” 

“Lance.” Hunk cajoles. “Share.” He says, giving Lance the I can’t believe you are an adult and acting like this look. 

He pouts but finally reaches his hand out, holding the pint out in Hunk’s direction.

Hunk helps himself to a spoonful and murmurs. “Lot’s of changes huh?”

Lance curls in on himself, the panic setting in. “ So many changes .” He scoops more ice cream, focusing on the cold sensation in his mouth, the sweet flavour, anything but the tightness in his chest.

Hunk nudges his shoulder, while taking another scoop. “It’s gunna be okay, y’know.” he says quietly.

“I know.” Lance says, leaning into Hunk. “At least, I am trying to know.” He leans further into the comfort of his friend. 

“I am really trying.”

…

Keith leaves to join the tour the following Tuesday. 

Shiro throws a small going away barbeque the Sunday before he leaves. Hunk grills in Shiro and Keith’s back yard in Ocean Park. As always, the food is delicious. However, Lance cannot escape the conversations. Pidge is talking about the benefits of different company structures. Shiro, Adam, Hunk and Shay are discussing the challenges of renting or buying real estate in California. Everyone is asking Keith and Matt about the tour. Allura tries to engage Lance in small talk, but small talk with really good friends is entirely uncomfortable and unsatisfying. Lance finds himself talking louder and louder, about increasingly inconsequential things. This isn't want he wants so he attempts to take a moment and finds a corner to nurse his beer and eat his burger. He thinks he wants to say good-bye in a special way. But, how to do that eludes him. In the end he just hugs the dark haired man and reminds him of their promise to facetime every Sunday afternoon.

When Lance returns home, the next days, weeks, months, stretch out in front of him, empty. He knows he is being dramatic, that he’ll talk to Keith every week. Lance knows that he’ll feel better once he goes home to visit his family for a while. He knows that he has a full life. It doesn’t change that right now, there is a Keith shaped hole in it, and he’s not sure exactly how to handle that.

…

If Lance ever got too big for his britches, if at any time his tremendous success fed his ego to the point that he became unbearable or overly entitled, one short visit to his family home in Miami would be enough to knock him back down to size.

Whenever he is with the band people bend over backwards to cater to his every whim. When Lance is on the road, he rarely washes a dish, does laundry, or prepares a meal. His cosmetics are always restocked, his guitar is tuned for him, broken strings replaced, He doesn’t have to pay bills, or make hair appointments, or even drive. His bags appear in his hotel rooms when he arrives and often magically return to the bus when he leaves. 

But coming home is an entirely different story. There is nobody to cater to Lance at home. He is fully expected to jump into the busy fabric of the McClain household, where there is always something happening. Always a meal to be made, dishes to be washed, a craft project on the go, a phone to be answered, or something (or someone) to be dropped off/picked up. 

Two years ago, Lance moved his parents to a fancy Spanish style home in Gables by the Sea. Even though almost all of his siblings still live twenty minutes away, near their old neighbourhood in Westchester, his parent’s house remains the gathering place. His father picks up Sylvio and Nadia from school while Luis and Isabella are working. He drives them to after school activities, dance classes, and swim practice and on other days they hang in the backyard, where a trampoline, swing and treehouse have been tastefully incorporated into the professionally landscaped space. Lance’s mother gets home soon after 4PM. Despite no longer needing to work, she loves her job at the South Miami Women’s health clinic. 

Lance is not at all surprised to find his parent’s home empty when he arrives mid afternoon the following Thursday. The radio is playing in the kitchen, and sunlight comes through the back windows of the house. He can see the ocean beyond the trees and he feels for a second, like he never left. He lugs his suitcase down the hall to his room, to find that a blanket fort has been constructed at the end of his bed. He leaves it, his niece and nephew will expect it to be there when they get home from school.

Lance unpacks fairly quickly, tucking his suitcase into the back of his closet. He changes out of his travel clothes, shedding the button down shirt and slacks for a comfortable tee-shirt and jeans, leaving his feet bare. These were clothes left in his drawers before he went on tour. They smell like home. 

He heads back to the kitchen with terracotta tile floor and hanging houseplants. There is a note on the fridge from his mother letting him know that there are leftovers if he is hungry. Instead he fills the kettle and sets it on the stove, pulling out a basket from the bottom of the pantry. He digs through the massive selection of tea, and settles on something fruity. When the kettle whistles, he pours himself a cup and adds extra honey. 

Lance grabs the battered guitar from the family room on his way to the back deck. Hands full, he deposits his tea and the guitar on the wrought iron table to go back for a pad of paper and a writing utensil. He has test several pens before he finds one that works. Finally, he settles onto the comfortable outdoor lounge, with it’s overstuffed seats and sips his tea, while he tunes the ancient instrument. There are birds flying between the trees and bushes and a buzz of cicadas. No great inspiration comes. Lance strums and fiddles, and strums some more. He scribbles some ideas on the page, and doodles. No masterpiece comes out of this writing session, but something settles. 

He’s finally home.

…

His Mom is the first one back to the house. She finds him folding  a load of towels he had pulled out of the dryer. 

“Mijo! You’re home.” She hugs him close and then takes his face in one hand, cheeks squeezed. “What is going on?” She says, squinting her eyes. “You’re not sleeping enough.” 

“Ma, I’m fine.” He says, shaking out of her hold. “I mean, yes, I haven’t been sleeping great. But nothing’s wrong. There have just been some changes, and I’m worrying. That’s all.”

“These stories about Keith?” She begins, “Are those the changes? You didn’t tell us he was going to tour with that other band.”

Lance sighs. “The stories are just stories Ma. I mean, yes, he is touring with another band, but it isn’t for the reasons you’re hearing.” He says, scooping up the laundry basket and heading toward the linen closet. “It’s more than just Keith mom.” He tries to figure out where to start. He’s pretty sure it isn’t his place to talk about Keith finding his mother. 

He decides to start with Hunk’s restaurant and work from there. His Dad arrives with the kids when he is explaining about the hiatus. 

“The band’s taking a break?” His dad asks. It is a simple question, but he says it in that tone. Lance immediately feels defensive. His mom seems to pick up on it, and jumps in to save him going through the whole story again. “There’s some great things happening for everybody in the band.” She says smoothly. “Let’s get the kids sorted and discuss it after dinner.”

Lance is tackled by Sylvio and Nadia. “Tio, did you know we have a day off school tomorrow?” Nadia announces. “So that means we get to sleep over.” She continues, as Lance pulls her into his arms, resting her on his hip. “And we're camping out in your room tonight.”Sylvio announces. “I mean, if that is alright with you?” He amends after his Grandfather shoots him a look.

“A sleepover with my two favourite kids? I’d be offended if you didn’t crash with me.”

“Good!” Nadia swings her legs happily causing Lance to grapple to maintain his balance. “Cause we already made a fort, and we’re gonna figure out cyphers and make shadow puppets.” 

“Cypher’s huh?” Lance asks. 

“Nadia’s not very good at them.” Sylvio says conspiratorially. “Cause she can’t really read yet.”

“Can too!” Nadia defends, slipping out of Lance’s hold, he has to scramble again to ensure she slides back to the floor without falling. 

“I’ll show you.” She says, running to her school bag to pull out a primary reader. “I can read a whole poem.” She says to Lance.

Lance is dragged to the couch by the four year old as Marco comes in carrying several bags of groceries. He is followed by Lance’s Abuela who comes over to hug him warmly and pinch his cheeks, welcoming him home in Spanish, and telling him he needs to eat more. He smiles at her indulgently.

“Tio Lance said we could sleep in the fort we made.” The boy announces at full volume, greeting his other uncle.

“That great kiddo.” Marco carefully avoids tripping on the excited child, while navigating the bags into the kitchen. “Let’s use our indoor voices, kay?” He continues with his usual calm. Their mother kisses her youngest child on the cheek and begins unloading groceries, while their Dad heads to the deck to start up the barbeque, Abuela following him out to supervise the process.

Nadia is reading to Lance about a marching band of kids with pots and pans, kazoos and triangles. She is actually really good, it sounds like she pretty much has the poem memorized. 

Once the groceries are put away, Marco leans down to the kids, “I inflated that soccer ball we found yesterday if you want to go test it out.” Immediately the two children tumble out the back door chattering to each other, Lance can see them setting up goals with buckets from their tree house’s sandbox. He hears his father’s deep voice making suggestions as they play, and Abuela chiding them to stay clean and not get hurt. 

“Talked to Dad yet?” Marco asks softly.

“Nope, he just got in before you did.” Lance responds.

Marco walks over to the fridge and pulls out two beers, handing one to Lance. Lance isn’t really in the mood to drink, but doesn’t say anything. He just reaches into the fridge and swaps the beer out for a ginger ale. Marco, raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. 

“So, avoid discussing the President’s position on Cuba, if you don’t want to hear about how dad thinks that he just threw out any chances for the Florida candidates come midterm. Also avoid anything to do with the Governor, or state legislature with both Dad and Ronnie. Once they get going …

“So no politics. Gotcha.” Lance pops the top of his drink and pulls down a glass, filling it slowly. 

“Don’t mention Luis’ job, because he only recently realized he isn’t going to see his Grandkids everyday once they move.”

“Right.” Lance takes a sip, savouring the sensation of bubbles tickling his nose.

“You may want to avoid talking about your tour. He got super stressed when you were in Eastern Europe with what’s going on over there.”

“Anything I am allowed to talk about?” Lance teases, and briefly considers how to bring up all four topics to his Dad in one go. 

“He is in a good mood about the Dolphin’s lineup and schedule this year.” Marco offers with a shrug.

“Ugh. I hate football.” 

…

Ronnie and Rachel arrive for dinner to welcome Lance home.  Luis and Isabella have taken this opportunity to have a rare night out, but Lance will see them tomorrow.

Rachel manages to bring up every topic that Marco has warned Lance against and he does notice that his father is more edgy than usual. Ronnie too. Dinner turns into rousing discussions and Lance realizes how much he has missed in his time away. Marco looks ready to hide under the table, Rachel’s eyes are sparkling with mischief as Veronica and his Dad talk over one another, racing to make the next important point. They are extremely loud for two people who mostly agree. Abuela and his mother chatter in Spanish, and Lance tries to follow their conversation. This is all punctuated by the kids sharing the events of their own day at school and the soap opera that is beginner ballet class.

Lance handles bath duty, while the rest of the family cleans up from dinner. Afterwards, he wraps each of the kids in extra large towels and throws them onto his bed. He does it again just to hear their squeals of laughter. Twenty minutes later the three of them pad downstairs in their pajamas, Lance also having to change as bathing two squirming kids is not a task you escape from unscathed, or un-splashed. They settle the kids in front of a movie and the adults sit down to a game of cards.

It is now that his mother gently brings up their earlier conversation. His parents and siblings listen while he explains the changes happening at Altea, with Shiro as their manager, how Hunk and Pidge are venturing out into their own businesses and lastly, how Keith is going to do some solo recordings while touring with Norlox and The Generals. He waits, with dread, for them to ask what his own plans are, but nobody does. He doesn’t know if that is a relief or not. 

In some ways, the conversation is anti-climatic. He had been worrying about it, stressing about their reactions and questions. It is a relief to get it off his chest, but now he is wondering why they didn’t ask what his next big steps are. What his plan for the hiatus is. 

…

It is the following Saturday, when Lance and his mother are sharing a quiet coffee together before the rest of the house wakes up, that she brings it up again.

“I know you mijo.” She says gently. “You worry when things are changing like this. I see how much you think about it.” She smooths her hand over his brow, and, only then, he realizes it was furrowed.

“Have you thought about talking to someone about it?” She says, carefully neutral.

“It’s fine Ma.” Lance tries to brush her concern aside. “This is just normal, music business stuff.” He isn’t sure if he is trying to reassure her or himself. 

“Of course.” She says. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk about how it is making you feel.”

Lance sits with that. It is impossible to separate how all the changes are making him feel from the unfinished business he has with Keith. Does everything changing make him anxious? Yes. But underlying all that is his feelings of loss about Keith, the fears that lead to him not acknowledging those feelings, the growing sense that he has missed his chance at something extraordinary. 

He can’t really explain all of this to his mother. So he simply shrugs, “I’ll think about finding someone to talk to about it, if, I repeat , if you’ll stop worrying about me.” He smirks at her. “Kay Ma?”

…

Trying to facetime Keith while at his family’s home is near impossible. Rachel and Veronica seem to think it is funny to remain in earshot, and speak almost entirely in double entendres. His niece and nephew want to tell their honorary Tio Keith detailed snippets of grade school life, including every half-remembered knock-knock joke they’ve heard since the beginning of the school year. Luis is using the opportunity to ask Keith about motorcycle maintenance, and his mother is checking in to make sure the dark haired man is eating healthy foods and getting enough sleep. Abuela is the worst, asking how that nice young man is doing, and how is it that such a beautiful boy is still single. Thankfully she mostly says this in Spanish, but Lance blushes wildly anyway.

Lance finally escapes with his phone to his room, which his sisters seem to think is some kind of victory for them. 

“Sorry about that.” He says, legitimately wiping sweat off his brow.

“Na, it’s okay. I miss them.” Keith confesses and Lance thinks his heart might explode upon hearing those words from Keith in what could be described as a wistful voice.

“So, how’s the tour going?” Lance asks.

“It’s different.” Keith says. “But good.”

Lance feels that Keith is holding something back, but doesn’t have the will to push for more. 

“How are things there?” Keith asks.

“Y’know. Good.” Lance says, and he realizes he is holding stuff back too.

Their conversation doesn’t last too much longer, what with it being mostly platitudes.

That night, Lance lies awake, and realizes that if he wants more with Keith, he is going to offer something more. He really is going to have to take the step to tell him what is going on inside his head, in his heart. The thought is enough to invoke panic, but as he breathes through it, he knows it will be worth it. That the chance of being with Keith is worth taking this risk.

… 

Chapter Text

“And then, it turned out that I didn’t even have BINGO, that I had accidentally marked a number that hadn’t been called yet.”

“Lance, kindergarteners play BINGO, how did you manage to mess it up?”

“Dude, do you have any idea how many cards those seniors play at once? Abuela was playing, like, 15 cards at the same time. I couldn't get out bingo-ed by a bunch of octogenarians Keith!”

“Well, I guess you showed them.” Keith says dryly, but his face breaks into a smile after he says it.

Lance chuckles, enjoying the rich sound of Keith’s laughter and his sparkling eyes through the video screen. Lance is still hanging out at his family home and this week’s call with Keith is going more smoothly than the last. 

“I’m sure I became the story of the month, Marquessa’s grandson tried to cheat at BINGO.” 

Lance smiles.

“Except it will be, Marquessa’s grandson , you know, the one in the band, doesn’t know how to play BINGO.” Keith corrects, his eyes squinting in amusement.

“Probably.” Lance agrees readily. “That is how she introduced me to everybody.”

The laughter dies down. But Lance really doesn’t want the call to end. 

“I’ve been watching some of the YouTube videos of your performances.” It is an understatement, Lance had spent hours the previous Friday scrolling through videos. It’s a little obsessive and creepy to be honest.

He watches Keith blush. 

“The cover of Back to Black is amazing.” Lance presses onward, not sure what he wants Keith to say. 

“I liked playing the piano on that one.” He shrugs, the blush moving to his ears.

“That’s cool. The vocals were really emotive, though. I mean, it was amazing.”

Keith hums, not giving more.

“Sooo, Norlox brings you out for every encore?” Lance asks.

Keith shrugs. “Pretty much.” He pauses. “We’ve been working on some cool stuff. I think we are going to release a single, maybe even film a video for it.” 

Lance schools his response, he can feel Keith watching him. “I can’t wait to see it.” Lance says. And it is genuine, because despite missing Keith, he can tell the other man is having a lot of fun on stage. He is trying new things and he seems happy. 

“Do you ever feel like we aren’t doing enough?” Keith asks thoughtfully.

Lance doesn’t understand the question at first. “Like musically?” He asks.

“No, I like what I am doing musically.” Keith says easily. Lance tries to reign in the feeling of longing.

“It’s just, the world seems to be kinda shitty right now. And I just… well… feel like I need to… you know… do more. ” Keith’s eyebrows pull together as he says this.

“Oh, that. Yeah. For sure. I get that thought all the time. A lot of the time it is in my father’s voice.” Lance jokes. “Possibly because he says exactly that – Every. Single. Day.” 

A crease forms between Keith’s eyebrows and Lance quickly moves on.

“But, yeah. I totally want to do more, and I have some ideas. With the hiatus I will have time to flush them out.” Lance offers.

“Anything specific?” Keith asks.

“Nothing clear yet.” Lance shares, non-committedly. He hasn’t had a chance to talk to Veronica about what he has been thinking about and her involvement would be essential to his plans. “What about you?”

“I figure I’ve been pretty lucky, having this life. Not many people get what we have. Not many kids like me have a Shiro to… y’know… look up to.. And stuff.” Keith offers.

“Yeah.” Lance thinks of the older man. “Like a mentor?” 

“Exactly.” Keith says. 

“So, you’re thinking of becoming a mentor?” Lance asks.

“Oh, No.” Keith says, surprised. As though the thought had never occurred to him. “I don’t think I’m…” He stops. “Do you actually think I could do that?” Keith asks.

“Sure, yeah. Why not?” Lance smiles, thinking of Keith with his niece and nephew, the way he listens attentively to their endless rambling stories, the way he quietly encourages them when the are interested in something new, the small thoughtful gifts he sends them while on tour.

“Cause I’m impulsive, and short-tempered… and… impulsive.” Keith’s voice tapers off. "I drive a motorcycle." He says, as though that alone disqualifies him from a leadership role for youth. 

“You really think I could be a mentor?” Keith seems nonplussed at the idea.

“I think you’d be aces at it.” Lance says simply, smiling at the other man’s confusion. “What were you thinking of doing?” He asks, curious.

“I figured I could do some fundraising or publicity for an organization that, you know, mentors kids. Something like that.” Keith says. “It was just an idea.” He adds quickly.

“Like a spokesperson?” Lance asks, and he enjoys the full blush that blossoms on the other man’s face.

“Oh my god.” Keith rolls his eyes and laughs. “No, Lance, just… no.” Rubbing a hand over his face he says. “I meant doing a benefit concert or something.”

Lance laughs. “Or something.” He teases, but Keith doesn't rise to the bait.

“So, an organization like Big Brothers and Big Sisters?” Lance offers instead. 

He can hear Keith typing on his keyboard, looking it up. 

“Maybe.” Keith says distractedly, and Lance can see he is reading whatever information has come up in his search. “Yeah, something like that.”

Lance hums. Thinking that Keith will be distracted with his research and end the call soon. So he is surprised by the next question.

“So what’s up with your Dad?” It is carefully neutral. Keith is looking away, as though he is still reading the website he has brought up. But Lance can feel when Keith is tuned into him. He has spent six years jostling for Keith’s attention, so he knows when he has it.

He tries to respond casually, while being hyper aware that Keith knows his tells. “Dad has high expectations for all of us. Ya know? It is all good stuff, he wants us to be part of making the world a better place.”

“Hmmm.” Is Keith’s only response, but he looks up to meet Lance’s eyes through the screen. He waits, knowing Lance has a weakness for filling quiet spaces with words. “Sometimes, I just, I wonder if I could ever do enough, be enough.” He hears himself say. He’s never really shared that before, but Keith takes it in stride. Nodding. Listening. “I know I am not being fair, he has supported me and my music 100% and that is huge. It’s just…”

Lance finally says it aloud.

“I am not sure I can be who they want me to be.”

Keith is quiet for a moment. 

“Who do you want to be?” Keith says softly. 

Lance shakes his head for a moment, uncomfortable with the old anger that rises directed at the other man. Keith,100% unapologetic for who he is. Keith who never seems to doubt, just follows his instincts. But his jealousy is tempered with maturity and compassion. 

Keith didn’t grapple with family expectations because He.Didn’t.Have.A.Family.

“It isn’t that simple.” Lance says, the feeling of overwhelm always so close.

“It doesn’t have to be that complicated.” Keith tosses back.

“Fine, who do you want to be?” Lance redirects.

“I… uh.” Keith flounders.

“See, Not So Simple.” Lance says tightly. 

They sit another moment in silence. Lance staring forward, seeing red. Keith twisting his hands in front of himself, eyebrow furrowed.

“I want to have integrity.” Keith starts.  

“I want to do things for the right reasons. Whatever I am doing, I want it to come from something real, something inside of me. I want to write music that moves people, and tells stories about real people, that speaks to people and can help them feel, really feel.” He pauses, a blush on his cheeks. “And, as cliché as it might sound, I do want to make the world a better place . But in a real way. Not to pander or get publicity, but to support issues I care about and to give people hope, to give myself hope. I am not sure how, but I want to do that.” Keith pants, as though saying all that left him breathless. 

He seems to think a moment, before he continues, softer now. “I want to be connected with the people in my life. Real connection. Not this surface fake, small-talk, kissy kissy crap that,” He makes a vague gesture, “we find everywhere in our industry. And I think I have this already. So I wanna keep it. I want to get better at it.” He enunciates the last sentence with conviction. 

Lance can feel his own heart in his throat, because Keith has that face on, that point of no return face, but it does nothing to prepare him for the next words.

“And, I never really thought about this before, but I think I want a family.” He nods to himself. “Yeah, I want that too. To be someone's partner, and maybe even someone’s dad.”

He finishes and meets Lance’s eyes through the screen, his own violet ones sparkling, not so much with a challenge, more like a call to action.

“So Lance, who do you want to be ?”

Lance can feel the pull to rise up. He wants a list that he can share with defiance. He wants to show Keith up. But this isn’t one of their old sparring matches. This is bigger. Deeper. The words just aren’t there. He has no clear answer. The answer to this question is too important to bluff. 

Besides Keith would know.

Lance’s voice shakes, but he says, “I don’t know yet. But I am working on figuring it out.”

…

Lance spends three weeks with his family before heading back to California. He helps get Luis and Isabella and the kids moved up to Cape Canaveral, he begins taking regular walks with Marco and has regular Saturday morning coffee with his mother. Veronica is extremely busy, but he manages to support the school’s swim team by taking part in their annual car wash, which garners a ridiculous amount of social media attention. Rachel seems to be avoiding him, which feels weird, and his worries about that get tangled up in the rest of the thoughts running around his brain. He and his father talk the way they always talk, about big picture issues.

After their talk about the future, Keith sends a rare text.

Samurai

Today: 11:43 AM

Just added this song to the DP playlist. Thought about our last call.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUgwM1Ky228

So you know, you helped me figure that life stuff out.

The final text takes ages to come. Lance watches the three little dots breathless. 

Finally a notification:

If you need to talk, I’m happy to return the favor.

He talks to Keith every Sunday, and for the few days following those calls he feels content, sated. But as the week goes on, he misses Keith more and more; He scrolls social media and searches YouTube to see pictures and videos of the other man, but he never feels better after doing that.

Lance really notices the distance when watching an online video of Norlox and The Generals singing Happy Birthday to Keith at a stadium show in Montreal. He is swallowing back tears until the camera slides into a close up and he can see a small pendant shaped earring that shimmers like a galaxy hanging off of Keith’s ear. 

Lance’s heart skips a beat. He had purchased the earring on one of his walks with Marco. They had found their way to the boardwalk, and there was a little craft vendor with a stand of handmade jewelry. It wasn’t an expensive piece, just resin, paint and glitter. But it reminded Lance of Keith. He felt silly when he had sent it with a funny card that read, “Happy Birthday to the Man, the Myth, the Legend” with a picture of mothman on it.  Seeing it on the video, he feels flushed with an unnamable feeling.  

…

Back in Santa Monica, Shiro and Hunk have decided to buy a building together, it has space for a ground floor restaurant and offices upstairs for the management company. Hunk and Shay are in the midst of the design phase for the restaurant, while Shiro, Adam, and Curtis (who turns out to be friendly and personable without having that slimy music manager vibe) are working out terms with the existing lease holders in the upper part of the building. The employees they move over from Altea, James Griffin, Ina Leifsdottir, Ryan Kinkade, and Nadia Rizavi are working out of a temporary shared workspace in L.A. for the time being.

Pidge is often in California, trying to troubleshoot the issues with the financial app they’ve created. They love pouring over the designs for the restaurant with Hunk. Lance often walks into the apartment to find the two of them with blueprints spread out all over the floor, Pidge with a mechanical pencil shoved behind their ear, or in their hair, multi-coloured post its scattered around them. Lance hums in the right places as he works to keep up with the conversations about structural elements, fire safety and ergonomics. He is attentive enough that he can make a few helpful suggestions.

When Hunk is not there, he and Pidge play Mario Kart and try to make each other laugh. Bonus points for distracting an opponent at key points in the game. They eat take out and keep things light, but Lance knows both of them are missing Keith and Matt on tour. 

While Hunk and Shay are excited about the restaurant, the planning and construction process is exhausting and stressful. So Hunk decides to spend Thanksgiving experimenting with recipes. Lance shops with him and acts as sous chef as he puts together several sample mains, sides and desserts he wants to include on the menu. That night Shay, Lance, Pidge and Hunk try everything. Hunk wants constructive feedback, but everything tastes delicious and nobody really helps narrow down his menu options. The foursome drink wine and eat, laughing for hours. It is the most relaxed Lance has felt in a long time. 

They send Shay off in an Uber, as she has to work the next day, and Pidge sneaks to their room to stay up all night coding. 

In a rare act of avoidance, Hunk decides that the rest of the clean-up can wait until tomorrow. They load whatever they can into the dishwasher, but leave everything else rinsed and stacked on the counter and the two men lounge on the couch, shooting the shit.

Lance doesn’t know exactly how the conversation comes round to Keith, but it was probably Lance, since the dark haired man is never far from his thoughts.

“I’m noticing something.” Lance says, the company, alcohol and food have mellowed him. “When I talk to Keith regularly, it’s fine. I feel good, like that the band has a future, that we have a friendship, maybe something more.”

Wanting more is a secret that Lance stores in the recesses of his heart, but here, after a few glasses of wine, with his empathetic best bro, he says it aloud and likes the way it sounds.

“After a few days of not talking,” Lance goes on, “I start to get jittery. I search his name on the internet and watch the videos on YouTube… I start…” He takes a fortifying gulp from his glass, “...reading the comments.” He confesses. 

“Ugh, Lance. You know better…” Hunk starts, drawing out the words.

“I know. I know. I know.” Lance gestures, tipsily. “It’s just… “ He doesn’t really have an explanation. “You know the fans are shipping them, right?” Lance continues. “They think Keith and Norlox are together. ”

“Lance.” Hunk says, his disapproval softened by the smile pulling at his lips. “They are also shipping Keith and Axca.” 

Lance shrugs. “Maybe that’s a thing.” He postulates, the wine giving voice to some of his darkest fears.

Hunk laughs out loud. “In what reality?”

“She did have a crush on him.” Lance reasons. “Probably still does.”

“No.” Hunk’s face falls into seriousness. “Never. That wasn’t a thing.”

Lance is still attached to his nightmare fantasies. “But Keith said…”

“Keith was wrong.” Hunk says kindly, but with certainty. 

“But…” Lance tries.

Hunk reaches for Lance’s glass, his voice stern but kind. “I am cutting you off buddy. You are not making any sense.” He says, pulling the glass from Lance’s fingers, reaching for the bottle with his other hand as he stands. 

“But…” Lance says again, looking down at his empty hand.

Hunk leans in, his tone solid, truthful. “Keith has been out as a gay man for as long as we’ve known him. You have to be working pretty hard at imagining a future where you don’t stand a chance if that future is one where he ends up with Axca .” He holds Lance’s gaze for a moment.

Lance lets his hand fall to his lap, he is slow to fully understand the words in his inebriated state. 

Hunk leaves to empty Lance’s glass into the sink and re-cork the bottle and put it away. He fills two glasses with water and switches off the kitchen light before grabbing them again. “Time for bed.” Hunk says, standing at the entrance to the hallway to the bedrooms. “You can crash with me if you need post wine snuggle time .” 

Lance shakes himself out of his stupor and looks up at his friend. “Yeah, I definitely need that.”

…

It is the end of November when Hunk hits a wall. There have been contractor issues, supply chain issues, and a particularly ornery building inspector. The worst hits when Shay’s Grandmother becomes ill and she flies back to Egypt to be with her. 

Hunk gets back to the apartment and finds Lance cross legged on the couch, his guitar to one side, playing a mindless video game. Lance had been at home all day, struggling with his writing. He hasn’t bothered to dress, and knows he must look a mess. But he has been working, only rarely getting distracted by social media and video games.

Hunk just leans on the breakfast bar and sighs, but Lance is ready to take offense, “What?” he asks, self conscious about his appearance and feeling gross for still being in his pajamas. 

“Nothing Lance.” Hunk sighs again, turning into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “Actually, I was hoping that you'd have at least started making dinner.” the larger man says.

Lance looks to his side at the cereal bowl sitting on the couch cushion. “I ate already.” 

Hunk pulls a face, “We’ve discussed this, Koala Puffs do not constitute a healthy dinner.”

This isn’t going well, Lance feels guilty, because Hunk does more than his fair share of cooking. But, he also enjoys it and is better at it than anybody else. Lance always tries to make up for it by doing most of the clean up. 

Unfortunately, Lance resents feeling guilty. It is worse in that, today, he already feels like a slob and a failure. 

“Nobody asked for your menu advice Chef-man.” Lance says defiantly. “Besides, it wasn’t dinner.” He gestures with the controller. “More like a late lunch.” He snaps.

That sounded ridiculous. 

Hunk must think so too, because he stares at Lance for a moment, before he just starts laughing.  “I guess that’s better then.” Hunk says, and pulls a beer out of the fridge. But he can’t open it to drink it. He is laughing so hard that tears form in his eyes.

At first Lance is embarrassed. Offended even. But watching Hunk struggle to open the twist off top for the beer is amusing and Hunk’s laughter is contagious. He finally has to get up and help the guy open his beer, grabbing one for himself.

“I can make dinner.” Lance says, as Hunk finally manages to take a swig of his drink. “What do you want?”

“Apparently I wanted a fight.” Hunk shrugs, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Which I gave you.” Lance postures. “Or at least tried to, until you ruined it by laughing.” He playfully swats Hunk's shoulder.

As Lance hoped, Hunk starts laughing again and pulls his friend in for a hug.

“Rough day?” Lance asks, patting him on the shoulder.

“The worst.” Hunk says, his body sagging.

Lance takes his weight for a moment, but then pushes out of the embrace.

“I can make up a quick congri.” Lance says, turning to pull some canned beans and a bag of rice out of the cupboard.

“I’ll chop the onions.” Hunk offers. 

“No, no, no, no no. Didn't we just discuss this? I am supposed to be making dinner.” Lance protests.

“Actually, this is good.” Hunk says. “I’m good. Cooking together will remind me why I even wanted a restaurant. We should also use up the chorizo I picked up at the market on the weekend.”

“I like the way you think.” Lance smiles, opening the fridge.

…

“I never expected it to be easy,” Hunk says, “I didn’t know it would be this hard.” He rubs a hand over his tired eyes. “And I am really worried about Shay. Her grandma practically raised her.”

They have just finished a simple dinner of beans, rice and salad. 

“Maybe you should just head out there.” Lance suggests.

“To Egypt?” Hunk asks, awed. 

“I mean, why not?” Lance asks. “You said it yourself, that because of the shipment delays, nothing big is happening until January. The general contractor seems to have everything else under control.” Lance shrugs. “I mean, I am sure you can figure out a Visa. Is there a reason not to go? Will her family be weirded out by you showing up?”

“I think they would be happy to see me. I mean, her brother can be an ass, but I think he is just protective. I’m going to call her right now and see what she thinks. I mean, if that is okay?” Hunk says, “ I don't want to leave you alone with the clean-up.”

“Go, go.” Lance waves him off. “I’ve got this.”

“Thanks man.” Hunk hugs him and hurries off to his room, leaving Lance at the breakfast bar, where they’ve eaten dinner. He remembers he is still in his pajamas, and he feels grossed out and ashamed all over again. 

He sends a quick, rare, text to Keith, who is playing in Seattle tonight. 

“Bro, we had your fav tonight, Congri with chorizo.”

He quickly loads the dishwasher and hears the notification as he washes the prep dishes. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up but smiles instantly when he sees it is from Keith.

“OMG - Jealous."

Followed by:

"I just ate the most disgusting, soggy, slice of pizza ever made.”

He stares at the phone, trying to think of some brilliant response. Missing Keith and not knowing how to tell him. Maybe he can try just that. 

“I miss you.”

Lance presses send before he can overthink it. 

The response is almost immediate.

“Miss you too.”

It is followed by.

“And the congri. I really miss the congri.”

Lance huffs a laugh, but before he can get paranoid another text comes in. 

“ SRSLY thou, wish you were here.”

…

It’s the week before Christmas Lance is alone in Santa Monica, Hunk headed to Egypt at the beginning of the Month and he and Shay went from there to Hawaii to spend the holidays with Hunk’s moms and the rest of his family.

Pidge headed back home the second week of December, Colleen had extra time off, and they are planning to meet Matt and Sam in New York for the Holidays. Norlox is booked for the New Years show in Times Square. Shiro and Allura have invited him out several times, but Lance begged off. He totally has a plan to write music and reorganize his room and get all his Christmas shopping done. 

And he made headway on all of these things. He really did.

On midnight December 21, Norlox and Keith release a cover of Annie Lennox’s song Little Bird , which they had played in concert a few times before. 

They also release a video.

Lance knows he needs to be up early, he has a flight to Cuba to catch, because he is meeting his family there. They are celebrating Christmas together and Abuela wants to go home at least one more time before… well… before she can’t anymore.

He tells himself he is going to watch the video once, maybe post it to socials… give his friend a boost, not that he needs it.

That’s what he tells himself.

Lance may be biased, but the video is stunning. 

It's set in a mansion and starts with Keith sitting in a huge bed wearing a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. The lack of shirt highlights a new tattoo on Keith’s abdomen which Lance has paused and tried to get a close up on. It looks like planets or stars. He can’t quite tell. He is curious and irked, because Keith hadn’t mentioned getting new ink. It just seems like something you would mention, ya know?

The video then cuts to Norlox in a huge clawfoot bath full of bubbles, singing one line from the first verse. When it goes back to Keith he is walking down an alley and getting on his motorcycle. There is something about this shot that hits Lance right in the solar plexus. The lyrics imply that Keith wants to be a little bird to fly away.. 

Next it is Zethrid, dressed in a tux bringing Norlox champagne on a round tray, right to the bathtub. That only lasts for a line before it’s Keith staring out the window in the bedroom, his fist knocking out the bass beat on the window. It flips back and forth through different versions of the same shots, then suddenly Keith is coming down a large staircase with purpose, walking past The Generals. 

The band is dressed as staff for the house, Zethrid the butler, Ezor a maid, Axca appears to be a mechanic or gardener. They run through some other shots but it comes back to Keith and Norlox. They are now seated at opposite ends of a long dining table. Ezor, taking a silver cover off a tray releasing a flock of birds. More of the Generals, doing their jobs in the house. At the end of the next chorus, Keith is pushing away from the table, the champagne flute falling and crashing. Norlox trying to stop him from leaving. Keith falling backwards on the bed with his arms spread.

Lance is transfixed. 

The final shot is Keith speeding away on his motorcycle and Norlox watching from the bedroom window, wrapped in a satin nightgown drinking his champagne.

He watches the video, beginning to end, at least 3 times. 

Or maybe 10. 

Maybe more.

Who’s really counting?

And if he had stopped there, it would have been fine. Really. He could have posted a 

‘WTG to my Bandmate Keith and his new single with Norlox’ and a link. 

But no.

Not Lance.

Not tonight.

Lance scrolls down to the comments.

Kelox4ever: I think this song is about TLD being a cage and Keith wanting to fly away.

NorloxFan101: And straight into Norlox’s arms.

Kelox4ever: Right?

LetKeithBKeef: I think it is about Keith spreading his wings.

Mus!cLuver: Which was made possible by this tour.

Rose123: Obviously he had to get away. TDL is so toxic.

LetKeithBKeef: Rose123, I don’t think TDL is toxic, my Baby boy just needs room to grow. 

Rose123: Puleeze. He is the most talented of all of them. He needs to be around other superstars 

LetKeithBKeef: I am just saying, we do not need to be Anti about it. TLD has been a big part of his career, but its great to see him maturing as a musician. 

…

Lance wakes up to a puddle of drool on the couch cushion, his dead phone on the floor, and someone hammering on the door. 

James Griffin is not a particularly chipper person, but today he is downright irritating. Lance had slept in, and luckily he had all his bags packed, ready to go at the door before he fell down the YouTube rabbit hole last night. Unfortunately, his phone died and no alarm woke him up, and now he is racing through the shower and throwing on some clothes as James paces downstairs, muttering under his breath.

It is a race to get to the airport and Lance manages to forget his charger in the rush to get out the door. His hair is wet, so he pulls on a baseball cap, cringing to imagine the hat-head it will produce and prays that there are no paparazzi at the airport. He hides behind some sunglasses and tries to ignore James’ sighs and eyerolls. 

By some miracle they make it, James leaves him at security, Lance muttering “Good Riddance.” as the other man leaves. When he finally gets on the plane, he thinks to text Veronica, but then remembers his phone is dead.

...

Thankfully everything has been planned ahead of time and he is met at the airport by hotel staff. He tries to charge his phone on the drive there, but nobody has a cord to match his. When he finally makes it to his airconditioned room he collapses on the bed and stretches. He decides to get up and do some yoga poses to release the pent up stress from the morning. Next step, he pulls on some swim trunks and heads down to the pool to work off the last of the tension.

It is an hour later when Veronica finds him on the pool deck, drying off from an extended swim. She is still in her travel clothes and it looks like her morning was only marginally better than his. 

‘What the hell Lance? I’ve been trying to text you all morning.”

“My phone is dead and I forgot my charger.” Lance shrugs at her, refusing to get riled up again. He finally just found his calm.

“Well, Allura was trying to reach you, and when she couldn’t she started texting me.” Veronica’s voice is laced with tension, and Lance feels a twinge of guilt.

“I fail to see why she needs to reach me urgently, It’s the holidays.” Lance shrugs.

“Well, if I were to guess.” Veronica informs him, lips tight with disapproval, “It would be the fact that everyone else in the band has given Keith’s new single a shout out. Everyone, that is, except you.” Her eyes squint shrewdly. “This has not gone unnoticed by the gossip mongers.” 

“Puleeze.” Lance says dramatically, trying to cover up his embarrassment upon being reminded of how he spent his night, “Ryan and Nadia can write a better post than I can, and they’d do it in half the time. If it’s an issue, Shiro’ll get them to do it.” He looks up at her from where he is sitting, drying his hair with a towel.

“Well, whatever she wanted, it seemed pretty urgent.” Veronica sighs, the wind coming out of her sails. 

“It’s good to see you sis.” Lance says, standing arms reaching out for a hug.

Veronica practically falls onto him. 

“What is actually going on?” Lance asks, because Veronica is wound tighter than a spring.

“Just, this morning’s news. They cut funding for Mom’s work and… it just never stops.” Her hands gesture wildly as she steps back and they begin heading back to the hotel.

“Ugh. Jeez. That sucks.” Lance says, disappointed, but not surprised. “I am sure we could do a benefit concert, try to make up the difference.” Lance suggests, shivering as they enter the air conditioned lobby.

Veronica blinks away some tears, “That’s great Lance. I mean it would help the clinic, but it doesn’t solve the bigger problem.” She shrugs, pressing the button to call the elevator. “Everything just seems so big right now.” 

“It really does.” Lance says, “Doesn’t it?”

Once back in his room he heads to the washroom to rinse off in the shower and put on some moisturizer. He hadn’t done his skincare routine last night and the chlorine in the pool has left him itchy and uncomfortable. There is a rap on his door and he answers in his bathrobe. It’s Veronica, bringing her charger for him to borrow.

“What do you think of Keith’s new song?” She asks, while he rifles through his carry-on to find his phone. 

“It’s great!” He answers honestly, pulling the dead phone out, and slipping it into the robe’s pocket while he reaches back into the bag to pull out his toiletries, thinking a bit of a facial might be a good pick me up.

“So…. why didn’t you make a post about it?” Veronica doesn’t even try to sound casual, as though she has a big sister superpower, RADAR for embarrassing stories.

“I kinda got distracted.” Lance says, blushing at the thought of last night; at his urge to create a fake YouTube account to argue with fans about Keith and his place in TLD. 

Lance plugs the charger in the bathroom outlet and reaches to pull the phone out of his pocket. His hands are still slippery from the moisturizer he put on after the shower, and it slips. He makes a valiant effort to recapture it, but it hits the ceramic bathroom floor with a resounding crash.

Lance stares down at it in shock and Veronica steps into the bathroom to join him. 

“Oops.” She says, unhelpfully.

Lance shoots her an irritated glance and bends to pick his phone up. The screen is entirely smashed. He plugs it in anyway, hoping it will work in some capacity. Nothing.

He sighs. “Fuck my life.”

“Know what Lance?” Veronica says, walking back into the room and pulling her phone out of her purse. “I think it is a blessing.” 

“How so?” Lance asks, shaking the charger cord, as if that is the reason his phone is toast.

Veronica pulls out the sim card for her own phone. She folds a piece of hotel stationary into a makeshift envelope and slides the card into it, and turns off her phone, for good measure.. “I think we both need to disconnect a little bit.” 

He stares at her, again, struck by the thought that she has some psychic awareness of what he was doing the night before.

“We are on vacation, with our family, and we don’t need to be hooked into everything else that is happening out there.” She gestures out toward the window. “I say we give ourselves a break.”

Lance thinks about her idea. It means giving up this week’s call with Keith, which he wasn’t sure was even going to happen over the holidays. But other than that, it means a way to avoid his habit of trolling his best friend on the internet. It means a break from really shitty news stories and conjecture about his band being on hiatus. It means no surprise Galra.com posts.

“I think I like the sound of that.” Lance nods at his sister.

She smiles.

A genuine Veronica McClain 1000 watt smile. And Lance knows this is the right thing to do. 

Chapter Text

Lance feels a sense of freedom after leaving his dead phone in the hotel room to head out to dinner and a film in Havana with Veronica. The rest of the family will be arriving tomorrow, they’ll meet at the airport to pick up the rental cars and leave on the two hour drive to Varadero, where they have a villa rented for the next two weeks. 

Throughout the night, Lance tries to work up his nerve to bring up an idea he has been formulating for the past two months. An idea that had solidified soon after the conversation Lance had with Keith about giving back , making a difference. However, Ronnie wants to only talk about inconsequential topics, the weather, the taste of mangoes, how much she misses speaking Spanish. It becomes more and more apparent how important this time away is for his sister. She clearly needs a break from the stressors of her life. Disconnecting her phone is helping her do that.

Despite this, Lance insists that she reconnect long enough to text their parents to let them know both of them had arrived safely, and to let them know their numbers at the hotel in case anything changes in their plans for the following day. 

The next morning is a rush of meeting everyone at the airport and organizing themselves into three separate cars to drive to Varadero. Luis and Isabella look worn out already. They had driven to Miami the day before, so that they could fly in with Rachel, Marco, Abuela and their parents. Sylvio and Nadia appear not to have slept much, both excited about their trip away for the holidays. The excitement has turned into nervous energy, which was hard to contain on the flight into Havana. The family was hard pressed to keep the two entertained, and to make matters worse, Nadia’s favourite stuffed bear had been lost during de-boarding. Thankfully, after much running around, a very kind, and exceptionally handsome, steward presented the bear to the distraught child. 

“Lance, can Sylvio ride with you and Marco?” Isabella asks, Nadia on her hip, the child’s head resting on her mother’s shoulder. “I wanna go with Tio Lance and Marco.” Says a little voice, her head popping up and lower lip quivering. “I understand Boo.” Isabella answers the child in a soft voice, without missing a beat. “But Mama needs some extra snuggles, I was worried about Mr. Bear, I think I could use some reassurance, if that is okay with you? Can you ride with me, Daddy and Grandma?” She asks, gently smoothing the child’s hair down with her hand. Nadia purses her lips, thinking about it. “Kay Mama. But just this one time, and only ‘cause Mr. Bear was worried too.” She says, snuggling back into her mother’s shoulder.

Isabella’s eyes meet Lance’s over his niece’s head and he smiles back indulgently. He is grateful for Isabella’s gentle nature and hopes one day to replicate it, if he ever has his own family. He tries to push the thought aside, but is thwarted by a tired Sylvio leaning into his side. Only a few moments ago the little boy was chattering about swimming in the ocean and finding hermit crabs.

Veronica and Rachel are climbing into a car with their parents while Luis, finished loading suitcases into the massive trunk, helps their Grandmother into the front passenger seat of another car. Isabella slides into the back seat beside Nadia to get her strapped into her booster. The kindergartener likely will fall asleep as soon as they are on the road. 

Lance get’s Sylvio into his own booster, struggling a bit with the older seat belts. Marco loads their bags into the oversized trunk. The little boy also seems to have run out of steam, and Lance kisses his head as he checks the seat belt. Marco, finished loading, plays with the car keys, tossing them into the air and trying to catch them behind his back with mixed results. Lance pulls the keys out of the air on Marco’s next toss. 

“C’mon Lance, let me drive.” Marco complains.

Lance grins. “No way man, I wasn’t old enough to drive in Cuba last time we were here.” Thinking of the video they filmed here for the first album. He says, walking around to the driver side door.

Veronica pulls up beside him and Rachel rolls down the passenger window. “I guess you guys are picking up Tia Jo, since you have the most space.” She calls out, with a smirk on her face. Marco’s groan is audible from the other side of the car as his sisters pull past and catch the ramp out of the parking lot. They are followed closely by Luis.

“We’re going to be the last one’s there.” Marco complains from the passenger seat. “They’re going to get the best rooms.”

“All the rooms are good rooms.” Lance responds. He smiles at Sylvio through the rear view mirror, as he adjusts it. The boy is clearly fighting off sleep, even now, his eyes rest for an extra beat when he blinks. 

…

Tia Jo is the youngest of Abuela’s sisters. Her name is Yocelin, but the story goes that his grandfather couldn’t say her name. The family had laughed at him using the anglicized “J” sound and had ended up with the nickname. Tia Jo had never married, being the youngest child she stayed with her parents and took care of them until they passed away. She still lives in the family home, close to Varadero. Jo still does the books for some of the small tourist businesses in the town. She used to run the front desk for one of the big hotels. Her English is better than Abuela’s and she tells the best stories. But Marco is right in saying that picking her up will ensure they are well behind the rest of the family in arriving at the Villa where they are staying.

As soon as they travel through the tunnel to get out of the city, Lance opens his window to feel the ocean breeze, Marco does the same. The car fills with all the smells of the island. The brothers don’t speak much, both lost in their own memories. The drive along the coast feels much the same as it did when he was a kid. The time flies by, Sylvio napping the entire way. They pull into the side streets of Varadero, pastel painted houses line both sides, palm trees and flowers swaying in the salt scented breeze. Lance takes the turns slowly unused to the wide car. He steers around a rooster standing in the middle of the road and pulls in front of a yellow house with a concrete garden wall, painted to match. Laundry billows on a line on the porch. 

There is a grinding sound from behind the house that wakes Sylvio from a sound sleep. Marco, sighs, and climbs out to help the boy out of the car. Lance follows the noise through the small alley to the back of the house, finding his aunt dressed in mechanic’s overalls, hair wrapped in a floral kerchief, messing around with her ancient scooter and sidecar. She has a streak of grease on her cheek and a maniacal gleam in her eyes. She revs the engine again, resulting in a sputter and a choking sound before it stalls out. 

“Tia Jo…” Lance begins. The older woman starts and turns slowly, eyes squinted. As soon as she recognizes him, a huge grin forms and dimples line her cheeks. 

“Lancito, what are you doing here?” His aunt steps forward with dirty hands and fingernails. Lance has the urge to duck out of the way, but her smile is so contagious he decides he can sacrifice his shirt for this hug. “I was trying to get the old scooter running to get out to the villa.” She steps back, and Lance cannot help but wince at her excessive patting his shoulders with her filthy hands.

“Tia Jo, we made a plan to pick you up.” He admonishes. 

“Yes, but a woman needs her independence.” She says resting leaving a flat imprint from her grease covered hand on his chest. He grimaces down at the stained pink polo shirt with a sigh of acceptance. His aunt’s eyes sparkle with a glint that reminds him of Pidge. 

“You have a motorcycle?” Sylvio’s excited voice comes around the corner, running toward the half disassembled machine. Lance scoops him up mid run, but Sylvio’s legs continue forward. Lance uses the momentum to lift the boy up and onto his shoulder. It’s quite the effort. Either the kid is getting too big for this or Lance should get back to his upper body workout which he has been neglecting. (TBH isn’t nearly as fun without Keith there to egg him on.)

Sylvio is laughing but still reaching toward the scooter as he shifts to put both his legs over Lance’s shoulders.

“It’s just like Tio Keith’s.” He says, Lance holds his knees to stop the feet from kicking his chest.. 

“Not even close.” The grin comes easily to Lance’s cheeks.

“I’ll have to come back with Luis to see if we can get it working, and then I can take you for a spin.” Tia Jo promises the little boy, who stops squirming and squints at her, as if trying to determine if he can trust that promise.

“Can I please?” Sylvio, turning his round, blinking eyes down to Lance, who looks up at him. Sylvio’s lower lip is pushed forward just enough, and his eyes shine. The look may have worked, if Lance hadn’t perfected the very same one before he was four. “That, my friend, is entirely up to you parents.” He says, lifting him and letting the child slide down his back to the ground. 

Tia Jo is already heading up a flight of wrought iron stairs to a second floor balcony and opening an outdoor fridge, pulling out gold cans of sweet soda.

“Tia, we really need to get going.” Lance calls up, as he follows Sylvio up the steps. “Also, I don’t know if his parents let him drink pop before lunch.” He says, reaching for the can she offers the boy. She swats his hand away. “Nonsense. It was good enough for you when you were his age.” She says popping the top and giving it to the child. Lance reaches down again, but Sylvio is too quick, drawing the can to his chest, laughing and deftly moving to the corner of the balcony, his body posed protectively around his prize. Marco’s hand comes over Lance’s shoulder to accept the next can offered. Lance sighs and gives in, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling the tab on a can for himself.

Jo turns on her heel and heads into the house. She begins a diatribe, switching between Spanish and English as she paces in and out of view. Lance tries to follow her monologue while keeping an eye on Sylvio, who has a knack for getting into trouble. Luckily, Marco is used to his nephew’s antics and anticipates Sylvio’s mad dash down the stairs and toward the rooster who has now found his way into the yard.

“I suggest maybe giving that old guy some space.” Marco says, blocking Sylvio’s path, before he can try to pet the bird. “He’s not as friendly as Old MacDonald might have us believe.” 

Lance snickers from the balcony, to which his brother throws him an unimpressed look, which reads, You bring him back to his parents missing a finger, see how that goes for you.

Through the door, Lance sees Tia Jo disappear into an upstairs bathroom, coming out with washed hands and wearing a black and beige flowered house dress. The change is so sudden, Lance realizes the overalls must have been overtop of her other outfit. The kerchief tied over her hair is also gone, her short salt and pepper curls falling around her face.  She steps out of the screen door and slips her feet into a pair of soft leather, well worn, slip on shoes. 

She smiles up at him innocently, and Lance is immediately worried.

“You didn’t happen to bring that handsome young man that is so good at fixing motorcycles with you on vacation, did you?” She says sweetly in Spanish.

“ No Tia Jo, Keith is on tour right now.” Lance smiles back

“ That’s a shame. Such a good looking, sweet boy, and so good with his hands.” She responds smoothly.

It’s Marco’s turn to snicker, but Lance ignores him, blinking at his Aunt, who grins innocently and turns to close the door and head down the stairs.

Jo grabs her overnight bag out of the sidecar of the motorcycle, she putters out to the front of the house, and pulls down all her clean laundry from the line and slips it into a canvas shoulder bag. After much chatter and rearranging, She loads her items into the trunk, kicks Marco out of the front seat, and finally they are off to the villa. 

…

The two days leading up to Christmas eve are healing for both him and Veronica. Lance goes for morning swims with Veronica. The ocean water is a balm for his senses, something about the endless blue of water and sky unlocks his spirit. Endless horizons open him up to belief in possibilities. He still hasn’t broached the idea that has been playing at the edges of his mind. He and his oldest sister are both slowly letting go of all the things that have wound them up these past six months. Lance can tell that Veronica is having a harder time letting go of the stress than he is. He gently feels in, trying to be available when she is ready to talk about it.   

In the end, he doesn’t get a choice. It is just past noon on Christmas eve. The family has divided tasks for preparing Christmas dinner. The family has opted out of presents this year, except for the children.

Lance is peeling yuca and dropping them into a pot of cold water. He has a sense that Tia Jo is up to something the moment she plops herself on the wicker salad bowl chair next to the table, her hands set primly in her lap. Lance’s Dad refers to his wife's aunt as a ‘pot stirrer’ and, while Lance has deep affection for the older woman, he cannot help but agree. 

Veronica is curled up on a small loveseat re-reading Jane Eyre. The villa had shelves of books for loan, but mostly they are a mix of romance and spy novels in English and Spanish, some of them dating back to the 1960s. Veronica sniffed disdainfully at them and dug through, settling on something that approximated a classic.

“Veronica, have you met a nice boy yet?”

Lance chokes on a mouthful of lukewarm coffee. Drawing his eyes up to see Tia Jo blink innocently, with wide eyes, at his sister.

“I think we’ve discussed this before Tia” Veronica responds dryly, eyes on the page. “I don’t date boys.” His sister then looks up. “I date girls.” She says pointedly.

“Ohh. That’s right, your a lesbian .” Tia draws the word out, as though it is the first time she has ever said it aloud. “I remember now.”

Lance holds his breath, hoping this is the end of the conversation.

“You know, I watched a movie on the Netflix about lesbians who played professional baseball during the Second World War” Jo ponders. “...And I thought, Veronica doesn’t play baseball. But I guess you don’t have to, to be a lesbian nowadays.” The older woman sounds confused and to Lance’s ears it sounds curious, but somewhat genuine.

He raises a finger to jump in. He knows this conversation is going south… fast. But before he can, Veronica licks a finger to turn a page of her book, and says airily,

“Actually Tia Jo, I am taking an extra week off during March Break to head to spring training to hone up on my baseball skills. I have to, or else they will revoke my membership card.”

“You have to have a card?” Jo asks, eyes wide. “Is that a government thing?”

“Oh for god sakes.” Lance’s mother, Maria, swats the back of Veronica’s head. “Tia Yocilin, she is teasing you. Don’t listen to a word she says.”

Three things happen simultaneously, and Lance can only track them all because of a lifetime of living with a house full of diverging personalities.

Veronica’s jaw tightens and she shoots her mother an angry glance before fully turning into herself, away from the rest of the group, focusing entirely on the book in her hands.

Tia Jo blinks, and actually looks hurt that Veronica had been teasing her.

Luis, who had been casually packing up snacks and sand toys to bring the kids down to the beach, begins doing so in earnest, as though a countdown has just begun, and he wants to be far away when it reaches zero.

“I think I will help Diego with the roast pig.” Jo announces primly, heading to the back patio where the barbeque is. 

His mother sighs deeply and her measured gaze lands upon Veronica, who is still, studiously ignoring the rest of the room.

Luis closes his backpack with a click, throws it over his shoulder and says, slightly louder than necessary, “Okay kids, let’s hit the beach.”

“Two excited children tumble loudly down the hallway, past the adults, scampering and chattering past, right out the side door. Luis follows, tossing an apologetic look at Lance's way.

“Veronica.” Lance’s mother says, her tone serious.

“Yes mother.” His sister says, with forced pleasantness.

Maria tilts her head, and the implication is clear.

Lance wishes he had followed Luis out when he had a chance.

Veronica drops all pretense. “Ma, I deal with that offensive shit every day, it is sometimes a little tough to swallow from my own family , while I am on vacation .” 

Maria makes a huffing noise, born out of years of parenting experience. The short sound speaks volumes.

“Humour is my way of surviving it.” Veronica says defensively.

“Your aunt is in her seventies. She is doing her best to understand. Can you imagine if she began repeating that stuff at her work? They’d think she was going senile.”

“She probably is going senile.” Veronica argues, “And there is no reason for her to be so obtuse about it. Clearly there were lesbians when she was young too.”

“Honey, there is a difference between people with the intention to cause harm and those who are harmlessly ignorant.” Marie says placatingly.

Veronica is incensed by this and Lance wishes himself invisible.

“Ma, there is no such thing as harmless ignorance. If ignorance was harmless I wouldn’t be fighting this stupid legislation so hard.” Veronica stands, almost nose to nose with her mother.

Marie backtracks, because Veronica is clearly upset. “Hon, do we have to talk about politics while we're on holiday?” 

Her comment has the opposite response she had hoped.

This isn’t politics ma, this is my life. Lance’s too. Yes, you Lance. I see you over there, avoiding the family drama.”

Lance squirms due to the tension and the sudden attention.

“Don’t look at me, I wasn’t gas-lighting the old lady.”  Lance defends, and, upon seeing the look of betrayal on Veronica’s face, immediately feels guilty.

Veronica rolls her eyes and stomps out the door.

Lance meets his mothers frustrated eyes and sighs deeply. “I’ll go talk to her.” 

Lance slips on a pair of flip flops and heads down an outside staircase, from there he follows a path to the beach and can see Veronica has a head start, her blunt hair blowing in the wind as she soldiers along the sand. He begins to follow, but she is moving at quite a clip, so finally he pulls off his shoes, and runs on the hot sand to catch up.

“Hey, hey, hey. What exactly is happening right now?” He asks out of breath when he finally makes it close enough for her to hear him.

Veronica shoots him a cutting glare, but slows her steps.

“I am just saying that was on the extreme side of intense.” He says pulling the sleeve of the linen shirt she had pulled over her bikini top, to protect her from the sun. He hears a shout behind them and sees Rachel running down the beach calling after them in the wind and waves, Marco meandering behind. 

“Great. Veronica says sarcastically and spins to face the water.

“What is up with you?” Lance questions.

“I am thinking of quitting my job.” She announces, shooting a glance at the other siblings.

“Really? Are you sure?” Lance asks, even though he had suspected this, even though this will help him make his suggestion. “It’s what you’ve always said you wanted to do.”

“Lance, the job I always wanted was to help kids, like you, like me. I can’t do that right now, not in the way that they need.” She flops down onto the sand.

Rachel finally catches up to them, panting and lowers down beside Veronica, working to catch her breath. 

“Are we doing the strategy session? I don’t want to miss the strategy session.” She gasps out between breaths.

“What the hell is the strategy session?” Luis asks, brushing wet sand off his hands as he comes from the shore up to join in. Lance sees the kids directly in front of them. Luis is keeping a careful eye on out, as they are close to the water building a sandcastle.

“Ya know.” Marco says slowly, arriving and lowering himself on the other side of Veronica. “The strategy session . Where we sort out what order we are going to share important news with the folks. So they don’t like, freak out.” He makes a vague gesture.

“Huh.” Luis says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Whose, going first?” Rachel says, looking at Lance for some reason. 

“Veronica wants to quit her job.” Lance says quickly to redirect Rachel’s attention. 

“No fucking way?” Rachel says, staring astonished at Veronica. “You gotta go first.” she pleads without missing a beat. “Dad won’t give two shits about me wanting to work for a cruise line if you lead with that.”

“You want to work on a cruise ship?” Lance asks incredulously, dropping down beside Rachel and running his fingers through the sand.

“I want to travel.” Rachel waves Lance off, eyes still focussed on Veronica. “And I can teach yoga on a cruise. If I am on a cruise, I get to travel.”

“What’s Dad gonna care about you working on a cruise ship?” Luis asks.

“Oohoho.” Marco laughs incredulously. Luis shrugs at his brother, pulling a face.

“They have questionable environmental practices,” Rachel begins, making her voice deep, and taking on their father’s mannerisms. 

Veronica jumps in, Keeping up the impression, “ Flagging out is a problem."

“Right, right, right.” Rachel picks it up again.  “Those boats aren’t well regulated.”

“And the companies set up in specific countries to avoid paying fair taxes.” Veronica adds.

Marco leaves them in the dust, because he can perfectly mimic their father’s accent and hand gestures, “Not to mention they’re unethical employers and create economic dependence in the communities they dock in, with no reference to local needs or culture.” 

“ARRGH.” Rachel vocalizes, making Lance jump. “I am toast. I could go on and on with his objections.”

“Don’t.” Marco says, holding up a hand. “We’ll hear it all when you tell him.”

“Not if Veronica goes first.” Rachel rubs her hands together sagely. “At least I am getting a job, she’s quitting one.”

“Watch yerself there Sylvio!” Luis' voice booms across the beach. “Stay to the shallows. There is a strong undertow.” Even at this distance they can hear the noise of complaint Sylvio makes as he walks back to the shore with a bucket full of water. He dumps in the moat as Nadia is prancing around the castle, artfully placing seashells. Luis looks back to his siblings.

“I am not throwing myself on the disappointed dad grenade Rach. I’m working on finding another job before I quit this one.” Veronica announces dryly.

“If you want to travel, why didn’t you talk to me before the tour?” Lance jumps in. “We had an entourage, I am sure we could hav..” 

‘No way little bro.” Rachel cuts him off before he can continue. “I said I want a job where I can  travel, not a hand out .”

“Whoa there Rach,” Luis interjects. “My buddy Jake hooked me up with an interview at NASA. Was that a handout?”

“You got the job on your own merit, not because your brother is in the band.”

“I’m just saying…” Lance started.

“Phbbbbt.” Rachel says making a close yer mouth hand gesture. “It is hard enough that I chose a profession that falls short in every single one of Dad’s lofty ideals. I am not going to depend on my famous twin to take care of me. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I don’t think you could call being a musician lofty or idealistic. I didn’t go to college, and you know he was not happy about that.” Lance counters. 

“No, but you own a house, have a 401K, and donate to charity.” Veronica interjects.

“It’s not a house, it’s an apartment and I share it with friends.” Lance pouts.

“A penthouse apartment. Whatever.” Rachel turns to Veronica to continue, “And you are contributing to expanding the young minds of tomorrow.” 

“Hey.” Luis protests, “Dad’s proud of all of us.”

“Cept me.” Marco laughs. “I’m the deadbeat.”

Luis swats his brother. “No Hermano, You take care of Abuela, and do all the stuff they can’t do anymore, now that they’re getting old.” His eyes turn back toward the kids digging in the sand.

“I feel like I am stuck.” Rach says frustrated. “I just want to get on with my life, and I have this opportunity… but I know he is going to be so disappointed.” Her face falls at the thought.

“I think he’s just gonna be worried,” Luis corrects.” Rachel sticks her tongue out at him and he rolls his eyes.

“ I’m worried ,” Veronica teases. “Cruise ships are basically floating petri dishes.”

“Oh god, he’s going to bring that up too, isn’t he?” Rachel flops sideways on the sand, hair falling over her face. “I can’t win.”

“Do you actually want to work for the cruise industry?” Lance asks, pulling her hair aside to peer at her face.

“Hell no!” Rachel’s gestures from her spot on the ground., “That’s why this sucks. I can’t exactly argue when I agree with most of the counterpoints… but there aren’t that many other options presenting themselves right now, and I just can’t stay here any longer waiting for my life to start.”

“What happened to the job you applied for in Bali?” Marco asks quietly. 

“You applied for a job in Bali?” Lance asks, feeling hurt she hadn’t told him, but notices both Veronica and Luis are equally surprised.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get it.” Rachel frowns and Lance lets her hair fall back on her face.

“Fine.” Veronica says, “I will tell them that I am considering leaving my job and have started applying at non-profits that support queer youth.”

Lance feels his heartbeat quicken at this announcement. Before he can ask her more…

“You will?” Rachel pops up, sand spraying everywhere, the whole group falling into complaints as it hits them in different ways. Lance is blinking and rubbing his eyes, being the closest he got the worst of it. 

Rachel ignores all of them.

“That’s perfect Ronnie, he will be worried about you leaving a steady job with the school board for the insecure non-profit sector, but he’ll have trouble complaining about it because he loves that self-sacrificing, community-centered, schtick. He’ll be so confused about whether to be worried or proud that my plan to board a germ-infested, love-boat of capitalism, will fly completely under the RADAR.” Rachel’s words come fast and loud, hands gesticulating a mile a minute and a grin half formed on her face.

“There is something vaguely maniacal about your plan.” Lance observes, momentarily reminded of himself.

“Maniacal, yes.” Marco says, his voice soft and an ironic smile playing on his lips. “But also, extremely optimistic.”

Rachel pouts at him.

“Dad is fully capable of being intellectually superior about your life choices while worrying about Veronica.” He explains.

“What do you mean?” Rach says, squinting back at Marco.

“He means that Dad’ll be able to tell you off while imagining Veronica starving on the street as a senior citizen because she gave her life to serve charity and never invested in a pension plan.” Luis offers. 

“Thanks bro.” Veronica looks over to him. “I loved that inspiring image of my future.”

Luis shrugs, “Now that I got kids… Let’s just say that I can understand how many different scary thoughts a Dad can have at once.” He looks over at the kids playing in the sand. “It’s pretty much infinite.”

“Oh, are we having the strategy session ?” Isabella calls over, approaching the group, her sundress billowing around her in the breeze. 

Luis tilts his head in confusion at her words but reaches out to wrap an arm around her waist and kisses her temple once she is close. “How is it that you know all about these sibling sessions and I don’t?” He asks.

Isabella’s laughter is like a bell ringing. “For the same reason I can’t distinguish between a CIT relay and a spark plug. Because you prefer wires and breaker switches to any type of conversation.” She wrinkles her nose at him. “I, however, can communicate… With others… Using words.”

Lance doesn’t broach his idea with Veronica during the strategy conversation. He is thrown off by shifts in the family dynamic since he’s been on tour, or maybe even before. There was a time when he knew everything that was happening with Rachel, his twin. Her first real crush, her plan to leave kinesiology at university to become a yoga teacher, the time her rent check bounced, because when she quit school she had to pay back the tuition covered by her scholarship. But he also realizes he hasn’t shared everything that is going on for him either.

Any big conversations they have planned don’t happen that night at Christmas dinner. Instead, the family shares roasted pig, garlicky yuca, black beans and rice. Lance savors Abuela’s plantain dipped in sauces he helped to prepare. Everybody laughs and tells stories. Isabella had never heard the one where Lance tried to surf using his mother’s mini ironing board. Sylvio and Nadia take delight in hearing of past Christmases and why they don’t have a Christmas tree here in Cuba. The children are delighted with their presents, all small, thoughtful items, that the adults had snuck into their suitcases. By the end of the night, after a few cups of Crema de Vie, Veronica and Tia Jo share a warm hug.

They sleep late on Christmas day. Lance heads down to the empty kitchen around ten, and starts the coffee maker. Once brewed, he takes the steaming cup out to the balcony and watches the water. He allows himself to imagine Keith, bleary eyed, in socked feet and pajamas, waking up in the house he shares with Shiro, in California.

He wonders what Christmas morning would be like with the dark haired guitarist. He imagines waking up together. In the same room. In the same bed. He envisions reaching under the bed to pull out the box, carefully wrapped, with the jacket he saw Keith coveting in that shop in Glasgow. The one he snuck back in to buy, and has had ever since. He fantasizes Keith being surprised, shy, and grateful. His daydream includes Keith showing that gratitude in, uh… mutually satisfying ways. However, the sweetest part of his dream includes the two of them laughing over morning coffee, making breakfast together, and opening presents with their friends. It feels both real and so far from reality at the same time that it leaves Lance dizzy.  He’s relieved when his mother joins him on the porch, coffee in hand.

…

It’s three days later when Rachel and Veronica begin discussing employment with their parents. While the conversation starts out well, Rachel’s temper gets the better of her. She storms out, tears in her eyes. Marco follows. 

“Those two.” His father shakes his head. “I worry, they both seem so aimless.”

Veronica clearly bristles at her father’s assessment while Lance just wants to hide. If only his father knew how often he felt without direction over the past year. But Luis shares a meaningful glance with Isabella before pulling out the chair in front of his father. 

“You know Dad.” He begins, lowering himself into the seat. “Rachel does understand your concerns. She is actually trying to figure herself out. To find her focus.”

“You find focus in school.” Diego says simply.

Veronica sighs loudly and her father squints at her with displeasure.

“Yes, some people do. Not everybody.” Luis tries. 

“I didn’t.” Lance offers, trying to support. “You know, I didn’t figure out what I wanted from school.”

“There’s still time for that.” Diego shrugs.

Lance huffs a humourless laugh, which draws his fathers gaze.

“Why is this funny?” Diego asks. “When this band thing fizzles out, you’ll need an education.”

Lance feels his cheeks burn and his eyes sting. “Fizzles out?” It is a moment before the vertigo clears. He doesn’t know how he doesn’t turn into a puddle at his own fears being stated so blandly. “Dad, even if the band never played after today. Never played another gig. You know, as long as I am smart with my money, I’ll never need to work again? Right?”

Diego shrugs, “So maybe you’ll go to school to learn how to be smart with your money .”

Veronica slaps a hand to her face, and Lance is put out, because he can see she is trying not to laugh.

“Dad, if Lance chooses to go back to school it will be because he wants to.” Luis draws his father's attention away. “But we aren’t talking about Lance, we’re talking about Rachel.” Luis interjects. “And Rachel definitely does not want to go back to school.”

“I cannot believe that my daughter wants to work for corrupt people on floating death traps.” Diego’s cheeks redden.

Veronica holds her hands in an almost pleading position. “Dad,” She tries gently. “She loves to teach yoga and she wants to travel. This job lets her do both.”

“She had a full scholarship to a science program. It could have been pre-med.” Diego argues.

“Which is why we know she didn’t want to be there.” Veronica pushes. “There was no reason for her to leave if she wanted to stay.”

Their father recoils, as though slapped. “But…” Maria, their mother, steps behind him and runs her hands over his shoulders. He looks up at her, and her eyes are damp and full of love. They share a look. But he shakes his head and looks back at his children sitting around the table.

“I don’t understand.” He says, his voice broken.

Luis leans in, “Look, you don’t have to agree with her decision. But it is hers to make.” Luis looks up at Isabella who is nodding encouragingly. “And she wants your support.”

Lance holds his breath.

He can see when the fight goes out of his father’s shoulders in a deep sigh. 

“Fine.” The older man says sternly. “But I don’t like it.”

Veronica lets out a laugh, that is more relief than humour and the energy around the table shifts. Lance’s mother wraps her arms around her husband's shoulders and a tear slips out of her closed eyes. His father leans into her touch and Lance feels an appreciation for what his parents have while a deep sense of longing sweeps through him.

…

The next morning, after their swim Lance shares his idea with Veronica.

“A specifically LGTBQ+ Health Centre?” Veronica asks.

‘Yes.” Lance says. “Full service, mental health, queer and trans friendly doctors...”

“There’s not a lot of support out there, especially in Florida. I mean, Mom’s clinic lost their funding… how are we..?”

“I’ve been doing research and I think we can secure the funding, partially privately, partially from the foundation and …”

“Lance, the operating budget for something like this would be huge. Especially if it is to have longevity.” Veronica pushes. “We’d need a Board of Directors. We’d have to figure out a way around the ridiculous new laws, of which there are new ones everyday.”

“But your main objection and concerns are the finances?” Lance checks.

“Mostly, yes. It would be heartbreaking to open something like this and have to close it again. To me personally and to the community.”

“Okay, if I can get secure funding, would you be in?” He replicates Veronica’s pleading gesture from the day before.

“Absolutely.” Veronica answers immediately.

“Okay.” Lance says, feeling a sense of purpose he hasn’t felt in years, maybe ever. “Then, you finish the school year and by August...” Veronica covers his mouth before he can finish. 

“Don’t say it yet. I don’t want to jinx it.” She blushes, her eyes are shining and she has a huge grin. Lance can feel his own smile lighting his face. 

…

“I can’t believe Nadia started kindergarten already. It feels like yesterday that she was just a bundle in a blanket.” Lance muses, watching his niece dance around on the parkay flooring that New Years eve. They had pushed back all the furniture in the large living room to create space for a party.

“I know man, it is crazy how fast time goes.” Luis says, also watching the little girl attempt the robot with her brother under Marco’s patient tutelage. “Did I tell you about getting called into the principal's office?” 

Lance sputters, about to take a sip of his Mojito, “Nadia got sent to the principal’s office? She’s barely five.”

“NO, Sylvio did. Some grade four kid made fun of Nadia for wearing mismatched socks or something. Sylvio got in her face. My seven year old, taking on a kid two years older than him?! AND he’s the one that ended up in the principal’s office. Wanna know what he was mostly mad about?”

“That a big kid was picking on a little one?” Lance said without missing a beat.

“Righto” Luis taps the top of his beer bottle toward Lance. “Can’t believe that kid, he’s a fighter, not scared of nothing.” Luis takes a sip of his beer. “Reminds me of you, ya-know?”

“Me? Marco is the fighter.” 

Luis chuckles. “ Rachel is the fighter. Marco figured out his fists weren’t the solution to every problem by the time he was ten. Though, now you mention it, he did use to throw down over the dumbest shit. Now Rach… “ Both men shudder. “Tread carefully.” Lance finishes.

“Ya-know she is the designated shovel talk sibling?”

“We have a designated shovel-talk sibling?” 

“I just told you, it’s Rach.”

“Nobody gave Allura a shovel talk.”

Luis rolls his eyes, “You don’t give a shovel talk to royalty Lance.”

“She’s just rich. She’s still human.”

“Rich and posh and British. Don’t you remember Abuela always wanted to use the fine china when she visited, and I think Tia Jo actually called her your highness once?”

“Oh, yeah. That happened.” Lance laughs at the memory.

“But no, Sylvio reminds me of you and Ronnie, because when you see injustice, you immediately want to fight it. You were like that as a teenager, standing up to the biggest bully in the room, and getting your ass handed to you.. Fearless.”

“Well, I am definitely not fearless now.” Lance murmurs, shifting uncomfortably at the praise.

A song which meets with Sylvio’s approval begins to play and the older boy runs over to turn up the volume, making it too loud for conversation. Luis gestures to the sliding doors and Lance follows him out onto the balcony.

“Do you remember my first day of school?” Lance asks once they are outside. “How we had those stupid uniforms, the white shirts and the navy walking shorts. I hated mine. But Abuela kept saying, ‘just like big brother Luis’ cause she knew I worshiped you.”

“I remember the stupid uniforms, I don’t ever remembering you worshipping me.” Luis chuckles unbelieving, gesturing with his beer bottle. 

“Well I did.” Lance smiles ruefully. “But I wore that effing uniform and stood tall because I was just like my big brother . I had your hand-me-down, robot-lion backpack and Veronica’s old My Lil Pony lunchbox. Then that stupid kid from your class called me a sissy because of it.”

“Ugh, I can guess who that was. Joe Gouveia. I let that fucker get under my skin until high school, when I finally figured out he was just a blow hole.”

“Well, you must have felt pretty embarrassed, you didn’t speak to me the whole walk home.”

Luis freezes. 

It takes a moment.

“I wasn’t embarrassed. Lance, if anything I was pissed. I don’t remember that happening, but I do remember how much I hated that guy.” 

Lance stares up at Luis, his expression stripped bare.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Soooo, you weren’t ashamed of me, ya-know, for liking girly things?”

“Whoa, wait, what? Lance, I was, what, like ten years old when you started school? I had four younger siblings, and no offense, not-a-one of you fits into the category of normal . What I remember was–it was important that all of you are family.” 

Luis is leaning into Lance's space, gesturing with the beer bottle in his hand.

“By that point, I figured kids just do their own thing. If you liked ponies, you effing liked ponies. At least you had a lunch box . When I started school, I got teased for having my food in a Walmart bag.” His older brother pauses, brow crinkling thoughtfully. “Ya know, I probably thought being teased was some normal rite of passage or some stupid shit like that. Hell, I put up with it enough. But I wasn’t ashamed of you, of that I am certain.”

Luis is completely earnest. But, Lance can’t quite believe it. 

“You used to tease me, for dancing .” He says slowly.

“Yeah, cause you’re a better dancer than me and by all rights that is against the rules. Forget the fact that you can play like six instruments, and you’re a fucking Rock Star,” Luis gibes.

“Three, I only play three, and one of them, not well.” Lance counters. “You made the varsity football team.” 

“As a running back. WTF? Bro, Hermano, we were last in state. Every year . Sometimes the cheerleaders would skip our games.”

‘Yeah,” Lance chuckles with remembrance, “When I was on cheer squad we totally skipped the football games.”

“See!” Luis says laughing. 

The laughter dies down.

“You and your football friends used to make jokes, ya-know, about being gay.” Lance doesn’t look at Luis when he says it, but he glances up once the words are out.

“Ah,” a light of realization comes into Luis’ eyes. “This is why we are delving into ancient history.” He clears his throat. “Well, we said some pretty shitty stuff about women too.” Luis admits, looking over at Isabella wistfully.

There is a moment where they both dwell in the past before Lance says, “You still hang out with some of those guys.”

Luis turns to lean his arms on the rail, holding his beer in both hands, and breathes deeply. 

“Yup, some of them.” He looks sideways at his brother. “So, you think I have a problem with you being bisexual then?” Luis says with his usual bluntness.

“Sometimes you say things, and yeah, I wonder.”

“I’m not going to say that the stuff we said in high school wasn’t planting seeds up here, ya-know.” Luis gestures to the side of his head. “And, for all the wrong reasons, it was a scary thing to be called a f… gay.” He says catching himself. “In that crowd you needed cred, there was always a pecking order and nobody ever wanted to be on the bottom. But those guys weren’t all terrible people Lance. You know, now that I’ve moved, Max drives Abuela and his Nona to Seniors Aquafit on Sundays?” He says his eyes are soft when he mentions his grandmother. “Jonas just took in his sister’s kid, cause they're both going through some shit.” 

Lance stares at Luis, a dread in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that little bro. I’m not saying the things we said were ok. I think we really believed that we didn’t know anyone who was gay. For us, it was abstract, ya-know. We didn’t realize we were hurting anybody.”

“Well it did hurt.” Lance says coldly. “It hurt a fucking lot. It’s had an impact.” Lance garners more courage and asks, “What about now?”

Luis is quiet for a long time. 

Lance wonders if he found the question offensive. If he’s going to avoid answering it.

When Luis begins speaking again, his words are slow, thoughtful.

“I am going to be honest man, at first I didn’t get it. I mean, I thought, if you like both girls and guys, then stick with girls, cause… nobody’s going to beat the shit out of you for being with a girl. I mean, easier, right?” Luis shrugged. “But then I really thought about it …I thought, what if you fall in love with someone, like a guy, the way I love Issie.” His eyes shine when he looks in at his wife, now dancing with her daughter on her hip. “then what? You have to bail? To fit in? Ya-know? That doesn’t seem right.”

Lance stares wide eyed at Luis.

“It was drilled into me from when I was really small, that it was my job to keep my little brothers and sisters safe, so I do struggle with the idea that you and Ronnie might not be safe, just by being yourselves. That bugs me, ALOT. But I didn’t choose to love Issie, and I am a lucky son of a gun that she loves a fucker like me back. I figure everyone deserves a chance at that and I am going to celebrate if you find that.” 

He pauses again, looks Lance right in the eye. 

“No matter who it is with.”

Lance believes him. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks down the beach at a bonfire in the distance. Eyes blurring a bit.

“You’re my little bro.” Luis says, patting Lance’s shoulder and pulling him in for a half hug. “Anybody would be lucky to have you.”

Luis takes another swig of his beer and then settles Lance with a measured look.

“That said, if I did have a problem with it, I’d expect you to kick my ass and find happiness anyway. For fuck sakes, you’re a McClain, we are lovers AND fighters!”

Lance laughs in spite of the tightness in his chest. “Thanks Luis.”

They stand in silence for a few minutes… watching the fireworks someone has lit, down the beach.

“I’m sorry.” Luis says quietly.

“Huh?”

“You’re going to make me say it again?”

Lance blinks up at Luis.

“Fine. There’s this thing I am learning in couple’s counseling. When you fuck up you apologize. So, I’m apologizing.” Luis takes a final swig of his beer once getting the words out, and then frowns at the now empty bottle.

“Oh…” Lance absorbs the words. “Thanks?”

He isn’t sure what else to add. There is another awkward moment of silence before he starts with, “So, Couples counseling, huh?”

Luis huffs another laugh. “Apparently, communication is very important in a relationship and I suck at it. So yeah, couples counseling . You wanna make an issue of it? “Cause I’m four beers in, and I’ll throw down if you give me an excuse. What’s a family party without a good fistfight?” Luis teases.

“‘I’m thinking I might need her number.” Lance smiles back. 

Luis slaps Lance on the back… “Based on the merry-go-round of the conversation we just had, Imma say that odds are you do. Now enough of this maudlin crap, this is supposed to be an effing party…”  Luis shouts through the open screen door. “Who wants to go skinny dipping?”

…

It’s after midnight. Luis and Isabella have put the kids to bed and are dancing to a soft, slow ballad, in the center of the makeshift dance floor. Abuela and Tia Jo are laughing over a stack of old photos Jo had stuffed in her overnight bag. Lance’s parents smile softly at each other, and his father pats his mothers hand. 

Before the ache in Lance’s chest can overwhelm him, Veronica tugs him out the door and down the outer staircase to the beach. Rachel and Marco follow. 

“Where we going?” Marco asks, stumbling a bit on the soft sand. Rachel laughs and pulls him steady.

“That way.” Veronica says, pointing down the beach.

They head toward the bonfire. There are still random fireworks lighting the sky as they walk. 

The bonfire is a party with a bunch of young folks, who welcome them wholeheartedly, if not drunkenly. The group had been playing songs around the fire before midnight. Now their instruments rested in cases or against folding lawn chairs as the many of the group had gone for a swim to welcome the new year. Some in swim wear, others in undergarments and others without anything on at all. 

Lance is feeling too tipsy to swim, falls into one of the canvas chairs and watches the fireworks.

 Keith is playing at Times Square tonight, with Norlox.

 Lance closes his eyes when the next wave of longing hits and takes his breath. 

“So Lance, who do you want to be?”

Lance picks up the nearest guitar and closes his eyes and begins strumming, the waves, the laughter, the fireworks all fall into the background as he finds the tune. It has been playing in the back of his head for the last two weeks, maybe the last two months.

Man, all my life I've been

Searching for someone, to show me how it feels to be loved

And how to love somebody back

He feels the thickness in his throat and even as he feels the tears fall down his cheeks, he keeps playing, keeps singing. 

And after stumbling through the years

I thought I found you, just to see you fading out into the night.

As he plays through the chorus and the next verse, he can feel the well of uncertainty that has kept him frozen rise to the surface. So many questions. 

Was it the trick of the light?

Or a shot in the dark?

Was it hell or high water that broke our hearts?

Something stronger, a willingness to take the risk, to face his fears, but underneath the biggest fear of all. 

Was it something we did?

Or just a cruel twist of fate?

Was it hell or high water and is it too late?

Lance finishes the last part of the song, he lets the guitar’s vibrations finish moving through him and sits in the silence for a moment, eyes still closed. He uses the back of his arm to wipe away the last of the tears before opening his eyes.

Rachel is sitting on the ground in front of him, her own face wet, her eyes wide staring into his face.

“Hey.” He says, his voice rough with emotion.

“Do you need me to break his legs for you?” She asks, without preamble. 

He’s too stunned to answer.

“I promise Lance, If he broke your heart I can break his legs.”

A laugh bubbles up from a place inside Lance that he had forgotten existed.

“S’kay Rach.” He says. “No need to break his legs. Not yet at least.”

“You sure?” She asks.

“‘M sure.” He promises.

“Okay, but I’m on call, until you tell me otherwise, I am on call.”

Lance laughs again, something deep inside him sliding back into place.

…

The day after New Years, they pack up to head home. They are finishing breakfast when Veronica turns on her phone for the first time in two weeks so it isn’t a surprise that there is a symphony of notifications.

 It’s Sylvio who notices that something is amiss. 

“Wow Tia Ronnie, your mouth is making a perfect o. Like, all the way round.”

Lance glances up at his sister, who is actually shaking. 

“What happened?” He says, feeling panic rising in his throat.

“Shiro and Adam…” She starts

Lance flashes back to Shiro’s accident so fast that he doesn’t come back to himself until he can hear Veronica reminding him to breathe. In between each reminder she says, “Everyone’s okay Lance. Everyone is okay.” His head is between his knees and Luis is rubbing his back. 

Somewhere, at a distance, he can hear Isabella promising the kids that Tio had a shock and he’ll be fine.

Once he can breathe again, Veronica is apologizing. “I am sorry Lance. I didn’t mean to scare you. Everyone is okay. I promise.”

It takes a while for the words to sink in. When they finally do, he asks, “What happened?”

“They got married.” She says breathlessly. “Everyone was trying to reach us, because they were planning to… they wanted you to be there… They eloped last night.”

The fear dissipates, but now it is replaced with numbness, surprise. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry Lance. If I hadn’t made this deal to turn off the phones they could have reached me, and I could’ve told you. You could’ve been there.”

Chapter Text

Fly-Boy-Samurai>

Dec. 21 7:45AM

Hey. Has Shiro called you yet? 

Dec. 21 8:33AM

You’r probly heading to the airport. Call me when you land?

Dec. 21 11:45AM

I am guessing you forgot to charge your phone, once you have, call Shiro, he has something to tell you. 

Then call me, kay?

Dec. 21 3:12PM

I’m getting worried now. 

Dec. 21 7:07PM

Allura called your folks tonight and it sounds like you and Veronica landed and are fine. Totally get it if you need some time to relax. But, give us a call when you can. 

It’s important. 

Thanks.

Dec. 25 5:06AM 

Merry christmas Lance. 

Dec. 25 9:34PM

We’re okay, yeah? 

I just… I hope we’re good.

Jan. 1 12:08AM

Happy New Year. XO

—

Lance hadn’t originally planned to fly back to Florida with his parents, but he switched his flight a few days after Christmas after another dramatic retelling of the three hour flight to Cuba with the kids. Alas the flight back home was smooth sailing, both kids, tired from their days in the sun slept most of the trip.

Another reason for flying into Miami from Cuba, was that he and Veronica had some ground work and research to do. The task was daunting and they hadn’t shared their plans with the rest of the family. They weren’t even sure if what they were planning on creating was possible in the current political climate. 

Lance’s decision not to head back to California complicated matters with his friends. As soon as he had a working phone he called Hunk to explain his reasons for going off grid. 

“Dude, it’s all good. We were just concerned, we didn’t know if you were specifically avoiding connecting with us, or the world in general.” Hunk muses on the other end of the line.

“No, my phone was busted and I needed to unplug a bit. I was obsessing… you know… like I sometimes do.” Lance assures him. “It just sucks that I missed the wedding.”

He can hear Hunk huff out a sigh through the phone. “Yeah, it was interesting, I mean, I almost think that Shiro would have called it off to ensure you could be there… but Adam would not have been happy about that.”

Lance ponders that.

“Keith though, I think you should give him a quick call. Just to check in.” Hunk says, his voice a bit deeper, more serious.

Lance knows he has been avoiding this. He reads and rereads the texts from Keith. They are brief, but he knows they speak volumes. He won’t fully understand where Keith’s mind went over the past few weeks until he actually speaks to the dark haired guitarist. But he has been conscientiously avoiding it. 

Lance runs his fingers over the screen of his new phone and brings up the video of Keith playing as part of the New Year’s Eve show in New York City. It was early in the night, a solo performance, just him on a huge grand piano. Keith in a sequined black jacket, more flashy than his usual style, a black beanie just over his ears, a ridiculous pair of fingerless gloves, probably to ward off the cold that is evident with each frosty exhale.

At first Keith seems too small in front of the piano, on that stage. The first few notes, purposefully tentative, voice soft, a little lost, filled with longing. 

But as his voice lifts into the chorus…

Even as an orchestra joins in…

He takes up more space…

Until everything is Keith.

Lance can’t help but imagine the song is about him, about them.

Sometimes he feels sad or guilty watching this. Thinking that he has done this, kept Keith invested in something that isn’t what he wants or needs.

Other times he gets angry. “Where does Keith get off acting like he is the victim here? Lance has been the one pining, always afraid the other man will just leave. Always two steps behind him.”

Other times, he reminds himself it is just a song. A show, like the flashy jacket. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that. Usually that is after he talks to his new therapist.

It took a few phone calls, several false starts, and a lot of support from Rachel and Veronica to finally find someone to talk to.  If his older brother could do it, Lance could too. Actually, Lance had been about to give up when he had an introductory skype conversation with Deb. She was a wry woman whose warmth reminded him of his mother, but who had a dry sense of humour similar to Keith’s. She was apt to remind him that he couldn’t know what Keith was thinking, unless he actually had a candid conversation with the other man. Which was simple in its logic but sent Lance into spirals of panic. If Lance began creating stories about what was happening with him and Keith, she would look over her thick cat shaped glasses at him and ask pointed questions which reminded him to get out of his head. 

Apparently guessing at what Keith’s feelings were based on the songs he sang in concert was a problematic communication style. Who knew?

For Lance’s own mental health, he was to steer clear of the gossip sites and the comment sections on social media. Luckily, he had mostly been able to avoid these since unplugging during the time in Cuba, but he still watched the performance videos, and still hadn’t called his friend, the lead guitarist.

This behaviour led both Deb and Veronica to shake their heads, simultaneously bemused and disappointed. Lance knew he had to eventually speak to the other man. However, he was impressive in his ability to fill up his days with other urgent and vital tasks, causing Rachel to suggest that he could win a gold medal in avoidance at the Coping-Mechanism Olympics. 

In response, Lance (unwisely) asked if that was a sports event played on cruise ships. Rachel retaliated by dumping iced coffee onto his lap, possibly ruining his favourite pair of jeans. 

To add insult to injury, Veronica jokingly whispered to Lance that Rachel’s coping mechanism was egregious acts of violence. The younger sibling simply stuck out her tongue at Ronnie and stormed away.

How is that fair?

After being in Florida for a little more than a week, Lance heads back to California, having only spoken to Hunk directly about his time-out in Cuba. Lance had also spoken to Allura about applying for foundation money for the project he and Veronica are working on and exchanged a few emails with the Atlas team. 

When he arrives at the penthouse, Pidge is home, the dining room table is covered with printouts and post-it notes, Pidge is typing furiously on their laptop in the middle of the mess. Lance imagines tiptoeing past them to his bedroom, but two hazel eyes pin him as he steps through the door.

Lance holds his breath. Pidge’s eyes narrow, and Lance has to choke back an involuntary laugh as the western whistle sound from The Good The Bad and the Ugly plays in his mind. Pidge's mouth flattens, adding to the mental image, and Lance could almost see tumbleweed blowing through the space between them. But he also notices the tension coiled through Pidge’s small body and the tired lines around their eyes. Hunk had assured him that everyone had understood his need to unplug, but he remembers that they had all been worried. 

Something must shift in his own expression, because Pidge’s eyes soften. Lance drops his bags to step into the room, only to be hit full force by 110lbs of a gremlin/sibling hug, fierce, yet comforting. He hugs back, relieved beyond belief.

All too soon, Pidge scrambles backwards out of the embrace, their body winding up, Lance braces for the impact of a shoulder jab that often accompanies his small friend’s larger emotions. But Pidge holds back, hands still fisted, eyes shining. 

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose, but you scared the shit out of us.” Pidge accuses in crisp words.

“I know.” Lance holds up placating hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Jeez, let someone know that you are going incognito next time, and leave a fucking emergency contact number.” Pidge responds hotly.

“Altea and Shiro have my emergency contact info.” Lance says, eyes squinting.

“Yeah, Duh. We had your parent’s home phone number and Veronica’s cell.” Pidge gesticulates and actually stomps. Lance has to bite his cheek not to laugh. “Neither were particularly useful when you all arrived in Varadero. We couldn’t even get in touch with your wacky aunt.”

Lance does huff a laugh at that. “I am sorry. I.. uh… just really needed to unplug… I didn’t know it would cause such a kerfuffle.”

Pidge gives him side eye, but Lance can tell they really aren’t angry. “You’re such a dope.” They say, giving him a playful shove. 

Lance shoves them back, but pulls them back in for another short hug, which his small friend uncharacteristically leans into. 

“So. “ He gestures to the table. “What are you working on?”

Pidge’s eyes gleam in a way that could be described as maniacal, especially when accompanied with the way their hands rub together. “I’ve made a few modifications to the financial program.” They begin, “I may or may not have introduced some particularly elegant A.I. and…”

Lance loses the thread of what Pidge is talking about soon after that, but their excitement over the project is clear in their voice. Lance listens and observes, catching pieces that he understands, but mostly grateful to be with his friend again. 

It is several hours later, when Lance is unpacked and they’ve had a simple dinner of baked salmon and grilled veggies that Pidge regards him seriously.

“Have you talked to Keith since you got back?”

“Since I got back from Cuba or since I got back to California?” Lance lobs the question back, recalling his sister’s commentary on his expertise in avoidance.

“Either. Both.” Pidge shrugs simply.

Lance finds he cannot meet the two, magnified, hazel eyes regarding him, so he only glances up before averting his gaze. “No.”

He hears the sigh and feels himself girding up to defend himself. But Pidge doesn’t continue the conversation. He looks down to see a controller lobbed into his lap and looks up to see Pidge rattle their own. “Mario Kart?” They ask.

Even as they play, Lance wants to return to the topic, to ask how Keith is doing, but Pidge doesn’t bring it up again.

---

Hunk finds them passed out on the couch, and tuts at them until they move to their beds. But the larger man is gone before either of the others are up the next day. Lance finds out from Pidge that the work at the restaurant is moving fast and requires a tremendous amount of attention from Hunk. 

Lance calls into Altea’s new offices, thinking he should meet up with Shiro and Adam. He has yet to offer his congratulations to the newlyweds. He also needs to check in about timelines for the hiatus, now that he and Veronica have a project of their own to work on. He is also hoping to catch Hunk at the restaurant, maybe take the guy out for some lunch and a break.

Shiro meets him at the reception desk with a hug that rivals all of Hunk’s best embraces. The usually stoic man can’t seem to stop smiling, but has a shine to his eyes when he says, “I really wish you could have been there Lance.” Married life seems to agree with Shiro, he seems lighter in his steps. He also is very proud of the Atlas offices, taking Lance on a tour of the space.

“Do you want to see some of the wedding pictures?” Shiro asks, once back in his office. Lance sighs, and tries something new he’s been working on. “You know, I am so happy for you both.” Lance says, with a genuine smile. “But I am actually still really disappointed that I missed it, so I want to wait to see the pictures. Umm…” he flounders a bit. “Until I feel a little less…” Lance rubs his chest trying to find the words.

Shiro’s eyes are filled with understanding, as he reaches to pat Lance on the shoulder. “I get it.” He intones. “But when you are ready, we should do it over dinner at our place. Adam will want to share every detail with painful accuracy.” He gives the warning in an ominous tone, but the smile in his eyes indicates he is delighted with his husband.

Adam is offsite, working with another client, so Curtis comes in to discuss the hiatus with Shiro and Lance.

“We have told Altea that the hiatus would be at least six months. We are already halfway through that. This new project of yours is going to take some time to get off the ground.” Curtis says thoughtfully.

Shiro rubs the scar across his nose thoughtfully. “I think you’ll need to get a better sense of how much time you need Lance and we also have to check in with the rest of the band. The sooner we can give Altea an updated timeline, the better.”

“I’ve looked over the contract and TLD doesn’t have to put out an album this year. But, the band is signed on to complete two more albums in the next four years and some other contractual obligations we may need to address.” Curtis says, seemingly unfazed by the discussion. Lance get’s the feeling this guy is a perpetual optimist. 

“I’m a little nervous bringing this up to all of them, since I was resistant to the hiatus in the first place.” Lance says, rubbing his hands up and down on his thighs.

“I think that what you're working on will win them over.” Shiro smiles ruefully. “Though, financially it may be an issue for us here at Atlas, as TLD is one of our biggest clients.”

“Oh god. Really? I never even thought of that, and you just took on this building and the added staff.” Lance glances anxiously between the two other men.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” Curtis says with a smile, reinforcing Lance’s previous impression of the man. “Though, while we are talking about money, there may be some legal restraints to the type of fundraising you can do for your health clinic project, we’ll want to go over that.”

“Yeah, Allura already told me that the Altea Foundation might not be able to support it, because I am one of the project founders and that might be seen as a conflict of interest.” 

“I anticipated that.” Curtis says, leaning forward to pull some files from a leather bound case. “Which is why I pulled up a few options I know of, if you want to take a look at them.”

“I’d love any help you can give me. I’m in over my head here. The idea pretty much hinged on the Altea Foundation being able to fund it.” Lance gushes, then pauses. “But, this isn’t really your job, as a management company.”

Curtis and Shiro share a smile, “I think we all see the value in what you're doing Lance. We want to support it, and you in creating it.”

---

The meeting at Atlas goes well into the afternoon, Lance leaves overwhelmed, but hopeful. 

He knocks on the window to the restaurant on the main floor of Atlas’s offices. He cannot see in, as the windows are lined with brown paper, but he can hear the grinding of power tools. He tentatively pushes open the door, finding the space much changed, taking the shape of the designs he had only imagined from material samples, photos and blueprints. It is extremely dusty and there is a man cutting tile with a large bladed machine. He finishes a cut and looks up at Lance, who waves.

“You can’t be in here without a safety helmet and steel toes.” Is the curt response to his friendly gesture.

“Right, uh, I’m just looking for Hunk, the owner?” Lance tries with a winning smile.

The tile cutting guy shoulder’s slouch when it is clear the Lance isn’t going to just slink back out the door. He leans back and bellows to the back of the restaurant, 

“Frankie, is Hunk back there?”

“He went to the yard with Mike to sign for the sinks.” A disembodied voice calls through the door to the kitchen.

“‘EE's not here.” The dusty tile cutter says to Lance.

“Yeah, got that. Thanks.” Lance says.

They stare at each other for a second, the other man clearly waiting for Lance to leave, Lance wondering if he can induce this guy to give Hunk a message or to tell him where the yard is.

The other guy raises an expectant eyebrow and Lance decides to let himself out. 

He loiters around the front of the building in his car for about ten minutes, before some people start to notice his presence. After a few people sneak pictures on their phones, he decides to head home. 

---

Even though the following day is a Saturday, Hunk is still out before he is up and returns after Lance goes to bed. 

Sunday morning Lance wakes up to the smell of bacon frying and fresh coffee brewing. He finds his way into the kitchen to see a site for sore eyes. Hunk is there, humming to a Queen song playing on the mini speaker in the kitchen, flipping fluffy golden pancakes on the grill and warming maple syrup in a spouted pot. Hunk turns to him with a tired smile, and Lance practically jumps into his arms for a hug. 

“Easy now, careful hugging near a hot stove.” Hunk admonishes. Lance studies his friend, who looks tired, but good. 

“It's good to see you man.” Lance says, a smile pulling across his face.

“You too buddy. Can I get you to cut up these strawberries and bananas? Pidge practically has scurvy from eating fries three times a day. I’m hoping if I sneak some fruit on pancakes we’ll stave off actual malnutrition.”

“That’s manipulative.” Pidge’s voice comes from the hallway. Lance is rinsing the strawberries as they shuffle into the kitchen, hair all directions, puppy slippers and baggy plaid pajama bottoms. Lance feels a twinge when he realizes they are wearing the shirt that Keith bought them in Loch Ness. 

Pidge is scratching their nose as Hunk hands them a supersized coffee mug. “I prefer to call it preventative care measures.” He says, as he shifts their position and gives them a shove toward the coffee maker.

Lance knows that Hunk will bring it up from the moment they sit down to eat. His friend, for lack of a better term, is a full fledged busybody. But Pidge’s complete avoidance of anything to do with Keith and the fact that Shiro didn’t mention him either leads Lance to believe that either Hunk has been delegated to discussing this with Lance, or they have agreed not to discuss it with him. Either way, Hunk will bring it up.

It isn’t until the end of the meal, when they are sipping coffee, stomachs full, that it begins. 

“So, you haven’t called Keith yet, have you?” Hunk asks, though Lance is pretty sure the question is rhetorical. 

Pidge doesn’t bolt, which indicates Hunk is bringing this up on behalf of the group. 

Ugh, Lance hates being managed, hates the way this whole thing feels patronizing. He hasn’t even had a chance to check in with Hunk about all the new things going on in both of their lives. But he also wants to get a read on the situation, a sense of how Keith is doing before he reaches out. As much as he resents the manner this conversation is starting, he has been waiting to have it. 

He takes a deep breath. Meets his friend’s eyes and says. “No. I haven’t.” As plainly as possible. “To be fair, he hasn’t reached out to me either.”

Pidge sits upright, as tall as they can. “I believe that Keith sent you a bunch of messages while you were checked out. ” They create air quotes around the last two words.

“Pidge.” Hunk says warningly. 

“You usually have a standing... “ Hunk hesitates, trying to find the right word. 

“Date” Pidge supplies wryly.

“Meeting time.” Hunk says, giving Pidge a meaningful glance before continuing. “On Sundays… you usually talk?” He asks Lance.

Lance eyes the two warily. This is not how he thought this discussion would go. “Uh, yeah..?”

“Right.” Hunk proceeds carefully. “Well, today’s Sunday, sooooo…. Maybe you can talk today?”

Lance blinks a few times. “Yeah. I guess.”

Hunk smiles and pushes his chair back to begin clearing plates from the table. 

Lance is baffled. “So that’s it? That’s all you have to say about this?”

Hunk stills, and his fists clench. His face looks torn, Pidge begins to smirk. Hunk sighs and meets Lance’s eyes. “I am really trying to stay out of this man. I love you bro, but whatever I have been doing, or whatever we have been doing as a group, hasn’t made this better. This is between you and Keith. I trust that you two will figure it out.” Hunk carries a stack of plates to the sink. He stands there a moment, before turning back to Lance. “To do that, though, you actually gotta talk to him.” Hunk lets out a sigh and turns back to the sink.

Lance looks over to Pidge, who looks a little bewildered, proud and oddly disappointed. They shrug at Lance before busying themselves with putting away condiments. 

---

Lance stays in the shower a long time thinking. He thinks about risks, how he always takes calculated ones. He stands at a distance, gets the lay of the land, assesses the situation, focuses on his target, and then acts. Lance is always looking at the bigger picture, the long game. He thinks about Keith, how Keith is often willing to throw himself into chaos, to take a chance in the moment in a way that terrifies Lance. The way Keith trusts his gut and how jealous Lance used to be when that would work out for the other man. 

Lance had never considered something outside the band, because there was safety in their team. Once they made it, the idea of leaving it became scary. He was always afraid of Keith leaving because it would upend the careful balance Lance valued. But he now recognizes how much he wanted to be free like Keith. Free to be himself, his whole self. Free to try new things. 

Standing beneath the water, Lance tries to understand his love for this man, and the depth of the fear he felt loving someone so ready to jump into something new, so willing to embrace change. What would it mean to be emotionally tethered to someone so prepared to do the things that scared Lance to death. 

He thought about the other side too. What was Keith afraid of? How he never unpacked at hotels, how he struggled to set down roots, how he never made a life plan. But conversely, how he trusted Lance enough to be himself with him. How Lance represented something constant, maybe even something like home to Keith. 

He thinks about how he wants to start a health center for LGBTQ+ youth with his sister. How new and scary that is, but not so terrifying when you are doing it with someone you love. Not so frightening when you have the support of your friends.

Something clicks. He finally turns off the water, but stands there dripping for another minute. He feels wholly on a precipice, but there is a feeling of being grounded, of having a safety harness.

---

Keith doesn’t answer his text right away. Lance tries to sit with it, recognizing he could be anywhere, doing anything. Lance hasn’t reached out in almost a month, it isn’t fair to expect that Keith would drop everything upon hearing from him for their regular Sunday chat.

Unfortunately, after an hour, Lance begins to panic and ends up calling Deb to see if he can set up an emergency session. When he doesn’t hear back from her right away, he heads down to the pool to swim.

Pidge, Hunk and Shay are setting up a game of Monopoly when Lance returns from the pool. Keith still hasn’t responded, so he joins in, needing the distraction. He knows all three of the others are aware of him constantly checking his phone, but they don’t say anything. 

Pidge is ruthless at Monopoly, but oddly has the worst luck at the game. The second time they are unceremoniously sent to jail, to many groans on Pidge’s part and ribbing on behalf of the other players, Lance nearly misses the notification sound, but another one follows almost instantly. The other three share knowing looks as he grabs at his phone desperately.

“Gotta go guys.” Lance is already pushing back his chair, still staring at the screen.

“I get all your properties.” Pidge announces. 

“Sure.” Lance says distractedly

“You can’t acquire property while you are in jail.” Hunk argues.

“These are special circumstances.” Pidge argues back.

“I believe there are rules governing this exact situation.” Shay says, pulling open the booklet.

Lance leaves them to it.

---

Loverboy Lance>

Jan. 12 11:42AM

Hi.

I am so sorry I have been out of touch. 

You up for our regular Sunday chat?

Fly-Boy-Samurai>

Jan. 12 2:55PM

Hi. 

…

I have some time now if you want to talk.

—

Lance’s heart is in his throat as he flips open his laptop. He pauses to breathe and even looks in the mirror and tries to fix his hair. He ends up making it worse, and starts to panic when the computer gives a notification of an incoming call. He makes a rueful face at himself in the mirror and plops down to answer.

Keith’s face is instantly in front of him and he drinks in every detail. His hair is longer, but was recently cut or styled. He has a dangling earring on, not the one Lance had given him, something shiny and silver. He is wearing a tight wide necked white tee shirt and it hugs his shoulders and build, but shows off his collar bone and Lance is momentarily reminded of kissing along the hollows of the other man’s neck. Lance can see that the other man’s eyes are wary, and he both understands it and aches from it. 

“Hey.” Lance breathes. Every word he has carefully planned has now fled.

Keith’s lips pull back slightly, as though he cannot help but smile when Lance greets him breathlessly. But his eyes remain distant. Lance has to stop himself from rubbing the place in his chest where it hurts to have Keith look at him like that. 

“Hi Lance.” Keith says.

“I, uh.” Lance struggles to find the words. “I am sorry I vanished like that. I mean, like I didn’t disappear, but I disconnected… like … electronically. I mean…” Lance can feel his face pull into a grimace. “Well, you know what I mean.”

Keith’s lips pull back, such a small smile, and a very sad one. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They sit in silence for a moment. 

“We were just worried, is all.” The Texan slips into Keith’s voice, and Lance wonders if the other man has been drinking. 

“Yeah. Hunk said that.” Lance looks down at the keyboard.

“I think we knew you were okay.” Keith continues. “We just. I just…”

“What?” Lance pressed.

“I thought you might be mad… at me.” Keith says, voice vibrating with resignation.

“No… No Keith. Not at all.” Lance is earnest. “I was just really obsessing in this terrible way and it was helpful not to have any excuse to go on social media.”

“Okay.” Keith responds slowly. Lance isn’t sure the other man believes him, so he presses forward with more detail.

“Look, it is a problem for me, I create these scenarios in my head and I play them over and over again. I am actually getting help for it. Like… professional help.” 

“That’s good. I guess.” Keith says in response.

“But?” Lance asks.

Keith’s brow crinkles in confusion. “But what?”

“But, you don’t seem to believe me.” Lance says.

“I believe you.”

“Then why are you still looking at me with those eyes?” Lance asks desperately. 

For a moment he is afraid Keith will pretend he doesn’t know what Lance is talking about. He is afraid he will ask, “What eyes?” and they will get stuck in a circle of Lance knowing something is very wrong, but Keith not admitting it. 

Instead Keith says, “You’ve been back a while now.”

Oh, yeah. That.

“Yup.” Lance concedes.

Keith waits and the tension feels so high.

Lance really doesn’t have an excuse for not reaching out, but his conversations with Deb have helped him understand his anxiety as a tangible thing. Something he needs to navigate, something he needs help dealing with.  He is not sure how to explain this to Keith yet.

Instead he says,

“My sister Rachel told me that if avoidance were an Olympic sport I’d be a gold medalist.” 

Keith’s spontaneous laughter hits the deepest parts of Lance’s heart.

“I fucking love Rachel.” Keith says, still laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. 

He’s beautiful, Lance thinks to himself.

“But not as much as you love me, right?” The words are desperate, they just slip out, and Lance wishes he could swallow them right back immediately. 

Keith’s laughter dies and a serious look falls over his face. That face , the one that both terrifies and thrills Lance in equal measure. 

“Yes Lance, I definitely love you more.”

There is a moment where Lance can’t speak, cannot even breathe, but when he can finally pull in air he says, “Good, because I feel the same and hopefully that means I’ll get a chance to fix this.”

Keith’s face falls impassive. Lance takes another breath, he is terrified, but he needs to say this.

“What I meant to say is that I love you, and I hope I can make it up to you.”

—

Chapter Text

“Lance, we needed to leave, like, ten minutes ago.” Pidge calls from outside the bedroom door. He can hear the tread of their doc martin boots on the hardwood as they pace outside his door.

Lance studies his reflection in the full length mirror as he tightens the plain tie against the floral patterned shirt that goes perfectly with his navy suit.  Stepping back he frowns, not happy with the formal look, he pulls at the knot, biting his lower lip.

“Lance. Did you hear me?” Pidge raps a knuckle at the door.

“Ye-es. I am coming. Just give me a moment here.” Lance responds irritably as he frowns at his reflection again, and fusses with his cuffs.

He hears the clicking of high heels and a murmur of voices and another soft knock. 

“Lance,” Allura’s softly spoken accented tone calls through the wood, "Can I come in?"

“Fine.” Lance says disgruntled, throwing an annoyed look at the door.

Allura floats in, looking divine in a soft evening gown which hugs her figure. With each step, the long slit up one side shows a muscled and shapely leg. He reflects for a moment on her maturing sense of style. Her hair is in a thick braid, pulled over one bare shoulder with red roses woven through the plaits. Her elegance makes him feel more awkward and he pulls again on the knot of the tie.

Hunk and Shay’s restaurant opening is tonight, they have planned it for the Valentine’s Day weekend and every sitting is booked. Tonight they are serving a tasting menu to give an overview of the restaurant’s specialties. Hunk had left early this morning to prepare. All the members of the band are attending, testing out the restaurant’s private room.

The Norlox tour wrapped and Keith flew in from Toronto late Thursday and spent yesterday getting sorted into his new apartment. He had joked with Lance about giving the newlyweds space, but it also sounds as though Keith needs this, since spreading his wings over the past several months. 

Tonight will be the first time Lance sees Keith in person since he left on tour, and honestly his nerves are shot just thinking about it. He bristles at Allura’s knowing smile, feeling too exposed. It has become clear to the group the depth of Keith and Lance;s feelings for each other, as their weekly facetime discussions became daily ones. Over that time their conversations have become more intimate, sharing pieces of themselves they used to keep guarded. The intensity of feelings is overwhelming through a computer screen, Lance is scared that it will be too much in person and wishes there had been time for a private reunion instead of tonight’s public gathering.

Allura’s smile remains gentle and shifts to reassuring. She approaches him as though one might approach an injured animal.

“Do you mind if I…?” She offers, gently pulling his hand away from the knot at his throat. Lance nods. He realizes that needs all the support he can get right now. “I think we need a more relaxed look for tonight… mmm?” Allura asks as she undoes the tie and pulls it off to one side. She unbuttons the top of the shirt and pulls the collar back over the top of his fitted jacket, then runs her fingers through his severe hairstyle, softening it. “That’s better.” She grins at him and pinches his cheeks softly before turning him toward the mirror. 

Lance looks back at himself and feels a tension release. It is as though Allura gave him permission to be himself, he muses, as his shoulders loosen slowly.

“I figured it was supposed to be formal.” He explains. Still nervous even though Allura’s steady presence is helping settle his system.

She presses her smiling lips to one side and fiddles with her braid, pulling out a small rose and slipping it into the button hole on his lapel, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Pulling away with a smile and wiping the lipstick off with her thumb. “There’s the Loverboy.” She winks.

He laughs, in spite of his nerves and turns to look at their reflection in the mirror. They still make a handsome couple, but none of the old longing is there. Lance's mind and heart are too full of Keith. There is a peace in that, and he hugs Allura sideways, grateful for her friendship. 

“Can we please leave now?” Pidge says irritably from the open doorway, looking fairly put out. They give the impression of impatience personified with their arms crossed over the front of their double breasted blazer worn over an untucked white dress shirt and dress shorts. The athletic socks in doc martens finish the look, and Lance feels silly for worrying so much about fitting some fashion standard.  

—--

Their car pulls up outside the restaurant and the exterior is busy, diners with reservations are lined up for the first sitting, while press and paparazzi push up to the edge of the barred of walkway, jostling for the best sight lines to the door. Many big names are expected to make an appearance tonight. There is the usual flutter of flashes and shouted questions as they smile and press through the crowd, but once inside, the atmosphere is cool and calm. Hunk and Shay’s vision has come to fruition in clean lines, soft music playing in the background and crisply dressed wait staff gliding between the tables with smooth efficiency. 

The maitre’d shows them to their private room and other than Romelle and Coran, the rest of their party hasn’t arrived. Allura, Romelle and Pidge jump into conversation. Although Coran tries to engage Lance, he is too keyed up to participate beyond the initial greetings. He decides to find Hunk. Leaving the calm space of the dining room for the brightness and loud kitchen is another shock to his system. There he finds a bemused Shay, formally dressed in a simple short, pleated, black dress, while Hunk is still in his white jacket, his voice directing a small army of prep staff and sous chefs in the state of the art kitchen.

“Lance.” Shay welcomes him with a hug. “It is lovely to see you.” Her smile is enthusiastic, it encompasses her whole face. 

“I guess he’s busy.” Lance gestures to Hunk as Shay pulls him out of the way of the serving staff on a never ending loop from the kitchen doors to the serving counter. 

“He is definitely quite busy.” Shay laughs. “I do not know why he imagined he could leave the kitchen tonight.” She muses. “I did try to warn him.” She says affectionately.

“Hey Lance!” Hunk waves from the other side of the counter, before calling instructions over his shoulder to some unseen member of the kitchen team. While clearly busy, Hunk looks happy, in his element, light on his feet, eyes thoughtful, watchful, overseeing all aspects of his team. Lance takes a moment to enjoy it, before almost getting trampled by a severe looking waiter with a tray of entrees.

“He called in the other Head Chef,” Shay says, gesturing to a tattooed woman running the grill, “But I knew he would want to… well…” She gestures around the kitchen, “Tonight, of all nights.” And her smile is stunning, because it is genuine. Lance is struck by how everything about Shay is always real, never pretense.

Shay offers Lance her arm to lead him back through the door, replacing the loud fans, clanging pots with the calm background music and murmured voices. “I am meant to be on the floor greeting people.” She smiles,  “Speaking of which,” she says, looking toward the door “It appears the rest of your party has arrived.” 

Lance looks up to see Shiro. Adam, Keith, Matt and Curtis enter the front doors. Through the window he vaguely witnesses the flashing of cameras and the buzz from their arrival. But the observation is fleeting as his focus narrows in on the dark haired man wearing a soft leather jacket with a crisp white tee-shirt and, for-fuck-sakes, ...are those jeans? Lance only has a moment of bemusement before twin amethyst eyes meet his own and he feels his breath catch in his lungs.

Keith's eyes crinkle in greeting and Lance feels his own face pull into a huge smile. Keith is here. They are in the same room.

The group is already moving toward him, but he only has eyes for one person. Barely registering Shiro’s back slap and shoulder squeeze, Adam’s bemused, knowing smile and handshake turned into a congratulatory embrace. Matt’s distracted greeting as he looks around the restaurant in awe. For Lance it is all about the two strong arms with calloused hands that wrap around his upper body for a (too brief) hug. Lance leans in and presses his face into the other man’s shoulder, inhaling deeply, every sense hungry for the person in front of him. “Lance.” is the greeting whispered in his ear, and it isn’t enough, but it is everything. 

All too quickly they are being ushered into their room, as the frenzy outside is heightened at the sight of all of them. Lance senses another person joining their party, but his focus is on dark lashes, a secret smile, and ebony hair softly curling along a leather collar, just long enough to run his fingers through.

The group shuffles into the room and begins arranging themselves into seats, and a thrill runs through Lance when Keith catches his jacket sleeve so as not to lose each other. It is only when he is seated at one end of the table between Keith and Shiro that Lance realizes the person who joined their party is Lotor, and he feels a drop in his stomach, unease and distaste rolling through him. 

Keith seems to witness his change in expression, looping his leg around Lance’s and pressing the inside of their ankles together, reassuringly. Lance glances at Allura to gauge her reaction, but she seems unphased and is chatting animatedly with Romelle. 

Lance throws a questioning glance at Keith who shrugs, his eyes dark. Lance senses that Keith wants to explain, but cannot under the circumstances. 

Lotor’s presence shifts the entire vibe of the gathering. Usually they would be playful with each other as a group. There would probably be some light hearted ribbing at Lance missing the wedding, or off-color jokes about Keith’s tour with the Generals. But with Lotor here they are less relaxed, everybody has their game face on. Nobody quite trusts Lotor, not just because he is Zarkon’s son. There is history between him and Allura, and the consequences of his announcement to the press about Keith going on the road with another band plays on everyone’s mind. Lotor doesn’t seem to notice the discomfiture of his dinner companions, and Lance wonders if the man has ever had an honest interaction. He is also aware that while Keith maintains physical contact with Lance beneath the table, the guitarist is careful with regard to any overt actions and words in the presence of the General’s publicist. Lance tries to follow his lead. Allura, as well, is formal, and guarded. Questions form in Lance’s mind, but there is no private space to voice them.

Before long they are eating the tasting menu, starting with miniature versions of the appetizers. The food provides a welcome distraction and gives them all something neutral to talk about. They take turns trying different dishes and Lance finds himself watching Keith’s reactions with interest. At one point he forgets himself and wipes crumbs from the other man’s chin. 

Their feet tangle up with each other, their thighs press close whenever possible. Sometimes when Lance catches Keith’s eyes, he has to consciously prevent himself from leaning forward to kiss him.

As they move through the different courses, they are served wines to compliment each dish, but Lance finds himself only having a sip here and there. He is already drunk on Keith, and even though he remembers to remain discreet in the presence of the detested publicist, he takes the  opportunity to lean into Keith's shoulder, to rest a hand on his leg, to try to make him laugh. 

In any case, Lotor’s attention seems to be focused on Curtis, probably the only person there who hasn’t had a bad experience with the guy. Despite this, Lotor's presence is still a felt thing.  Lance knows that Keith’s quiet demeanor and careful communication is due to the man. Allura too, is careful in her words and interactions, implicitly polite, but distant. Only people in her intimate acquaintance would notice the careful reserve. If Pidge’s protective glances, and cutting wit, often directed at the blond haired man, are anything to go by, Lance isn’t the only one to see Allura’s careful demeanor.

They are having coffee and dessert, and Lance is tired of the tension. He wants to drag Keith away. He has waited long enough and he wants to have him all to himself. 

It is at this point that Hunk comes in with Shay, pink from the heat of the kitchen, a sparkle in his eye due to the unquestionable success of the night. The team congratulates their friends. There is some teasing but mostly praise for the delicious food, the beautiful space, the excellent staff. They only get to enjoy it for a moment before…

“Hunk, I cannot help but notice the gorgeous Grand Piano you have in the main dining area, and yet you choose not to have live music tonight.” Lotor infers smoothly. “That seems odd, given your music profession and connections.”

Lance notices that Allura is almost successful in schooling the look of distaste that crosses her face, Pidge, however, doesn’t even bother to hide a massive eye roll. Keith goes still beside him.

Hunk smiles good naturedly, “In general we will have live music.” He says, “But I wanted tonight to be about the food.”

Lotor smiles, and it brings to Lance’s mind a hungry predator. “Well there is no doubt that your culinary success is now established. Indeed nobody came tonight because of your musical talent.” The words are spoken smoothly, politely, but it sounds like an insult. Lance feels Keith bristle beside him. Allura’s mouth is a flat line and Pidge seems to be examining their dessert fork for its capabilities as a weapon. 

“It was an exceedingly delicious Hunk… I especially enjoyed the…” Coran offers, starting in on an exuberant speech. Which is interrupted by Lotor, “I don’t know if you know that Keith is releasing a single of one of his own songs this week.” He says, and it is apparent that he already knows few people at the table are aware of this.

“Lotor, no .”

Lance turns to Keith’s whose jaw is clenched, his eyes aflame.

“I mean, it would create a great buzz. Two Defenders unveiling their new projects on the same night.” Lotor says smoothly. “And I understand Atlas could use the boost, since TLD may be on hiatus a while longer.” 

Shiro’s eyes turn to ice at these words and Lance notices his fist clench even as Adam places his hand on Shiro’s arm.

“You think Keith should sing his song? Tonight? Like now? At the opening?” Hunk asks slowly, eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean I wouldn’t suggest it if you weren’t all so close. It is admirable how you all support each other, share the stage , and the glory.” Lotor's smile makes Lance’s blood run cold. “You know,  that whole family thing ?” He presses.

Lance sees Hunk recoil, knowing that his resistance is melting at the implication that he isn’t supporting his friends. 

“Lotor, I said No.” Keith’s staccato voice cuts through the room and the blond head sways playfully toward Keith. “I am not saying you have to sing it Keith, I know you are shy about it, at least that’s why I think you have kept your solo projects under wraps. But your friends always seem so encouraging. I figured you’d all be falling over each other to help. After all, I am thinking of your future, all of your futures. I mean, who knows when you will work together again ?”

The words are poison and upon hearing them Lance is aware, in that moment, he feels outside of his own body. Keith’s hand tightens protectively on his knee, but it isn’t enough for him to stay grounded.

“Um, I guess if Keith wants to sing it he could.” Hunk says, uncertainly, Shay steps up beside him in an instant, her hand gently resting on his shoulder. He looks over. In her heels she is almost his height. They share a moment and Lance feels jealous, because it seems they are able to communicate without words and he and Keith cannot even seem to communicate with them.

Keith has a new solo single coming out…

They talk every single day…

… and Lance didn’t know.

He feels the man next to him take a deep breath, because, even in his dissociated state, Lance is hyper aware of Keith. There is an edge, a certainty in his voice when Keith says.” Thank you Hunk. I appreciate that, but tonight is your night. Your’s and Shay’ s.” 

Keith meets Lotor’s gaze, “Lotor, I will see you Monday.”

Lotor raises an eyebrow, “Oh, are you leaving?” He asks, lips quirking.

“No.” Keith replies stonily.

There is a breath of silence that feels like an eternity.

Lotor huffs, “Keith my dear, that was terribly gauche. But as you wish, I shall take my leave.” His smile is serpentine. “I will see you at our meeting then. Allura, it's always a pleasure. I bid the rest of you adieu.” The blonde man says as he unfolds out of the seat, and with a careless wave he is gone.

“Thank the fuck.” Pidge expresses with a sigh. “I thought I was going to have to test whether or not you were the kind of friends I could call to bury a body.”

“In the case of Lotor, it would be my pleasure to help.” Allura smiles ruefully. “Anytime.” She assures Pidge and then rubs her temple, “That man is so draining.”

“Who even invited him?” Matt asks incredulously.

Hunk looks sheepish. “He popped into the restaurant while I was training the team last week. I guess he had a meeting at Atlas. He is so…” Hunk makes a helpless gesture. “I mean, he talks in circles. I still can’t figure out if I asked him to come or if he invited himself. But I have been kicking myself ever since.” 

Shay rubs his shoulder. “He is a slippery one.” She murmurs empathetically.

“You could have warned us.” Lance accuses.

“I warned Allura.” Hunk says, blinking. “And didn’t he arrive with you Keith?”

Keith nods, “He doesn’t really ask permission.” His mouth falls into a flat line.

“Allura warned me.” Pidge nods toward Allura, finally putting the dessert fork down. Apparently the threat had passed.

“You didn’t warn me .” Lance accuses from across the table.

“You were already so nervous.” Allura retaliates, teasing.

“Allura!” Lance exclaims, cheeks flaming and he glances at Keith whose cheekbones also blossom pink, a small smile playing on his lips. 

And just like that the tension dissipates. Hunk and Shay pull up chairs to join the table and they are all catching up on the events in each other’s lives. People are excited to hear about how things are going with Lance and Veronica’s project. Pidge completely loses everyone but Hunk and Matt explaining the intricacies of their new financial software. The conversation turns to Shiro and Adam’s wedding, and Lance finds he is ready to hear the funny and happy stories with only a small twinge of sadness at having missed it. 

“Oh my god Lance, you have gotta see the video of drunk Keith and Shiro singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ at the reception.” Matt enthuses. 

“Nooo.” Lance says in mock shock, looking at a blushing Keith. “You didn’t?”

“I don’t fully remember that.” Keith grimaces.

“There’s video evidence.” Pidge grins manically pulling out their phone. 

Lance finds himself laughing until his sides hurt at the video. Keith finally pulls it out of his hands saying. “Okay, that’s enough of that.”

“So, what’s next?” Matt asks, rubbing his hands together. “Where are we moving this party to?” 

“Actually,” Hunk looks around sheepishly, “I want to support our first real closing.” 

Shay laughs, “Let Daniella handle it.”

“I will.” Hunk promises. “Just not tonight.” he says sheepishly.

“Of course.” She concedes. “Then I will see the last of our guests out, and I will change into something more appropriate to help.” 

They hug Hunk and Shay and head out. The crowds at the restaurant have been dispersing slowly due to the late hour, die hard photographers still outside, but not the crowd from earlier. Pidge, Romelle and Allura decide to head back to Allura’s place and a car picks them up. Shiro and Adam head back to their house and Curtis takes Matt and Coran upstairs to tour the Atlas offices.

Once they all leave, Lance follows Keith to his car.

“No motorcycle tonight?” Lance teases.

“It was supposed to be a formal event.” Keith says, brows drawing in, perplexed.

“You’re wearing jeans and a tee-shirt.” Lance presses.

“New ones.” Keith responds, without missing a beat. 

Lance feels the smile on his own cheeks and is happy to find a semblance of his footing again. 

---

The drive back to Keith’s new apartment is made in silence. Lance is still processing the evening, still trying to stabilize after dealing with Lotor, trying to figure out why Keith didn’t tell him about the song. Despite this, there is a comfortableness to their silence. 

“Okay, so I have only had a day to set things up.” Keith cautions as they exit the elevator.

“Dude, we were friends when you lived in the basement apartment, remember, the one where the toilet broke and you had to use the one at the bar down the street for almost a month because your landlord was in Bali at a yoga retreat…” 

Keith places a finger over Lance’s mouth in the universal sign for quiet. As he pulls out keys to unlock the door. Lance kisses his finger, and slips around it to steal a kiss, pressing firmly into Keith’s lips… 

That may have been a miscalculation, because it’s been so long. Lance forgot how the world disappears when he kisses Keith. It is like he falls into a vortex of emotion and sensation. 

There is a loud thunk on the floor and they pull apart. Lance is out of breath, his fingers tangled in Keith’s hair.

Keith looks down, bewildered, his eyes refocus and he licks his lips and swallows. Lance watches everything hungrily. Keith then bends slowly to pick up the keys, one of his hands remaining on Lance’s hip the entire trip down and back up again. This does nothing to help Lance get his breath back.

“I guess we should… ah.” Lance nods his head toward the door.

Keith swallows again and hums in agreement. But it takes him a moment before he moves toward the lock, dragging Lance along with him by his belt loop.

As soon as they are inside, Lance is in Keith’s arms again, registering the door closing and Keith reaching over his shoulder to turn the lock. Lance’s back is to the flat surface, Keith's hands are under his suit jacket pulling the dress shirt untucked from his pants. Lance’s hands are scrambling against soft cotton trying to find purchase and he finally decides to slide his hands into the back pockets of Keith’s jeans while his mouth seeks the spot along Keith’s jaw line that causes him to make those desperate noises in the back of his throat. He feels his body jump and shiver when Keith’s hands find the skin of his back and slide up his spine. Lance pulls him closer and arches, finally finding the sweet spot along Keith’s neck and gets a low throaty growl in response.

“Lance, god.” Keith breathes, but something has shifted and he is pulling his hands from under Lance’s shirt and resting his forearms above Lance’s head on the door. They are both panting, and Lance wants to keep going, but he knows to follow Keith’s lead on this.

Lance pulls his hands from a perfect ass and brings them up to play with the front of Keith’s jacket. He is having trouble looking up at Keith’s intense gaze, but he tries. Keith isn’t going anywhere, he is just slowing things down a bit.

“It’s okay.” Lance reassures.

“It would be so easy to keep going.” Keith murmurs, pressing a small kiss beside Lance’s ear, before resting his lips on Lance’s forehead.

Lance closes his eyes. It is enough to be this close to Keith. He has missed him so much. He finds his entire system calming just by being near him.

“I wanted to show you my place, and to talk about the song.” Keith says. Lance opens his eyes to look at him, but finds now Keith’s eyes are closed.

“The single.” Lance murmurs, running his hands up and down the front of Keith’s jacket.

Keith hums again, an elongated sound as he pushes away from the door, giving Lance space. He runs a hand down Lance's arm and tugs on his sleeve. Lance follows him to a large sectional, leather couch in an open concept space. Keith pulls off his own jacket and tugs on Lance’s sleeves until he does the same. The couch is surprisingly comfortable as Keith sprawls across it, pulling Lance half on top of him. 

“This okay?” Keith asks, rubbing a hand up and down Lance’s back. 

Lance looks up at Keith’s face before burrowing his head back into the other man’s chest. “This is awesome.” He says, wrapping an arm around the other man’s waist.

They sit in silence for a while, Lance listening to the steady beat of Keith’s heart. The other man’s breathing evens out. He almost thinks that Keith has fallen asleep when he finally speaks.

“I wrote the single while you were in Cuba.” Keith says, his voice soft, rough with exhaustion, or emotion, maybe both.

“Oh.” Lance says quietly. He feels the kaleidoscope of emotion that plays close to the surface when he remembers what Keith must have gone through at that time. In the past five weeks he has begun to trust that Keith and him may have a future, he has stopped trying to blow it up out of fear, so he steadies himself with several breaths. He needs to hear Keith out on this, they are still figuring out how to trust each other again. 

Lance’s head rises when Keith takes a deep breath, “It’s called When Love Isn’t Enough. ”

Lance’s breathing becomes shallow. “Ouch.” he utters, without meaning to.

He feels Keith shift beneath him. “It’s not just about you.” He says defensively. “My parents…” Keith breaks off. “I mean, I didn’t write it all then. There were pieces of it floating around in my head for a while.”

“How long.” Lance asks, he feels his eyes prickle, not for himself, for what he could lose, but because loving is a huge risk for Keith, yet he still does it, still puts himself on the line.

“A long time.” Keith says, voice faraway. “Years maybe, but most of it…” He pauses. “Lots of parts since we went to Europe, and I finished it when…”

“When I ghosted you.” Lance finishes.

Keith doesn’t answer immediately.

“I didn’t plan to record it. But you came home and… you didn’t…”

Lance doesn’t answer, just runs his hand along Keith’s side, presses a small kiss to his chest. Once he had gotten his head out of his ass, he realized the impact that his actions had on Keith. Keith hadn’t said explicitly how he felt when Lance disconnected the way he did, but it sounds like he’d found a way to express it. 

Lance feels Keith’s fingers running through his hair. No, this isn’t right, Keith should not be comforting him right now.

Lance pulls himself up to look at Keith, who is staring down at him with earnest eyes, glowing in the partial darkness of the apartment.

“Do you want to play it for me?” Lance asks.

Keith runs his hand gently over Lance’s forehead and down the side of his face, leaving it there.

“Do you want to hear it?” 

“I probably should hear it. From you. Don’t you think?”

They stare at each other for a while, beyond words. Until Keith reluctantly sits up, Lance moves over to the side of the couch, pulling a pillow into his arms. Keith heads to one of the guitar stands at the side of the room, and picks up his father’s old acoustic. 

Lance takes the opportunity to look over the space. They are in a great room, the couch facing toward floor to ceiling windows, the twinkling of the city around them. The room is large, and a baby grand piano sits in front of them, a gas fireplace beyond it on one of the interior walls. Looking behind the couch, he sees a dining room table, and beyond that an open concept kitchen. A hallway to the left of the great room, leads to the bathrooms and bedrooms.

Keith tunes the guitar for longer than he actually needs, running his hands gently over the strings. He doesn’t look at Lance as he sings, he simply closes his eyes and plays.

And it’s beautiful.

The song reaches Lance on multiple levels, the chords are simple, but Keith’s brilliant finger work comes in at the introduction and between the verses. It isn’t layered symbolism, the way Lance writes about things, It is all Keith. Honest. Direct. He sings about the times in his life that love wasn’t the solution. How circumstances sometimes break up marriages, take parents away, end musical careers. Keith’s words aren’t about blame or self pity, just mourning the things that one cannot control. The part about Lance opens a hole in his chest, because Keith talks about hoping that this one time that it will all work out, and the crashing realization it won’t and acceptance of it.

Lance doesn’t realize he is crying when the final chord finishes vibrating through the room. He hugs the pillow tightly to his chest, and Keith finally looks up at him. 

Suddenly he is putting the guitar down and he is there, in front of Lance, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Lance whispers.

“It’s okay… Lance..”

“No, it’s not okay. I just, I never thought I could have this. Even when it was right in front of me.”

“I know.” Keith huffs, smiling sadly.

“No, you don’t understand. I create mazes in my mind, and I forget they aren’t real and I drag myself and other people through them.”

“I know.” Keith murmurs, wiping tears from Lance’s cheeks and kisses him.

“I thought that… I struggle with… this part of me…” Lance chokes.

Keith’s face sobers, his mouth a flat line. “ I know .” He says seriously.

“I am working on it.” Lance promises with a sob. “I am really trying to untangle it.” 

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“ I wouldn’t be here Keith. You’d be here. It’s your apartment.” Lance says, mock seriously, wiping his eyes.

Keith stares at him for a moment, before he smiles, and then chuckles. Lance smiles sheepishly, he dearly loves making Keith laugh.

“I wouldn’t have an apartment in Malibu if this,” He gestures between himself and Lance, “Wasn’t on the table.”

“Really?” Lance asks, his voice small. 

“Really.” Keith promises, leaning in for a kiss.

---

Lance is both excited and worried as he and Hunk travel to the benefit concert he and Veronica had organized tonight. While Lance is excited to perform with the group again, truth be told, he is feeling apprehensive.

Keith’s single had dropped more than a month ago, and the dark haired guitarist was back on the road promoting it. Lance felt bad, because part of the reason Keith was working so hard to sell the single was so that Atlas could remain solvent, as they had run into some cash flow issues upon start up at the the point their biggest  client went on hiatus. That said, things were looking up, as The Generals had signed Atlas on as their management company, and their recent tour with Keith and Norlox had created quite a buzz.

Unfortunately their connection to Atlas meant that Lotor was around more often, as he was still their publicist. Lotor really believes that any publicity is good publicity and Lance isn’t 100% certain that Lotor hasn’t been feeding the latest versions of the tabloid story that Lance broke Keith’s heart. 

In all fairness, the press had latched on to the meaning of Keith’s solo song and built an ever changing soap opera of the ways in which the two of them fell in love and then broke each other’s hearts. The most popular being a love triangle with Allura.

So far Lance has remained successful in not reading any of the hyped up stories. Unfortunately this leaves him completely unprepared when Haggar manages to slink out of the crowd of press at the concert sticking a mic into his face. Lance plasters on a smile as he feels Hunk move up beside him.

“This is Hagger with Galra.com speaking to Lance McClain of the band The Legendary Defenders.  Lance, were you surprised to hear your bandmate Keith has been asked to do a solo set at the benefit tonight?”  Lance startled and felt his face freeze into what must look like a manic-level, joker-grin. “Well, um No… because I helped organize the Benefit, it’s for…”

Haggar interrupts his explanation of the Health Center with “What does Keith’s individual success mean for the band? What if a solo career is the way to go for Keith Kogane?” 

Lance and Keith have discussed what happens at the end of the hiatus, it’s just with all the projects in their personal lives, they haven’t a clear idea when that will all end. For sure Keith will still be playing solo in the meantime, but it isn’t really Lance’s place to announce that. He thinks desperately as his mouth falls open for a moment . However, years of practice in covering up his insecurities with bluster and he finds a smooth if not strained smile.  “ Keith’s gotta do what is right for Keith, and the band supports him, because we are family first.” 

“But aren’t you concerned that without him as your front man? Are you worried that he is going to rise well above your band’s success? The Defenders could be left in the proverbial stardust . I mean, what would this do for your music? It is well known that many of your hits were co-written by McLain and Kogane.” 

Holy smokes, does she ever stop?

“First of all, we have both grown and done some solo writing this past year, and, to be honest, I am not worried about TLD being overshadowed by anyone still wearing a mullet.” He offers with a sideways smirk. As soon as the words leave Lance’s mouth he realizes how easily he has been baited and feels the first wave of regret.

“HA! HA! HA! That’s so funny!” Hunk jumps in, patting Lance firmly on the back, “Always making fun of Keith’s hair. That’s a Lance and Keith’s thing. Cute right?” He said using both hands on Lance’s shoulders to guide him away from the cameras. Hagger tried to ask another question, probably to draw Hunk into the fray, but he kept talking over her. “Also, we are very excited to be supporting Lance’s project of a LGBTQ+ Health Centre, which is what tonight’s benefit is for.” Hunk says through a plastic smile as he draws Lance away. “So great to talk to you! Always a pleasure !”

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Once out of sight of the cameras. “Ugh, Galra gets to me everytime.” He says punching the air and pacing the hallway adjacent to the loading dock where equipment is being moved into the stadium. 

Keith doesn’t make it to the band’s sound check, and since they haven't actually played together in months, everyone is a bit edgy. They wanted to go through at least one song before the performance. Keith was performing on a morning show in New York, which had just been hit by a late winter ice storm. Flights have been delayed, and while Keith managed to get a connecting flight through Las Vegas, he wouldn’t make it to the venue until after the first acts were already on stage. While Lance understands Keith’s delay isn’t intentional, it definitely feels like a bad omen. 

The band is holed up in one of the many green rooms chatting with other bands, snacking on finger foods and coffee. Usually Lance enjoys this environment, shooting the breeze and rubbing elbows with people you admire. However, as different acts come and go, while they watch the show on the screens inside and comment on particularly impressive performances Lance continues to feel restless. 

“Keith’s here.” Shiro said, popping up from the couch looking at his phone. He starts to head to the back entrance to meet him. Lance immediately jumps up to follow but Shiro stops him with an upheld hand. “Keith just got off a plane and is going to need to change quickly to be ready for his solo set. He hasn’t even done a sound check. Maybe it’d be best if we gave him space to psyche up on his own.” Lance feels his mouth open about to argue but thinks better of it when he meets Shiro’s determined, no-one-is-getting-past-me stare. Looking for support Lance’s eyes meet, in turn,  Hunk’s, then Pidge’s, then Allura’s. They all seem a bit surprised by Shiro’s request, but no-one seems prepared to argue with him on it.

Shiro leaves Adam right behind him. Lance plops on the edge of a couch that has seen better days. Sighing loudly he rests his elbows on bouncing knees, rolling his eyes up to the concrete ceiling. He then meets Pidge’s eyes again. Their eyebrows are raised. “What!?” Lance asks. 

After what seems like ages of waiting, Adam comes breathlessly into the room, “Keith’s on next, and I think you guys are going to want to see this.” Lance is the first one to side stage right, the rest of the band crowds in behind him. Keith hasn’t been introduced yet, the act before him just finishing their set. Lance sees him from across the stage and drinks in the sight. Keith is checking all the connections on his sleek black guitar. A tech person is instructing him on which outlets to plug into.

He looks tired, but good. Lance really has enjoyed watching Keith grow into himself as a solo performer. He seems to take up more space, is less tightly wound, still Keith, but more certain, more mature somehow. He is wearing a simple red shirt with black jeans and a black leather jacket. His hair is a bit longer, pulled back into a ponytail, which is a look that actually makes Lance weak at the knees. Krolia is now behind him murmuring something in his ear. He is looking over his shoulder at her and gives her a nod and a smile. She smiles back. Lance feels a little lost, longing, hoping Keith will look over at him. 

Everything is happening fast now, the previous band finishes, takes their bows and clears off the stage, pushing past Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura, Shiro and Adam as they leave. The group shuffles back into place garnering for the best view as Keith is introduced, The Generals are playing with him. As he takes the stage, his lithe body seems to spark with energy. The crowd is friendly, they are cheering and welcoming. Always the master of brevity, Keith leans into a mic and says simply, “A little something by Joan Jett,” He turns his back, meeting the eyes of Zethrid on the drums, and nods. They bob their heads together to count in and Zethrid dives into the drum intro, it is only as he plays the first guitar chord that Keith spins to face the audience. The song is instantly recognizable, the crowd already clapping to the beat of “ I Hate Myself for Loving You .” 

“No way!” He hears Pidge exclaim behind him. 

Lance is blown away, because Keith is awesome. It is clear he is having a blast from the start. As he plays in the first set of chords he bites his lower lip and closes his eyes. But once the lyrics start he is looking out at the audience. He and Axca are moving across the stage with their guitars and singing, Keith taking the lead, his voice raw and rocking. Axca and Keith take turns with the lyrics and Ezor is playing the bass, belting out back up vocals.

Lance feels overwhelmed looking at Keith, he just looks so good and it is making Lance’s face burn and heart swell. Across the stage Krolia is dancing and mouthing the words. Everybody is dancing. Pidge and Hunk are behind him snapping their fingers and moving their hips. Lance’s eyes are drawn back to Keith, who has his small smile at the corner of his lips and creases at the edges of his eyes. Lance knows his own appreciation must show all over his face, and he wishes again that Keith would look over at him.

The audience is loving every minute of this, especially the more Keith gets into it, when they reach the bridge, Lance can hear them singing along. The band finishes with a bang and the crowd goes crazy.

Keith turns to the side of the stage, and Lance thinks this is the moment he has been waiting for all night. Except Keith looks at Shiro with a question in his eyes and Lance’s heart leaps from his chest to his throat. He hears Shiro say, “I guess it is now or never.” Lance, heartbeat in his ears, turns to find out what Shiro means, only to see it is him meeting Keith’s gaze. Adam hands Shiro a pair of drumsticks and kisses him on the cheek whispering something like “Go get em Tak.”  Shiro nods at Keith answering a silent question. Lance feels his heart drop into his stomach.

With Shiro’s confirmation, Keith turns to the audience. “For the next song I am bringing out some special guests.” Keith announces to the crowd. “Takashi Shirogane is going to take over on drums.” The crowd cheers, some of them knowing who that is, others completely oblivious. Pidge turns to Hunk and Lance, mouth agape, “Did either of you know this was happening?” they ask, breathlessly.  “Nu’hun,” replies Hunk, eyes wide with shock. Lance, uncharacteristically speechless just gives a small shake of his head and looks back at the stage where Shiro is already seated at the drum kit, adjusting some of instruments to his liking.

“Joining me on guitar is the legendary KROLIA!” This time the crowd goes wild. Lance too, is blown away. Krolia hasn’t performed live in over a decade. Her stepping onto the stage to play with Keith is awe inspiring as it is, but what really blows Lance away is that Krolia is carrying Keith’s pearl finished purple gibson on to stage. Hunk gasps, punching Lance in the arm when he sees it too. Lance just nods, still beyond speech.

Again, Keith begins by turning to look at the drummer, this time Shiro. Krolia addresses the crowd, like her son, she keeps it simple, saying “We are going to need some help for this one.” She leads the audience into a particular clapping rhythm. Lance squints trying to guess what song is coming. Once Krolia has the crowd keeping the beat she begins playing her chords, Shiro starts drumming as her husky, raw voice breaks into the first lines of “I Like It Heavy” by Halestorm. Keith continues watching Shiro nodding to the music until almost halfway through the first verse. He must be sure Shiro is okay, because he doesn’t glance back when his guitar part begins and he turns to start singing the line. “Got a demon in my soul and a voice in my head, saying go, go, go, I can sleep when I am dead.” Keith moves out onto stage meeting Krolia midway. Their voices match in intensity and rawness. “There’s a sonic revelation bringing me to my knees, and a man down below that needs my sympathy.” Krolia responds, “I got a ringing in my ears getting ready to burst,”  They both sing, “Screaming Hallelujah Mother_______ take me to church.”  Hunk laughs out loud when they both skip the f-bomb lyric. “Keeping it family friendly,” Pidge shouts above the music.

As they move into the chorus Lance turns his attention to Shiro who is amazing. The song itself isn’t complicated for the drummer, this one is all about the guitars, but still, it is magic to see Shiro on a stage again. The audience seems to think so too because they are enthralled, singing and still clapping to the beat.

As they move on to the second verse, Keith is fully smiling.  Lance’s heart is so full it almost breaks seeing how happy and free he is. Keith is nodding his head and swaying his hips to the beat. Lance feels a tremor go through his body when he hears Keith sing the line “I fell in love with the darkest parts, standing on the side of the wild at heart.” It's that moment that Keith glances over eyes meeting Lance's, the guitarist smirking with the lyric, before turning back to the audience fully immersed in playing the song to the hilt. 

Lance has a sudden flashback of Keith in high school, performing on his own during some stupid talent show, not giving a shit what others thought. Lance remembers feeling both envious and inspired by him. He remembers, even then, wanting Keith to look up at him as he performed. Has he been aching for this long? It both seems insane and totally logical to think that this is what Keith always represented to him. This elemental and thrilling freedom of getting lost in music, of having it change you, move you, create opportunities and bring you back from the brink.

Lance realizes that he always wanted to be a part of that, to move out of his constant internal dialogue to the place of just being. Keith gave him that. While Lance wants TLD to continue as before, he doesn’t want it to come at a cost to Keith. In this moment, Lance isn’t afraid anymore. He wants Keith to never lose the magic he found playing music just like this. Even if that means not returning to the band. Keith deserves this, he needs this. Lance vows that he will do whatever it takes to support him having it.

They are leading up to the drum solo and Lance is holding his breath. When it comes, it is shorter than usual for a live show, but nobody cares, because Shiro totally rocks and the audience is going crazy. The concert is reaching a whole new level, emotion is rocketing everywhere on stage and in the stadium. People know this is a special moment. A magical comeback for two amazing people.

As the song ends in a flourish of guitar riffs and raw vocals, the crowd cheers as though this is the final act, not one of many performers. Other musicians are peeking out from both sides of the stage, no doubt hearing that Krolia is performing with Keith and wanting to see a rock legend. When the song ends Shiro comes from behind the drums and he and Keith hug like the brothers they truly are.

It takes some time for the crowd to calm down. As they do, a grand piano is rolled out from behind them and Keith’s band picks up their instruments. Krolia, switches out the Gibson for an acoustic guitar, takes a place standing in front of a mic set stage left. Other musicians join her, including a string quartet. Lance’s heart hurts, because he wants to stay, but he doesn’t think he can hear Keith sing ‘Gravity’ again. It had torn his heart out the first time.

Unfortunately, his feet are currently glued to the ground, he can’t seem to move. He just hungrily watches as Keith takes off his leather jacket, sits in front of the piano and begins to adjust his mic. 

“So I have been singing alot of ballads lately. Which is not usually my thing.” Keith grimaces, and the audience laughs. “I blame our sound guy Matt. He is pretty much responsible for this entire set. At some point he… ah… forced me to listen to each one of these songs.” More laughter and some applause. “This song is um...” Lance smiles at Keith’s awkwardness, the audience also seems to love it.  “It’s from a musical, called ‘The Waitress’... which I’ve never seen,”He confesses.  “it’s about this woman who is stuck with this not so-great-guy and is going to leave him, but then finds out she is pregnant.” Keith fists are clenching and unclenching as his fingers rub over his thumbs and he is looking more at the piano than the audience. “And she kinda takes time to remember who she is.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. So far, this intro is more than he has said all night. He turns to the audience and continues. “ I think that would be weird for me to sing… for obvious reasons…” with a quirk of his lips and more good natured laughter from the crowd. Lance hears Hunk chuckle behind him. “So, Krolia is going to sing it with me.”  There is warm applause as Keith rests his hands on the piano keys. “Oh... the song is called “She Used to Be Mine” Keith remembers to say just before he starts to play.

Krolia begins to sing, and her voice is full of emotion. Lance finds himself lost in the story from the beginning of the song. The audience must be too, people are pulling out their phones to wave their lights. It seems as though a spell has fallen over the entire stadium as they watch a beautiful and personal narrative unfold. 

When Keith sings the first line of the chorus. It sounds like encouraging words from a friend, “She’s imperfect but she tries.” Krolia seems to acknowledge but dismiss his kindness with, “She is good, but she lies.” Keith, ever persistent, “She is hard on herself.” Krolia, voice recriminating, “She is broken but won’t ask for help.” Keith again, with a bemused and wary smile, “She is messy, but she is kind.” Krolia, singing sadly, “She is lonely, most of the time.” Keith, steadfast in his reasoning, “She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie.” Krolia responds with resonating emotion, “She is gone, but she used to be mine.”

Lance feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They are performing with so much emotion. As he listens, something is tickling just at the edge of his awareness.  

Krolia’s voice hardens as she sings the second verse about a the not-so-good-guy that Keith described in his introduction. Lance actually feels the tears fall when she sings, “If I am honest I know I would give it all back for a chance to start over and re-write an ending or two.”

Emotion is building as they also sing back and forth to each other for the second chorus. Lance’s heart actually aches when Krolia places a hand on her stomach as if she is actually pregnant like the character she is singing about. “And be scared of the life that’s inside her, growing stronger each day,” and Keith joins in to sing with her, ‘til it finally reminds her, to fight just a little and bring back the fire in her eyes.” and they sing together as the music swells, “That’s been gone but used to be mine.” 

Their voices are raw and meld like they were fine instruments fashioned from the same piece of ancient wood. They belt out magical words into a stadium of entranced people. He hears whoops of appreciation as they repeat the line and hold the last notes to wring every ounce of emotion out of them.

As the song ebbs into the last verse, various instruments fall away until it is just Keith and Krolia again. Piano and voice. It feels like the audience has been lifted outside of themselves, taken on a journey to an unknown and timeless place, then brought back, and deposited gently back in their seats. 

Lance knows the crowd is on their feet cheering like mad, but they are a din in the background as he watches the two people on stage. Krolia has tears on her face, and Lance thinks he sees Keith blink some away as he steps from behind the piano to hug her. It is the most genuine hug he has ever seen Keith give someone outside of the band, especially in public like this. Something inside him cracks as he watches the two step back from the embrace. Krolia holds Keith’s face in one of her hands for a moment and smiles fondly at him. They both wave to the crowd and leave the stage.

The cheering swells, and though it isn’t unheard of for a band to be encored at a benefit concert, it doesn’t usually happen this early in the night. He hears shouts of “Keith!” “Keith!” “Keith!” blended in with calls for “Krolia!” and “More!”

Lance is not surprised when he looks behind him to see Hunk balling. Allura stands tall and stoic, the single tear glistening on her cheek is neither red nor blotchy, just poignant. Shiro and Adam are standing with their arms around each other, obviously blown away by the emotional performance. Even Pidge’s eyes and nose suspiciously red.

 He raises an eyebrow at them and is answered by a solid punch in the shoulder, Pidge saying, “Shut up. M’not crying. You’re crying.”  

“I said nothing,” Lance responds as he holds his hands in front of him as a defense.

He looks back  across the stage to see Keith and Lotor arguing. Lotor seems to be forcing Keith’s guitar back into his hands, Krolia looks none too impressed. Keith takes the guitar and stalks out on to the stage, the crowd goes wild.  

Keith only has to play the first three chords of the song before Lance turns and moves back toward the green room. The words are too personal, and Lance is too keyed up to watch Keith sing it right now. 

Lance tries to escape the song, but it is playing on all the screens backstage. Many of the performers went to watch Krolia and Keith playing together, so the green rooms are pretty much empty. However, Lance cannot escape the music reverberating through the building. 

He is reminded that Keith has found another musical family. One that encourages him to expand past himself. To grow. It was one thing to imagine Keith going off on an adventure from which he would return a little different, still being their Keith, Lance’s Keith. It's another thing altogether to realize that Keith found people who lit a fire in him, who push him to new limits, who help him know himself better, who let him grow.

This song reminds Lance how he had been so busy trying to keep everything the same, everyone the same, he didn’t realize he was destroying exactly what he was trying to preserve. While he and Keith have discussed this over and over again, while the plan is to return to TLD once everyone is ready, Lance doesn’t ever want to be the person who holds Keith, or any of his friends back from their dreams.

Lance loves his band. But Lance also loves Keith. If The Legendary Defenders isn’t the place for Keith anymore, Lance will find a way to be okay with that.

Chapter Text

The last straining chords played to thunderous applause and Keith’s “Thank Yous” echoed through the stadium. It isn’t long before muted voices in the hall find their way back into the green rooms. Lance stretches out his legs, moving into a casual pose, and works to keep his face clear of any of the intense emotions he has been experiencing.

Pidge bounces through the door before any of the rest of the gang and disrupts Lance's forced casualness by jumping onto the couch.

“That.Was.Awesome!” They announce, raising their arms into the air above their head. 

“AWESOME!”

 Lance smiles, both bemused and affectionate, the enthusiasm contagious. It was a stellar set. The weight in his heart doesn't ease as much as move over, making room for his excitement for Keith and the others.

“Did you see that drum solo?” Pidge says, plopping down beside Lance, eyes suspiciously shiny. “Did you see Shiro shredding that drum solo?” They ask again.

“It was pretty amazing.” Lance agrees with a genuine smile.

People are entering the room in groups now, chatting and laughing, the mood backstage is warm and connected, the exact vibe that Lance had been hoping for when he painstakingly planned the concert with Veronica.

He hears Hunk’s voice before he sees him enter the room, arm affectionately thrown over Shiro’s shoulder, gushing about his performance. Shiro is characteristically stoic in the face of praise, eyes squinted in laughter. Adam follows, hand gently on Shiro’s shoulder as if to ground him.

Allura has been crying, and maybe is still crying, grabbing tissues from a box on the makeup counter to dab her eyes. The voices become a cacophony and Lance wants to jump into the fray but also wants to sit on the sidelines to observe every part. He stands to join the group and can feel his face pull into a wide smile as Coran meets his eyes, the other man beaming from beneath his handlebar mustache.

God, he loves these people.

Pidge is talking a mile a minute, sharing Matt’s texted commentary from the sound booth, when Keith and his band finally make it into the room. Krolia is incandescent, people are in awe of her. They express their appreciation in muted tones and becoming starstruck when met with her genuine smile. Meanwhile, Keith looks overwhelmed with the number of back slaps and fist bumps he is receiving. Nevertheless, his smile is genuine, though his eyes are tired. Those eyes search the room and meet Lance’s gaze, and for a moment everything else falls away. The weight in Lance’s heart shifts again, and he feels a sense of peace. Keith is happy. Really happy.

The congratulations begin to wane as the next band takes the stage, and Lance moves into the fray, not even sure what platitudes and jokes are slipping out of his mouth. He grabs a paper cup of water from the cooler and plops back down on the couch to amuse himself with Keith’s increasing discomfort at being praised. Also, there is some hilarious, good-natured teasing coming from The Generals . Lance laughs out loud when Ezor musses Keith’s hair, drawing Keith’s eyes back to his own.

It isn’t long until Keith makes it to the couch and nudges Lance’s leg trying to make some room for himself. Lance resists, with a challenging grin.

“Move over so I have room to sit.” Keith complains.

“The phrase used in this situation is ‘ excuse me’ , it’s called having manners.”

“How is it good manners to take up more than your fair share of seating in a room full of people?” Keith says, shoving Lance’s leg over and falling fully onto the couch resting his head on Lance’s lap with his legs hanging over the metal armrest at the other end.

“This is the argument you make? Lance fires back. “Before taking up three Pidge sized seats?” 

Pidge overhears and swats the back of Lance’s head without falling out of the rhythm of her conversation about bitcoin with the bass guitarist from one of the indie bands they’ve invited.

He looks down to Keith, whose eyes are closed. Somehow, he still finds Lance’s hand from where it is resting on the back of the couch and starts toying with his fingers.

“Sorry Veronica couldn’t make it.” Keith says softly. 

“We always knew there was a chance she’d have to miss it.’ He says watching their fingers tangled together. “They have a policy of not letting teacher’s take the Friday off before March Break.” Lance murmurs, lulled into an almost meditative state by the dark haired man’s touch. “I mean, she’s not a teacher, but Iverson is a stickler for the rules.”

They haven’t gone public with their relationship yet, but Lance really doesn’t care at the moment. Their family and friends know, and Lance is in for the long haul. Maybe they won’t be in the same band at some point, but Lance plans to be part of Keith’s life forever.

“I am so tired.” Keith hums. “I thought I would get some sleep on the flight, but the turbulence was awful.” Lance reaches down with his other hand to start running his fingers through dark hair, and once again the world falls away. “I am ready to take a break from performing now.” Keith murmurs.

Lance feels his own face tighten into a frown. “I am sorry to have dragged you back here for the benefit.”

Keith’s fingers still, squeezing Lance’s fingers gently, reassuringly. His eyes squint open, tilting up at Lance, “Dude, this I wouldn’t have missed for the world. We planned Shiro and Krolia’s performance for this, because we wanted to make it, you know?” A small smile plays on his lips, “Legendary.”

“Yeah?” Lance says softly.

Keith sits up suddenly, and Lance immediately misses the warmth. The dark-haired man meets his eyes seriously. Leaning in. “That was okay, right?” Keith's voice sounds uncertain. “Do you think it distracts from the cause? We were hoping to draw attention to it, but…”

“Keith.” Lance stops him, cupping his hands around his face. “It was awesome.” He reassures, staring into violet depths.

“You’re sure?” Keith asks, and Lance understands his resistance, because Lance isn't always good with expressing boundaries.

“I’m sure.” Lance responds, voice steady.

“Okay then.” Keith says, adjusting his head to rest on Lance’s shoulder and crossing his arms in front of himself, “When’re we on?”

Lance looks up to the clock above the snack table and realizes the room is mostly clear of people. “‘’Bout forty minutes.”

“Great. S’okay if I nap ‘til then.” He says, body leaning into Lance’s eyes already starting to close.

Lance chuckles in assent, not entirely certain how someone can weather the adrenaline rush that Keith just had and then sleep moments afterward.  He must be exhausted, because he seems to fall asleep instantly, Lance wraps him up in both arms and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Looking up he meets the eyes of Lotor, leaning against the doorframe of the room. Lance stares back unflinchingly, and something in his continence must be evident, because with a dismissive shake of the head, the other man turns back into the hall.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It isn’t just finding a landlord that is willing to rent to us.” Lance complains to Hunk on the phone. “It is also getting the permits and proper zoning. I never thought this would be such a nightmare.”

“I hear you bro.” Hunk’s voice comes over the phone. “I know how hard it was to get everything sorted for the restaurant, and what you are doing is way more complex.”

“We made it more complicated when we added the shelter.” Lance squints out into the fading light of his parent’s backyard.

Hunk makes a sound of understanding, and takes a breath to speak, Lance interrupts. “Everyone has already suggested dropping the shelter and just opening the clinic, but... there is a need for these services. Hunk... Ronnie and I don’t want to wait on this, and it is not like it will get easier to find a place if we wait.”

“I was going to suggest buying your own building.” Hunk responds patiently.

Lance sinks onto a sturdy wooden chair with a sigh. “We’ve thought of that too. But that literally changes all the financials. The down payment would mean we only had a year’s worth of operating budget, or less.. Veronica asked at the very beginning that we make sure we have at least three years worth when we open. She doesn’t want to build something and not sustain it. I could pledge my own money but… if I am a funder I can’t sit on the board… it’s a conflict of interest.” He gestures widely.

Lance takes a deep breath, staring at a lonesome soccer ball in the middle of the grass.

“Hey, once you get it sorted, there is a hospitality training program I want to talk to you about, you know, for the kids you will be supporting. We are involved in one here, and it is cool.”

“Sounds good Hunk.” Lance says, perking up at the idea. “We are miles away from that, but when the time comes, that sounds great.” His voice tapers off, thoughts lost in visions of the project coming together.

“Keith’s back tomorrow.” Hunk offers into the silence.

Lance hums, melancholy seeping back in. “I thought all this would be done by now, I am hoping to fly in next week.”

“He could come to you.”

“Hunk, he’s been on the road for ages, he probably just wants to veg out in his apartment until the summer.”

“Ya think?” Huck’s voice is quizzical.

“Home is where the heart is.” Lance says offhand.

“Then Keith’s home is not that apartment.” Hunk huffs.

 Before Lance can respond, muted voices break into the background of Hunk’s side of the call. “Dude, I gotta go, a reviewer just came in and asked for my signature dish.”

“Knock em dead big guy.” Lance says with a smile.

“You too Lance.” Hunk’s voice sounds like a hug as the call drops. Lance holds on to that warmth as the twilight turns to darkness.

—

He is still sitting there when his mother comes home with his Abuela.

He startles when she turns on the kitchen light.

“Dios, Lance, you scared me.”

“Sorry mama. I’ve just been thinking.” He looks at the counter, at defrosting chicken, and the onion and garlic he had pulled out when he called Hunk.

His mother leans forward, taking his face in one hand and stares into his eyes. When she lets go, she pulls out her phone, “Let’s have pizza tonight.” She announces, walking away to help her mother settle on the couch, pulling her walker to the side.

“Ma.” Lance begins.

“We never get pizza anymore, and your father is at a meeting, so he won’t be around to complain about the perils of the fast food industry.”

Lance snorts and his mother pretends not to hear him, digging through the day’s mail, pulling out a paper menu for the local pizza place.

His Abuela pats the empty cushion beside her, inviting Lance to sit. She immediately begins scolding him for wearing ripped jeans, eyes crinkled and sparkling.

They order extra garlic knots and eat on the back patio in the cool spring air. Their voices carry across the lawn, the smell of salt and sound of waves ever present. Marco arrives home from his night class at the same time as Lance’s father. The older man begins sharing tales from his meeting before he switches his suit jacket for a comfortable sweater. His impression of another member of the committee is so, unintentionally, humorous that Lance and his mother almost pee themselves with laughter. His father’s irritation at their mirth makes them laugh harder. When Lance’s mother stands near him, he leans into her, his grandmother reaches over to ruffle his hair..

Veronica joins them with dessert as they are moving back inside. Lance is just starting a fire in the fireplace, to ward off the chill of the cooling night. She piles their plates high with grocery-store black forest cake and presents the messiest piece to Lance with a cup of coffee. He grimaces at the piles of canned whipped cream, and she laughs as she steals a maraschino cherry from his plate.

Sitting next to him on the couch she whispers, “There is a place I want us to look at tomorrow, for the clinic.”

Lance raises his eyebrows questioningly, mouth full of chocolate and cream.

“It’s not what we’ve discussed.” She warns, “And it will need a lot of work.” A small smile plays at her lips, “But it has potential.”

---

He crawls into bed in sweats and a tank top, buzzing with late night sugar and coffee. Veronica had been frustratingly tight lipped about the building they are seeing tomorrow, and he begins googling real estate ads, hoping to find a clue.

He doesn’t get far, as he has seen everything in these listings over the last two weeks of hunting for the right place for their clinic and shelter. He is trying to decide whether he needs to pull out his journal or watch something on his phone when it rings.

A smile already forming on his lips, he answers the call, pulling his arm up to cradle his head.

Keith’s hair is moist from perspiration, his stage makeup smudged and his eyes glowing with post performance endorphins.

“That’s it.” Keith says as a greeting. “The last late night talk show.”

“Dude, are you still at the studio?” Lance’s voice is filled with mirth.

“Just waiting on the car.”  Keith says, nodding to a handler whose voice comes through in the background. Lance can see the shoulders of security around him and hear the trill and electronic sound of their walkie talkies. “Gimme a sec.” Keith says.

The screen fills with blurs of people and then Keith’s thigh as his hand drops the phone down. Lance can hear the screaming crowd before Keith exits the steel fire doors, when the sounds become deafening. Lance can play out the scene in his mind's eye, having lived through it a thousand times. There is a lot of shuffling and the efficient clipped tones of the security team as they move toward the vehicles. There is a point where the crowd goes wild, where Keith must have waved. He hears a scuffle, and a small grunt, and then the slamming of a door and the dulling of the crowd.

Then Keith’s face fills the screen, a bit paler under the makeup. His face is illuminated by the phone in the interior of the SUV, windows tinted. He flips his hair in a distinctly Keith fashion. Lance sinks deeper into his mattress, and grins.

“You could have waited until you were at the hotel. Maybe even had a shower.” Lance offers.

“No, I couldn’t.” Is his only answer.

The call is them needing to look at one another and hear each other’s voice. Another ending, Keith’s going home after months on the road. Tomorrow Lance may have a new beginning. He listens to Keith’s voice, hoarse from exhaustion and giving his all to every performance, even this last one  Lance settles, like the ebb of low tide.

The universe feels large, but he doesn’t feel lost in infinity. He feels tethered, connected.

—

“Uuuuummmm.” Lance says with uncertainty as he pulls up to the low-rise building. Many of the windows are boarded. It has been kept fairly tidy, and there are signs indicating a city hearing for rezoning to residential, but the signs are more than a decade old. The signs are also one of the few things where graffiti has not been scrubbed off or painted over. Lance huffs a laugh at some of the more colourful language and illustrations as he parks.

He steps out and approaches the building slowly, despite the obvious attempt at upkeep, it still gives off an abandoned air that he associates with haunted houses and forbidden forests.

He tries to peer into one of the windows that still has glass panes only to be jump scared by a ginger cat leaping down from the ledge above.

“Nuh-uh –argh–hell cat!” Lance shouts springing back from the window.  

The cat eyes him suspiciously, while Lance takes deep steadying breaths, holding his hand over his chest. “‘This your place?” He asks, “No offense, but it could use a little HGTV rescue reno.”

The cat meows disapproval. “Your view, my view.” Lance shrugs and cautiously moves back to the windowsill. He can’t see anything through the dust layering the inside of the glass and moves to try another pane. He feels a warm soft body press against his ankles and loud purring.

“Oh, now you want to be friends?” Lance asks.

He bends down to scratch an ear, missing a sizable chunk. “Looks like you’re a scrapper.” He says, moving his fingers under the cat’s chin, checking for a collar of some kind. “You’re lucky I like the scrappy ones.”

The hum of Veronica’s car draws his gaze, and he is surprised to find Axca in the passenger seat.

“So what do you think?” Veronica is pink with excitement, and for a moment Lance think’s this may be the twilight zone. He looks at Axca's face trying to assess if this is an elaborate prank. He is met with eyes that are both stoic and unreadable.

“Well, Red likes it,” He says, pointing to the cat, “But I have my reservations.”

“That cat is orange.” Axca says plainly.

Lance chokes out a laugh, which dies on his lips when he meets Axca’s dead-serious expression.

“Riiight.” He tries.

Veronica, oblivious to the exchange, “Let’s go in.” She says a spring in her steps as she gestures toward the door.

“Is it safe?” Lance asks, raising an eyebrow as Axca pulls out an impressive set of keys.

—

“Apparently Axca’s Dad was some kind of developer, and they were going to rezone and put condos there, but when that subprime crash thing happened, he lost all his investors, and it has been sitting there ever since.”

Keith was laughing at Lance’s expressiveness, the latter pacing in front of the computer, pausing at various points in his story.

“I know Lance.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Lance asked, incredulous.

“I didn’t know it had the right zoning for the clinic and shelter, Axca never went into that much detail. That’s something she and Veronica must have sorted out.”

“About that.” Lance turns an accusatory gaze on Keith, “How long have you known that they were together?”

“Are they finally together?” Keith asks, head tilted mischievously, a smirk pulling at his lip. “They seemed to drag it out for ages.”

“But you should have told me.” Lance leans into the computer, “I honestly think I was the last to know. Which is unnatural. You knowing and not telling me, this is some kind of betrayal.”

“When are you going to make it back to California?” Keith asks.

“So you are just going to ignore this vital topic?” Lance presses.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Relationships are not a spectator sport.”

“Touche.” 

Their eyes meet on screen for a meaningful moment.

”It’s is going to take longer than I hoped. Axca has offered the site for lease at $1 a month for twenty years. I guess she feels badly about the way her family acquired the property and wants to heal the land, or clear the karma, or whatever. And while everything is structurally sound, it totally needs to be brought up to code, and that will be a pretty penny. We have to get quotes and well… it may not be the solution. I owe it to Veronica to stay here as we figure that all out. She’s still working… and… well Ya know?”

“Do you need any help with that stuff?” Keith offers.

Lance so badly wants to say yes.

“Na, it’ll be boring for you. You stay home, catch up on your sleep… walk that damn dog you adopted that has chewed all of Shiro’s furniture.”

Keith laughs softly, affectionately.

“I could bring Kosmo?” Keith offers.

“I don’t know how that would fly with my Dad, or Red.” Lance gestures to the cat curled on the bed behind him.

“You sure?”

Lance breaths. 

“Honestly Keith, I want you here, but I am not sure I can do… us… in my family home… yet.” Lance tries. And it isn’t fair, because his family loves him, accepts him. 

They love Keith. 

But…

---

While everything takes longer than Lance had originally planned, things go incredibly smoothly. The next months consist of week days spent in Miami, sorting details for the clinic, and a series of weekend trips back to California.

Those weekends are beautiful.

Half the time they end up at Lance’s apartment. Hunk has been spending more and more time at Shay’s place and Pidge keeps erratic hours. But, sometimes they are all there together and those times include video games, sweet smelling pancakes, movie marathons, Keith and Pidge arguing about Cryptids and winner-take-all Uno. Once they even have a joint songwriting session. They have never written all together as a group before. Lance savors it.

Days and nights spent at Keith’s place involve being mauled by Keith’s enormous rescue Husky mix, meeting Keith’s “Little Brother” Sammy. (It turns out Keith took Lance’s advice and signed up to be a mentor through the program.) Quiet times where Lance crafts and Keith reads, some part of their bodies in contact the entire time. Conversations that go on for hours and touch on every topic imaginable. Silly flirting, where Lance tries, and often succeeds in getting Keith to blush, until the other man resorts to tackling Lance, or tickling him.

There are also mornings waking to find Keith with rumpled hair in pajama bottoms playing ‘The Only Exception’ or some other sappy love song, on his Dad’s beat up acoustic guitar.

Lance knows there is a reason that this part of a relationship is called the honeymoon period. It is not that the two men don’t ever disagree; so much of their relationship had been forged with a competitive edge it would be unthinkable that they didn’t lock horns; but there is a contentment that feels grounded; an ever present joy, and Lance struggles to trust that.

The parts that scare him the most are when it feels like he and Keith exist outside of time, because it reminds him of Scotland, and things went so badly after Scotland. 

Somehow, when he begins to feel that, he reaches out for small reassurances, and Keith seems to understand and give them without question.

—

It is a sweltering July Morning, and Lance checks his armpits for sweat stains.

“Could the weather be any more disgusting?” he asks nobody in particular.

“It seems appropriate weather for the time of year.” Axca responds plainly.

Lance stares at her face, looking for a smirk, the hint of a smile. Something.

She blinks at him.

He blinks back.

“Here.” Keith presses a cold bottle of water into Lance’s hand.

“OMG! Have I told you I love you?” Lance presses the bottle to his face, rolling it around, up his cheek and over his forehead. “Because I really, really love you.” He exclaims. He finally pulls it away and opens it taking a long swig, catching Keith looking soft.

“Aw.” Pidge laughs mischievously. “You made Keith all bashful.”

“Enough Gremlin.” Lance says, handing Pidge the half full bottle, and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s soft lips.

“Ewwww Lance, this literally has your face sweat all over it.”

They are gathered in an enclosed tent that has been set up in the parking lot of Sabel Palm Health Clinic and Shelter for LGBTQ+ youth. The whole band has flown in to celebrate its opening. The renovation went more smoothly than they could have hoped. According to their contractor, Thace, who oversaw the project, the building had “good bones.” Once the design was approved and permits were in place, Lance worked with his father to assemble a volunteer Board of Directors who hired the team to run the center. His mother’s health knowledge and contacts helped a lot, and there were many people who wanted to work with them.

The pieces fell into place and here they were, opening two months ahead of schedule.

Lance had never been more nervous in his life.

The media outside included health care and queer issues news reporters, right wing critics of the project and the regular assortment of entertainment media outlets. He and Keith have decided that today they wouldn’t hide being a couple. They hadn’t prepared a statement, but they wouldn't deny being together if asked directly. Their publicist had prepared a press release announcing their relationship after the opening if the topic came up.

It is too hot to lean into Keith for comfort, but the dark haired man seems to feel Lance’s agitation, and reaches up to gently stroke his hair, lips curling up slightly.

“How are you feeling?”

“You know.” Lance can feel a tirade building. “Butterflies, but like ones that you throw up, a rainbow of vomit-butterflies that Fox News will call Unamerican.”

Keith leans forward and nudges Lance’s nose with his own.

“Remember to breathe.” The soft words blow across Lance’s face.

The rest of the tirade gets lost somewhere between Lance’s brain and his mouth.

“I am scared.” Lance says plainly. ‘What if they don’t like us for us? What if it was never real?”

“Then Fuck ‘em.” Keith says simply and places a soft kiss on Lance’s nose.

Lance blinks, because this is one of the things he used to rail against, how easy it was for Keith to shrug things off like this. It can’t be that simple he thinks. Can it?

—

Before long, Lance is stuffing his sweaty arms into a suit jacket, then he and Veronica are cutting a ridiculously large red ribbon, then they are giving a tour of their new building. Light bulbs are flashing, and questions are coming a mile a minute.

Lance hears his own voice too loud in his ears, Veronica manages to have federal and state specific statistics to eloquently respond to questions about community needs and successful outcomes. Before long they have moved back under the tent and Hunk is overseeing a local catering team who are bringing out finger foods and canopies. Local business owners join the group, as do leaders and dignitaries who support the project.

Lance catches a glimpse of long, soft blondness out of the corner of his eye, and feels the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallows down a too small, plastic glass of sparkling lemonade as he tries to chase down where Lotor has gone.

Allura has beat him to it, making a beeline toward the tent's opening to an area set up for media. Here, the last remaining entertainment reporters are packing up their vans. Lotor is there, a malicious glint in his eye, and Lance feels distinctly ill. They had prepared diligently to redirect salacious and gossipy questions about the future of the band back to the merits of their project. They had focussed on thoughtful reporters with meaningful questions, and even though Lance knew their work would be distorted on specific media sites, he was proud of how they'd handled themselves. Nobody had even asked about him and Keith's relationship, believing the gossip that they had a falling out. Now, Lotor, is here, with his lust for any kind of attention, ready to spoil all of their hard work and success.

“Allura, darling.” He hears, over the din of other voices. As Allura’s hand falls to the tall blonde’s arm, her soft voice attempts to lure him back toward the open flap of the tent. Lotor is steadfast in staying close to the camera crew.

Lance doesn’t realize that Hunk is at his elbow, heading the same direction until he hears, “Every single time that guy shows up, trouble follows.” Pidge is on his other side, and they just growl.

As they approach, Lotor is waving his hands in a placating manner, wearing a bemused expression that Lance wants to punch right off his face. “Allura, of course I came to support this vitally important project.”

The crews, smelling blood in the water, stop their packing, silently cameras raise to shoulders and Allura’s face pulls into a practiced smile, as she slides her arm into the crook of Lotor’s elbow, her words are still low enough that Lance cannot hear them, but Lotor’s exclamation of, “Allura, how unfair and cruel you can be. Such mistrust.”

Hunk, bless him, presents a tray of hors d'oeuvres to the group, “Has everybody had a chance to try some of our refreshments?”

“Lovely, thank you Hunk.” Allura reaches for one. Lotor is unmoved and Lance doesn’t miss the way each reporter casually turns on their mics. Lotor’s eyes shift past Lance, as he slips away from Allura and around Hunk’s tray, “Keith.” He says, slithering behind Lance to wrap his arm around the shoulder of the dark haired man’. “There have been some incredible projects from your old band members.” His voice loud enough to carry, “No moss on a rolling stone, as the saying goes. You all are such a… motivated… group. You must also have something in the works.” Lotor leans in as though this conversation isn't solely for the benefit of their audience.

Lance holds his breath. The question he has been afraid to ask in private has just been laid out in front of all their friends and the world at large. It feels as though the earth stops spinning for a moment.

Keith’s face is impassive to most, but Lance can see the thoughts passing through Keith’s eyes. A small smirk forms on his boyfriend’s lips as he steps forward out of the other man’s embrace to take Lance’s hand, looking back at the blond, “Lance and I have some writing to do for the next album, but we may take a bit of a break first.”

There is a pause, which Keith’s face shifts determinedly, and he turns to face the reporters head on. “I mean,” he shrugs. “That seems fair right?” 

Shutters are going off, and camera lights are glaring, but Lance is still staring awestruck at Keith who turns adoring eyes back at Lance. “He’s worked incredibly hard on this project of a health clinic and shelter for LGBTQ+ youth in Miami. I am really proud of him.” He leans in and kisses Lance’s cheek. “We all are.”

Shutters are clicking and suddenly microphones are in their faces and questions are coming all at once.

Lance pulls his mouth shut and blinks. 

“Yeah.”

“Right”

“Keith’s right.” He says, coming back into himself. “And you might be surprised how often that happens.” Lance gestures widely with his free hand. “I mean, dude’s right A-LOT. And we do need a break. Soooo, we are going to start  that time out right  now… With our party, celebrating the opening of Sabel Palm Clinic. “He points with a thumb over his shoulder. “Sooo, we'll catch you on the flipside.” He says, winking and pointing at the crowd.

He is still gesturing forward when Keith pulls him backwards, away from the explosion of clicking cameras and questions. Security steps in to keep them in the designated press area, as Hunk (bless him) tries to distract people with food. Allura also stays, intent on drawing Lotor away. Keith isn’t looking back. He's focused forward, through the tent and into the back doors of the building.

Lance is giddy and light headed as they find their way upstairs where the second floor boasts a shared kitchen and recreation area. They run in, laughing, tears actually threatening at the corners of Lance’s eyes. They collapse into each other, as they catch their breath.

Finally, when they both calm down, Keith pulls away, checking out the space.

“I didn’t really get a look at this before.” He says, spinning a handle on the foosball table. He runs his hand along the side of the pool table as he walks around it to the side where the balls could be reached. He begins pulling them out and onto the table, still talking. “It really is an amazing space.” He continues, as he sets up the rack. “You got a great team to run it too.”

Lance notices Keith isn’t meeting his eyes fully. “I understand if you want to stay, to make sure it gets off the ground okay.” The other man turns to pull open the wall cabinet with pool cues, comparing them and picking one for himself, he offers one to Lance who wordless accepts it. “That’s cool, you know.”

Is this what it sounds like when Keith babbles? Lance muses. He’s never seen Keith babble.

The other man finally meets his eyes, and it is clear he is uncertain.

A moment passes.

“You can break.”

Lance puts down his pool cue on the table.

“Or not. I mean, I can break.”

Lance smiles and takes Keith’s pool cue, putting it on the table.

Keith doesn’t seem to know what to do after that, so he raises an empty hand behind his head, grabbing a handful of hair.

“You’re nervous.” Lance says, a smile playing on his lips.

He is met with wide eyes, blinking back at him.

‘You’re just as nervous as I am about having the future conversation?”

“I, uh,no?” Keith says uncertainly, shifting hands to his belt loops.

“I just outed us to a bunch of reporters Lance.”

Lance tilts his head to one side in confusion.

“Oh. That.” 

“Yeah. That”

“And you hate reporters.” Lance says breathlessly.

Keith nods, shifting uncomfortably.

“Like you ReAlLy hate reporters.” Lance repeats.

“Yes.” Keith says firmly, then his forehead creases. “Wait, what future conversation?”

“The one where we discuss the future…” Anticipation sings through Lance’s veins as he grabs Keith’s arms and pulls him to the couch.  The room is silent other than the hum of an air conditioner.

“Did you mean what you said?” Lance asks.

“What I said?” Keith’s eyebrows still pulled together in question.

“About writing another album?” Lance presses.

“Uh.” Keith seems even more confused. “Of course?”

“So you are staying with the band?”

“Are you kidding right now?” Keith starts with heat. "You better be kid..."

“No, no, no. no, nope.” Lance presses a finger to Keith’s lips. “Listen for a sec.”

Keith pulls Lance’s finger from his lips but continues to hold his hand, even though his face is still pinched.

“I’ve seen you Keith. You were happy playing with The Generals and touring with your Mom. If that is something you need to keep doing, I understand. There is always a place for you in TLD , but you gotta do what is right for you.”

Keith’s face relaxes as he squints back at Lance.

“No.”

Lance swallows, “No what?”

“No I don’t need that.”

“No you don’t need to?” Lance draws out the "o".

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Lance forces himself to stay calm. “Actual, full sentences would be helpful right now Keith.”

Keith’s lips pull back into a smile. “Yes, I don’t need that.”

Lance throws a pillow at him.

“Dude, please work with me here.” Lance gives his best puppy dog eyes. “Please.”

“Lance, I want to hang out here in Florida until you are ready to come back to California and write music with you. When our next album drops I want to tour with you and ou r band. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

Lance launches across the space to kiss the other man soundly, the kiss is terribly, too rough, both of them laughing.

“Was that so hard to say?” Lance asks.

“No. It wasn’t. Seeing as I have said it before.” Keith snaps back, though his eyes are crinkled at the corners.

“Not in exactly those words.” Lance drags out the sentence, feeling sheepish and explosively happy all at once. 

Keith’s face becomes serious again. “I outed us Lance. Are you sure you are okay with that?”

“Of course. We agreed that if it came up we would tell the truth.”

“It didn’t just come up.” Keith says plainly. “I brought it up.”

“TaMAYto, ToMOTo.” Lance flaps a hand carelessly.

“Lance.” Keith says, clearly still worried.

Lance leans forward and kisses him loudly. "I am not minimizing this Keith. We decided we are okay going public. We've discussed it many times."

"Yes, but this is something that I know you struggle with. I should have..."

"Keith, my boy, my beautiful boy. What I realized today is that we do talk about all this stuff, but sometimes, ya know, because we aren't used to saying everything to each other, we sometimes miss hearing it."

There is a pause.

"Keith?"

"I am just trying to figure out if that actually made sense."

"Mean."

"Now that I understood."

Lance rolls his eyes, " Understand this: I definitely want to head back to California A.S.A.P.” He says and kisses Keith again. “Love my folks, but living at  home as an adult is we-eird.” He ruffles Keith’s hair back with one hand, kissing his forehead. “I can do my Board Meetings via Zoom or what-ever.” He says, pulling one of Keith’s hands into his own and entwining their fingers together. “I hope Red likes dogs, I mean, I might be getting ahead of myself but…” Lance leans in a final time and finds Keith’s lips.

A while later Pidge finds them tangled on the couch and announces.

“Gross. You guys better not be trying to christen this space.”

 Lance is working up an indignant response when Keith says, “As if we would wait for the grand opening to do that.”

—

Lance wakes up on his Birthday to the smell of bacon frying. He can hear Red’s loud purrs from the end of the bed. He shifts under the sheets and stretches fully before reaching for his phone to check the time. His siblings and parents have already sent texts wishing him a happy birthday. He spends a few extra minutes savouring comfort while he grins at an extra goofy picture of Nadia and Sylvio, both making funny faces with the caption “Stay Silly on Your Birthday.”

He hears the clicking of Kosmo’s nails on hardwood before the dog pushes open the door with his large snout. Keith follows with a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Bless you.” Lance says, making grabby hands at the mug.” 

Keith pulls his hand away. “Get yer own, this one’s mine.” But his lips are curled just so.

“How cruel, you don’t even bring your boyfriend coffee in bed on his birthday.” Lance pouts.

“It’s your birthday?” Keith asks, but he can barely keep a straight face.

Lance gasps. “I can’t even.” And pulls a pillow over his face.

“Seeing as I forgot to get you anything, I guess you can have the coffee.” 

Lance pulls the pillow away, and sits up to grab the cup taking a satisfying gulp. “I am not even sure I want it if it wasn’t given freely.” He savours the perfectly prepared caffeine and pulls the pillow behind him so he can sit comfortably smiling at Keith who joins him on the bed. “At least Red remembers my birthday. I know she loves me.”

“Hmm. Funny how I don’t think she cares about birthdays. Also, I believe she loves me more.”

Lance peaks over the rim of his mug to watch Red, perk up and rub her face against Keith’s toes. “It’s because you spoil her with treats and toys. It is beneath both of you, really. Shameless when you think about it.”

Keith smiles, one of his real, rare, full smiles, and Lance forgets to breathe for a moment.

“I have been called shameless before.” He says, unapologetically.

Lance leans into Keith’s shoulder. “Yes babe. Yes you have.”

There is a moment of silence, but it is full.

“Hunk made you waffles.” Keith says into the quiet.

“Birthday waffles.” Lance smiles broadly and then frowns. “Who will make me waffles when he leaves me?”

“Eggo.” Keith says dispassionately slowly getting up. 

“First you don’t get me a birthday present and then you don’t care that my best friend is deserting me to live with his girlfriend. Why do I even love you?” Lance pouts.

“I am not sure.” Keith waves a small wrapped box in front of Lance’s face, just out of his reach. “Probably the same reason I love you.”

Lance leans forward to grab the gift and Keith intercepts with a kiss.

“Yeah.” Lance sighs, kissing Keith again. “Probably.”