The Shape of You

by TheQueen

Summary:

The AU where Lance was actually Keith’s gay awakening and he doesn’t realize it until he sees Lance in that skin tight underarmor and proceeds, without delay, to walk directly into a wall.

Starring Pining Keith, Oblivious Lance, Best Wingman Hunk, and Big Brother Shiro.

Chapter 1

It kind of sort of starts like this.

Maybe.

(Okay that’s a lie. But when asked he’ll say:)

“It starts when they’re coming back (home?) from a long mission and no one really wants to be moving, but they’re all gross. Covered in some form of alien body fluid that Pidge insists isn’t toxic despite the fact that it smells like death and looks mildly radioactive. The sort of radioactive you see in old 20th century cartoons that some of his foster parents used to play on repeat for movie night: vivid green and goopy.

His thoughts stray and he wonders if he could convince Shiro to convince Allura that movie nights would be a good form of team bonding. It would probably beat the latest round of gladiator insanity she’d been pushing them through. He’s sure Lance and the others would appreciate it.

(He enjoys training. Is the sort of person who needed to be exhausted to sleep, but even he has his limits.)

So this is the part where they separate. Each one goes off to clean up and lick their wounds until they’re all emotionally stable enough to enjoy each other’s company. Because while they had become close after the separation and desperate struggle to find each other due to the sorta-successful rescue mission and the following three months of kicking Galra ass, they have yet to get close enough for it to get weird.

That would come later. Apparently the past paladins had been in a five-way orgy as far as Keith could figure out from Allura and Lance’s stuttering (and he didn’t even want to think about how Zarkon fit in that equation). Which, cool. Not Keith’s thing what with Pidge being a girl, Shiro being his brother in all but blood, and Lance and Hunk being straight. But Keith had pretty much accepted the fact that living with the same seven people and four weirdly intelligent pastel space rodents for potentially the rest of his life (no matter how short that life might be) was going to make things weird.

Except this time, they didn’t. Which, ya know, leave it to Lance to make things weird early. Because this time, Lance turns to Hunk who has gotten the worst of it with his tendency to act as a human meat shield (and what is with both of their support players having suicidal tendencies when it came to protecting the rest of the team. Lance is a sniper for Christ’s sake and he still ends up injured more often than not saving someone!) and starts helping the other man pry off his armor before casually starting to shuck his off.

Blinking twice (it is a struggle for Keith to rip his eyes away from Hunk’s arms cause wow… He wonders if Hunk could bench press him?) Keith turns to Lance and frowns. “What are you doing?”

Lance scoffs, runs his hands through his hair in an attempt to dislodge some of the goop. “I’m pretty sure this shit is hardening and it’s hard enough to take off these suits to begin with.”

Keith turns to Shiro who, in all his leadership expertise, take the easy route and shrugs before working off his arm bracers. Soon everyone is discarding their uniforms until there is enough pressure for even Keith to admit that Lance is probably right. His chest is starting to itch anyway.

It is after he manages to work his breast plate off -- with some of Shiro’s help because the goop has hardened around the clasps at his side and he can’t get his arms to twist in just the right way to reach them -- that Keith looks up and thinks… oh no. Because in front of him is Lance. A very naked, shirtless Lance. With abs. Abs that Keith is familiar with. Very familiar. Familiar in the sense that he had stared at them and thought about them for potentially a little too long. And there is even that stupid little freckle and….oh god.  He lets his eyes wander up to remind himself that those abs are very much connected to Lance.

Who has yet to see Keith staring, too busy wiggling eyebrows at Hunk, and Keith thinks, I have to leave.

Because oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

And maybe his desperate attempt to scramble out of the room on his exhausted, jello-y legs leads to him smacking his face against a nearby wall. Well… that’s the least humiliating thing about this situation.

...

Lance turns to Shiro with raised eyebrows after they all watch Keith drunkenly run out of the room like his life and the universe depended on it.

Shiro stares back, looks down and then up, and then--much to Lance’s growing confusion and embarrassment because did Shiro just checked him out?!—smiles. No… smirks?

...

Keith had not been born knowing he was gay. He had not exuded any of the early signs. Never play-flirted with other boys. Never had any too close boy “friends.” Never imagined himself getting married to a boy. Either through stunted emotional growth he’d been told came from being shuffled from one foster home to the next (some better than others) or simply because he had never really… ya know, liked people, Keith had never thought about dating or sex or sexuality. He’d only ever gone with it. In the same way he never really tried to make friends or hang out, Keith never asked people on dates. If a girl or a boy wanted to go out with him, he said yes because it was easier than saying no. It helped that there was never a second date.

And as for sexual attraction, he’d felt it. Known in that abstract sort of way that sex sounded nice and he’d liked to have it one day. Yet when he masturbated (because he was a teenager and he was not as uptight as Lance seemed to think) he never really saw someone. Just feelings and hands and ideas of what one did in that sort of situation.

So the first time he was truly and dearly attracted to someone, it had been more than left field. It had crash landed from outer space and left a crater of confusion and maybe this metaphor was falling apart but it made sense. Sorta.

Because there he had been. Perfectly naïve and unconcerned with people and their relationships, content in the knowledge that he had stayed safe and above it all through middle school (and okay, looking back Keith can admit he’d been almost pretentious in that way all fifteen year olds were, not that he’d ever let Shiro know. He didn’t want to be teased into the next century.) And then it had happened while taking a shortcut through the athletics building just in time to turn his head in just the right way to see the swim team practicing for a meet and boom. There they had been. Abs.

Not just any abs. The abs. The abs that had made him actually stop walking, moving, breathing. The abs attached to that chest that were attached to those arms that made his face heat up and his heart thump way too fast in his chest. And what? WHAT?

It was all basically downhill from there.

.

Shiro finds him, freshly showered and huddled under his sheets, fighting the very natural reaction to scream in growing horror the longer he thinks about it. Because of course, of all the people to be stuck with in outer space for potentially the rest of his natural life and it has to be…

“So… Lance,” Shiro says, sitting down and smirking because he had no mercy. None. And how had Shiro convinced the others he is nice when he is really the spawn of Satan sent to ensure Keith could not hide from his humiliation.

Keith whines.

Shiro laughs.

Keith flips him off.

Shiro laughs harder.

“But really,” Shiro says, when he calms down, the same stupid smirk on his stupid face. “Lance? I mean… I know you guys are getting along better, but I never really thought…”

“It’s…” Keith scowls before admitting defeat and popping out of his blanket shield. “It’s not like that.”

Shiro nods. Listening.

Keith blushes. “Do you… um… well do you remember freshman year when I learned that I was gay?” Shiro’s just looking now, listening. Still smiling because Keith had been a mess and Shiro had been stupidly patient with him. For a big brother, Keith could have done a lot worse. “And do you…um….” He blushes harder. “Do you remember me telling you about the first guy I was ever… ya know… attracted to…”

Shiro makes an oh shape with his mouth before his smile widens. He claps his hands together, expression one of pure sadistic glee and Keith immediately takes back that “great brother” comment. “The swimmer was…”

“Shiro…” Keith begs, not wanting to hear it.

“Was Lance,” Shiro practically croons as if he hadn’t heard Keith interrupt. “The swimmer, the first guy you were ever attracted to. The guy you mooned after for months. The guy you literally stalked the athletics building for a month trying to find. The guy you never shut up about…”

“Shiro!”

“Was Lance!!” Shiro shrieks, reaching forward and grabbing Keith’s hands in his. “You know what this means?”

“Shiro, no.”

Shiro cackles, actually honest to god cackles. “This is going to be great.”

Keith wonders if death by humiliation is a thing. Maybe he’d ask Pidge. Pidge would probably know.

.

Keith met Shiro when Shiro had been assigned his mentor. As the youngest pilot to ever graduate the Garrison at the whooping age of 18 after completing the program in only three years, Keith had taken one look at this large, smiling boy in an officer’s uniform and declared with far too much confidence, “I’ll graduate in two.”

Shiro had just smiled, raised one eyebrow and said, “I’d like to see you try.”

It hadn’t taken much for them to get close after that.

So in the aftermath of realizing one) he had felt real, vis—visceral? (is that the word?) attraction for another living, real human being and two) that human being had been a male, Keith did the only reasonable thing he could do. He made his way to Shiro’s on-campus apartment and pounded on the door until his mentor dragged himself out of bed and let him in. Keith then proceeded to take four steps into the apartment, waited until Shiro had locked the door, and then screamed. Loudly.

“What? What?! What’s happening?” Shiro panicked, grabbing Keith as if he was going in for a hug before remembering Keith wasn’t a hugger.

Keith took a big breath. “I think I got a boner.”

“…oh-kay…?” Shiro frowned, letting him go. “Well that is… completely natural. I don’t know what they taught you in Texas, but there is nothing wrong with…”

“For a guy.”

Shiro press his lips together and nodded, “Still nothing…”

“No, like…” And Keith made an annoyed sound, throws his school bag on the floor before throwing himself onto Shiro’s living room couch with the one awful cushion and tries again, “I’ve never been sexually attracted to someone before.” Keith threw his arm over his eyes and tries to find the words for why he was freaking out. Because he’d never had a problem with sex. He’d always understood that if he wanted sex he’d have to have it with, ya know, a person. Probably. “Like I know I want to but I’ve never actually thought of myself with another person before.”

Shiro made a surprised sound.

“Is that weird?” Keith asked, voice softer than he intends, moving his arm so he can look up at Shiro.

“No,” Shiro said and Keith knows he’s not lying. It might be weird but at least Shiro didn’t think so. At least there was that.

“So…” Shiro shrugged, “Are you gay? Or bi?”

Keith shot up and made a startled oh sound. “I…I have no idea…”

.

The problem with swearing to avoid someone is there isn’t a lot of places to go in a flying castle in space unless you are looking for a quick death via lack of oxygen. Plus when you live with only six other people, it becomes pretty obvious when you’re trying to avoid someone. It doesn’t help that Hunk is pretty observant and a busybody.

So when Hunk seeks him out with the intentions of avoiding tension within the team, Keith quickly and happily informs him he’d rather be doing anything else than have this conversation. “No,” Keith repeats when it looks like Hunk might not understand as he takes a seat next to Keith on one of the rec room sofas, “I would literally rather be back in that swamp eating nothing but bugs and smelling like decomposing dead things and almost dying than have this conversation.”

Hunk gives Keith the Look. The Look. The patented Disappointed Mom Friend Look, as Pidge liked to call it. The Look usually reserved for Lance is now being directed at Keith and if that doesn’t imply how far and quickly Keith has fallen since making this horrifying discovery literally less than three quintants ago, nothing will. “Keith.”

And there it is. His name in that Disappointed Mom Friend Voice. And wow, Keith feels bad. How does Hunk do it? He is really good at this. How does Lance deal with it? Is he immune? Like… if you mess up enough, do you get used to the Disappointed Mom Friend stuff until you became the Disappointing Friend? Which…okay. No. That is rude. Even for Keith. Because Lance is the farthest thing from a Disappointment.

After all, Lance is and always will be the reason Keith and Shiro are still standing, breathing, and living to fight another day.

(There are times when Keith thinks about what would have happened if Lance hadn’t found them and it makes his breath stutter and the nightmares even harder to get through so he does his best not to think about it.)

“Hunk,” Keith echos, trying for a smile. Which didn’t suit him even if he’d gotten better at opening up around the others and not just Shiro.

Hunk’s face becomes impossibly kind. “Keith, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Keith blushes, unsure how to handle this. Hunk doesn’t do this with Keith, not really. If Keith needs comfort, he goes to Shiro because that’s how they work. No matter how close they get, there is always this understanding of Hunk and Lance and Pidge and then Shiro and Keith. Divided by shared history. Not that they aren’t friends, but that line is there. It makes sense. “Um… yeah. No. It’s not like that…”

Hunk hums, “Did something happen between you and Lance?”

And Keith blushes harder as he scowls. “No,” he says with far too much force before controlling himself. “No, nothing happened between me and Lance.”

Hunk hums again, far too amused. “Alright. Then you should get dressed in your Altean casuals.”

Keith frowns. “Why?”

Hunk smiles, looking a little less kind and a little more smug, smugger? “You, me, and Lance are on a supply run. We’re heading to Koris.”

.

The ride in the pod is unnaturally silent. Most of it is Keith’s fault.

Most because Keith has learned from Lance to be petty enough to know better than to take all the blame even if Hunk is sending him exasperated looks every now and then like a mother looking at her two squabbling children in the backseat.

(Which they’re not. You have to be talking to be squabbling.)

Finally Keith takes the hint and clears his throat. “What exactly are we picking up?”

No one says anything and Keith feels his face heat up until he’s looking down at his scuffed paladin boots, only in half-paladin armor with a loose tunic on top to hide the bullet-proof under armor because they shouldn’t be in any serious danger, but everyone has learned to stay armed as often as possible. Koris is an alliance planet, after all. Well-defended and far enough from the main hub of the Galra empire that they’ve spent the last ten thousand years relatively free.

Lance moves, knocks his foot lightly against Keith’s in such a way that Keith can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. “We’re picking up secondary crystals.” Keith looks up just in time to see Lance shrug, all casual lines and loose limbs. His tunic is blue where Keith’s is red, color coded as always. Cut different for a wider set of shoulders and narrower hips. A sash snug around his waist where his bayard is hooked. It suits him. (Like everything Lance wears, a usually quiet part of his mind whispers.) Keith finds his eyes tracing the gold trimming from Lance’s throat down his arms before he remembers himself, looks down, blushes harder.  “Something about the particle crystal taking a beating in the last few rounds.”

Keith nods.

The silence returns.

Hunk scowls at him from his driver seat and Keith tries not to feel too bad. After all… what should he say when he can barely meet Lance’s eye?

.

Trying to figure out what you’re sexually attracted to proves to be harder than Keith expected. Not because he didn’t want to or he was scared or he didn’t have the time. It’s more… he forgot. He forgot to go looking. Forgot to turn his head when something pretty enters the room. Forgot to look up when someone smiled and bat their eyes his way or told him he looks good. Forgot that sometimes people didn’t want just to compliment his flying. Forgot to look out for innuendos and double-meanings. Forgot to watch when a hand stayed a little too long or people stood too close.

He’d spent so long ignoring it, pushing it away. Attraction. Interest. Making himself unavailable because dates were tedious and break ups nerve-racking. That now that he wanted to be interested he couldn’t… he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do.

He thought about asking Shiro. Shiro would know, right? Older. Smarter. Better with people than Keith could ever hope to be. But it was too much. Too embarrassing. Too ridiculous. What could Shiro say? How would Keith even ask? So he grit his teeth and tried to break himself of a habit that felt less like a habit and more a defining personality trait at this point.

The one thing he didn’t forget was the swimmer.

It’s embarrassing how often he found himself in the athletic building between classes. But he needed a name, a face. Something. Anything to put to that chest and those abs and those arms. But he couldn’t find him, didn’t know what to look for other than what he remembered. And it wasn’t like he could go around asking the swim team to get naked so he could stare for far too long at their abs. So soon he started to imagine.

Found himself in bed feeling a little horny and started dreaming of not just any hands, but his hands. His mind wandered. It was more than anything he’d dreamed of before, but still innocent relative to the stuff he’d seen on the web. Just hands and a mouth and the idea of what that body would feel like against his own. Heat pooled in his stomach and when he moved his hands he closed his eyes tight and tried to imagine what those long fingers would feel like on his thighs and then higher. Touching him. Making him feel good.

It was so much more than what he was used to.

When he finished, he walked the walk of shame to the nearest bathroom and stepped under the spray of a lukewarm shower to cool down. He was not the only one here, but it was easy to block out everyone until his face no longer felt as flushed. It was embarrassing to admit he had never felt like that before: equal parts embarrassed and overwhelmed. It scared him to know there was so much about his own body he didn’t understand.

When he stepped out, it was to McClain chatting away with Singh and any remaining shreds of arousal flush away. “Kogane,” he greeted, deadly cheerful for--Keith looked down at his phone—1am in the morning.

Keith grunted, collected his caddy, and fell asleep without bothering to dry his hair.

.

Koris is a beautiful planet. Smaller than Earth but green. Dominated by a singular continent that spans the better half of the planet. The air has a higher density of oxygen than Earth, leaving the planet’s inhabitants with startling short life spans but a greater density of lush forests and sprawling green plains.

The capital city and main trading hubs are built into the side of an ever-green mountain: well defended by thick forests on three sides and solid stone to its back. Not that nature is its only defense. For all the natural beauty and easily accessible resources Koris has to offer, her people are no fools to war. Ten thousand years of fighting off an empire that has slowly conquered most of the known universe is enough time to build up a significant army of their own.

And its strong defense and relatively stable political system are the main reasons why most of the Free Universe’s traders find their way to its markets. It’s also why Team Voltron rarely bothers to shop elsewhere.

When they step off the pod, an ambassador greets them at the dock and asks if there is anything specific they need. Lance steps in, all charm and smiles and friendly words, reassuring the ambassador that they only need a quick browse through their markets. And so Keith finds himself falling into step with Lance in search of the correct secondary crystal as Hunk wanders off, muttering something about stocking up on a few ingredients even as he gives Keith a pointed look as if saying, fix this.

Which is… fair.

(Keith is afraid he is slowly becoming the Disappointing Friend.)

What makes it even worse is Lance isn’t even pretending to not be upset with him, even for the sake of the audience they’ve accumulated thanks to their armor and Altean clothing sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the more muted clothing of the majority of the crowd. So Keith is left scrambling after him, feeling even worse and guilty because he knows it’s his fault. He can only imagine what Shiro would say if he were here.

(Actually it isn’t that hard to imagine. Shiro is perfect in all the ways that count. But he has a sadistic streak a mile long that enjoyed laughing at Keith’s embarrassment. The fact that forcing Keith to talk about his feelings with Lance could be disguised as a necessary order for the good of Voltron and The Universe would have just been the icing on the top.

…

Not that Shiro would be wrong, of course. Because he’s perfect.

That asshole.)

So Keith takes a deep breath even as he scrambles to think of something, anything to say that would explain why he’s been avoiding Lance without having to give away the truth. Because Lance has done nothing wrong. Other than… ya know… existing. With his stupidly attractive face and chest and arms and…. Focus, Keith. Please.

Be still my gay thoughts. Keith blushes, glaring down at his feet as he continues to follow Lance blindly.

The point being that Lance is aware that this is all on Keith. And Keith is aware this is all on him. So now he just needs to fix it before it gets worse because…

Because Keith is a big enough man to admit it. He misses Lance. In his time avoiding Lance, he’s missed the other boy’s jokes and teasing and their mutual bickering. It has been a spot of fun in an otherwise dull day-to-day...or quintant-to-quintant floating through the void. But he also misses the quiet moments. The talks at two am when the ship is asleep that had built the foundation of their friendship. He’s woken up on one too many nights after a nightmare only to force himself back to sleep without the catharsis of joking around with Lance with a cup of green hot chocolate. It’s a routine he’s quickly grown tired of.

“We’re looking for the yellow ones,” Lance says, finally breaking the silence as they enter the tech district. The air smells like burning wood and metal. And when Keith looks up it’s to find Lance has paused a few steps behind him. Keith turns around. “Ya know,” he says, looking around as if looking for the shop. But Keith thinks he remembers where the booth is and he’s pretty sure Lance does as well. “The little square ones.”

“Lance,” Keith starts, pressing his hands together and steeling his nerves “I’m…”

“Keith,” Lance stops him there, smiles that stupid fucking smile that has started to make his knees weak (and has been making his chest warm since he spotted it for the first time in his shack all those months ago when Lance laughed at one of Hunk’s jokes). “I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t worry about it. I know you can get stuck in your head sometimes.” He walks over and claps Keith across the shoulder, all easy gait and eyes. That same amused smile across his face. “Tell me when you’re ready, okay. But just… try not to avoid me too much?”

Keith snorts and rolls his shoulder, dislodging Lance’s hand. “Thanks. And I am sorry… for acting like a dick.”

“Can’t help what you are, Keithy-boy,” Lance teases, walking again. Steps still light and long, limbs stretching up to workout whatever kink he has in his shoulders. Forever unaware of the eyes that trail after him like moths to a light. “But it’s okay. I forgive you. As long as you buy me something pretty to make up for it.” He throws another kind smile Keith’s way, this one a little too understanding.

Keith falls into step next to Lance. “What? Fuck it. Apology recanted.”

“Suck it up, Samurai. I want something shiny.”

.

There were points in Keith’s young life that he does not remember with great fondness. Points that were, for lack of better descriptors, embarrassing. This… this was definitely one of them.

Keith had never been a fan of the porn industry. Rumors of the way women and men alike were treated by producers and directors left him feeling off whenever he saw ads for PornHub or RedTube. The knowledge that those women rarely felt as good as they pretended to feel spoiled any pleasure he might have gotten from them if he’d bothered trying.

But this was also a point in his life where his own frustrations were getting the better of him. Getting to a point where he couldn’t help but feel like a failure. What kid couldn’t figure it out? Who didn’t just know? How stupid was he for taking this long to even consider…

Shiro told him it was normal. That everyone took their own time. That he wasn’t a freak for not caring about sexual identities until it quite literally came out of normal and punched him in the face (or…the dick? Whatever. He wasn’t the best at metaphors.). But that didn’t keep him from getting annoyed whenever his mind wandered during class. Didn’t keep him from getting upset or anxious when he thought about all the things he needed to catch up on: first kisses and dates and heartbreak.

So the day his roommate told him he’s going out of town for Thanksgiving break, Keith decided enough was enough. He picked up a hand lotion that the internet said wasn’t bad for his dick from the student convenience store and dug out that last packet of tissues because that was what the internet told him he needed, typed in “porn” into the Google search bar (obviously set in an incognito window because he didn’t want Shiro finding this the next time he went snooping through his laptop) and clicked on the first link he found.

Turned out porn was a little more complicated than he thought. The sections across the header glared down at him. Their words creeped him out more than the various pictures of women in “mid orgasm”, their mouths stretched impossibly large in soundless screams as some man-ish hands pressed down on their wrists or thighs. Barely Legal? Latin? Asian? The longer he scanned the first page of the website desperately looking for something to catch his fancy, the more his stomach twisted.

But Keith Kogane was no quitter. He’d come here with a job in mind and he would see it through. He tabbed to the “Most Fapped” section and clicked the first video with an icon that didn’t sound like the woman was in severe pain and settled in.

The moment he heard the soft gasps and moans coming from his headphones, he felt his stomach sour. This…this wasn’t going to work. He paused the video and stared at the image of the large breasted woman slowly working a dildo about the width of his fist into her vagina, sighed, and then stared down at his crotch.

Clearly, he was going about this wrong. Perhaps… he couldn’t force it? All the websites suggesting porn as a way to figure out what you were into said he needed to be comfortable after all. So first he needed to get comfortable.

Climbing off the bed, he stripped down to his tank top and underwear, tossed the lotion aside and tucked the napkins underneath his pillow. He dimmed the lights and climbed onto his bed. He moved the laptop to the side, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Take two.

This time he let his mind wander, tried to focus on his breathing to work the tension out of his shoulders. It was easy to pick up where the last fantasy had left off. A mouth on his neck. Two warm hands on his waist. When he rolled his hips into his hand, he tried to not imagine any specific gender. Just a nice weight and felt that steady heat of arrival start to pool in his belly. This time when he opened the laptop to the image of the large breasted woman working a dildo into her vagina, he kept the volume low and did his best to keep that feeling going.

Except it doesn’t last long. Listening to those breathy moans and the weird sort of wet sound of the dildo was enough to kill any boner he had worked himself towards. And the results were inconclusive. He doesn’t know if it’s the vagina and the breasts that were killing his mood or the way she was obviously faking it, opening her mouth like she was trying to deep throat Jesus and shrieking for the devil. Even killing the volume didn’t help at that point, the ringing in his ears leaving him with the start of a headache and a somewhat sour mode.

Switching to gay porn and seeing two weirdly buff dudes who’d made the mistake of reminding him of some of the gym bros he’d seen only earlier that day beating each other up in bed in some surreal mimicry of foreplay didn’t help either.

.

Keith corners Hunk in the kitchen after stepping out of the shower, hair still wet and sticking uncomfortably to the place between his shoulder blades through his slightly damp shirt. Not for the first time, he wonders how he’s supposed to cut his hair in space without scissors. At least Lance has quit with the mullet jokes, instead taking to running his hands through Keith’s hair during their off vargas in the same way Keith imagines Lance would pet a shaggy dog.

“So I see you two worked it out,” Hunk says from his place at the table, typing away on the homemade laptop he and Pidge had worked on in their spare time since they’d all found each other post-wormhole.

“Thanks for that,” Keith shrugs, taking a seat. He takes a moment to glance at Hunk’s screen to see a few schematics pulled up and knows whatever Hunk is working on is bound to go over his head.

Hunk shrugs and leans away from the table to roll his shoulders and crack his back. He has probably been hunched over looking at the laptop since they’d returned, a bad habit of getting lost in his projects. “Of course, Keith. You’re my bro for life, remember.”

Keith laughs at that and the stupid corny smile Hunk has. Sometimes it’s hard to remember why Hunk and Lance tend to get on like a house on fire and ten times more destructive. But their competitive streak and poor taste in humor tended to explain that away. “Yeah well… Figured I owed you so…”

Hunk raises an eyebrow and shook his head. He mutters something under his breath that Keith doesn’t catch before pushing his laptop away and standing, stretching again to work out the last few kinks in his lower back. “All right. Then you’re helping me on kitchen duty and then we’re calling it even.” At Keith’s look of protest, because everyone knows spending kitchen duty with Hunk is very rarely a chore, Hunk throws him a Look. “No protesting, Kogane. I know how you can get.”

.

That’s how Lance finds them two vargas later: elbow deep in some flour mixture as Hunk explains the finer details of their time in the Garrison.

“Of course,” Hunk cries over the sizzle of oil as he dropped a fresh batch of latke-esque savory pancakes into the pan. “That’s when Lance decides….”

“Woah woahwoahwoahwoah woah,” Lance chants, throwing himself forward, uncaring of the stray powder that is staining the blue sleeves of his pajamas. “What’s this about Lance? Hunk…Hunk are you betraying the bro code?”

“Apparently,” Keith sings, “I’m part of the bro code now so…”

Lance squawks in protest, throwing Hunk another sharp look of betrayal that everyone knows he doesn’t mean from the way he starts giggling a few ticks later. Hunk passes him one of the fresh latkes as a peace offering. Around a mouthful of food, Lance asks, “So what genius did I partake in?”

“Oooo ‘partake,’” Keith says dryly, eyes not lifting from the dough he was steadily kneading into bread, “That’s a big word. Have you been hanging around Pidge recently?”

“Well yes, in fact I have,” Lance says. “And I can only assume you are in the same desperate need for some of our wonderful Green’s genius to rub off on you the same way it has started to rub off on me.”

“Damn it, Lance!” Pidge cries as she entered the kitchen, “How’d you know I was there?”

“Reflection in the fridge, Pigeon.” Lance looks over his shoulder to grin at her. And Keith tries not to flush when that same pleased grin is redirected at him. “Remember my dear student, you have to check the surroundings thoroughly. Put yourself in the shoes of your target to avoid giving away your vantage point.”

Pidge sighs and leans against the counter, a little more careful to avoid the flour.

“But,” Lance adds, “You have gotten a lot better. I’m sure you’ll have this down in a few more movements. And then comes the fun part!” He looks at Pidge and this time his smile is a little vicious. “Silent take downs!”

“Nice.”

Hunk clears his throat. “No training in the kitchen, guys. Or else Allura’s going to start breaking that rule again and no one needs that.”

“Sorry Hunk.” “Won’t happen again, Hunk.”

“As I was saying, Keith,” Hunk says, putting an unnecessary amount of stress on his name, “That’s when Lance decides the only way to save our collective asses is… drum roll please.” Pidge smacks a steady rhythm onto the counter. “To flirt. Of course.”

Lance frowns. “Wait. Which time are we talking about?”

“You know that doesn’t make this story any better,” Keith jokes.

Lance sticks his tongue out.

“So Professor Tobin is standing there, four shots in, and just staring at us in growing horror at the knowledge one) three of her students had seen her dressed as she was, two) had seen her knock back a row of shots like a fucking boss, and three) were not supposed to be out past curfew. The problem being she wasn’t exactly supposed to be running around a gay bar either.” Here Hunk pauses for dramatic effect as Lance and Pidge start to giggle, probably remembering the scene Hunk is painting fondly.

“So Lance comes in, guns blazing,” Pidge cuts in, raising her fingers in Lance’s signature finger guns, “And smirks and says something like… ‘Hey sweetheart, knew you had a wild side.’”

“I did not!” Lance defends as Keith starts laughing, picturing little Lance trying to flirt with a women ten times his age and clearly out of his league. “I… I mean I might have said something similar but no way that creepy. Keith!” Lance cries, grabbing him by the elbows and Keith raises an eyebrow at the way he doesn’t seem to care how much of his arms are covered in flour, “Keith, you have to believe me.”

Keith hums noncommittally; Lance whines and Pidge laughs. Suddenly a large arm is being slung over his shoulder and Keith looks up to see Hunk leaning over to stare at Lance. “Let’s not forget, the woman is clearly gay.”

Lance groans, pushing away to moan something about evil, treacherous friends.

“I imagine she shot him down fast,” Keith says, picking the dough out of his nails as Hunk collects what he’d kneaded into a bowl to rise.

“Oh yeah,” Hunk laughs. “Two sentences in and she was ready to throw her drink and deck him, minor or not. That’s when Pidge and I stepped in to save the day.”

“Hunk restrained Lance and I took some liberties to ensure she wouldn’t talk to anyone about the three minors she’d seen hanging around the latest hot spot in town on a school night,” Pidge says, calm as can be despite the way Lance is leaning against her, arms slung over her shoulders and chin propped on her head.

“God… we made the worst decisions.” Lance grins at Keith and Keith feels the familiar heat rush to his cheeks while he does his best not to choke on his laughter.

Pidge throws him an amused look just as Shiro walks in the door. “Oh please, like that was the worst of it,” she jokes.

“Worst of what?” Shiro asks, hopping onto the dining table. He’s sweaty, a towel around his neck. A Shiro fresh from the gym meant Allura would be down soon too.  Keith passes him a latke from Hunk’s stack.

“Apparently they were a bit of a disaster back at the Garrison,” Keith explains, trying not to flinch when Lance moves from Pidge to drape himself all over Keith. Shiro raises a single eyebrow as Lance pulls Keith closer.

“Don’t be mean, Keith,” Lance jokes. “Shiro! Are you telling us that Keith never got into any trouble?”

“Oh no.” Shiro grins. And Keith can feel that familiar dread settle in his stomach as the smirk only grows on Shiro’s face. “Keith was a “model student,” he says with unnecessary air quotes, “And let’s pretend the few hundred situations I managed to pull him out of before it ended up on his record never happened.”

“Oh!” Pidge grins, the little devil. “Are you telling us that Keith was a troublemaker? I would have never guessed.”

“You are all terrible,” Keith says simply, accepting the drink Hunk hands him.

Lance’s laughter sounds like music when he’s this close.

.

There are dangers to being attracted to a boy like Lance McClain, Keith thinks as he does his best to keep his eyes off of Lance. Dressed to the nines in formal wear consisting of lovingly placed and draped fabric, embroidered and studded with some form of gem, Lance seems to float through the room as he dazzles their latest alliance members with a meaningful look and a well placed joke.

This is the point in which Keith became useless on these types of missions. You want to talk military strategy? Political gains? It might not have come easy, but Keith hadn’t gotten to the top of the Garrison out of just spite and raw talent. He’d done his studies, paid attention to the lessons Allura had given them, and knows how to walk with an attitude that made people shut up and listen. He is no natural. Not in any variation of the word. Not like Lance.

No Lance is…he is a godsend on these missions. Capable of reading people in a way Keith would have never had guessed based on those first few movements knowing him. All easy smiles and well placed jokes with a knack of removing any tension from the room. And he’s only gotten better with practice. Where Keith knew he is about to go red in the face from arguing, Lance leans over, smile, and suggest a break or a compromise. His annoyingly detail-oriented perspective picking up things Keith would have never even considered…well considering.

It is the reason they get sent out on these missions so often. The reason they make such a good team.

But now peace talks are over and celebrations are beginning. With every signing of a contract comes a party. Some planets ask them to stay longer, allow a festival. But Voltron is busy and the Paladins have long since learned their lesson of staying in one place for too long. No, just a party and they’ll be gone. Back to The Castle just in time for a late, late dinner and bed. Ready to zip off on their next mission or latest bout of Allura-driven team bonding exercise.

So while Keith knows it will be short lived, he can’t help that familiar stone settling in his stomach as Lance waves the last of his new friends away with a reminder they need to be dressed and rested before the party. Except this time that stone is heavier and followed by an unnecessary amount of dread that is starting to worry him. There is something wrong with these Romians. Something beyond their uncanny valley-esque faces and disproportioned bodies.  Something he’s long learned to look past when dealing with aliens, certain they must find Lance and Keith just as misshapen.

No...there is something in the air. Something in the way they tended to stick oddly close and yet hesitated in speaking to them. He thinks back to the moment at the end of the debates when he’d watched the King take far too long to sign the contract and has to wonder what it all means.

“You okay?” Lance asks once he is certain everyone has gone.

“I…” Keith shrugs. “I have no idea.”

Lance frowns and then taps a steady rhythm against Keith’s elbow. Keith freezes and fights the immediate urge to grab his bayard. We’re being watched.

Keith forces himself to smile. “Probably just pre-party jitters. You know how I am.”

Lance laughs and if Keith didn’t know him so well he’d say it sounded right. “You’re such a wallflower. I have no idea why Allura sends you on these missions.” Lance is walking now and Keith falls into step, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Lance has his eyes on them. Best that Keith play casual. Every now and then he glances out the windows to admire the coast town and beyond that the expanse of blue reaching out to touch the horizon to keep his heart steady.

“Someone has to keep you in check,” Keith jokes. He doesn’t think it falls flat, but he can never really tell. This sort of thing isn’t his forte. Maybe Allura would be better off sending Hunk who was better at the subtler games of diplomacy. Who cares if he’s needed at the castle to finish working on the latest cluster explosives he and Pidge are working on? Certainly a quintant missed wouldn’t be the end of the world…

When they reach their rooms, Lance takes his hand and Keith follows him in. For a moment they wait in terse silence as Lance leans against the door, ears pressed to the wood. Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps away. “There’s something wrong here,” Lance whispers to Keith.

“You feel it too?” Keith whispers back as Lance takes a seat next to him on the bed.

Lance frowns at the door and Keith realizes Lance hasn’t been smiling often today. “They don’t trust us.”

“So what do we do?”

Lance shrugs. “Nothing. We have the treaty. We’re leaving in a few more vargas. Best not to bring attention to ourselves and we’ll bring it up with Allura when we get back.”

Keith groans and leans forward to place his face in his hands. “I hate this.”

Lance hums in agreement.

.

At least the party has something like alcohol. It was somewhat terrifying learning as they traveled through space that not enough cultures enjoy the wonders of alcohol. Not that Keith is an alcoholic of course.

(He’d had a few nights stuck alone in the desert. The only company the bottle of whiskey or rum the convenience store cashier had passed towards him out of pity and the knowledge he’d just lost everything he’d ever worked towards… Well, at least alcohol is hard to find in space…)

Now he stands leaning against the wall, doing his best to keep conversation with the six or so Romians who’d decided to stand around him.

“Of course,” Keith replies and prays the translator isn’t making him sound like a fool. “On earth, it depends on the country you’re discussing. But certain “basic foods” are subsidized by the government to ensure constant food production. And thanks to various international efforts, hunger is very much a thing of the past.”

A Romian by the name of Sinc turns to her friend and raises one perfect eyebrow, her eyes staying the same surreal wideness. It is hard getting past the fact that the Romians do not blink and Keith does his best to look at their noses. “I told you, Zanthia. This plan has merit. There is no reason crop farmers should take the hit this year when we need crop more than meat.”

“More people are moving towards a carnivorous diet now that the waters have become more and more barren,” Zanthia argues before turning to Keith. “Do you believe that other farms should pay for the failure of their neighbors, Paladin?”

Keith fights the urge to fidget under the stares of the group. “I would argue that the issue is more complicated than that, Miss Zanthia.”

Zanthia stares at him for a moment and he finds he cannot read a single expression from her face or her body language. “That is a fair assessment,” she decides finally. “I can only hope my friend here can remember that.”

When Lance comes for him, Keith almost sighs in relief. “Sorry friends,” Lance smiles, cutting into the circle, “But my friend here has yet to eat and I was hoping to take him to the buffet.”

As Lance pulls him away, Keith whispers, “Thank you.”

Lance laughs, “One more varga and then we can bow out. Don’t go thanking me just yet.”

Keith grins. “You think we’ll make it out of this one unscathed?”

“Don’t jinx us, Samurai,” Lance reminds him as they stand in line to take their food. At least it looks appetizing. Keith had quickly learned as time went on that far too many species liked goo over things you could chew. At least they’ve been slowly converting Coran and Allura towards something more edible. The green goo they’d first eaten when arriving now is left as emergency rations for when docking at a market to restock on supplies is too risky.

At least Coran has realized humans eat about a third of the salt Alteans seem to consume.

“The Prince is at least friendly,” Lance remarks, adding something purple and square to Keith’s plate. “Even if he doesn’t have as much to say as his father.”

“Really? The people I’ve been chatting with seem to prefer the Prince.”

“I’ve noticed the government seems to be torn between two factions,” Lance says. “Traditional and more progressive. A bit like home.”

Keith sighs, “As long as they keep up their end of the bargain…” he whispers to Lance just as they reach their seats by the royal family.

“Hello!” Lance greets them, charming smile firmly in place.

Let the games continue.

.

It is a half a varga til they’re be able to leave that Keith takes his chance. As Lance continues to woo the ballroom, Keith feels himself suffocating. Too many people. Too many walls. He needs to leave. It is a struggle finding the gardens. Lots of twists and turns. The occasional retracing of steps as he keeps his eyes on the windows, tracking how close he is getting.

When he finds himself in the surprisingly non-alien gardens, he takes a deep breath to smell non-cluttered, non-filtered, honest-to-god fresh air; he smiles and drops so he’s sitting crossed legged, head tilted up and up to the stars.

“I believe this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you all evening,” someone calls out and Keith tenses, only to smile when he spots the Prince. Oh good. Just the Prince.

“I’m afraid it is a fault of mine,” Keith replies politely because Allura taught him the art of giving away just enough and if nothing else, he’d learned that lesson by heart.

The Prince surprises him by taking a seat next to him. “I’m more surprised to see you without the Blue Paladin.”

Keith shrugs and looks away to stare at the rose-esque foliage around them. “Despite rumors to suggest otherwise, we are not attached at the hip,” here he smiles and turns to the Prince, “I am more surprised to see you’ve left your party.”

“I’ve grown tired as the vagra grows late,” the Prince comments, “It seems we had similar ideas.”

For a moment the silence grows and Keith can feel himself tensing up. “You have a wonderful home,” he says finally when the silence has gone on for too long.

The Prince nods. “Thank you. Yes...It is very beautiful. I would hope it stay that way.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Keith boasts.

The Prince nods thoughtfully as if he hadn’t heard Keith. “I can only hope others see your aid in the same light.”

And then they fall back into silence.

.

When Lance finds him, he’s more tense than he’d been before and ten times as weary.

.

It’s amusing, almost, to watch Lance deflate as soon as they exit orbit around the planet. “You want me on controls?” Keith asks.

For a moment Lance says nothing before nodding. “How long til we get home?”

“Navigation gives us 7.”

“Doboshes?”

Keith laughs, “Varga.”

Lance groans and throws himself onto his seat with an unnecessary amount of flourish. “I want my bed…and to be out of these clothes.” He tugs on his tunic for emphasis.

Keith shrugs. “I think you look good in it,” he says before he can stop himself. “Um…” he flushes and stares down at the steering wheel, “I mean…well. You do. Objectively.”

Lance laughs, loud and free for the first time all quintant; Keith’s cheeks feel only warmer. “Thank you,” he says, “You look pretty hot yourself.”

“Well…I didn’t call you hot,” Keith argues even though that’s what he meant. It is the principle of the thing after all.

Lance shoots him two mocking finger guns.

Keith rolls his eyes and wills his cheeks to stop blushing. “You’re awful,” he jokes.

Lance sticks his tongue out before falling silent, a thoughtful look taking over his face. “You want to talk about it?” Keith asks after a few moments of silence and their ship is safely out of the solar system. He spins to look at Lance.

Lance shrugs and frowns, biting his lip. “I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Keith hums. “We got away too easily.”

“You did seem to get along nicely with that Prince,” Lance says. And if it weren’t for the flat delivery, Keith would have taken it a teasing.

Keith frowns and considers for a moment taking off his shoes. “What? Are you kidding? I think that was the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” Lance sounds genuinely surprised and sits up straighter. Keith frowns harder. “You were so…” he gestures for a moment before slotting his fingers together, “Close.”

“I don’t think this species understands personal space,” Keith replies, dryly, “Also they don’t blink. I’m not interested in something straight out of the Twilight Zone.”

Lance pouts and mumbles something like, “Of course you watched that show,” which Keith chooses to generously ignore.

For a moment they fall silent and Keith takes to spinning his chair around and around, bored. He has half a mind to take a nap but Lance probably needs one more than him.

“What about the fact that he’s a guy,” Lance asks suddenly.

“What?”

“The Prince is a guy…” Keith stops spinning his chair to see Lance shrug, “Are you...um…”

“Are you asking me if I’m gay?” Keith asks because...okay? Weird.

Lance blushes.

“Yeah, I’m gay. Like...super homo,” Keith shrugs because it’s not a big deal. Honestly he’d thought Lance knew. “I thought everyone knew I was into dick. I mean...I wasn’t exactly discreet…”

Lance blushes harder and makes a sort of “oh” sound.

“...I’m bi,” he offers after another moment of silence.

“What!” And okay. He didn’t mean to sound as...as astonished as he did. Except he is. Because…”What?”

“I’m bi!” Lance is frowning now and standing. Why is he standing? And then he puts his hands on his hips, “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Keith jumps up and raises his hands as if to grab Lance before freezing, “I just… you really like girls so…”

Lance crosses his arms and leans back, a bit defensive, “I’m usually more into girls than guys. Is that a problem?”

Keith takes a seat and fights the urge to scream. “No. It...that is completely valid. I mean...I’m just gay so...but yeah. I thought maybe for some time I might be bi, but boobs just didn’t do it for me…”

“How’d you find out?” Lance asks, taking his seat. He doesn’t look angry, but Keith is finding there might be many things about Lance McClain he has misunderstood.

“Um….” Yeah, there was no way Keith was telling Lance that story. What was he supposed to say? He’d jack’d it to Lance’s abs before he’d bothered to learn his name? Except he’d sort of known his name and hated his face but adored his abs? Please just throw him out an airlock and let him suffocate in space peacefully. Thank you. “Porn.”

“Huh…” Lance smiles, “I had a crush on Shiro.”

Keith feels his stomach drop and quickly checks the controls. All stable. “Oh…” he says and tries to not sound weird. God he probably sounds weird, doesn’t he? God damn it. Stop it, Kogane. It’s just a crush. He didn’t say….

“Yeah! Shiro is a hero of mine. Man...I was so jealous you got to hang around him all the time. And I mean...it doesn’t hurt, the way he looks.”

Oh my god, Keith thinks as he stares out the windshield before plastering a smile on his face, “I mean...I might have thought the same thing until I met him.”

“He seems pretty hero-y,” Lance jokes.

You’re pretty hero-y, Keith thinks pettily. “Please. You wouldn’t say that if he had enough blackmail on you to send you to prison.”

Lance laughs and Keith tries his best.

.

The next quintant Keith drags himself into Hunk’s workroom, throws himself onto the fluffy collection of pillows Lance and Hunk have collected in the room, and proceeds to do his best to stop thinking. It takes a solid ten ticks for Hunk to turn and consider him. “You want to talk about it?”

Keith grunts into the pillow and rolls over. “...No.”

Hunk hums and goes back to his work. Yellow and orange sparks flying from his welding station as a monitor nearby continues to produce line after line of information in Altean numerics. For a moment they sit in relative silence. And Keith feels a soft sort of sleepiness overcome him. Either leftover from the way he’d dragged himself out of the bed after an awful, restless sleep or the fact that Hunk just seems to have that kind of aura about him, ever the faithful leg of Voltron, Keith finds himself falling into that place between sleep and awake, daydreaming of flying without the aid of machine, before a large clang wakes him.

“You okay?” he asks.

For a moment there is silence before Hunk replies, “Yeah…” He takes a deep breath before pushing himself from his desk. When he turns, Keith finally sees the dark circles under his eyes.

“You sure you’re okay, big guy?” he asks, sitting up as Hunk sits down.

Hunk hums for a moment before flopping back, raising his arms to stretch out his back before settling properly into the warm pillows. “Yeah… just tired. It’s been a long movement.”

“You guys still working on the upgrades for Black?” Keith asks.

Hunk groans, “So you know how it’s really cool that the lions talk and stuff?”

Keith nods.

“Less cool when they’re super picky and won’t let us manually test the tech and insist it’s perfect before it touches their perfect metal ass,” Hunk scowls before quickly going limp, “And it doesn’t help Allura is pressing us for a stronger, less expensive hand grenade to impress the Tigerns before we meet with them next movement. Like… there are only three of us. No offense,” he adds looking at Keith, “Y’all are great for assembly but I’m not trusting you, Lance, or Shiro with any experimental explosives.”

Keith shrugs. “Fair. I’m more the hit-’em-really-hard kind of guy anyway.”

Hunk laughs, “Yeah but…we’re all really tired. And I keep finding errors, which is pissing Pidge off but it’s not my fault she’s not paying attention. And Coran is worried about energy efficiency and the morals of war and blah blah blah.” He lets out another sigh and stares up at the ceiling. “But what’s wrong with you?”

“It…” Keith shrugs and looks down at his shoes, “It’s dumb.”

“Does it have to do with Lance?” Hunk asks. “You two seem better.”

Keith shrugs. “I just needed space to work some stuff out.”

“And you chose my workshop instead of the training room?” Hunk smiles. “I think Shiro would call that progress.”

Keith flushes and shrugs again, looking away. Speaking of Shiro… “I um…I hate feeling jealous.”

He waits, expects Hunk to say something. Usually Shiro would. At this point he’d point something out or agree with him, add an anecdote about his own experiences that placed him in a role of authority on the topic (and enough therapists and psych classes have left Keith with a fairly adequate understanding of how people work and it helps that Shiro likes to play things by the book when it comes to emotions. Neither of them are very good at it but Shiro likes to pretend). Then they’d do that back and forth until Keith comes to a conclusion that makes sense. Shiro is good at that: leading him towards the right answer.

Hunk though…Hunk is more of a listener it seems. He nods and waits for Keith to go on. “I…um…Sometimes I get jealous and I hate it because I know how destructive it can be,” Keith licks his lips and thinks back to his now ex-boyfriend Abhi for a moment before turning back to Hunk, “And I don’t know how to get over it.”

Hunk thinks for a moment before frowning, “Is there a reason you’re not talking to Shiro about this?”

Keith doesn’t say anything. How did Hunk do that?

Hunk hums and nods, “Okay…so. I think I get it.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. So you can’t stop being jealous. It is a natural, healthy emotion if handled correctly and I don’t want you to feel bad for feeling it,” Hunk explains, nodding to Keith.

“Okay,” Keith repeats, nodding back.

“So now you need to make a decision,” Hunk continues, placing two hands forward as if offering Keith a choice. “How important is this relationship to you?”

Keith presses his lips together before saying, “Important. Really important.”

“So are you going to let this ruin that? If it is so important?” Hunk asks, closing one hand and leaving his right hand open.

“No…” Keith mumbles, moving to look down at his right hand. “No! You’re right,” he says more forcefully.

Hunk smiles, “I’m always right.”

“Thanks, Hunk.”

“Of course! It’s what I’m here for,” Hunk says with an easy shrug, as if waving Keith’s words away. And if it weren’t for the fact that they were sitting so close, Keith might have missed the almost sad look that passes Hunk’s face.

“You’re here for more than that,” Keith finds himself saying before flushing, cheeks bright red.

“…I know, Keith,” Hunk smiles reassuringly, but something about it just doesn’t sit right with Keith.

So Keith adds, “I’m not as good at it, but you can talk to me too. Or Lance.”

There is a moment of silence where Hunk regards him before he smiles again and this one feels a little more genuine “…Thank you, Keith.”

“ Of course!” Keith says with maybe a little too much force, “You’re my friend.”

.

Lance finds him lounging around the common space. Hunk had finally kicked him out after Keith made the conscious decision to be a nuisance, poking at things and asking a million questions until Hunk had realized three vargas had passed with very little work done. And so Keith was banned to the space-equivalent of a living room without even TV to keep himself busy since it looks like Pidge still isn’t done with the screen, her tools and laptop spread all around the room.

So when Lance finds him, Keith has taken to lounging on the sofa, hanging upside down with his legs dangling over the backrest--shoes on because of principal--staring at his hands as he contemplates time. “Done brooding for the day?” Lance asks, hands over his hips and looming close enough so that when Keith drops his hands, Lance is all he can see. “Or should I give you another hour?”

Keith pretends to think about it. It’s moments like these that Keith is reminded how far they’ve come since the start of all of this. A joke like that would have left them at each other’s throats once. Now it just leaves a sort of warm feeling in Keith’s stomach. “How about a few more hours?”

Lance pretends to scowl and swats at Keith’s knees. “Come on, Samurai! I’m bored!”

Keith laughs, “Alright, alright.” He brings his legs down and rolls onto his knees before kicking off the sofa to stand next to Lance.

Lance frowns and dusts the sofa cushions. “Raised by heathens,” he complains.

Keith just laughs again.

.

“Allura taught it to me,” Lance explains as they step into the game room, “but she’s busy dealing with the contracts for the Romians and the Tulfis -- you know how picky they can be.”

“Why aren’t you helping her?” Keith asks, falling into the beanbag chair.

Lance pouts. “Mandatory breaktime.”

Ah… mandatory breaktime. Implemented after Shiro trained to the point of passing out after a rough battle. Pidge hadn’t talked to Keith for two days when he’d been commanded to enforce it for the first time. It had been a hard two days.

“I’m almost out,” Keith says as Lance collects one of the playing cards from the cupboard next to the video game bookshelf. “Shiro’s got me on timeout til tomorrow.”

Lance groans as he takes a seat next to Keith in the other beanbag chair. “Coran says I’ve got three days excluding political disaster after I fell asleep in the middle of the debriefing.” He starts shuffling. “By the way, Allura’s coming for your report.”

Keith scowls. He hates those stupid reports. “So what are we playing?”

Lance grins as he hands Keith two cards face down. “Poker! Altean style.”

.

Keith is in hell.

That is quite simply the only reason God is punishing him like this. And by God, he glares over his cards, he means Pidge. They’d managed to play a round before Pidge had found them, pulling their beanbags close so Lance could look at his hand and explain the rules, breath warm on Keith’s neck. It honestly plays similar enough to Texas hold’em with a few new rules to shake things up that it was easy to catch on. Keith had been having fun.

When Pidge had found them, she’d taken one look at his face and grinned something evil, sat down, and commanded Lance deal her in. They’d gotten half way through the next round before she asked about betting. Apparently, she “played to win.”

And now here they are. Half way through a new round. Shoes gone. No pants. And one sock down. The knowledge of what is to come weighing heavy on his mind.

“Call in,” Lance says, pulling off his last sock to add to the pot. Keith quietly pulls off one of his sock. Pidge smiles and takes off her shoe.

Lance deals three cards. Two queens and a king. Alfor’s faces smiles up at them, ambivalent to the current situation.

Making sure to catch his eye with that same evil smile, Pidge throws in her shirt. Keith feels his stomach sink. He tries his best to keep his eyes on his cards, but it is a fool’s attempt. And he watches as Lance adds his own shirt to the pile.

He wonders if his cheeks look as red as they feel. “Fold,” Keith says, placing his cards down.

Lance adds another card to the pile. Pidge takes off her pants. Lance takes off his pants.

Keith wonders what he did this morning to deserve this.

“You really want to do this, Lance?” Pidge asks. She’s going to win. They all know it. But Lance has never been one to back down from a challenge no matter the odds. One of the things, Keith could safely say, he loves about him.

“Won’t scare me, Pidgeon,” Lance taunts, placing the last card down. And then slowly he sets down his own hand. “Straight.”

“Oh! That’s a good one, Lance,” Pidge admits before her smile turns into a smirk, “But not good enough. Royal flush, boys,” Pidge cackles as she places a pink ace and jack down next to the pile. “Read’em and weep.”

Lance scowls. “This isn’t over yet,” he challenges as Pidge pulls their clothes towards her.

“You’re down to a sock and a pair of underwear, Lancelot,” Pidge points out as she pulls her pants and shirt back on, “What are you going to do? Play naked?”

Lance glances down at his underwear and then over at Keith who is still wearing a sock, a shirt, a sweater, and his gloves. “Keith will help me,” Lance declares.

Pidge looks at him. And Keith knows she knows. Knows this is some sick payback for something he doesn’t even remember because Pidge has been known to hold a grudge. “Why not?” she grins, “It’ll be more fun watching you both lose.”

.

It takes about two rounds before Keith is down to a sock. Pidge has only lost her shirt. Which Lance is wearing. Which is not great because it is a very small shirt on very broad shoulders and that’s not fair. Keith doesn’t deserve this. He’s a good person.

Also he’s cold.

“Last one,” Pidge grins down at them from her mountain of clothes. And Keith just wants his pants back please. Why did he agree to this?

Lance takes his hand. Oh….That’s why he agreed to this. Keith watches as Lance laces their fingers together before looking up to see Lance smiling, leaning close. “We got this, Samurai.”

“No,” Keith admits, “We really don’t.”

“That’s quitter’s talk!” Lance cries and Keith can feel how warm Lance’s hand is in his and his stomach is doing something strange and fluttery. “We’re in this together, right?”

Keith take a deep breath and squeeze’s Lance’s hand. “It was an honor fighting with you.”

.

Their loss is devastating. Lance starts to take off his boxers before Pidge screams something about virgin eyes and starts throwing their clothes at them.

At least Keith got to hold Lance’s hand.

.

After the embarrassing, disaster of a...whatever he was supposed to call that, Keith decided the only way to figure this out is to suck it up and go on a date. Any date. With anyone. At this point he was past the point of desperate and scraping at rock bottom.

So when the angels of sexual crises smiled down upon him, it was in the form of Angelica Tice and her nervous smile. They’d been partners in a class project back in September, had almost been paired up in terms of Communications Officer and Pilot before Keith had been pulled out of the beginner class and placed into Fighter Pilot thanks to some previously undiscovered test scores. Keith liked Angelica. She was a nice person. Easy to talk to. And when she wasn’t blushing or stuttering like she was doing now, she had a fantastic sense of humor. And aesthetically, Keith could say she was nice to look at.

Did he like like her? No.

But wasn’t that the point of dating?

So when she was done stuttering through her invitation to dinner next Friday, one of the rare and few weekends that students were allowed to go into town unchaperoned, Keith had smiled and nodded his agreement, “Do you want me to pick the restaurant or…?”

She squeaked, blushed harder, and looked up at him through her lashes in a way that he knew should be hot but instead just looked cute, “I-um I can pick the place if you want.”

“Great!” Keith said, handing his phone over, “Let me know what time you want to meet and I’ll see you then.”

.

“I can’t believe you accepted a date,” Shiro grinned, pulling one of Keith’s better black shirts out of the closet, “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been more proud.”

“I am being considered best pilot of our generation. I am this,” He raised his hand and pressed the tips of his pointer finger and thumb together, “close to beating your record. And you’re proud that I got a date?”

Shiro threw him a bland look. “How many people have you talked to outside of class this week?”

Keith was silent for a moment, thinking. “...I talked to Angelica.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow in silent judgement and Keith scowled. Okay, so maybe he had a point. Maybe.

“I still wish I knew how fancy this place is going to be,” Shiro frowned, putting the shirt back to glare at his overstuffed closet consisting mostly of uniforms and jeans, a variety of solid or patterned shirts, and a few novelty shirts Shiro had taken to bringing him. “I knew I should have taken you shopping on Thursday.”

“Shiro!” Keith groaned, “Just...pick something. I am getting cold sitting in this towel! It’s a date. Not an awards gala.”

“This is special!” Shiro argued, “This is your first date. Even if you don’t like the girl, you should make an effort.”

Keith frowned for a moment before sighing and standing up, careful to keep the towel tied around his waist, “Why not my black jeans and that nice blue shirt? Simple. Collar so it’s a little fancy. No stains.”

Shiro sighed and glared at the closet before pulling out the skinny jeans and the shirt. “...wear that sweater I got you.”

“Shiro! It’s itchy!”

He pulled out the sweater and threw it at Keith. “I’m going to try and find your cologne and you will let me do your make up!”

Keith groaned. He knew a losing battle when he saw one.

.

By the time Shiro was ready to let him go, Keith was running two minutes late and almost sweating by the time he reached the bus stop. Luckily, it was easy to spot Angelica. She looked...honestly stunning. Wearing a simple black dress and large statement jewelry, her hair was curled and pinned up in such a way so that it framed her face while keeping it out of the way. And her shoes had kitties on them. In all honestly, it was pretty adorable.

“Um...hi!” Keith said. But now that he had her attention, he was unsure what to do and so settled for an awkward sort-of wave. “You look great.”

She stared at him for a moment before blinking a few times and blushing. “You look really nice, too.”

Keith tugged at the hem of his sweater a bit self-consciously. “Thanks.”

Luckily the bus came before he can figure out what else to say. They found a seat towards the back, pressed close so he’s hyper aware of where her thigh touches his. “Um…”

“I got us reservations at this nice restaurant my friend recommended. It’s a vegan bakery but they serve Italian food,” she said, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some directions.

“You’re vegan?” Keith asked. He might be having a few doubts.

“Oh yeah!” she said passionately, turning off her phone and turning to him so now her body was pressed close against his arm. “The production of beef produces more greenhouse gasses than the entire fleet of cars on the road today! And that’s not even touching on the horror of chicken coops and the abuse of immigrant workers in slaughterhouses.”

“Oh…” he said weakly, thinking back to the steaks still marinating in Shiro’s fridge.

“Hold on, let me send you a few links,” she said, thumbing through her phone. And suddenly Keith can feel his phone buzzing in his back pocket. “I read these and they changed my life! I had no idea that things were so awful. My family ate a ton of meat and knowing I contributed to the problem…”

“Well, you’re only one person,” Keith reassured her, shrugging, “I doubt you made such a huge impa--.”

“It’s not that,” she cut in, leaning even closer so he’s pressed back against the window. The vibrations of the bus on the road feeling strange against his back, “It’s about voting with our purchases! Corporations only listen to our wallets, Keith! We have to stand up to The Man!”

“I totally get what you mean.” Now that is something Keith can get behind! “Look,” he leaned in closer, “I just can’t fucking believe the Republicans. They claim to be pro-life but look at how we’ve been treating the world in the past few years of Republican-controlled senate. The government has become so self-centered, focused on only fighting wars that can give us oil that we forget that the US has a very real promise--as a supposed leader of the free world--to use our military to protect freedom.” He took a deep breath and grinned, happy to find someone else who isn’t Shiro who gets it. Maybe this date wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

“Oh yeah! I totally cried when I heard about the water crisis. I just couldn’t believe something like that could happen,” she said, standing to signal to the bus driver to let them off, “And I know it’s been a few years but the everyone’s talking about how the stability isn’t going to last and I just don’t want to think about that happening again.”

The bus came to a halt and they both stepped off. “I’m just glad Trump wasn’t as awful as everyone said he’d be,” Keith admitted, “And I personally like Kirsten Gillibrand even if people argue she’s not liberal enough.”

“I like the fact that she’s a little more moderate,” Angelica shrugged before turning to the hostess, “Table for two under Tice.”

“Right this way,” she said with a smile before leading them to the back of the room where a table had been laid out. Two small candles and a rose dominated a majority of it. “Your waiter will be right with you.”

Keith took a tentative seat, smiling unsurely at the table. “I..um…”

Angelica blushed. “I hope it’s not too much.”

“It’s very romantic,” Keith settled on. For a moment there, he’d forgotten this was a date. Now he focused, staring at her. She was still pretty. And very cute. But...but it didn’t feel the same. Not like how he’d seen the swimmer. There was no real desire to get closer. To hold her hand or press his body against hers in a context outside of proximity. He reached out for her hand and wondered why he didn’t feel more when she took it.

Is it because I don’t like like her? Keith wondered as a waiter came by with water and handed them their menus. But no. That couldn’t be right? He couldn’t sit here and say he was in love with that swimmer. Or any of the other boys he’d seen while stalking the athletics building these past few weeks who’d he’d noticed were pretty...well, hot.

He set his menu down and looked at Angelica, really looked at her. Pretty hair. Pretty make up. Pretty dress and pretty jewelry. A fantastic sense of humor and a good conversationalist, even if she was a vegan. She was, in the simplest terms, a very beautiful girl who would grow up to be a very beautiful woman.

And he didn’t feel a goddamn thing.

His stomach soured and he stared down at his menu. He didn’t like girls. He wasn’t into women. He rolled those thoughts around and around in his head and tried to understand why he felt disappointed. Shiro had said it was okay to like boys. And liking boys wasn’t that big of a deal these days, right? Well...you did get the occasional asshole, but every place Keith had lived, he’d never seen any blatant homophobia. Liking boys was...it was normal these days, now that gay marriage had been legal for the last decade.

I don’t like girls, Keith thought as Angelica smiled at him and asked what he wanted to eat.

The food tasted like ash in his mouth. And he didn’t think it was because it was vegan.

.

In the end, she kissed him at the door to her dorm room before pulling away. “This isn’t going to happen again, is it?” she asked.

Keith searched for an answer, any answer other than the truth. “No,” he admitted, “I did have a good time, though.”

Angelica closed her eyes and nodded, “You’re a good guy, Keith Kogane.”

“Could we...try being friends?” he asked, wringing his hands.

She took a deep breath and when she opened her eyes, they looked a little wet, “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

.

They’re working to free another mining colony when the Prince contacts him.

The mines have been nothing but twists and turns. A never ending, dimly lit maze laying several layers beneath the surface. Not as deep as the Balmerans, but deep enough. Hunk and Keith travel carefully. The aliens of this planet are slightly taller than the average human with the ability to see in the dark. Their skin paper white and translucent. There is no light in this place except for the flashlights on their suits. The mines are almost oddly empty except for the occasional sentry. The people corralled into caverns and cells. The bars harder to break than normal, but a few rounds from Hunk’s gun to weaken the bars and a few solid hits from Keith’s sword is enough to break them down. It seems the Galra are getting better about keeping their prisoners prisoners.

“Roll call,” Shiro sounds over the coms, his voice cracking and somewhat distant but still audible. Somewhere, Keith can hear the sound of running water.

“Team Angry Friend is accounted for,” Hunk calls, flashing Keith a thumbs up as he rolls his eyes. Though he can’t fault Hunk. Even the poorest of jokes is necessary to keep this situation from being any creepier than it already is. “We’re making our way to the center. So far none of the survivors know where the Galra forces have gone.”

“I…” There’s a break and it takes a moment for Keith to realize it’s Lance, “I thin-nk they’re leading us...the center.”

“You’re breaking up,” Keith calls. There is a sharp bang before the coms fall silent. He and Hunk share a worried look.

“What’s going on?” Hunk asks, pulling off his helmet to check its surface before popping open the small control panel on the inside of the helmet to see if anything is wrong.

Keith raises his left hand and plays with the dial. “I’m not hearing anything here…”

There is another moment of silence before a sharp static noise comes through and then Pidge, “Inter--...Get…” Pidge calls, “Lan-... Shiro down.”

Keith curses, pulling out his bayard. “Do you remember which portion of the mines they’re in?” And he’s already moving, sprinting back up the tunnel they’re in, Hunk right on his tail.

“West of us, but that doesn’t mean a goddamn thing if I can’t get these coms to work,” Hunk snaps, “Keith… Keith!” Hunk grabs Keith’s arm and spins him around, “I need you...Keith!” He tightens his grip as Keith tries his best to pull away.

“Hunk!” Keith yells, cursing at how goddamn strong Hunk is, “Hunk let go...Shiro!”

“I know!” Hunk shakes him before letting him go, only to grab his wrist and pulling him closer so his flashlight shown stronger on the inside of the helmet Hunk is still holding, “We’re going to need the suit’s trackers to get to Lance, Shiro, and Pidge. And all of that is connected into the com system.”

Keith freezes, staring at Hunk with wide eyes before taking a deep breath. Okay. Okay...Keith gets it now. “That...that seems like a pretty big flaw…”

“Oh I know!” Hunk says finally letting go of Keith’s hand. Keith clasps his hands together and dips his head forward to keep the light on Hunk. “I...Pidge, Coran, and I have been having trouble keeping up with upgrades. We didn’t think anything in the mines could interfere with the system though. I mean, we scanned the planet.”

Keith kneels down and tilts his head so the beam is even stronger and tries not to think too much about the fact that he can’t see more than five feet around them. Hunk pulls out one of the omnitools from one of his suit pockets. “Do you think the scanners missed something?”

Hunk shakes his head as he pulls two wires out of his helmet. “No. And I’m not seeing anything wrong with my helmet that could be causing this. I would have to say something is blocking us, but Pidge and I have gotten pretty good with getting around Galra tech.”

It’s then that Keith’s light flickers out. “Oh no.”

He fights down the need to stab something when Hunk grabs his hand. “Don’t panic,” Hunk commands and Keith does his best to ignore the panic in Hunk’s own voice. “Okay...We can get around this.”

Keith focuses on his breathing, leaning closer until he can feel Hunk against his entire side. “Hunk...This might be a bad time to note I’m really scared of the dark.”

“Oh no.”

“Ye..yeah,” Keith whispers, licking his lip as he does his best to keep his voice even.

“Okay, Keith…um. Close your eyes?” Hunk whispers, moving so he’s wrapping both arms around Keith in a loose hug, “And I want you to match my breathing.”

Keith does as told.

“In…”

Keith breaths in.

“Out.”

Keith breaths out.

“In.”

Keith presses his hands flat against Hunk’s chest piece and does his best to keep time. Does his best not to think about the fact that they’re stranded miles below the surface in pitch blackness. Does his best not to worry about Shiro. Or Pidge. Or Lance.

He presses his face into Hunk’s chest and he does his best not to think about what else could be in these tunnels.

It’s then that the message comes through. Surrounded by darkness and huddled together to remind themselves that there is still something solid out there, Keith hears the Prince on his com.

“Did you hear that?” Keith whispers, pulling away as the voice speaks up again.

“Keith…”

“Red Paladin,” the Prince calls a third time, “I-- I am so sorry.”

“Your majesty?” Keith asks, pulling back to stand straight. Left hand tapping against the interface on the helmet to bring the volume up.

“My people have made a great mistake, Red Paladin,” the Prince tells him, “Despite my warnings, they have chosen the wrong side of this war.”

“What did they do…” Keith asks, panic rising in his voice. Somewhere nearby Hunk is moving and when did Hunk let go? Why can’t Keith feel him anymore? Is...Is that Hunk?

“They have given the Galra technology to mute your systems,” the Prince tells him, “But I have broken this. I am more than capable.”

“Can you tell me how to get around it?” And this is Hunk. And then there are hands on his waist and Keith tries to focus on his breathing.

In and out. In and out.

“Yes. I am uploading a series of files to your screens,” the Prince tells them, "They should allow you to get around my people’s technology. I only ask that you take this into account when you are safe, Red Paladin.”

Keith nods before remembering the Prince cannot see him. “Yes. We...we will take this into account.”

“Alina’s speed, Voltron,” the Prince signs off.

There is a moment of silence and then Hunk is moving, “I’m going to fix this, Keith,” Hunk tells him as he slowly moves away. “And then we’re going to save the others. Okay?”

Keith swallows hard and crouches down. “Okay.”

Keith counts the ticks and breaths.

Hunk works.

When the light flickers back on, Keith fights down the urge to cry, blinking the tears away as he takes a few deep breaths. Slowly he looks up and meets Hunk’s eye. “You okay, buddy?” Hunk asks.

Keith nods.

“Okay,” Hunk’s smile turns vicious, “Because I got the coms working.”

.

They split up.

It’s necessary. And terrifying. Hunk, who is carrying the majority of the supplies for their team heads to Pidge and Shiro’s location. Further north of their original position and closer to the surface Keith is desperate for. Keith goes south to Lance.

They don’t know why Team Big, Tol, and Smol split up and Keith treads carefully. Bayard out and sword in dagger form to mark the wall as he goes, a clear indication of where he’s been so he’ll be able to get back in case of more technical difficulties.

Lance’s dot on Keith’s map is worrying. Fading in and out as he makes his way through. The Prince’s gift is far from perfect. But it is better than the darkness. He takes another right and keeps his eyes on Lance. The dot is growing bigger, but it’s stopped moving.

“Don’t do this to me, McClain,” Keith hisses, pressing forward. “Not yet.”

The first batch of sentries he finds are weaker versions, less armed than the usual soldiers they’ve been dealing with. Most likely last-minute back up. He dispatches them as quickly as possible. Using the darkness to his advantage, he sneaks up behind the sentry and slices one in the stomach before spinning to stab the other one in the back before the others realize he’s there. He moves quickly to cut the rest of them down. Before he moves on, he grabs a rifle. He’s a lousy shot but it’s better than nothing.

The next group of sentries is what he’s used to. Heavily armed and better coded. They move fast, almost like the gladiators they train with on the ship. But at the end of the day, there is something to be said about Altean engineering. As he moves through them, he notices they’re funneling into a smaller cavern to the side. His helmet calls for him to keep going straight, turn left at the next junction. And he freezes for a moment, indecisive. What should lead him? His instincts or this map?

A sentries get a lucky shot, grazes him on the side. Nothing his suit can’t handle but it smarts. And it is enough to get him moving. He cuts down two more sentries. Transforms his dagger into the full sword and makes his way forward. In the corner, he sees Lance. Perched on a ledge with some cover, sniping down sentries. His aim is impeccable as always and Keith focuses on thinning the masses.

He turns his coms on, “Hunk, I’ve found Lance.”

There is a delay and then, “Good...Shiro injured but okay.” Hunk replies, “I’m getting...Pidge and Shiro updating. Will send files-- Get to Lance.”

Keith takes down two more sentries and spins, cutting down two more on his left. These sentries have mostly blades. The few with guns are keeping their focus on Lance and Keith runs forward, stabbing one through the back before moving to do the same to another.

But this one blocks him and he stumbles, takes an extra step back and leaves himself open on the left for the sentry...and no. This one doesn’t move like a machine. This is a Galran. And he’s fast. Keith blocks with his left, forcing the Galran’s sword down and lunges forward trying to catch the Galran in the stomach with his Mamoran blade, but the Galran is stronger, leans to the side and blocks Keith with his forearm.

Suddenly Keith finds himself stumbling back, his sword lifted up and his right arm thrown back, leaving him vulnerable. And before he can counter or catch himself, there is a dagger digging into the weak point of his armor: his abdomen. The blade strikes fast and with enough force to cut through his undersuit and he gasps. It feels like acid or fire. It burns.

For a moment, he fears it’s struck his stomach before he looks down, breathing through the pain. Close but not fatal. Not yet. From somewhere above, through the ringing in his ears, Keith can hear Lance calling his name. And then the sentries around him are dropping as flies as he does his best to keep his knees from buckling.

But it is not enough. Keith falls and as he stares at the blood dripping to the floor. Dark red against sand yellow in the glow of his flashlight. When the Galran soldier knocks him out, he barely feels it.

.

 

.

 

.

 

.

Keith wakes to the feeling of swaying. His body burns. Breathing burns. It’s dark, too dark. But the body carrying him glows a faint purple. And if he squints through the black, he can make out rocky walls and rocky floors.

He closes his eyes and when he opens them time has passed, too much time. But now he can see Lance slung over the shoulder of another sentry. Legs tied. And Keith shifts, feels his own restraints around his wrists. The walls are smoother here. There is light here. Built into the corners where ceiling meets wall.

They’re in the center.

This is not good.

Keith turns his head and hears metal hit metal. He still has his helmet: good. That means they probably don’t know about the Prince’s gift. He shifts his weight and the sentry adjusts, tightens its hold on his lower back where Keith can feel the pull of bandages wrapped around his abdomen. They’d treated his wounds which means they want him and Lance alive: good.

He can work with that.

Keith swings his legs out and shifts, throwing himself like an anchor off of the sentries shoulder to hit the ground hard. His wound is screaming and he bites his lip to keep from voicing it as he rolls to get his legs under him. There is a moment of stillness as the sentry’s programming catches up with the current reality before Keith is moving, body checking the sentry holding Lance. Knocking it back hard enough to dislodge Lance, who drops to the floor with a dull thud. Keith scrambles, slamming his boot down onto the sentry and feels the satisfying crunch of metal. He snatches the knife from its holster.

He holds the knife between his bound hands and runs forward, ignoring the burn of the laser blast against his shoulder to slam the knife into the sentry. Uses his body weight to bring it down hard before scrambling up and  slamming the knife back down on it’s head plate,

Slowly he turns the knife around and carefully slides it between his wrist and the plastic-like ties restraining him, hissing as he cuts along the vein, praying it isn’t as deep as it looks. He shoots glances down the hallway as he hunkers down against the wall, Lance still lying unnaturally still at his feet. Blood pools above the wound as he moves the knife back and forth, back and forth until he hears a snap. He rips through the last of his ties and shifts the blade to one hand, squirming the other under Lance’s unresponsive body and heaving upright, biting his tongue to cut back the scream from the strain the movement puts on his stomach.

With a grunt, Keith manages to pull Lance’s arm over his shoulder before grabbing a gun a sentry had dropped. Practically dragging the other paladin as he staggers back down the hall the way they came, he doesn’t notice the smear of blood he leaves behind.

After several painful moments of struggling to remain upright and thanking whoever might be listening that they didn’t run into any sentries, he finds a small room, kind of like a utility or maintenance closet with enough dust to suggest it isn’t used often. He slams the door behind him with his foot and carefully sets Lance against the far wall, half propped up, before pushing one of the larger boxes in front of the door. His wrist is aching and he searches the utility closet until he finds a towel. It’s a bit dirty but for now it’s good enough.

Slowly he settles himself next to Lance, back propped up against the shelves with a clear view of the doorway, gun resting raised on his bent knees. Lance slumps lifelessly against him and he takes a deep breath, working through the pain in his stomach to check Lance over.

What he sees doesn’t look good. They treated a few of Lance’s wounds in the same way they’d treated Keith’s: tight bandages around the worst of them, leaving Lance half mummified. But some of them were stained red and they hadn’t bothered to rub away the blood from some of Lance’s more shallow cuts along his cheeks and a few on his side that Keith could see through the tears in the body suit.

What happened when he was knocked out?

As he’s checking Lance’s injuries, careful not to poke or prod too harshly that Lance finally, finally begins to stir. “Wha…?” he slurs before clearing his throat harshly, “Keith?” Lance squints and tries to sit up before hissing.

Keith carefully pulls Lance back down and lets out a sigh of relief, gently wiping away some of the blood from Lance’s forehead. Head injury? “Hey, buddy.”

Lance rubs at his eyes before leaning in even closer. “You look awful.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Keith jokes before sobering quickly. “What... happened?”

Lance tries to shrug before hissing, grabbing at his ribs. And soon that hiss turns into a wet cough until he’s hunched over, shaking from the force. Keith does his best to keep him still, to ease the pain. But there is nothing he can do. He’s helpless to watch until Lance’s body settles. And he leans to the side to spit. It comes out red. Lance turns to look at him, tears in his eyes. “Please tell me you’ve got a plan.”

Keith blinks. Once. Twice…. Oh…. Slowly he lifts his left hand and radios Hunk, “Hey.”

There is a moment of silence and then “HEY!” It’s Pidge and Keith flinches at the frequency. Lance throws him a worried look, “You’ve been quie...three varga and all you can fuck-...is ‘hey?’” Pidge snarls, “When I find...I’m go--... break your fucking face.”

There is a brief struggle and then Allura is on the line, “Keith, whe-- are you?”

Keith takes a deep breath and shifts the gun on his knees, “Near the center. They’ve got a proper looking base in here. We’re in one of the utility closets.”

Lance frowns, “You are awful at pl--” and suddenly he’s coughing again and this time they’re worse. He doubles over, clutching at his stomach. Each exhale leaves them both rattling as Keith does his best to stabilize Lance until Lance is bent over far enough that his head is touching the ground. Keith grabs at his shoulders, lost.

“You guys need to get here quick,” Keith commands. “Lance isn’t doing to great.”

There is another burst of noise over the coms as Lance catches his breath and Keith holds his. “Stay stro--,” And it’s Shiro. Faint and breaking up but there. Breathing is suddenly so much easier, “-ng. We’ll...as fast as….” The connection breaks then, the static echoing over the coms like a taunt.

“Mmmm tired,” Lance mumbles from his spot and Keith swallows hard. He watches in horror as the stains along the bandages begin to spread.

“Hey, don’t do this,” Keith whispers. “I need my sharpshooter awake.”

Lance laughs bitterly as Keith clutches at Lance’s chest, applying pressure.

“Lance…”

“Just for a moment,” Lance whispers, leaning close to bury his face in Keith’s neck so Keith can feel his breathing. “I promise…”

Keith freezes as he feels Lance’s breathing stutter, “Lance…” When Lance doesn’t react, he moves, puts the gun aside to bring Lance into his lap and...no. No nononono no. “Please,’ Keith begs, shaking Lance’s shoulder while doing his best to avoid aggravating any more injuries, “You gotta wake up, Lance. I need you awake, Lance.”

But Lance doesn’t react.

Keith places a hand above Lance’s nose and fights back tears when he feels how weak it is. “C’mon,” Keith prays, “Not like this…” He fumbles with his com, trying to catch another signal: Hunk. Pidge. The Prince. Shiro...He just… He needs someone. He needs someone to tell him it is going to be okay. “Not like this, Lance,” Keith repeats as tears begin to fall. The static haunts him as he lets his hand fall to add more pressure to the wound. If he could only slow it, buy some time.

Just more time. That’s all he wanted. Lance wasn’t supposed to go like this. Bleeding out slowly on the floor of a utility closet in some backwards, bottom-feeding Galra base. No...he was...he was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory. Explosions as bright and loud as he was. He was supposed to die of old age, surrounded by his family on Earth.

Not like this. Not like this.

“Not yet,” Keith prays to whoever is listening, “Please, please. Please give us more time. I didn’t...I didn’t get to…” Get to what? Get to do what? And Keith doesn’t even know. But he knows he needs more time. More time to joke around and smile. More time to hang out and tell stories. More time to see Lance smile. More time to just...be with Lance.

Keith bows his head and sobs, downs out the pain of his wounds with the beating of his heart.

Not yet…

.

 

.

 

.

Time passes.

Keith keeps vigil. His coms are dead. But Lance still breathes. His wounds ache. But Lance still breathes. His eyes hurt. But he keeps his gun trained on the door. Because Lance still breathes.

The quiet drags on.

.

 

.

 

.

The fighting breaks the monotony. It is far away. Echoing down the long winding Galran hallways and he turns his com back on.

Nothing.

He checks Lance’s breathing, presses his ear to Lance’s chest to keep himself grounded despite the way his body screams.

When he looks down, the red is spreading.

.

 

.

Allura comes for them in the end, breaks down the door before any sentry lays eyes on them. Blocks Keith’s shots with a terrifying amount of efficiency.

“You’re safe.”

He drops his gun to stare down at Lance.

He isn’t breathing.

.

 

.

 

Notes:

AH!! I posted it. Omg. I think this is the longest single chapter I have ever posted. I just...wow... This fic was such a labor of love and I'm so happy it's finally here! This idea was actually one of the first ones I had after getting into the fandom!

Please let me know what you think!

Also, I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who participated in the Voltron Big Bang. I've never hosted a fandom event before and I know it wasn't perfect. But you guys made it perfect! I had a ton of fun creating this story and working with my artists and getting to meet some amazing people. I'm really excited to keep hosting fandom events in the future! I hope you will all join me for them.

Artists: Thislovelymaelstrom | Lil-Miss-Epic | Noririna

Betas: MomOfTheYear2k16 | Mercera
| Fabulousanima

Title Inspo: Shape of You by Ed Sheeran

EDIT:
So Fabulousanima is amazing and beta'd this chapter so that the tenses and typos and grammar errors are all gone!! We should all send her some major love! THANK YOU!!!