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Summary
Lance is married, for fuck’s sake, and Keith being weirdly comfortable with him is not helping at all – not in the slightest.
The light reflects on a piece of silver metal on Keith’s hand as his fingers play with Lance’s.
He zeroes in on it, his breath catching in his throat.
It’s a thin silver ring that sits nicely on his left ring finger, adorned with an even thinner golden band around it, perfectly matching, and mirroring the ring that Lance found on his bathroom counter this morning.
Oh, no way. No, no, no, no. Absolutely not.
This has to be some kind of cruel joke.
There is no way that the person he’s married to in the future is Keith.
or: Lance unwillingly takes one for the team and wakes up ten years in the future.